Version 2.0

Author's Note:

I have decided to put this AN at the beginning. I will try to be as short as concise as possible but I recognize I have a decent amount to say and you are welcome to skip if you so desire! This will be the only Author's Note for this story. Should you have any questions in the future I shall answer them at the end of the chapters after the chapter notes involving language and characters that you meet.

I have decided to leave version 1.0 up because I want people to be able to go back and see what I have written and changed if they so desire...and I hope and pray that this is a better version.

Please note that I do not have a beta reader and so I am reliant on myself. If someone would like to be please email me at ! If you do catch a misspelling of mine or gross error within my grammar please inform me so that I can fix it because I can be quite the blind bat.

Without much further ado, welcome old and new readers to book one of the Beneath Wide Skies Quintet. Yes, quintet because they are is a total of 5 books that follow Karanisuri who is my main character. This story also follows her siblings as well as I have crafted her family to fit this story. It crosses over with two other fanfics which I will be rehauling as well, Between Two Points (OC x Thranduil) and Blaze & Fade Out (OC X Glorfindel). There is two more stories behind the scenes, one which revolves around Karanisuri's parents and the other which explains B2P and B&FO.

For old readers, I recommend you reread because I am working hard to add a lot more content and chapters before the Quendi start their journey. So while some of the content is the same cause I like part of how it is written mostly I decided I was not doing Karanisuri's story justice.

As for new readers, let me admit that while I am not a Tolkien Purist I have striven to stay as true to Tolkien's Middle Earth as much as I could. For me, I realize that Tolkien was a product of his time, culture, religion, and upbringing and it reflects in his story but I still adore Middle Earth greatly. I am a product of my time as well and so while I remain true towards Middle Earth history (like 98-99% or so) I have made changes where I have seen fit. Still, I deeply believe you can see Tolkien's Middle Earth even with my attempts to render elves more realistically even as I don't completely follow LACE but I have reasons for that...that will be made clear as I want this story to be more diverse inclusive.

One last thing, this story is my love. It is a labor of love for it will not be complete for years to come but I do hope to release one chapter a month (and hopefully more but a minimum of one is my goal). I also live a very busy life and as I write this and sometimes updates can take a while. If you follow my on instagram (u: leannethach) you know I am constantly camping and hiking. That being said, I am never going to give up writing on this story. It is going to take me years…as it is quite the challenge to write this. To turn the history of Middle Earth, the events of the Silmarillion into several novels? It is incredibly audacious of me and sometimes it feels paralyzing. I don't know if I can render this world that I love so much with emotions, politics, and visuals. All I can do is try and try I will.

I hope you enjoy my vision of how not only the early elves are but the way I imagine they develop. This story is my attempt to answer the how and why that their cultures developed and the events that play into it. So it is meant to be rich and complex and I really do keep praying I will render this story well. And perhaps one day I will rip Karanisuri from this story and spin her into her own original tale that I can publish.

Ciel Knight / M. Leanne Thach - November 26, 2018

Prologue

Valinor - Year Unknown

"Lhinnor! Lhinnor!" A small boy child in bright blue livery ran into a large room. Tall bookcases ran from the floor to the high vaulted ceiling. A glass window graced the ceiling allowing natural light into the clean room. The small boy came to a stop in front of a desk where there sat a tall but slender man. Well, not so much a man, as a male elf, an ellon. He had long black hair that flowed freely down his back. A few splotches of ink decorated the robe's sleeve of his left arm and a large black ink stain was smeared across his left hand as well. He grimaced and his dark eyes rested upon the small boy. His face smoothed into one of smile and grace despite the unpleasant interruption. This was Lhinnor.

"Yes?" Lhinnor's voice was rich and deep. His voice seemed to resonate among the room no matter how quiet he spoke.

"They are here," the small boy shouted out. His face was bright with exuberance. Lhinnor stared at the boy for a moment with comprehension. His expression soon mirrored the small boy's excitement.

'At last, they are here!' Lhinnor stood up and rushed out of the study with his robe flapping behind him. The small boy scrambled after Lhinnor though he had no hope catching up with his master! It would be a strange sight to be remarked upon by the elves if any could see it. Here was a tall lanky ellon dashing through the hallway with ink stains on his flapping robe and a small boy chasing after the ellon with all his might. Lhinnor came to a stop outside the room that was reserved for visitors. He smoothed his hair into place and took a few deep calming breaths. When he counted to ten, he opened up the door and stepped in.

There was only two people in the room, much to his disappointment. Lhinnor felt some relief noting that it was the most important two people. While the couple contrasted they looked like they belong together like the morning sun on a silver dawn. A silver haired ellon and a red haired elleth paused in their speech when they noticed Lhinnor step into the room. In their hands they held delicate tea cups already filled with the hot liquid. The elleth fully turn to face Lhinnor. Her dress spun with her, a gossamer material that clung to portions of her body at the top but floated and swirled like the movements of water. The colors of the dress shimmered like morning daylight, playing compliments to the silver haired ellon's own coloring of body and clothes.

