A/N: Just a little something I came up with while I spoke with my mother. I hope you all enjoy it. It's not much, just something that is about what happened after the last Elves that bore the rings left Middle-Earth. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to you all.
As she walked up the path to the last Homely House, she noted the leaves brown and orange, as though it was fall even when it was spring at the moment. The ground was littered with dead leaves and some that have just fallen. Walking through the gates of Imladris, the palace seemed to be going into ruin; the voices, the people, and activity slowly fading into forgotten through the years. It has long been deserted for the past eighteen years… Except for the last few elves that wished to have long stayed behind to protect what was once their home.
However, she did not know this. She only continued to walk up the small steps and down the grey halls. It was still full of paintings and sculptures that were to be left behind, that told of stories of old. They have been left behind, perhaps to keep the stories alive and not fall into legend. She did not know, and perhaps will never know, these tails for so many have been come up with. She was not able to tell which ones were fiction and which ones were facts.
Looking back at these items, she wondered to herself; if she was able to stumble on to the place on her own, surely someone else would, and perhaps take these items to sell for money.
She stopped upon one of the gardens, trying to imagine how it would have been if it's people were still here, the plants and trees glowing brightly and showering the air with their scent. But she could only see grayness, as well as dead plants.
Continuing her walk, she came upon a small bridge with a waterfall that seemed to still have some beautiful spark to it. The clear water seemed so inviting but the sixteen year old then not dare jump in or even dip her fingers for a small drink. Instead she continued on the small path, taking in everything that she could, knowing that she may never see this place again. She only hoped that no one else would find this place, incase that their intentions were anything but respect and admiration to this place.
Walking up to the gate, the girl stopped, a delicate hand upon the beautiful wreath gate, and looked back, taking a mental picture of it to last for a very long time. She would tell her parents, her brothers, perhaps even her children, of this place but not where it lies… where it rests upon it's scared ground for who knows how long.
With a sigh, the girl was about to walk away when she caught sight of two dark haired men standing in the hallway she first entered through. She stood both in awe and fear, praying that she did not anger them. To her relief, however, they bowed their heads respectfully, waiting for some reply of her. The woman faced them and curtsy, bowing her head at the same time before turning and walking down the path towards her horse, not once looking back.
The two men continued to stay still, watching the teenager until she rode off into a distance they could not see or feel her presence no more.
"Do you think she would tell anyone, brother?" One of them asked quietly in a language long since forgotten.
"Aye, but not of it's whereabouts…" the other quietly responded in the same language. "But of it's beauty only she was able to picture in her mind."
And they both turned, slowly fading as though they were never there in the first place. As promised, the girl told her stories of a beautiful place she had stumbled upon, but told no one, not even to her family or husband or kids, of where it lied. Afraid of what someone would do if they were to find it.