1.1.1.1.1 Chapter 1
1.1.1.1.2 Elves in the Wood
Elven sisters, Amaranth and Astarii stood under the trees, the white light of Mirkwood shining through and making bright light patterns upon the leaf carpet in the forest.
Both elves had seen many things, both grievous and joyful in their long years upon Middle-Earth, which showed in their yet young faces.
Amaranth walked softly upon the leaves and stopped at one tall oak, touching the bark with her pale fingers, singing the tune of Tinúviel, a song long forgotten by men and hobbits alike, only remembered by those of close kindred to Lord Elrond and his sons. For indeed, Amaranth and Astarii were two daughters among the many of Lady Arwen Undómiel, and her beloved Aragorn son of Arathorn.
"Why do you sing such a tune?" asked Astarii to her sister, "It should be forgotten. The world of Lúthien Tinúviel is long gone, the last to walk in her likeness was our own mother – and I wish not to remember her as someone else."
Amaranth did not agree with her sister's word, but still she closed her mouth and the soft song of Tinúviel was stopped.
For a long while, the twin elves stayed still and silent in the wood. Amaranth sat against the oak, and Astarii leant against another tree, staring out onto the stone benches and the white flagged paths of the Garden of Estel. Grown especially for the girls when Legolas Greenleaf took them from Lothlórien and brought them to Mirkwood, where they dwelt for the rest of their long, elven lives.
"Dear sister, Amaranth," said Astarii, sighing, "Where are we really meant to dwell? For Lothlórien was once our home, as was Rivendell, but Lo! We now live in Mirkwood, which I do not see as our real home, although Legolas has made us feel so welcome."
"Had." Amaranth said sharply, "Legolas has passed and you are quite wrong to speak as if he still dwells among us." She looked upon her sister, then her voice became softer, "Astarii, Legolas gave us so much, but you know that he is passed. Just as well as I do." Amaranth's soft voice shook; there was a bitter note of pain and grief in her voice. "Astarii, you know how much the past brings a bittersweet taste to my soul. Remembering our parents deaths, and even their lives brings so much pain."
"Dear sister, do you not realise that the pain is the same for I, also?" Astarii said, and for a long while, neither elf spoke. "Our father was Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, then he came home from his long journeys with the Fellowship and became King. King of Gondor. And he married our mother, Arwen Undómiel, and she became Queen of Elves and men…" Astarii went on dreamily, then looked sharply upon her sister, "Do you not understand? We are the heirs of Isildur. After Eldarion passes, we are next in line."
"No. Persicaria would be first. She is an elder sister."
"Persicaria will not take the crown. She will not be Queen. I know she will not."
Amaranth laughed and threw some brown leaves around, playfully.
"Astarii, you know as well as I do that Persicaria would give anything to be Queen. Forget this conversation. Such things should not be spoken about aloud in the Garden of Estel. You shall never be sure of who is," Amaranth paused and craned her pale, long neck to see if anyone was lurking behind trees. "Eavesdropping." She ended her sentence.
Astarii nodded in agreement and stared out at the Garden of Estel once more.
"But you have not answered, dear sister." She said quietly, "Where are we to dwell? For our father, and our mother, Arwen Evenstar of course lived in Gondor. And since they have both left us, should we not have the choice of where to travel?"
Amaranth sighed and leant her beautiful head back against the oak she was sitting against and with an emotional sigh, she said,
"Alas! beloved, we should. But dwelling in the same place, among where elanor and niphridil once grew pains our hearts more than any slaying weaponry."
"Yes, yes." Answered Astarii, "Although, dear sister, we do both have pain in our hearts, should we not try to leave that pain for a short while? And be like our father, meet new people and help them?"
"Beloved Sister, you do not mean for us to become elven rangers?" Amaranth said, as she picked up a thick twig from the oak, and began to sharpen one end with a short wood-elf blade she pulled from the back of her garments,
"No dear sister, I do not wish to choose exile as our father." Astarii said, "We one day will possibly hold power. All I say is that in my heart, I hope to see our mothers father, Elrond." Astarii sighed,
"Dearest Astarii, Elrond has gone to the ocean. You know full well." Amaranth looked at her sister with grave eyes. "You also know that our mother Lady Undómiel became Queen of both Elves and men, and our father, Aragorn son of Arathorn, was King of Gondor, but Lo! they both have passed, leaving our brother, Eldarion to become the King, and his wife to become the Queen!" she threw an elven blade into a tree nearby and it affixed itself in its bark with a sharp "Clunk!"
