A/N:February 6, 2013- I must apologize for an egregious error on my part. Something was just not sitting right with me about my heroine's name! I would research and research and could not find out why until I found a reliable Quenya dictionary. "Hodoer" is not Tolkein elvish. At all! I am horrified and embarassed and must beg all my readers pardon! Her name is Tára now, which still means "wise." Once again, I apologize and grovel at my reader's feet. Beware the fallacies of the internet! Now, on with the story!
Tára jerked awake, stifling a scream into her pillow. She had been in the Greenwood for a week since waking. Though she had been unconscious from her injuries, Tára wished she could go back to that semi-peaceful state of mind. Since her first night after she had awoken, Tára had been plagued with nightmares. They were all the same and all ended the same way but Tára always woke screaming.
Tára sat up, pulling her knees to her chest. Pale morning light started to creep through the small window of her chamber. The pink light glittered off shards of glass in the corner. Tára had broken a mirror against the wall a few days before, not able to look upon her wounded face without shedding bitter tears. With a shiver, Tára unconsciously remembered her paralyzing fear and the feel of the uruks hands upon her body.
Tára's glance strayed to her sword, which leaned in the opposite corner. Anger flared in her soul.
"What was Galadriel thinking? And why was I so stupid to agree to this? I have no business meddling in anything." Tára muttered, her anger at the elven lady and her own naiveté flaring. Tára got out of bed, throwing one of her pillows across the room. It landed with a dull thud next to her sword. Suddenly, the room seemed stifling to Tára. She dressed quickly, hoping to sneak out of the waking palace unnoticed. As she came to the door, her eyes strayed once again to her sword. She turned resolutely from the weapon, about to open the door when a knock startled her.
"Lady Tára?" an elven voice called beyond the door. Tára opened the portal to see one of the elven healers.
"I am sorry, were you about to leave?" the healer asked, looking Tára up and down quickly.
"Uh, no." Tára lied, "do you need something?"
"May I come in?" the healer asked, motioning inside the room. Tára stepped aside, letting the elf pass.
"The number of days for the sutures on your facial wound is completed. I've come to take them out; it will only take a moment." The healer motioned for Tára to sit on the single chair in the room. Tára obeyed quickly and the elf set to work. The healer worked quickly and smoothly, though Tára still felt a strange itching every time one of the silken strands left her flesh. In a matter of minutes, the healer was done. Without giving Tára a chance to think, the elf produced a mirror from under her tray of instruments she had brought in. Tára tensed, instantly closing her eyes.
"It will help if you see." The healer said quietly. Tára reluctantly opened her eyes, grimacing at her reflection. The wounds were still a bright red but the skin was closed. Tára took a shaky breath, touching one of the scars. The skin was still tender and the edges felt tight.
"The skin will tighten on all the wounds on your body when they scar, though these on your face may pull the most. Take this ointment and apply it to your scars to help with the healing." The healer handed a small silver container to Tára. "I will be on my way. May the Valar bless you, Wise One." Without giving Tára a chance to reply, the healer left the room.
Tára sat on the chair for some minutes afterwards. The healer's kindness had diffused her black mood, leaving her feeling sheepish and a little empty. With a sigh, Tára stood, reached for her sword and strapped it to her waist.
"Let's see if I remember the way." Tára said, setting out for the practice fields. All of a sudden, the chance at a fight sounded appealing.
"What is she doing here?" a soldier of the royal guard sneered, motioning towards the entrance to the practice ring. Legil-Galad turned to see who his soldier was talking about, sending the elf a scathing glance when he saw it was Tára.
"She has just as much right as any to be here, as well as the blessing of the King. Mind your own actions and do not worry about the rest." Legil-Galad said, dismissing the elven guard with a steely look and a wave of his hand. The younger elf left, though he stepped wide of Tára when he passed by, turning his face away from the young woman.
Tára watched this all with a mix of admiration and irritation. She appreciated the way Legil-Galad stood up for her, though the glaringly apparent censure of the other elf gnawed at Tára. Even now, Tára felt her face burn, not from her wounds but in shame.
"Please forgive my soldier." Legil-Galad said, walking up to Tára. He noticed with some satisfaction that Tára's brown eyes seemed less shadowed today though he could see the embarrassment she was trying very hard to hide.
