*Author's Note: I do not own any of Tolkien's characters or locations-yadda yadda you know the drill*
Birds chirped warily in the tall old trees. It was as if the little creatures could feel the oncoming presence of evil. The still air was heavy and stifling to the lungs, making each breath seem labored. Rilarien walked quietly through the trees, every once in a while touching a gnarled mallorn trunk affectionately with the palm of her hand. The trees seemed to know she was a friend. Their lower leaves moved, despite the lack of wind, tickling her ears, causing a smile to break out on her fair face. She moved with a dignified grace and observed her surroundings.
Rilarien wasn't a stranger to the forest. She had lived most of her life under the protection of the aged trees, and she remembered climbing the high limbs to scope out the rolling land around the thick grove. Beyond the border, where trees didn't grow, was strange to her because she was forbidden to set foot outside the confines of protection, but something inside of her yearned to wander the flat lands and travel past the lengths of the known world. She had seen travelers from distance lands, those of men and other elves, but was too frightened to approach their camps. However the bands of travelers were often afraid to reside in the forest after night, and Rilarien was contented to remain concealed in the heavy vegetation. She had watched with eager eyes their movements, rituals, and their language had resounded with curiosity in her ears.
But today was different; Rilarien could feel in her inner most being the approach of something, something unwanted, something evil. Keeping her eyes and ears open for the slightest change, Rilarien hurried towards home. The mallorn-trees of Calas Galadhon were in sight, but something was wrong. Holding her burgundy skirts high, Rilarien ran around the trunk of a large tree. The bright brown eyes of her cousin met her, laughing at the startled look that crossed Rilarien's face.
"Rien!" Lómpalan laughed and fell back against the tree holding her stomach. "You should have seen your eyes, they were larger than the moon." Her long dark tresses fell around shoulders. Freckles were sprinkled across her pixie like face, and she nearly bubbled with excitement.
Rilarien placed a hand to her chest, trying to slow the beating of her heart. "Lómpalan, where is everybody?"
The girl shrugged and twirled absentmindedly in circles. Her lavender silk dress moved like a brook around her slender figure, the silver embroidery on the bodice shimmered in the waxing light of the forest. Grasping Lómpalan's shoulders, Rilarien shook her slightly, "Something's coming. Don't you feel it?" she questioned, and a frown creased her forehead.
Lómpalan was younger than Rilarien by only a few months, but her pure innocence made her seem younger. Her dark eyes reflected like mysterious pools and a childlike smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, "Feel what Rien?"
Rilarien moved away from the girl, and closed her eyes. A cool sweat encased her body, making her shiver. When she opened her eyes she saw the other elves. They were doing their normal duties, taking no notice of the two girls. Her heart started beating faster, and the images before her started to waver slightly. She could feel a presence encroaching on the sanctity of Lorien. Something was amiss. Something was invading Lorien. Rilarien turned quickly at the disturbing sound of birds squawking, and the flapping of their wings with the sudden flight. There were more sounds but Lómpalan's voice interrupted Rilarien's thoughts, "Rien? Mani naa ta*what is it*?"
Just as quick as the feeling had settled on her, it vanished. Rilarien straightened and smiled at her cousin, "What do you mean?" Once again Rilarien became her normal self. Her step was light, and she grasped her cousin's hands to twirl around in circles. "Come on, race you."
The challenge set, the girls took off at a quick pace. Lómpalan took as much pleasure in the run as Rilarien, but she watched her cousin from the corner of her eye. Something strange was happening, and Lómpalan couldn't place her finger on it. One moment Rilarien was brimming with mischief but then the next she was as stoic as the Elders. The anticipated journey to Rivendell had weighed heavily on her own young mind, but that wasn't what concerned Rilarien. It was as if she had already been accepted into the ranks of an adult elf. The coming of age ritual was a turning point in every elf's life, and both girls took the ceremony seriously, but for the past couple of days, Rilarien seemed preoccupied. When Lómpalan went to search out her older cousin, she was often found wandering the forest, touching the trees, and basking in the sunlight streaming through the dense foliage. A far away look graced her face, turning her gray eyes dark with indescribable mystery. Lómpalan didn't make it a habit to spy on her cousin, but a spark of concern was forming in her heart. It was as if Rilarien was being called away by an invisible somebody.
***
Arrows were drawn and ready for a quick attack, but they were lowered. The guardians of the borders melted back into the dense underbrush. Orders from Galadriel forced them to take such action, and they were not the type to question authority. They let the stranger pass unfettered.