"Yes, yes, Brother Eldarion. Although somehow us children of Arwen and Aragorn appear to have a trace of immortality, Eldarion will not last as King forever. And, I have an odd feeling, dearest Amaranth. That something bad shall become of our family and that we may lose something important.... Do you have the same feeling?"
Amaranth laughed again, her sweet soft voice filled the wood, and birds fluttered nearer to the two young elves.
"It is a fear of the past. Our dear father feared the same." She smiled a painful smile; memories of her father came flooding back and her throat stuck together in her fight against the tears.
"Yes," said Astarii, Amaranth could sense that the wounds were still fresh for her sister also. Then, Astarii spoke suddenly again, "Memories of our father are growing fainter… Although we do not look old, I hardly remember him at all. And mother, her memories are fading as well... Is it the same for you dearest sister?"
Amaranth's eyes rested upon a small brown bird, hopping around the tree she'd just stabbed with flying blades. For a moment, the wood was silent, save the bird song and water flowing, then Amaranth sighed and spoke,
"No indeed. I remember them both well... but this may well be memory enforced by myth."
Astarii smiled at her sister,
"Yes. I have one memory of which I shall not say, but I believe it may be one that I had made up to try to remember them. Maybe it is because, dearest sister, you are younger. Not by much, but still...."
Amaranth glared at her sister,
"Ah, as I am the youngest I am not allowed to know!" she tutted, paused and began again, "Dearest Legolas never kept a thing from us... do you remember, beloved sister?"
"Ah, yes. Legolas gave us very many a vivid description of father fighting." She paused and felt the bark with her fingertips, then sighed and stared up at the green leaves of the trees around them, "Do you remember any of the tale of father saying goodbye to Gondor's old heir, Boromir son of Denethor?"
Amaranth walked over to retrieve her blade, choked back the tears, her throat begged her to let them flow from her blue pool-like eyes,
"I do indeed... the tale always brought a… tear to my eye."
"I as well." Astarii murmured, her eyes searching the skies of which she could see as if looking up to see her parents' faces. "Father must have been a wonderful person, though odd that he died at such a young age...."
Amaranth stared in a sick amazement at her sister,
"But sister, you must realise - our father was but a mortal man, ten and two hundred years is a few scores more than they would have in their world."
"But not that long to us. For we have beaten his age many times already."
Amaranth snapped her gaze right back at her sister and hissed,
"Astarii! Please, do not speak in that way. I like to remember father in the way he was. Not the way he would be." Then she looked back to the ground and stayed looking there until her sister spoke again.
"Yes of course, Amaranth. For we should remember what was, and not of what could happen. Though, I'm sure you have wondered what it would have been like if father were an elf? Though if you say no, it shall be hard for you to say so in truth. For some of our other sisters have confided in me saying the same..." Astarii's face was overcome by a cheeky little grin, but Amaranth's face stayed grave,
"If our father was an elf," she said firmly, "We would not exist." She moved a stray piece of hair from her face and behind her subtle elven ears, "If our mother and father had met, and they were both elves, Sir Frodo would not have met our father in the Prancing Pony as Legolas tells us he did, and things would have been different. Very, very different."
As soon as Amaranth had stopped talking, the girls heard a snap of a twig in the wood beyond.
The sisters looked at each other, eyes fearful yet strong, and Astarii said, in a steady elven tongue,
"Deyash nek'tai, Amaranth."
And Amaranth carefully stood and walked quietly as she could with her sister until they reached the middle of the Garden of Estel, sunlight shining right down upon their long, dark hair, and a voice came from behind them.
"Amaranth! Astarii!" the girls stopped still. Then they swapped glances and carefully turned around, they both had hands firm upon their blades.
But instead of seeing a foreign being behind them, they saw close kindred of Legolas Greenleaf, the young elf Jonquil, (of whom the full lineage is not fully known) standing with his bow pointing to the ground. His long, light golden hair around his shoulders with the trademark two braids, his elven garments held close to his lean figure and his keen eyes were full of interest.
"Jonquil!" Amaranth said in surprise, taking her hand from her blade. "What are you doing in such parts?"