"I came to spar with someone, that is, if I can find a willing partner." Tára said quickly, turning her face away from Legil-Galad. The kind look on the elf lord's face was almost enough to send Tára running back to her room. She abandoned that plan instantly, knowing the elf would only follow. Legil-Galad had come to her chamber several times during the week, trying to draw Tára out. He had been successful for the most part, taking Tára to the gardens and library, though that was all Tára would allow. To Tára, Legil-Galad seemed different from the majority of the elves inhabiting Thranduil's realm. As a whole, Thranduil's subjects treated Legil-Galad with respect but there seemed to be another element to their interactions that Tára could not quite put her finger on. All that in combination with Tára's scarred visage, left her little enjoyment during these excursions.
"Are you sure you are healed enough to fight?" Legil-Galad asked Tára, snapping the young woman out of her thoughts.
"I am as sure as I can be, if that is any help to you." Tára said flatly, casting a quick glance at the elf.
"You are sure?" Legil-Galad ventured one last time. His only answer was a quick nod from Tára.
"Then let's begin." Legil-Galad said, walking to the center of the ring. Tára's head snapped up, realizing that Legil-Galad meant to be her partner. The elf lord merely smiled at Tára, his sword held relaxed at his side. Tára took a deep breath, walking up to meet the elf. With one smooth motion, she unsheathed her sword. With reluctance, Tára realized that having her sword back in her hand felt as natural as breathing.
Taking a few moments to warm up, Tára watched Legil-Galad. The elf stood at the ready, though Tára could tell he was waiting for Tára's assent to begin.
"I am ready." Tára said, casting a quick look at Legil-Galad. Immediately, the elf lord took his stance.
Closing her eyes, Tára listened to the sounds around her. She could hear other elves across the great cavern that housed the practice fields. A clash of metal sounded to her right, the twang of a bow to the opposite side. Then she heard it, the sharp intake of breath as Legil-Galad charged forward. Tára's eyes opened like a flash. She parried the elf's blow dodging quickly around him. Legil-Galad was fast though, turning in one fluid motion to attack Tára again. Tára parried and dodged around Legil-Galad, smiling when her eyes met the elf's. Suddenly, Tára's vision flashed. Legil-Galad no longer stood before her but a giant uruk. The beast raised his sword, charging at Tára. A jolt of fear shot through Tára, causing her adrenaline to rush. She dodged the uruks blow, spinning around it to attack its back. The creature was fast though, Tára noticed, as it turned and parried her attack.
This beast shall die… Tára thought, seeing the beast leer at her.
Something was wrong; Legil-Galad could feel it. Tára's eyes had lost all focus, and a pained grimace was on her face. She continued to attack the elf, though all pretenses at sparring were gone. Each and every strike was aimed to kill, giving Legil-Galad no room for error.
"You shall not escape with your life." Tára said to Legil-Galad in elvish, her voice low and hoarse. Within seconds, Legil-Galad knew what was wrong; he had seen it many times before. Tára aimed a strike at Legil-Galad's neck, bringing her face close.
"Tára, you are not yourself! Come back to us!" Legil-Galad said fiercely.
"You dare try to reason with me, you filthy beast?" Tára answered, launching herself at Legil-Galad.
Legil-Galad braced himself when he saw Tára renew her attack. She pressed her blows against the elf fiercely. Legil-Galad parried and dodged, all the while losing ground to Tára. Though he was literally fighting for his life, a detached part of Legil-Galad's mind was astounded at the level of swordsmanship Tára displayed. He had never thought that a child of man could master the art so totally and effortlessly like one of the elven kind. One of the gifted of the elven kind for that matter.
Or a madwoman. Legil-Galad thought, his unease growing by the minute.
Tára wove in and out of the uruk's counter attacks with seemingly no effort. She found morbid pleasure at the pained look on the beast's face.
Time to finish this.
With an inhuman burst of strength, Tára lunged herself at the uruk, knocking the creature to one knee. The beast seemed surprised that Tára had bested it, leaving itself wide open to attack. Tára pulled back, about to strike the killing blow.
Tára stop!
Unearthly, crystalline blue eyes flashed in Tára's mind and a loud voice echoed in her head.
Stop this madness young one! Do not succumb to it!
With a start, Tára stepped back. Her limbs began to shake. It was not an uruk who stood before her but Legil-Galad. The elf lord had risen to his feet, knocking Tára's sword out of her hands. The elf grasped the young woman's shoulders tightly, giving her a little shake.
"Tára? Are you hurt?" Legil-Galad searched her scared face for any sign of recognition. The young woman took a shaking breath, turning her eyes up to the elf.
Blue eyes?
"Tára, what color are your eyes?" Legil-Galad asked. Tára looked up at the elf confusion on her face.