"Lhinnor," she greeted, her voice low and musical. She placed her tea cup down on the table and moved to greet him. Lhinnor almost gasped as her callused hands came in contact with his. Her rough hands where at odds with her beautiful appearance. The elves from Cuivienen were truly the fairest of elves, except for Luthien and some of her descendants for Lhinnor had never met the rumored Arwen or her nearly human descendent that Karanisuri had known.

"Lady Karanisuri, Lord Tarakano, it is a pleasure to see you again," Lhinnor said with much warmth in his voice. For though he referred to their formal titles Lhinnor had the pleasure of getting to know these two as well as others in his attempt to render the story of this family that had gone unnoticed in the annals of their history.

"Your tea is always pleasant," Karanisuri said picking up the the tea cup to sip once more Lhinnor's handmade tea.

"You are not here for the tea," Lhinnor said it outright, eye the couple.

"We are in fact here for tea. We have just returned from Tol Fainarad," Tarakano declared with a small smile. "We truly do enjoy the blends you create. My wife and I, our talents do not lend themselves into that area."

This caused Lhinnor to laugh, "However, I am sure you are truly curious about the state of my project."

"It is our family's tale you are telling. I do not mind for our past is over and done with and we have our home and people. Still, I wish for it to be right and not embellished. I think the Quenta Silmarillion, while speaking of the ignoble deeds of us elves, does render the true picture of what our people are like."

"Your story is the one I want, not some pretty picture," Lhinnor promised. "Excuse me a moment."

Lhinnor left the Tea Room walking swiftly back to his study. He opened up a cabinet and glanced at the various notebooks and titles. His fingers traced the spines reading the various names listed: Karanisuri, Tarakano, Kandatuo, Kantasulo, Víloma, Tankatiro, Cwîlneno, Liraiwë, Lelyaldë, Sirylindo, Glorfindel, Galadriel, Celeborn, Ingwë, Thingol, Elrond, and a few others in relation towards this tale. He wanted to have made sure what they said were right and true. Lhinnor had wanted an accurate tale that spoke of their lives. He at last looked at the first of several red volumes. The Quenta Nuinpallaiya (the tale of Beneath Wide Skies) he read several times before grabbing the first volume. He returned back to the Tea Room with the Quenta Nuinpallaiya.

"Here," Lhinnor said presenting the book with a flourish. Karanisuri placed her tea cup onto the tray. She took the book in her hands and traced the tengwar. Tarakano who had been relaxing against the couch sat up when Karanisuri opened up the cover. The two remained silent as her eyes danced across the page with hunger. She did not turn the page but stared at Lhinnor.

"You…" Words failed the beautiful Karanisuri.

Tarakano read out a passage, "The stars are always constant, yet sometimes blackened storm clouds would block them out. Not even our fires and their smoke would ever block out the sight of that we, the Eldar love most, the stars. While I love the stars, as much as any other, what I have always loved most is the wind. It is even in my mother's name, suri. Wind."

"You used our words," Karanisuri managed to finally say.

"I thought it best to use as much of your words as possible. I have bridged where I could but there was only my desire to your words for who else better to tell the tale of your family? Let alone the noble destiny you carved from Cuiviénen all the way into the fourth age. I just arranged it, the many voices of your family into several volumes. Of course the exception is Faye's tale...as well as Queen Gilnell. She still resides in Arda so I cannot gather her tale as much as I wish…"

"Aye, their tales are certainly strange and they are tied into that strange and mysterious group the Pertainur…" Karanisuri said quietly staring into the distance. She had met the Pertainur several times in fact. They had played a part into her grief, her joy, and the reason that Faye and Glorfindel were leaving Valinor. Karanisuri herself was torn whether to go or not for she wanted to see how Arda transformed. Partially she did not want to go for knew that Arda was now being marred not by Melkor by the edain which made Karanisuri's heart squeeze painfully. Perhaps she should ask Lhinnor if he wanted to go to Arda, to meet with Gilnell, Thandruil's Queen, who endured in Arda still for a set of complicated reasons. Karanisuri glanced once more at the book and focused on it.

"You have my thanks Lhinnor. It says Part One, why so?"

"I have arranged your family's stories in five parts, one for each age."

"WIll you give us time to read this first book?"

"Of course. Would you like more tea, perhaps some lembas? I will bring you the rest of the books," Lhinnor said.

"Let Tarakano and I first finish this book for the day is not so young anymore and we have travelled far. We will rest after reading this book, if you do not mind."

"Of course I do not mind my lady! I will be glad to play host to your lord and you. I will have rooms prepared for you. My servants will check on you should you have any need."

"Thank you again Lhinnor. You must still have much work to do," Karanisuri said softly. Lhinnor gave a small smile.

"There is always work but there is always plenty of time."

"Oh yes, more tea and lembas would be most welcome," Tarakano said and then his eyes lit up, "Perhaps we could have some of those sweet cakes while we visit? Karanisuri loves them."

Karanisuri looked sheepish and elbowed Tarakano. It caused Lhinnor to laugh joyously. He then agreed and left the couple to read their story.

'I hope you enjoy it,' Lhinnor thought, glancing back at the couple one last time before closing the door. He did use their voices to give life to their tale and had only added and edited where it was important to keep the story coherent but it was all truth. There was no lie to be found.