"There is grave news about the race of elves." He said, and the girls noticed a breathless touch to his voice.
"What would this news be?" Astarii asked politely, "What news of the elves?"
"We will need to move to Mudwort after all." Jonquil said, stepping closer. "Mirkwood is passing."
"Passing? How so?" Amaranth was now worried, her heart beat ever faster and images of evil filled her head.
"Our Lord, Gladiolus has passed. We are low on the ground. We must join forces with Mudwort."
"I have never said we should not." Amaranth said, harshly.
"Amaranth!" snapped Astarii; "This is grave news about Gladiolus. Give our word to the others of kindred to him."
"Indeed." Said Amaranth, urgently; "I must get to Mudwort immediately. Angrec, I wish to speak with him." With that, Amaranth hurried off, her blue and silver garments swayed in the wind, but not as much as her dark hair, flowing behind her. Jonquil's eyes followed her until she could not be seen for the trees.
"She is a beauty." Jonquil said quietly, "If only wishes came true."
"You wish for my sister?" Astarii said, seriously, leading Jonquil to a stone bench by the water. Jonquil sat with Astarii and looked at the ground.
"Is such a wish discouraged?" he asked, in obvious discomfort.
"Ah, no." Astarii smiled, showing neat white teeth and a side to her that people do not usually see.
"But it is not a wish that will come true. For Amaranth's heart is already being held captive by a much more likely candidate for her love."
"How so?" Astarii smiled, leaning back on the bench.
"Angrec. He is in love with Amaranth. He saw her singing and dancing on this very spot. Signing the tune of Undómiel."
"Is this so? My sister has fallen into the elven maiden trap? Angrec is but a mortal man, and he has stumbled upon Amaranth singing and dancing within the Garden of Estel?" Astarii stared at Jonquil in disbelief.
"It is so. I am afraid; Amaranth is sought after by many a male. Alas! It will not be me that she chooses."
"How can you be so sure? There is but one person for each elven being. My mother, Undómiel did not love my father, Aragorn, for some while – and it turns out they were meant to be." Astarii rest a hand upon Jonquil's shoulder to comfort him. But he did not smile; he simply stood, and walked away.
1.1.1.1.2 Elves in the Wood
Elven sisters, Amaranth and Astarii stood under the trees, the white light of Mirkwood shining through and making bright light patterns upon the leaf carpet in the forest.
Both elves had seen many things, both grievous and joyful in their long years upon Middle-Earth, which showed in their yet young faces.
Amaranth walked softly upon the leaves and stopped at one tall oak, touching the bark with her pale fingers, singing the tune of Tinúviel, a song long forgotten by men and hobbits alike, only remembered by those of close kindred to Lord Elrond and his sons. For indeed, Amaranth and Astarii were two daughters among the many of Lady Arwen Undómiel, and her beloved Aragorn son of Arathorn.
"Why do you sing such a tune?" asked Astarii to her sister, "It should be forgotten. The world of Lúthien Tinúviel is long gone, the last to walk in her likeness was our own mother – and I wish not to remember her as someone else."
Amaranth did not agree with her sister's word, but still she closed her mouth and the soft song of Tinúviel was stopped.
For a long while, the twin elves stayed still and silent in the wood. Amaranth sat against the oak, and Astarii leant against another tree, staring out onto the stone benches and the white flagged paths of the Garden of Estel. Grown especially for the girls when Legolas Greenleaf took them from Lothlórien and brought them to Mirkwood, where they dwelt for the rest of their long, elven lives.
"Dear sister, Amaranth," said Astarii, sighing, "Where are we really meant to dwell? For Lothlórien was once our home, as was Rivendell, but Lo! We now live in Mirkwood, which I do not see as our real home, although Legolas has made us feel so welcome."
"Had." Amaranth said sharply, "Legolas has passed and you are quite wrong to speak as if he still dwells among us." She looked upon her sister, then her voice became softer, "Astarii, Legolas gave us so much, but you know that he is passed. Just as well as I do." Amaranth's soft voice shook; there was a bitter note of pain and grief in her voice. "Astarii, you know how much the past brings a bittersweet taste to my soul. Remembering our parents deaths, and even their lives brings so much pain."