The water from the stream was cool and inviting as Boromir washed his face. The grime from a hard day's ride floated down the brisk current, and dissolved into nothing. That's what it felt like. It was as if the whole day's ride was wasted. The world seemed to be turning under the steady hooves of his mount, but Boromir was going nowhere. The forest looked the same in every place, the same tall dark trees, muffled atmosphere, and dewy outlook on life. When he entered the woods, time seemed to stand still. Beauty became intensified, but so did the feeling of dread. He wanted to leave the forest, but he had to pass through on his journey. He knew he was being watched, he could feel the eyes of many elves, but he could not see them. The dense underbrush hid all beings from sight, and that fact alone was enough to cause the Captain of Gondor to tense with suspicion. It was quiet in the land, almost too quiet, and Boromir wondered why he hadn't been forcibly removed by the possessive elves that guarded these borders.
Without pausing to think, Boromir dove for cover at the first sounds of someone, or something, approaching. The bushes at the base of the large tree were more than adequate for his size, and his mount long since had grazed its way over the knoll for better grasses. The lower branches of the ancient trees seemed to come alive with the approach of the thing. The leaves became translucent, spilling light onto the darkest areas of the wood, and the air became sweeter with the heady perfume of the earth. Mischievous giggling echoed through the leaves and moss, caressing Boromir's ears. He watched with wonder as two elves bounded from behind one of the more ancient wooden monsters, and proceeded to chase each other through a winding maze of trunks. Their laughter was as light as their feet. With skirts hitched to their knees to capture the ability to run and cheeks fully colored by the coolness of the day, Boromir was mesmerized. Both were slender and beautiful, ordinary elves he figured.
"Can't catch me!" called the taller one in a musical voice, weaving her way through a tangle of roots. Her long dark hair fell freely about her shoulders, down her back, and her burgundy dress accented the merriment on her face.
The shorter elf maid popped up from nowhere, scrunching her pixie like face into a playful glare before erupting into gleeful smiles. Hiking her lavender skirt higher and dancing a little with her bare feet, she called back, "No fair selen *cousin*! You're legs are longer."
The other paused besides one of the older trees in the forest. Her back was to Boromir but he could still her laugh at the shorter elf, "Come on, you little wood sprite, you know that's wrong. You're small, but quick." The pursuit continued, but both girls came to rest at the waters edge, panting with laughter and exhaustion. Their cheeks were rosy pink, and their eyes bright. More giggles bubbled from the girls as they splashed in the stream and settled contently on the grass. Their friendly chatter carried throughout the density of the forest's atmosphere. With sweet voices they sang:
"I sang of leaves, of leaves of gold, and leaves of gold there grew:
Of wind I sang, a wind there came and in the branches blew.
Beyond the Sun, beyond the Moon, the foam was on the Sea,
And by the strand of Ilmarin there grew a golden Tree.
Beneath the stars of Ever-eve in Eldamar it shone,
In Eldamar beside the walls of Elven Tirion.
There long the golden leaves have grown upon the branching years,
While here beyond the Sundering Seas now fall the Elven-tears.
O Lorien! The Winter comes, the bare and leafless Day;
The leaves are falling in the stream, the River flows away.
O Lorien! Too long I have dwelt upon this Hither Shore
And in a fading crown have twined the golden elanor.
But if of ships I now should sing, what ship would come to me,
What ship would bear me ever back across so wide a Sea?"
Their voices carried through the air, merriment locked in the sadness of the song. Giggles arose as soon as the last melody faded, and once again they were carefree.
"What were you doing in the wood today, Rilarien?" The unnamed one asked as she ran drenched fingers through her dark hair. Boromir strained to listen. He felt like he had wandered into a dream, and the lovely creatures before him were just figments of his imagination.
Rien lay back in the long grass, tucked a lock of hair behind a pointed ear, and plucked a wildflower to twirl between her fingers, "Nothing, just remembering. Talking to the trees mostly. I'll miss them the most. Why?" She sat up and thrust the blue flower in her friend's face, "Where you spying on me, Lómpalan daughter of Daedhel?" A wide smile crossed Lómpalan's face.
"Rilarien, you just have…become slightly…slightly strange. I miss the old Rien, the one that's with me right now. We're not adults yet. Come," Lómpalan stretched her hands out to her cousin, "Let's capture our youth before we must depart for Imladris. Let's…" Rilarien quieted her by placing a finger to her lips. She watched with sharp eyes as Boromir's mount wandered back over the knoll.
The animal was docile and wouldn't harm the girls, he knew, but Boromir also knew the creature would latch onto his scent and proceed to uncover his hiding place. The minor distraction of the horse had disturbed Boromir's focus on the girls. When he looked back to the stream, all that was left of them was bent grass blades and the single plucked wildflower. From his vantage point he could no longer see where they had gone. On semi-silent feet he tried to creep to the place they last were. He stood to his full height when he could not find a single footprint of where they had vanished to, but froze when he felt cold metal upon his neck.