Chapter One

Karanisuri

The stars are always constant, yet sometimes blackened storm clouds would block them out. Not even our fires and their smoke would ever block out the sight of what we, the Quendi, love most: the stars. While I love the stars, as much as any other, what I have always loved most is the wind. It is even in my mother's name, suri. Wind. Perhaps my name should have been along the lines of meaning "Untamed Heart" or maybe "Untamed Wind." But, my mother-name is Karanisuri. It means red wind, for my hair is the rich color of my paternal grandmother's clan. I am as swift and agile as the wind is. Perhaps my mother knew that like the wind, I would travel across land and sea, seeing sights few of my people have seen, meeting strange cultures and people. Perhaps my mother knew too that I would never settle down easily and that even my partner would flow with my wind.

My mother often told me as I grew older that while she was pregnant with my twin sister and I, her dreams were more vivid and contradictory then when she carried my elder brothers. When I grew old enough, she told me her strange dreams in a hushed voice. She spoke of their dueling natures, of a gentle breeze that walked alongside her and never parted from her. There was a wild wind that stayed with her for the briefest time but would rush off. In the dream she would never see that wild wind for a long time but when it had returned it had changed. This happened many times. The wild wind would ever return in the same dream, a wind that would carry more sorrow and joy. My mother held off for several years before finally rendering the name that we would be publicly known for.

My twin sister and I went by our father-names until our fourteenth season of existence that my mother presented us with our names. I was to be Karanisuri and my sister to be Vilóma the gentle breeze. It is an apt name, for my sister is soft, gentle, and rarely raises her voice loudly except in song. Do not get me wrong, my sister was capable of having a backbone but she was given towards kindness and gentleness, to growing of plants and healing the hurts of others. Despite our many differences as we matured and the years turned, we remained close confidants. My sister's insight would smooth over the many family conflicts and differences. It was with her help that I understood the difference between lust and love.

The memories of Cuiviénen that I have are treasured, from every celebration to every fight. For I was young, joyous, and was not burdened with sorrow. If they were a physical object I would earnestly guard them like Feanor guarded the Silmarils. Would I go back and attempt to change the events that me from the chores of Cuiviénen to the shores of Aman and then back to Beleriand for personal reasons? No. I made my choices and followed where the wind took me. It may have been fate, perhaps. It could have been what Ilúvatar had sung long ago or maybe it was Ilúvatar's guiding hand upon me. Resist or accept? THe wind does not stop for any elf, man, or dwarf.

Let me fall back into those cherished memories of the time before the words of sun and moon exist. Let my mind wander to the shores that no longer exist and ways that have ceased to exist, for we were young and unlearned then. In this time, there is much peace and joy with only simple conflicts before Melkor hunted us down as we strayed. Like the wind I was named for I was never meant to be caged, but caged I, no we became. I am skipping ahead of myself. Let me backtrack to the simplest of times, my youth, before the disturbance of Melkor.

There, adrift in countless times of unnamed moments of sleep, dreams, and periods of wakefulness, I ride across the plains of my youth. Here, there was rolling grasslands with sparse trees. There are roaming herds of wild horses, elk, and bison. There was foxes and even wolves. There are a few farms spread across the plains, made up of small groups of people who moved away from the much bigger villages. Across these plains you will also finds us, the Palar-e-Rokasta, the Plains Riders. We are nomads, traveling between the various villages and farms. We are akin to shepherds, keeping an eye on the various animal herbs, for tracking, for hunting, but also for population. The Palar-e-Rokasta served as a source of news between the farms and villages. The biggest problem for the Quendi were the wolves that lingered within forests and the plains. Only now fell creatures were beginning to come into our lives...

The wolves and later the fell creatures are what make our group so important. Our counterpart is the Tir-e-Twaina, the Forest Watchers. They dwell exclusively in the forest of the Wild Wood and only come out for the Great Gathering in rotation. This is where I am currently heading with my brothers and our people. For I am a leader, a Kheri, of my own troop of riders.

I cannot help but smile as I spot the tents on the horizon. My elder brother, Kanatasulo, glances in my direction with the same grin that is upon my face. My brother and I let out a loud yell and urge our horses into a gallop. Kanatasulo's red hair is like a living flame dancing in the wind. It is his pride and joy.

"Wait up," my younger brother, Tankatiro, shouts and then urges his horse into a gallop. It takes barely a moment before the Palar-e-Rokasta behind me to give similar shouts of joy and excitement. The distance closes fast, hooves thundering across the plains like the crashing thunder of the Storm Season. The horses are slowed first to a canter and then into a trot as the Gathering is revealed to us in full display with ellons and elleth running, laughing, or milling about with rowdy temperament.

"Alar-si!" Greetings are given all around as we draw close. The loudest greeting comes from a tall tree. It is a deep lingering yell, the voice booming and filling the plains. It drowns out a few greetings.