"I very nearly killed you and you want to know what color my eyes are?" Tára asked, her voice rising as the enormity of her actions started to sink in.
"It is no matter. What color are your eyes?" Legil-Galad asked again, knowing the answer already.
"Brown." Tára said quietly, surprised when Legil-Galad's eyes widened.
"I think there needs to be some explaining." The elf lord said, ushering Tára quickly away from the practice field.
"What needs explaining?" Tára looked at the elf, confusion written on her face. Legil-Galad's only answer was a small shake of his head.
Tára tried to keep track of where they were going but she soon gave up. Legil-Galad led her through almost a dozen tunnels until he finally stopped in front of an ancient looking door. The wood of the door was carved beautifully, though it looked as is it had seen better days. Legil-Galad opened the door and ushered Tára through. Inside, the smell of books and age assailed Tára's senses. The room was a mere closet compared to the royal library that she had seen earlier that week. Though even in its limited size, the walls were lined with shelves stuffed with books and parchments.
"What are we doing?" Tára looked around, reaching out and touching the bindings of a few books. Legil-Galad only pointed to a chair behind an ornate desk for Tára to sit in. when she was settled, Tára saw that her elven companion had a large book in his arms. Legil-Galad set the book down in front of Tára.
"Do you know of Melian?" Legil-Galad asked.
"The Maia? Of course." Tára answered, her annoyance starting to grow.
"She is not only a maiar but she was also a queen of elves. She and her consort Elu Thingol ruled the greatest kingdom of elves, Doriath. Melian protected the city with the power and wisdom that had been bestowed upon her by Ilúvatar." Legil-Galad paused and opened the large book, turning the pages gently.
"As a tribute to their queen, the elven smiths of the kingdom forged Melian a sword." As Legil-Galad said these words, he turned to the page that he had been looking for. Upon the page was a drawing of a sword. The elf rotated the book so that Tára could see.
"That's the sword that Galadriel gave me."
"Yes, it is, though it is not a common sword. When the smiths were forging the sword, they had Melian sing over the metal, literally breathing her essence into the sword. As a mark of Melian, the smiths set a sapphire in the shape of a nightingale into the pommel."
The young woman realized that Legil-Galad held her sword. The elf placed the weapon beside the book. The blades were identical, except that the blade in the book had flowing runes up and down its length.
"The runes on this sword merely say, 'The Bringer of Light.' When Galadriel was given ownership of the sword, she promised that she would keep the sword until the right soul came that could wield it." Legil-Galad cast a quick look at Tára who only nodded for the elf to continue.
"After the sword was completed, the smiths gave the weapon to Melian. She accepted the weapon, blessing the smiths for their work. Not long after Melian was presented with the sword, Thingol demanded a silmaril for the bride price of Lúthien. Thingol was slain by the dwarves of Nogrod, and Melian abandoned her body. Doriath was overrun and the blade was thought to be lost. After many years, it became known that Galadriel had found the blade, by what means, we do not know. Because she had sat under the tutelage of Melian, Galadriel was allowed to keep the sword."
"But why is the sword so special? I have heard of many different things being blessed that had no special merit after that." Tára said, taking her sword off the table and replacing it in its sheath.
"The sword is blessed, though that is not what makes it so unique. It was her song." Legil-Galad said, looking at Tára. The young woman only looked back, puzzled. The elf sighed and continued.
"The song that Melian sang over the blade was said to be one of her most beautiful, most woeful, and most haunting songs. They said that the smiths could scarcely keep working while Melian sang, for their hearts seemed to be weighed down by a shadow of sorrow. Accounts have said that the smiths openly wept as they worked, for the song was so beautiful yet so sorrowful."
"What were the words of the song?" Tára asked, feeling her cynicism grow.
"It is said that Melian sang of the last days and their coming sorrow, ruin, and end. She sang of one that would come, bearing in them the spirit and will of the Valar." Legil-Galad fell silent for a moment, turning a page in the book. "It is said that after the sword was forged, the Valar spoke to Melian. They told her because of her faithfulness to Ilúvatar, the Bringer of light would wield her weapon as a sign." Legil-Galad fell silent, studying the page before him. Tára looked at the page as well, seeing that Legil-Galad was tracing the lines of a picture. Tára leaned closer, examining the image. It was a drawing of a warrior in combat, though it was hard to tell if the warrior was male or female. The figure was wielding Melian's blade. As Tára's gaze crept to the warrior's face, she drew in a shocked breath. Across the warrior's androgynous features were three diagonal scars and around its neck, a chain holding a signet ring.