"Dear sister, do you not realise that the pain is the same for I, also?" Astarii said, and for a long while, neither elf spoke. "Our father was Aragorn son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur, then he came home from his long journeys with the Fellowship and became King. King of Gondor. And he married our mother, Arwen Undómiel, and she became Queen of Elves and men…" Astarii went on dreamily, then looked sharply upon her sister, "Do you not understand? We are the heirs of Isildur. After Eldarion passes, we are next in line."
"No. Persicaria would be first. She is an elder sister."
"Persicaria will not take the crown. She will not be Queen. I know she will not."
Amaranth laughed and threw some brown leaves around, playfully.
"Astarii, you know as well as I do that Persicaria would give anything to be Queen. Forget this conversation. Such things should not be spoken about aloud in the Garden of Estel. You shall never be sure of who is," Amaranth paused and craned her pale, long neck to see if anyone was lurking behind trees. "Eavesdropping." She ended her sentence.
Astarii nodded in agreement and stared out at the Garden of Estel once more.
"But you have not answered, dear sister." She said quietly, "Where are we to dwell? For our father, and our mother, Arwen Evenstar of course lived in Gondor. And since they have both left us, should we not have the choice of where to travel?"
Amaranth sighed and leant her beautiful head back against the oak she was sitting against and with an emotional sigh, she said,
"Alas! beloved, we should. But dwelling in the same place, among where elanor and niphridil once grew pains our hearts more than any slaying weaponry."
"Yes, yes." Answered Astarii, "Although, dear sister, we do both have pain in our hearts, should we not try to leave that pain for a short while? And be like our father, meet new people and help them?"
"Beloved Sister, you do not mean for us to become elven rangers?" Amaranth said, as she picked up a thick twig from the oak, and began to sharpen one end with a short wood-elf blade she pulled from the back of her garments,
"No dear sister, I do not wish to choose exile as our father." Astarii said, "We one day will possibly hold power. All I say is that in my heart, I hope to see our mothers father, Elrond." Astarii sighed,
"Dearest Astarii, Elrond has gone to the ocean. You know full well." Amaranth looked at her sister with grave eyes. "You also know that our mother Lady Undómiel became Queen of both Elves and men, and our father, Aragorn son of Arathorn, was King of Gondor, but Lo! they both have passed, leaving our brother, Eldarion to become the King, and his wife to become the Queen!" she threw an elven blade into a tree nearby and it affixed itself in its bark with a sharp "Clunk!"
"Yes, yes, Brother Eldarion. Although somehow us children of Arwen and Aragorn appear to have a trace of immortality, Eldarion will not last as King forever. And, I have an odd feeling, dearest Amaranth. That something bad shall become of our family and that we may lose something important.... Do you have the same feeling?"
Amaranth laughed again, her sweet soft voice filled the wood, and birds fluttered nearer to the two young elves.
"It is a fear of the past. Our dear father feared the same." She smiled a painful smile; memories of her father came flooding back and her throat stuck together in her fight against the tears.
"Yes," said Astarii, Amaranth could sense that the wounds were still fresh for her sister also. Then, Astarii spoke suddenly again, "Memories of our father are growing fainter… Although we do not look old, I hardly remember him at all. And mother, her memories are fading as well... Is it the same for you dearest sister?"
Amaranth's eyes rested upon a small brown bird, hopping around the tree she'd just stabbed with flying blades. For a moment, the wood was silent, save the bird song and water flowing, then Amaranth sighed and spoke,
"No indeed. I remember them both well... but this may well be memory enforced by myth."
Astarii smiled at her sister,
"Yes. I have one memory of which I shall not say, but I believe it may be one that I had made up to try to remember them. Maybe it is because, dearest sister, you are younger. Not by much, but still...."
Amaranth glared at her sister,
"Ah, as I am the youngest I am not allowed to know!" she tutted, paused and began again, "Dearest Legolas never kept a thing from us... do you remember, beloved sister?"
"Ah, yes. Legolas gave us very many a vivid description of father fighting." She paused and felt the bark with her fingertips, then sighed and stared up at the green leaves of the trees around them, "Do you remember any of the tale of father saying goodbye to Gondor's old heir, Boromir son of Denethor?"
Amaranth walked over to retrieve her blade, choked back the tears, her throat begged her to let them flow from her blue pool-like eyes,
"I do indeed... the tale always brought a… tear to my eye."