"Alar-si Berowë!" Kanatasulo greets the holder of the deep voice. Karanisuri came close and spotted Berowë easily. Berowë had done his best to hide in the tree but his body was too large, too muscular. There was a running joke among the Tir-e-Twaina and others who dwelled near the forest about how any tree could hold Berowë's weight. He was one of the tallest males of the Tatyar but not the most muscular of them all. Berowë was might in strength but was incredibly foolish as well. He was more brawn than brain, but Berowë was valiant and I would rather have him in the toughest situations than a great deal of many people. Berowë, often rode among the Palar-e-Rokasta himself though more lately with my riders.

"You have made good timing my friends for one of the festivities have even started yet," Berowë informs us. Berowë jumps and lands with a loud thump and grunt.

I dismount and ask Berowë, "Has our family arrived yet?"

"Oh yes, wait till you see Vilóma's surprise!" Berowë exclaims.

"Should we be concerned?" Tankatiro's deep voice resonates from behind me. He has blonde golden hair, the like that is only seen in the Minyar and nowhere else in the world that we know. He shares it with Vilóma.

"Oh, I think you will enjoy the news," Berowë chortles then gives the directions to Kanatasulo as I turn to face the Palar-e-Rokasta riders. It was a mixed group of the clans, ranging from pale skin that resembled the stars, to warm beiges, to both cool and warm browns. The bulk of my riders were Minyar, the ones with warm beige skin that deepen into honey at times, the ones with the famed golden hair with the exception of those of us who were of mixed heritage.

"Let us care for our horses," I said glancing at Tankatiro. Her younger brother looked ready to burst into movement into the temporary enormous village that was the Great Gathering. He nodded and led the way to one of the preordained areas for the horses. I pause for a moment and wave at Berowë. He gives me a smile and dashes to me.

"Are you meeting with your family first?"

"Yes. We shall share our spoils with them," I answered and Berowë nods at this. His fingers slide down my neck through my hair and I shiver.

"Shall I find you," Berowë whispered huskily.

"Yes," I answer. Berowë gives me a cheeky grin and leaves us.

"Alar-si," Tankatiro greets the Horse Keeper, a male Nelyar.

"Alar-si! What may I do for you," the male Nelyar inquires.

"We need a place to tie up our horses," Tankatiro answers and I finally catch up.

"Follow me," the Horse Keeper said and guides us to an empty corral that is close.

"Shall I have the Rokokhini care for your horses?"

"No but we appreciate your offer," Kanatasulo answers.

My family, the riders, and I settle into a rhythm of caring for our horses starting with the unloading of our horses of our gear and spoils. It was a familiar rhythm for we had done this for countless Dry Seasons together and only Tankatiro was new.

We are riders and our horses are an extension of ourselves. Sutal, my beautiful brown stallion was my favorite horse out of all the horses I have ridden. I glanced at the Horse Keeper whose duty it was to watch over the horses. There was little chance of them breaking free or being attacked by wolves but it was there.

It is a short and easy task of setting up camp after caring for our horses. We had several tents for our group to sleep in. Most tents were a style of stretched skin over wooden poles but ranged in sizes. Some were large enough to accomodate fires and others were simply small temporary shelters to sleep under in case of rain. Ours was the larger design with the flap at the top to allow for the smoke to leave.

The other task which Kanatasulo and I carry out is the division of goods from the hunt and which we split into piles. We often based this between effort and need. Should a rider need a new pair of boots or quiver, they are more likely to get the skin over someone who had killed the animal. Sometimes, when a rider leaves us to start a family we gift them with the objects. It is the way of the Palar-e-Rokasta to care. However, the Palar-e-Rokasta rarely shared outside of itself tendon and sinew for we used it for our bows, arrows, and the sinew we kept on hand for stitches. Accidents can and do happen after all. Bones, hooves, horns, and skins valued by us all.

I stop for a moment and glance around at the tents. The tents were often colored to a clan's, village, or group specifications but so was new and inventive styles arising. Still, the tents melted into the distance of the makeshift village. There was even districts now at the Gatherings, one such was for trade.

Various bonfires and small fires cast light and shadow upon the tents the faces of the Quendi. There was a strong aroma of smoke, herbs, and roasting meat. Adding to this chaotic and lively place was voices raises in song and the various instruments. This is the Gathering, a time for many events such as marriages, trade, and an ever important council. I took it all in, happy to be here.

"We are some of the last to arrive," Tankatiro observes.

"At least we arrived before the opening ceremony of the Gathering," Kanatasulo laughs and smacks Tankatiro in the shoulder. It caused Tankatiro to grunt and glare up at the red head.

"Oh, hush! Let us go celebrate instead of bemoan our misfortune and blessing. Take these skins because I cannot carry them all," I said pointing at the pile of skins that were ours. I hoist one of the bags and my brothers take their bags before picking up the skins. I pick up the last two skins.

I turn to the rest of our companions, "Go and greet your families. We will see each other upon the rising of the Wolf."

It always seems to strange to part from my fellow Palar-e-Rokasta as they are extended family. We share more than traveling, sleeping, eating, and hunting. We shared in each other's pain and joy, from marriage, to the rare death, to the births of horses, and of course the births of elflings. Many of us Minyar kept to the same traveling and fierce ways that Grandfather had started as he searched for more ner and nes to join our clan. Rarely did we give it up but some did, choosing to settle in Mbardimin.