"No…no, it can't be; I won't… I…" Tára rose hastily from her chair, nearly tripping over a pile of books at her feet.
"You bear the blade." Legil-Galad said quietly.
"No." With that single word, Tára fled from the room. Legil-Galad sighed, closing the book slowly. He would wait for a time and then go find Tára.
Tára found her way out of the winding tunnels, eventually finding the entrance to the royal gardens. Her mind had not stopped working since Legil-Galad told her the confusing story. That the elf was implying that she was the "Bringer of Light" was simply preposterous. She had defended any sort of supernatural occurrence before she "came" to ancient Middle Earth though now, she felt as if the supernatural was imposing itself on her life.
A small hollow of young trees appeared to Tára's right. She ducked into the shade, hoping to free herself form any prying eyes. Sitting down on the cool grass, Tára unsheathed her sword and set the weapon across her lap. Tára looked at the blade, seeing her eyes reflected in the cool steel. With a start, she realized that blue eyes stared back at her. She finally realized why Legil-Galad had asked what her color her eyes were. Anger flared in her chest. Why did the Valar choose her? Why did they want her? Tára's reflection gave her no answer, only stared back with crystal blue eyes. Tára looked away, tilting her face towards the leafy canopy. How she wished she could talk to Xander. He always seemed to know what to do. Or Legolas, except that he would probably tell her the same story as Legil-Galad.
Before she knew it, Tára had sunk down into the grass, her hands behind her head. She closed her eyes for a moment. A strange feeling came over her, she suddenly felt cold, and dampness filled the air. When she opened her eyes, Tára saw nothing. The jangling of metal made Tára jerk upright. A shaft of light appeared at floor level and a tray of some sort was shoved through the opening. A couple of rats ran towards the tray but a pair of hands brushed the vermin away.
"Father, eat. You need your strength." A voice said through the darkness. The only answer was a hoarse cough to Tára's right. The person carrying the tray walked by Tára, stooping down in front of her. She leaned forward, trying to see the face. She was just getting close enough to distinguish the person's features when another voice called her name. She felt a gentle pressure on her shoulder and opened her eyes. Sunlight streamed into her face, blinding her. She sat up and looked around, her eyes meeting the kneecaps of a person standing next to her. Legil-Galad stooped down, looking at Tára. The elf looked as if he had something on his mind, though his smile seemed happy.
"I have been looking for you." Any sign of the elf being upset about Tára's abrupt departure was not present. Legil-Galad dropped down in the grass beside Tára, stretching out his long legs. Tára inwardly braced herself for Legil-Galad to bring up the Valar, though the elf surprised Tára.
"It seems that you are well liked in the Golden wood, for you received this missive today." The elf at Tára's side pulled a folded parchment from his tunic and held it before her. "It is a dangerous time to send messages, so I felt that this might be important to you."
Tára took the message, looking it over. It bore no distinguishing marks of any sort, save for the red wax of the seal. Taking a breath, Tára broke the seal, knowing at once, who had written the message. Legil-Galad looked at the young woman curiously, noting her strained features. Sighing, Tára unfolded the letter.
Tára, to say that this message does not cause me pain would be a lie. Your departure, so sudden and hasty, seemed to have taken my peace of mind with you. Your very presence seemed to soothe my soul. Every night since your departure, I have been troubled. It is as if my very being is struggling against an unseen foe. My dreams have been filled with darkness and misery, the reason why, I know not. How I wish I could share but one more moment with you, for I know it would calm my soul.
Tára stopped reading, looking up to the leafy canopy once again. Does everyone in Middle Earth think me a miracle worker? Tára thought bitterly.
The letter was from Boromir. It was as if the man needed to air out his conscience while expressing his feelings for Tára again. Against her will, Tára felt tears of frustration slip from her eyes. She looked down at the parchment again, noticing a small smudge in the ink.
The candle I write by has just sputtered. The hour is late, for we held council with the Lord and Lady from early afternoon until eventide. I should not be writing this but I will nonetheless. We are to travel down the Great River until Aragorn has decided our course. I feel that we should strike out from Gondor but Aragorn hears little of my opinions. He fails to see that from Gondor, we could use the enemy's own weapon against him. It is madness to throw away something so powerful. There are those who can wield it for a greater good. Surely, you can see the folly in the path that does not lead to Gondor. How I wish you were here, for you could sway Aragorn's decision.