"I as well." Astarii murmured, her eyes searching the skies of which she could see as if looking up to see her parents' faces. "Father must have been a wonderful person, though odd that he died at such a young age...."
Amaranth stared in a sick amazement at her sister,
"But sister, you must realise - our father was but a mortal man, ten and two hundred years is a few scores more than they would have in their world."
"But not that long to us. For we have beaten his age many times already."
Amaranth snapped her gaze right back at her sister and hissed,
"Astarii! Please, do not speak in that way. I like to remember father in the way he was. Not the way he would be." Then she looked back to the ground and stayed looking there until her sister spoke again.
"Yes of course, Amaranth. For we should remember what was, and not of what could happen. Though, I'm sure you have wondered what it would have been like if father were an elf? Though if you say no, it shall be hard for you to say so in truth. For some of our other sisters have confided in me saying the same..." Astarii's face was overcome by a cheeky little grin, but Amaranth's face stayed grave,
"If our father was an elf," she said firmly, "We would not exist." She moved a stray piece of hair from her face and behind her subtle elven ears, "If our mother and father had met, and they were both elves, Sir Frodo would not have met our father in the Prancing Pony as Legolas tells us he did, and things would have been different. Very, very different."
As soon as Amaranth had stopped talking, the girls heard a snap of a twig in the wood beyond.
The sisters looked at each other, eyes fearful yet strong, and Astarii said, in a steady elven tongue,
"Deyash nek'tai, Amaranth."
And Amaranth carefully stood and walked quietly as she could with her sister until they reached the middle of the Garden of Estel, sunlight shining right down upon their long, dark hair, and a voice came from behind them.
"Amaranth! Astarii!" the girls stopped still. Then they swapped glances and carefully turned around, they both had hands firm upon their blades.
But instead of seeing a foreign being behind them, they saw close kindred of Legolas Greenleaf, the young elf Jonquil, (of whom the full lineage is not fully known) standing with his bow pointing to the ground. His long, light golden hair around his shoulders with the trademark two braids, his elven garments held close to his lean figure and his keen eyes were full of interest.
"Jonquil!" Amaranth said in surprise, taking her hand from her blade. "What are you doing in such parts?"
"There is grave news about the race of elves." He said, and the girls noticed a breathless touch to his voice.
"What would this news be?" Astarii asked politely, "What news of the elves?"
"We will need to move to Mudwort after all." Jonquil said, stepping closer. "Mirkwood is passing."
"Passing? How so?" Amaranth was now worried, her heart beat ever faster and images of evil filled her head.
"Our Lord, Gladiolus has passed. We are low on the ground. We must join forces with Mudwort."
"I have never said we should not." Amaranth said, harshly.
"Amaranth!" snapped Astarii; "This is grave news about Gladiolus. Give our word to the others of kindred to him."
"Indeed." Said Amaranth, urgently; "I must get to Mudwort immediately. Angrec, I wish to speak with him." With that, Amaranth hurried off, her blue and silver garments swayed in the wind, but not as much as her dark hair, flowing behind her. Jonquil's eyes followed her until she could not be seen for the trees.
"She is a beauty." Jonquil said quietly, "If only wishes came true."
"You wish for my sister?" Astarii said, seriously, leading Jonquil to a stone bench by the water. Jonquil sat with Astarii and looked at the ground.
"Is such a wish discouraged?" he asked, in obvious discomfort.
"Ah, no." Astarii smiled, showing neat white teeth and a side to her that people do not usually see.
"But it is not a wish that will come true. For Amaranth's heart is already being held captive by a much more likely candidate for her love."
"How so?" Astarii smiled, leaning back on the bench.
"Angrec. He is in love with Amaranth. He saw her singing and dancing on this very spot. Signing the tune of Undómiel."
"Is this so? My sister has fallen into the elven maiden trap? Angrec is but a mortal man, and he has stumbled upon Amaranth singing and dancing within the Garden of Estel?" Astarii stared at Jonquil in disbelief.
"It is so. I am afraid; Amaranth is sought after by many a male. Alas! It will not be me that she chooses."
"How can you be so sure? There is but one person for each elven being. My mother, Undómiel did not love my father, Aragorn, for some while – and it turns out they were meant to be." Astarii rest a hand upon Jonquil's shoulder to comfort him. But he did not smile; he simply stood, and walked away.