My brothers and I walk into the throng of tents. Our eyes follow the symbols and colors painted on the tents as well as the little signs. We weave through the streets and around the people following Berowë's instructions.

"Alar-si Karanisuri!"

"Alar-si Kanatasulo! Is that another sibling I see?" Familiar faces would shout their greetings and questions was we continued our way. The people grew more familiar the closer we got to where my family would be. It is Vilóma I spot first, my twin sister whose golden hair fall loosely down her back. She is laughing gayily. She is the first to spot us.

"Alar-si! You are late," Vilóma cries out! She runs over to me and embraces me tightly. I can feel her spirit singing such joy that spills into me.

"We are sorry little sister! We had some misfortune that held us up this season! Some of our misfortune was a blessing as you can see," Kanatasulo exclaimed.

"Mother and father will be pleased," Vilóma said with a nod.

"What no hug for me," Tankatiro questions with a pout? Vilóma laughs and embraces Tankatiro whose sour expression uplifts.

"Come, come," Vilóma urges. We follow and arrive into our family's camp. They must have gathered beforehand for not only was our maternal family of aunts and uncles here but our paternal family was here as well. There is shouts of greeting that draw my oldest brother out first who is followed shortly with his wife, Morlothyë. The both embrace us as my parents and our youngest sibling emerge from a tent near us. Cwîlneno was his name, a little brother of red hair. My twin sister and I both want a sister but perhaps it is best for our differing natures and desires.

"Alar-si," my beautiful Minyar Mother greets me with a kiss to my cheek and a fierce hug before she moves to greet Kanatasulo and Tankatiro. Cwîlneno stares up at me for a moment.

"Bova," Cwîlneno greets shyly. Poor Cwîlneno, only two Dry Seasons old and I have spent most of time away. I lived in Mbardimin only for the Storm Season after all.

"Bova, little brother," I squat to greet Cwîlneno and open my arms to him. He pauses for a moment just staring at me with wide and large eyes before wrapping his small arms around my neck.

"You don't get to keep all the attention to yourself Karanisuri! It is just like you," Kanatasulo teases me from behind. "Bova Cwîlneno!"

"Bova elder brother," Cwîlneno said pulling away from me. Kanatasulo bent down, picked Cwîlneno up, and spun about a few times to make Cwîlneno laugh. We were rewarded with Cwîlneno's childish laughter. There is a preciousness within a child's laughter that we love so greatly.

"Your hunting has been good this year," Father remarks to us.

"Karanisuri has laid down several bison this year all by herself. I am a bit tired of bison meat by now. Bison this, bison that," Tankatiro bemoans to his father.

"Is it not the same when you dwelled by the Great Water," Father asks of Tankatiro? Tankatiro only gives a sigh in response.

"Congratulations Karanisuri! May your arrows continue to fly true," Mother blesses. Then she signals for me to follow her into the tent. I leave the men and enter the tent with Vilóma close behind. Vilóma hums and sits down in front of the small fire next to Mother. There is a serious expression on my mother's face that is causes me to feel deeply concerned.

"What is it Mother?"

"Tata and Enel called upon Father to convene in Minmbar just before the Great Gathering. We all followed to hear what they had to say," Mother said. She pauses and stares into the fire.

"Mother?"

"There has been worrisome reports that Tata and Enel have presented to us and will to the Council at this Gathering. The first part of this is the discovery of some large spiders that have attacked Tir-e-Twaina and the reports of other strange and dangerous creatures that have intelligence to them. The other part is thus, we never thought much of the disappearances in the years past. We are well aware accidents happen. Recently the number of Quendi that go missing each Dry Season has increased. It is out of place for in the past it was a lone traveler here or there and we are aware accidents do happen." Mother picked up the wine skin and took a deep drink in it.

She then continued, "Yet, now those who travel in two or threes will disappear. Tata and Enel first raised search parties but there was very little signs."

"Are you sure they chose not leave," I asked quietly?

"They left without any word to family and before you ask none of the Minyar have been lost," Mother said.

"We are too used to traveling in groups," I laugh but then quieted. "I hope the stars guard their path."

"I as well," Vilóma whispered.

"Mother are you telling me because you are worried for safety or is that the discussion of this Gathering's Council?"

"Both for you will always be my baby. I feel that you should be aware of this issue a Kheri yourself and your Grandfather left it up to me to inform you. Yes...but you have seen trouble already have you not?" My Mother gave me a knowing look and Vilóma gasped.

"What happened Karanisuri," Vilóma asked?

"We came across, this strange creature," I paused and searched for the words to describe together the creature we slew. "We first came across hints of it when we came upon a herd of bison completely slaughtered and the meet spoiled. It was so unlike the Quendi. Thus, my riders and I decided to investigate. It seemed to knew we hunt it. We became the hunted instead and it slunk in the grass and tried to pick us off. It was Kanatasulo's spear that slew it."

I closed my eyes recalling the fierce hunt and struggle. We lost several horses and almost one ellon before Kanatasulo managed to land the killing strike on the beast. I felt the wine skin pressed into my hands. I took a gulp and set it aside.