Tára paused, her heart turning to stone in her chest. Boromir's delusions disturbed her. Even more so, that he attributed such power to her when it came to other's decisions and moods.
A movement to her side snapped Tára out of her reverie. She held the letter again, dreading what the last few paragraphs held.
Legolas has just joined us. I will be glad to be moving on from these woods. The elves are so enigmatic; it drives one mad after a time. I cannot abide how they seem to know your very thoughts. The Lady Galadriel especially. My brother once called her the "Mistress of Magic," a name that was fitly given. During our council, she seemed to look into my soul. I felt as if someone had spread out my thoughts, letting them be seen by all. Again, I will say that am glad to be moving on.
I must finish now, for the candle has all but burned out. This missive will not reach you until we are a few days from this place but know that my feelings expressed to you will not change. Though leagues separate us, my love for you keeps you close to my heart. I pray you safe travels. My thoughts follow you wherever you may be.
Boromir, scion of the house of Denethor
Tára took a shaky breath, realizing that she had not breathed for almost a minute.
"Are you going to be alright?" Legil-Galad spoke quietly beside Tára. Tára only shook her head, not trusting her voice. She had not realized how much this letter was affecting her until Legil-Galad had spoken. The elf put an arm around Tára's shoulders, squeezing her gently. That action seemed to loose a torrent of silent tears from Tára. The young woman turned against Legil-Galad, crying into his chest. The elf muttered a few soft words then just let Tára cry.
Legil-Galad sat silently, Tára still leaning upon his chest. Her tears had stopped some time ago but she was now fast asleep. The elf looked down at the sleeping young woman. He was finding what his nephew had found in Tára. Chosen by the Valar or not, her heart was still young. The thought of someone breaking her heart caused Legil-Galad no small amount of anger. The surge in his emotions surprised the elf. Legil-Galad sighed. His life seemed to touch so many others whose hearts had been hurt. His life had its fair share of grief. Against his will, Legil-Galad's mind drifted to his past.
His mother, Oropher's second wife, had died when he was young. So young that he had barely been weaned. Thranduil was only his half brother. Numerous elven nobles had tried to use that fact against Legil-Galad many times. Though it was thought to be a bone of contention between the brothers, it only made them closer. In many elves' eyes, Thranduil was of a more noble birth than Legil-Galad. After Thranduil and his sister's mother died, Oropher had remarried a rare occurrence among elves. Many had thought that Oropher had married too soon after his first wife's death. A prejudice was formed against the new wife, though Oropher took no heed.
When word reached Legil-Galad's mother that Oropher had fallen in battle, she had faded away. Legil-Galad was left in the care of his half sister. Legil-Galad spent his first two hundred years in Lindon. During his youth, he had achieved great favor in the eyes of the community elders. He quickly surpassed other elves his age in his studies and training. He soon became the community favorite, a position that he had taken reluctantly. Everything he put his hand to seemed to prosper. Legil-Galad was hailed as being blessed by the Valar. Nothing seemed to go badly for Legil-Galad, until Hisimé had come onto the scene. Legil-Galad was smitten at the first sight of the elven maid. She had been living with her mother's people in the Grey Havens. Her father was one who had opposed Oropher's second marriage. Through much persuasion from Legil-Galad and Hisimé, Hisimé's father allowed Legil-Galad to court his daughter. The courtship had been a beautiful time for them both. Never had Legil-Galad felt that his life was so full.
Tára moved against the elf, wrenching him out of his reminiscing. The young woman sighed, seemingly content in sleep. Legil-Galad's mind returned to his memories.
Legil-Galad had always wanted to explore the mountains of Erud Luin. Several of his companions shared his desire for adventure. When preparations were underway, Hisimé had insisted that she be able to go along. Legil-Galad was delighted in her interest, though Hisimé's father was reluctant. In the end though, Hisimé had been allowed to go. It was the most foolish venture in Legil-Galad's life.
Their first days out had been wonderful. The mountains and surrounding scenery were beautiful. On the second week of their explorations, a storm arose. It came upon them so quickly that they had no time to prepare a shelter. One flash of lightening had reassured Legil-Galad that his companions were behind him. The second flash of lightening showed Legil-Galad a sight that was forever burned into his mind.
Legil-Galad had watched in horror as the mountainside disintegrated beneath his companion's feet. He dove onto his stomach, reaching for Hisimé, though it was too late. His last sight of his beloved was her being swept away by the rockslide.