"Turn around slowly." All merriment had vanished from the once laughing voice, and Boromir pivoted back to view his captors. The two elf maids stood before him, Rien with the tip of her sword pressed to his neck, and Lómpalan's hand resting on her own weapon. The decorated elven blade did not quiver, but was held steady. "Ya naa lle ar' mankoi naa lle sinome*who are you and why are you here*?"
Boromir opened his mouth to speak, but the shorter elf caught his gaze. "Rien…En *look*." Rilarien's cold gray eyes shifted from Boromir to the open plains. Something was coming. Lowering her sword, the bold elf suddenly turned white. Her eyes grew round with fright, and a strangled gasp forced its way through her lips. Dropping her weapon, Rien grabbed her cousin, "Go tell someone. Rima Palan, lle are faster than amin." * Go tell someone. Run Palan, you're faster than me.*Shoving the shorter elf with both hands, Rilarien stumbled on her long skirts, but Lómpalan took off like a scared rabbit, not bothering to look back because she knew her cousin could fend for herself.
Grabbing her before she fell, Boromir held onto Rien despite her struggle. He could feel her trembling. "What's coming?" he hissed into her ear.
Rilarien had lost all her bravery, and she shrunk away from the words. Trying her best to protest the steel like arms that held her captive, nothing could escape her lips except for: "Asca… Nurta! *Hurry…Hide!*"
Boromir's grip tightened around her, squeezing the very air from her, "I don't speak Elvish, girl. I know you speak common! Now, tell me, what is coming?"
Rilarien's voice squeaked as she spoke. "Trees…Get in the trees…we need to get away from the plains…"
Abandoning the wandering horse, Boromir pulled Rilarien into the forests, searching for an appropriate hiding spot. He could hear the strangled breath of the elf as she struggled to keep up with his fast pace. Her long skirts were heeding the process. Stopping momentarily Boromir grasped a handful of the material, jerking it from under her feet. With one arm around her waist, and his other surrounded by cloth, Boromir easily lifted her, but his pace quickened despite the added load. He could hear in his mind the heavy breathing of whatever was coming. They were close, and Boromir didn't want to wait around to find out if they were friendly or not. He hoisted himself and his captive up into the tallest tree he could find. The branches were thick and heavily foliaged, but he kept climbing higher for a better vantage point. From that height he watched as what seemed like hundreds of orcs infested the once pristine woodlands.
Rilarien cried out when she saw the creatures start to beat at her beloved trees with axes and pull the ancient monsters down with ropes. Boromir clamped his hand over her mouth to stifle the cries. Her hands flew to his arm, pulling with all her might, but his hand would not budge. He watched with curiosity and wonderment as he tried to understand their actions. He could feel Rilarien's hot tears slid down the back of his hand, but didn't dare look at her. She had mentioned missing the trees the most to her cousin, and with every hit of those axes, the orcs were destroying something more beautiful than the forests of Lorien.
As quick as they had come, the orcs shouldered their butchered prizes and once again took off running. Where had they come from? Why did they want the trees? Boromir couldn't figure it out. Once again the thick quiet of the forest returned. A few wary birds started singing again, but the leaves had ceased dancing. Instead the foliage drooped, and hung lifeless on their branches. Where the trees in mourning? What queer happenings, Boromir thought. He had forgotten about Rilarien until she resumed her struggling.
She was no longer timid, but fierce and desperate to separate herself from him. She didn't realize how close he had been holding her until the orcs had retreated. Alarm swept through her, and the feeling of his arm around her waist repulsed her. "Easy." Boromir soothed in a voice deep and gentle like he would use for a spooked horse. He found himself almost overpowered by the girl, trying his best to climb back down the tree but still keep his hold on her. They were mere feet from the ground, but holding both his weight and the girl's was too much. Surrendering to the pull of gravity and hoping for a pile of leaves for the landing, Boromir let go of the tree.
Rilarien had just turned in his arms enough to make eye contact, and was shocked to feel herself falling towards the ground. His eyes are gray, was the last thought that crossed her mind before impact.
The fall knocked the air out of Boromir, but he hadn't received the worst of it. The elf somehow had ended up under him and had knocked her head on an exposed root. He knew she wasn't dead because of the strong pulse in her neck, but the sight frightened him. Pushing long strands of hair away from her face, Boromir stared. He had seen few elves in his day, but she definitely shadowed the notorious beauty of that race. High cheekbones, pretty mouth, and long lashed eyes were framed by a halo of inky hair. Remnants of freckles dotted her ivory skin. The fine sketches of youth were not entirely erased from her face, but the shadows of adulthood were starting to leave their marks upon her brow. Not knowing exactly what he should do, Boromir picked the girl up and started walking in the direction that Lómpalan had run. She was limp, almost like a doll he had seen a young girl carrying back in Gondor. If the girl were as fast as Rilarien had said, other elves would soon be coming.