"It's fur has the color of the sky during the Storm Season. It's skin was tougher than the usual lion. Aye, it looked like lion. It smelt rancid too and the meet inside was greet. The blood itself caused mild burns to the skin and it cause ill effects upon the Quendi. It was not natural. We also rant into a large spider. It was far easier to defeat than that strange lion," I finished.

"There are many disturbing elements coming together," Vilóma said. We both focused on our Mother whose eyes were distant in the way of Thestulurya, traveling along the branches of what is to come. It was not perfect and not to be relied on except in the case of seeing your life partner and for me, I have never seen such for I carry no gift of Thestulurya. Mother shuddered and sighed. My twin and I glance at each other.

"The Quendi will be shaken by what is to come…" Mother said at last.

"Is there no hope?"

"I do not know for I could not a gain a sense of seasons or rising of the Wolf or Hunter. It will take some time," Mother said at last.

"Let us change subject since there is little we can do with a lack of knowledge. Berowë hinted that there is news to be told? So tell me dear sister, what is this news that has to pertain with you?" Karanisuri asked Vilóma who giggled in response.

"I met someone," Vilóma said.

"Aye, by meeting someone she means she is romantically involved," Mother said.

"Mom," Vilóma cries out!

"Oh, so you have found a ner, have you? What clan is he?"

"He is one of us, the Minyar. He is one of the Palar-e-Rokasta," Vilóma confided and then blushes.

"Does he dwell in Mbardimin?"

"Glisipindë does not dwell in Mbardimin. His family rides only and settle where they may for the Storm Season," Vilóma answered.

"Hmm...Glisipindë…" I said tapping my chin. The Minyar were the smallest compared to the other two clans and we were also the most nomadic. It was possible I had yet to meet him.

"Glisipindë? Why are you talking about Glisipindë?" Kanatasulo finally stepped into the tent. We nessi glance at my brother.

"You know of Glisipindë, Kanatasulo," Vilóma questions? Kanatasulo studies Vilóma.

"Glisipindë is a quiet ner but a very talented rider and warrior."

"So he is worthy of my sister then," I tease Vilóma with questioning Kanatasulo.

"Oh, ho! So sweet Vilóma is interested in that ner? Perhaps I should tell him of your faults?" Kanatasulo begins to tease Vilóma.

"Kanatasulo! How dare you!" Vilóma shouts indignantly at our brother.

"Alright children, please stop. Supper is served," Father said. Mother, my siblings, and I step out of the tent and are soon ushered to where food is being served. My paternal family is incredibly large as my father is of the second generation versus my other who is of the first born generation. Dinner is filled with the family news as aunts, uncles, and cousins chatter about all the family news from who is arguing with who, to pregnancy, and my least favorite topic too.

"Well Karanisuri, Vilóma has found her partner, what about you? Is there a ner who you fancy," one red headed aunt inquires.

"Aunt, I have no such interests," I insist.

"What about this Berowë that you often occasionally rides with you?"

"Tsk, tsk, that ner? He is foolish and not good enough for our Karanisuri."

"Why are you not chatting with Vilóma about her ner?" I eye my Aunts.

"Well dear, we have already had a nice lovely chat with her. We even have met her ner. We need to find your good husband. Have you tried glancing in the mirror pools again? Perhaps the stars will have revealed your destiny."

"I have no desire to. How many times do I gaze at them and they remain as is? Perhaps I am meant to be a wild and free wind," I say. My aunts tsk but they quiet down and focus on other topics. It is at this moment that I take my leave and grab the bag that I need to have for trading purposes. I quickly navigate to the market area.

"Suri!" Berowë's familiar voice calls out to me. I pause and soon he joins me.

"Bero…" I smile and greet looking up at him. It was nice being shorter.

"Off to the market?"

"Yes. I am looking to find feathers for arrows."

"Then I shall join you," Berowë said and grins.

"How is your project that you were telling me of?"

"My father is continuing his experiments on different consistencies to form what a new kind of clay. It is interesting work," Berowë explains. His fingers brush along my arm over the top of my hand. It is the lightest touch that makes me shiver.

"Well I for one am glad. It keeps you out of danger," I express.

"Yes, I do not need another scar," Berowë lamented. I see the shadows in his eyes and I do the only action that can chase it away. I kiss him. I pull away and smile at the darkening passion in his eyes.

"I hope you are joining me in my tent," Berowë said.

"I have ached for you," I murmur.

"As have I ached for your touch. Come let us go to the market ere the wolf sleeps," Berowë said. I nod and began to move again with Berowë at my side. Berowë guides me to several areas that had been set up that sold feathers. I glanced critically at them and only buy a few, exchanging the beads that I carve for them. I choose to enter another tent.

"Bova," a nes greets us. She has the silver hair that is only born by those of the Nelyar. She is much shorter than the brown haired ner by her side.

"Bova," Berowë and I both greet.

"May I help you?"

"Yes, I am looking for feathers for arrows," I said.

"Then you are in luck. Orawë, bring out the feathers," the nes commanded in such a sweet voice. Orawë the ner, stood up and pulled a bag out and laid it before the nes. I carefully sort through the feathers. Berowë sits down besides me and helps. We group together by bird type, then by size. I take out the goose primaries that I spot. They are a little more resistant towards being wet, which is perfect for when I or others have to hunt in the rain. They are not perfect but we hunters have yet to find the perfect feather that performs in the midst of the Storm Season.