Legil-Galad could do nothing until the storm had abated. When morning cleared away the clouds, Legil-Galad's worst fears were realized. On a plateau farther down the slope was a great pile of rocks and boulders. Small dots of colored cloth were the only signs of his fellow elves. He had searched for days for any bodies but found none. He dug through the rocks until his hands bled, hoping against all hope that he would find something. The only thing that his search had yielded was a scarf of Hisimé's, tattered almost beyond recognition. When he had finally ventured out of the mountains, he was nearly mad with grief and fatigue. Many who saw him could not believe their eyes. Legil-Galad had been only a shadow of his former self. His greatest source of misery was not Hisimé's death though. His greatest source of misery was Hisimé's father.
Legil-Galad presented Hisimé's scarf to her father, laying the fabric at the older elf's feet. The elven noble had nearly exploded with rage. Legil-Galad had fled the presence of Hisimé's father, fearing for his life, empty as it was. Hisimé's father had lost all respect for Legil-Galad. In his rage, he openly slandered Legil-Galad's name, even so far as to suggest that Oropher only married Legil-Galad's mother out of propriety. Behind Legil-Galad's back, Hisimé's father called him an illegitimate son to Oropher. The rumors found root in many hearts, turning the majority against Legil-Galad. The breaking point had been when Hisimé's father openly slandered Legil-Galad in a public place. Legil-Galad remembered the encounter as if it had just happened.
"Do not turn away from me, you son of snakes! Your only reason for courting my daughter was your own gratification!" Hisimé's father grabbed Legil-Galad's shoulder, whirling him around.
"A curse without cause will not alight, my lord." Legil-Galad said coolly. His coolness only seemed to rile the older elf more.
"You are a murderer! You only took my daughter into the mountains to kill her! Your only love is yourself; a trait passed down from your unworthy mother!"
The smirk on the face of Hisimé's father had pushed Legil-Galad over the edge. The older elf did not know what hit him; Legil-Galad flew at him so quickly. The crowd around them had grown deathly silent when Legil-Galad came to his senses. He looked down at the elf underneath him in disgust. Through the bruises and blood, Hisimé's father sneered at Legil-Galad, morbid satisfaction written in his eyes. Legil-Galad had gotten to his feet shakily; stunned to the core. He realized in horror that Hisimé's father had won. That very evening, Legil-Galad had left Lindon, vowing never to return as long as Hisimé's father dwelt there.
Legil-Galad had now dwelt in Mirkwood for two thousand years.
Tára pushed away from Legil-Galad slowly. She looked at Legil-Galad, embarrassment showing on her face.
"I am sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep on you." Tára pulled her knees up to her chin, a strange look on her face. Legil-Galad recognized the look right away, having seen it before upon the faces of many others.
"You should not punish yourself for a few tears. Some circumstances we cannot control."
"Why me, Legil-Galad?" Tára asked bitterly. "Why would the Valar choose me? Why would they bring me here only to have me break a man's heart? To nearly be killed and to nearly kill you? Why?" Tára looked at Legil-Galad, an expression akin to accusation in her altered eyes.
"Why not you?" the elf asked, not unkindly. Before Tára could protest, the elf continued to speak. "I can see your anger rising and I ask you only to hear me before you close your mind." Legil-Galad fixed a mildly stern expression on Tára. The young woman had her mouth open to protest but closed it quickly. Legil-Galad smiled then continued.
"Who are we to fight against the will of Ilúvatar and the Valar? Our world was created and shaped by those beings as well as our very races. I have learned from past experiences that Ilúvatar's will is always accomplished. Whether you are willingly walking, or being pulled along like a small child. Maybe the answers you seek lie in the path the Valar have chosen for you?" Legil-Galad studied Tára, noticing that her expression had relaxed some. "Trust me, Wise one." Legil-Galad added with a smile.
Tára looked back to the elf lord, meeting his gaze hesitantly. Her next question surprised the elf.
"Have you ever known the future?"
"I do not possess the gift of foresight, if that is what you mean?" Legil-Galad answered, puzzled at the sudden change in conversation.
"No, that is not what I mean." Tára said quietly, crumpling Boromir's letter in her hand.
A/N: I'm sorry for the lapse in updates... life keeps catching up with me! I've been doing a lot of editing and touch ups of the chapters I have written. Sometimes I have to let my writing stew for a few days so that I can see what needs to be changed more clearly. :) So if I'm late updating again, that's more than likely why.
Also, a big "Thank You!" goes out to all my faithful readers and reviewers. I would still post my story even if I didn't get any reviews but all your kind words are very encouraging. It adds a little more enjoyment to the writing process. Thanks again!