"You are a huntress," the nes hums. I look up and smile.

"One of the Palar-e-Rokasta..." It is easy to tell with my simple and practical clothing. Berowë's clothing is opposite of mine in adornment. His clothing is practical as he functions often as a guard and a hunter, but it is carefully adorned with beadwork and dyes. There is no kohl around my eyes, like the nes. No fresh scent of oils like hers, the essence of flowers. My stench is that of sweat, horses, and smoke.

"You are like the wind, hm? Which clan do you come from?" The nes studied me carefully. Her gaze left me feeling unsettled.

"I am of all three clans. My father comes from the Nelyar and Tatyar but my mother is Imin's daughter," I answer easily despite the strange feeling in my gut. Why was she looking at me like that?

"It is pleasant to meet you Kheri," the nes says and then giggles. "Would you try some new feathers? Orawë and his brother have been making friends with the birds."

"Alwë!" The silver haired nes laughs at Orawë. Orawë sighs and pulls out a smaller bag and hands it over to Alwë. She opens the bag and they shimmer in the light of the fire. I picked up one of the feathers to inspect them carefully. My fingers caress them delicately getting a feel for them. I hand a feather over to Berowë to inspect. I pick up another. I cannot help but wonder how it will hold up. Even if I am a wanderer, I have an eye for beauty. It is why when we are at camp I spend my time carving.

"Where did you get these," Berowë asks?

"The birds live on the Great Water. My brother and I have been trying to build what could take us out on the water," Orawë confesses.

"I swear I do not think ill of you. We have much to explore under these wide skies," I said and Orawë nods.

"You must visit us in Altanenwa! You can tell us how these feathers work out. Though perhaps if you have time you can visit us and tells us your adventures upon the plains?" Alwë is grinning as she speaks. Orawë touches Alwë in the back. The two glance at each other with silent communication.

"I will try to visit you in Altanenwa," I said with a small smile. "But I must spend the Storm Season with my family."

"It is well I look forward to your visit," Alwë said and places a hand over the center of the chest.

"Mai pharalië," Orawë bids formally with a hand over his chest as well.

"Thank you." I packed up the feathers carefully. I get up and move to exit the tent and met with a force that sends me sprawling back into the ground. I took a slow breath and sit up. There in the entrance way is a silver haired ner with a startled expression.

"Tarakano!" Alwë's voice is all censure.

"I apologize," Tarakano said and he offers his hand. I grasp it and notice it is as rough as mine. There is a strangle tingle I feel against out touching skin. Tarakano pulls me up with easy strength that betrays his more slender form. He could hardly be as muscular and large as Berowë. His green eyes remain bewildered as he glances over at me. I can still feel the tingle as he clasps my hand and then he lets go. The tingle stops leaving me confused.

"It is alright. I must get going. Let's go Berowë," I order. I step around Tarakano and Berowë quickly follows me.

"Suri?" I pause and allow Berowë to catch up with me.

"Bero, I am sorry. Is there a tent that sells wood shafts for arrows?" Berowë gives me a considering look and then sighs.

"Yes, follow me. Are you really that low on arrows?"

"On our way here we fell on a great deal of misfortune, from an overflowing river, to a landslide that blocked our way, then we were plagued by wolves. It has been a good hunting season but it is worrisome. I almost feel like it is an ill omen." Berowë looks deeply concerned at my news. I dare not mention the strange creature I had encountered upon the plains.

"Some of the smaller settlements have been plagued with wolves. This may be an ill season or two," Berowë said. Berowë accompanies me as I make my purchases for the materials I need to make more arrows. I am making them not just for me but for Kanatasulo and Tankatiro as well. Berowë guides me to his campsite.

"I will cook and you can make your arrows in peace," Berowë proclaims.

"Fine, I shall not argue with you!" I acquiesce. "Just promise to not serenade me with humorous and bawdy songs! I will never get work done if you make me laugh."

"This I can agree to." Berowë sets to cooking a simple soup. I begin to cut the wood first. I fall into a rhythmic song that follows the actions and Berowë joins me. His voice is deep compared to my softer and higher tones. We sit like this for some time each involved in own tasks. It is not long before the aromatic stew makes me hungry. I set the shafts I have made aside.

"The stew smells amazing Bero."

"It is a new recipe my mother's friend has made up. It is supposed to be hearty and filling." Berowë takes a cup and dips it into the stew. He fills the ceramic bowls this way. Berowë passes me one bowl and then sits besides me. The steam rises off the dark liquid wafting the strong scent of cinnamon and ginger. I sip it slowly. It burns down my throat not because of its temperatures but of the use of strong pepper. I gasp.

"You might want to use less hot pepper next time," I choke out. Berowë nods tears streaming from his eyes.

"It seems like I got that wrong," Berowë says breathless. I throw my head back and laugh at his pained expression.

"Show me your supplies," I demand of Berowë. Berowë opens up the locked trunk. I find the fresh goat's milk within and add it to both our dishes. "Try it now, add more if you need it."

"I over bartered for this. Never did I expect to use it in this manner," Berowë bemoans the goat's milk. He sips it slowly and then his face brightens. The goat's milk had worked its magic.

"It is a trick I learned from my own mother." I go back to my own soup and down it quickly. I let out a loud belch.

"Anything you can do, I can do better," Berowë says in a sing-song voice. Berowë lets out an even louder burp. I laugh and add the goat's milk to the pot of soup before serving myself again.

"It feels good to have more than meat, smoked meat, and berries," I announce to Berowë. Berowë snorts at this and shakes his head.

"You are the one who chose this life. No one is stopping you."

"I know this, Bero, I do. Yet even when I stay for a season I feel too soon the urge to wander." I put down the bowl and lay back on the ground staring up at the stars. I wonder if the Stars are people. Some of the Quendi believe it so, while others assume is a natural object far above us. In the lullabies of my childhood, there is a song about the Stars being our guardians and watchers. There is a Star up in the sky that is born to watch over my life. I wonder if the Star knows why I have no partner for the mirror pools have never revealed it.

"Mead for your thoughts?" Berowë offers. I sit up and take the small drinking bowl. The mead tastes of blackberries, honey, and cloves. Berowë pours out more from the small jug into the drinking bowls.

"I don't know why you bother with the drinking bowls. We might as well just drink from the jug." We both drink from the bowls. I grab the jug instead and gulp from it.

"It is considered poor taste to drink from the jug," Berowë jokingly criticizes.

"Bero, Bero, Bero." I shake my head at this but I do not laugh.

"You know how the Tatyar is," Berowë mutters.

'Yes, I do,' I almost say. The Minyar served their own purpose but the Tatyar, well the Tatyar was forming the foundation of our society and culture. Each clan certainly had their own ways, such as the Minyar, my mother's clan was nomadic and fierce hunters. We pass the jug back and forth.

"You know what Tatyar also are?" Berowë

"Hmm?" I glance over at Berowë and his eyes are dancing. He sets the jug down and his face is close to mine.

"We are a passionate people. Come to bed Suri," Berowë whispers. I give him a smile. It is the only answer he needs. Berowë pulls me up to my feet and leads me into the tent. He pulls the string holding up the flat, enclosing us within. It is darker than outside due the canvas. The small opening at the top allows the starlight to filter in.

Being with Berowë is easy. I do not have to think hard. This is what I think as we work the clothes off from each other as our fingers caress and our lips meet. I would choose him for a husband if it was not for the fact that I wanted a love like my parents have. Perhaps we would be married if I did not know too that there was a nes he had seen in the mirror pools. For now, this would do, flesh to flesh to satisfy ourselves.

"Your brothers are going to kill me," Berowë says against my skin.

"Every time you say that but you keep coming back," I murmur back.

"Suri…" Berowë breathes my name and causes me to shiver. His fingers brush my face and I turn to look at him. He has a strange expression upon his face, one that makes my beat skip.

"Bero...don't." I am not sure what I am trying to deny here. Berowë shakes his head.

"I know that she is waiting for me in some unknown land but I am tired of denying it. Is it so wrong that I love you?"

"You cannot…" Berowë gives me a half-smile at his denial.

"I have asked around before and I know what love is. You can deny that for all it is and even argue that you are not my destined mate, but I love you Karanisuri. You listen to me, you think of me, you care for me, as I do for you. I won't seek to join our spirits but Suri? Let me love you and let yourself love me. Who knows the time and distance before I meet my destined mate and perhaps one day you will meet yours?" I tremble at his gentle touch and sweet voice.

"It-"

"No, Suri. Stop denying. Right here, right now, it is just you and I. Is that so difficult?" I groan as he kisses me. Berowë is putting his display of seduction skills. I caress his scarred flesh. He whispers to me sweet words that build into his seduction. I dare not allow myself to have such feelings because it would just end in heartache. Berowë will only be mine for a time.

"Bero," I gasp! Being with Berowë has always been easy but now it has shifted and I am not sure how to feel.

Characters:

Kandatuo is the oldest of Karanisuri's siblings and who is followed by Kanatasulo. Then there is Karanisuri and Vilóma. Cwîlneno is the youngest of the siblings. Vilóma and Tankatiro are the only ones with blonde hair.

Language:

Kheri - Lady

Alar-Si - Hail (Alar) Si (here/now)

Rokokhini - Horse Children, inspired by rokowen, horseman/, rider and khina for child. I for plural.

Time - Rising of the Wolf/Hunter, Setting of the Wolf/Hunter. The Wolf is a constellation that is in the sky that disappears from sight as Arda turns. It is their period of wakefulness and the time of the Hunter is their time for sleep. This is how those early elves told time.

Mbardimin - from mbar (dwelling) de/le (with) and imin - Dwelling with Imin

Bova is not a real word within Tolkien's elvish. It is crafted from the Sindarin "govanan" as Mae govenan means well met. Bova is just a simple slang for "well met." Alar-si is meant more as "hello" versus the Bova version meaning more akin to a "hi."

Thestulurya - thest (sense of) tulurya (future, coming)

Altanenwa - A town near the Great Water.