Anariel of Erudin: Valmoria's Wrath

by A. M. Brossart

200 years after the death of King Elessar, Middle-earth is falling to ruin at the hands of men, but young Anariel has bigger problems when she suddenly comes into possession of an evil elf-queen's amulet. With her childhood friend at her side, Anariel soon finds herself in a new alliance of elves and men. Together, can they save Middle-earth, or is it already too late?

14. Thranduil's Halls

Okay, I'm really sorry this chapter took so long. Three months is just unacceptable, and nobody is more frustrated than I am. I promise the next chapter won't be nearly as long of a wait. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and if you're struggling to remember previous chapters (which is my fault, sorry!), I recommend you reread the end of Chapter 9 because a character that was briefly mentioned will be entering the storyline once more, but he won't make a full appearance until the next chapter. Just giving you a heads-up.

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Chapter 14: Thranduil's Halls

Our encounter with the great spiders had steered us far off course, forcing us to take an alternative path that stretched deep into the forest and past the mountains. We spent three days navigating through the Wood of Greenleaves, seldom stopping for rest. Among our party, it was easy to distinguish the elves from the men: as we walked, the elves looked to the trees, embracing their environment with a deep fascination, while the men focused on the ground, carefully watching their aching feet. I too could rarely tear my eyes from the unfamiliar terrain, but I found satisfaction in simply observing the elves and noting their ever-changing expressions, none so dynamic as Legolas's. His eyes alone carried this wondrous gleam that grew brighter and brighter the further we hiked. Occasionally, he would just stop without warning to admire the scenery, and at night I would often find him sitting atop the tree branches, enjoying peaceful solitude. Honestly, I didn't understand how he could find a gloomy wood of dead trees so captivating, yet he gazed at them like they were the most precious things in the world. But maybe it wasn't simply about the trees; maybe it was the memories attached to them that made him smile. I wondered what it was like all those years ago, when the trees were still green and full of life, but no matter how hard I tried, I could not see it.

"How long since you last walked these woods, Legolas?" Elladan asked.

"Over two hundred years," the elf answered, a nostalgic smile on his face. "After being absent for so long, I admit, I feel like a stranger. Much has changed."

Elladan nodded his head in agreement. "Rivendell felt foreign to me as well."

"You two have lost touch," Elrohir concluded as he hopped onto a fallen tree log, where he stood for a few seconds, inhaling the musty scent of the forest. "I, however, feel perfectly at home here, as if I had never left."

He remained atop the log for only a few more seconds before his twin roughly shoved him off. That was the first time I'd ever heard an elf's feet make noise upon hitting the ground, but the sound was still far too quiet to describe with my limited vocabulary. As soon as he recovered, Elrohir returned the favor earnestly, pushing his brother back so hard that he nearly slammed into one of the trees, but the nimble elf managed to catch himself at the last minute. The two were laughing the entire time.

"What do you think would have happened if we had never departed these lands?" Elladan asked his brother after they'd declared a silent truce between them.

"Well, one thing is certain," Elrohir replied as he gently flicked the bare branch of a tree. "Middle-earth would be much greener."

I'd probably asked myself that same question a million times, especially in the winter, when the sun would disappear for months and the air would become so cold that you couldn't even step outside. Seven years ago, we experienced the coldest, darkest winter of the Fourth Age. Bundled beneath countless layers of fur, Winnie and I would spend all day in our room just staring out the window and wondering why the sun had gone away. Having no other explanation, I came up with my own: I said it was because all the elves had left Middle-earth. Yes, I blamed them for snow that covered the flowers, for the grey clouds that blocked the sun, and for the sickness that later struck my sister and nearly took her life. For that winter, I hated the elves; I thought they were selfish for taking away all the beauty of the world and then leaving us with this frigid wasteland. Even now, long after the snow had melted and the sun had returned, a small part of me still harbored those bitter thoughts. Deep down, I believed they were just as responsible for Middle-earth's destruction as we were. After all, they were the ones who left in the first place.

"Middle-earth no longer needs the elves," Beinion spat, using the sleeve of his tunic to wipe away the dry blood from his broken nose, though the stain still remained on his cheek. "This is the age of men."

Elladan's grey eyes hardened as he turned to glance at the young lord. "Indeed it is," he replied, but his eyes conveyed a much different response.

In the gaze of all three elves, I found a coldness far worse than the chilling winter I'd experienced as a child. It was the same expression the dungeon guard wore before he snapped Elrohir's bow, the same expression Turin wore whenever he was called a peasant, the same expression I wore every time I looked upon Beinion's smirking face. It was hatred, pure hatred, for all men, even their own companions. That was when I finally understood the reason why our fellowship had never truly united. They hated us as much as we hated them, and from such hatred there could never be trust.

I was torn between emotions. On one hand, I was deeply angered by their inability to admit their own guilt. How could we be expected to take all the blame for something they'd contributed to? They treated Middle-earth like a child's toy. Once they got tired of playing with it, they tossed it aside and moved on to the next toy. Now, two hundred years later, they were angry because another child broke it? Well, I would say to them the same thing Mother told me when Winnie ripped the head off my old doll: "You should have taken better care of it."

But on the other hand, I felt very ashamed. I had so much respect and admiration for the elves, especially Legolas, but right now he was looking down at me like I was a piece of horse manure stuck on the bottom of his boot. When his focus finally settled on me alone, I couldn't even hold his gaze for long; I lowered my eyes like a guilty child. Never before had I felt so small.

The elves soon returned to their effortless stride, which by now even Turin had stopped trying to match. He walked beside me, but my steps were noticeably slower than his, heavier, for I was filled with weariness; it weighed me down like an anchor at sea, pulling me further into a suffocating depression. I felt as dead as the forest, dull and empty inside, but just as I thought this, something caught my eye. In the distance, on the top branch of a dying black tree clung a tiny green leaf, gently flickering in the breeze. It was just one leaf, barely the size of my finger, but if it was meant to serve as a glimpse of the wood's past beauty, then I could finally understand its magnificence.

"Elladan was right," I said to Turin, stepping closer to him as we walked along. "This forest is not dead."

"You think so?" he replied doubtfully. "It certainly looks dead."

I shook my head, feeling a smile beginning to spread across my face without restraint. "This place is incredible!"

"Incredible?" Stopping, he gently grasped my shoulders and stared down at me with skeptical eyes. Then he placed the back of his hand against my forehead, checking for a fever that certainly didn't exist. When he pulled away again, he sighed deeply and said, "I think this forest is starting to drive you mad."

No, I knew I wasn't going mad. This forest was indeed alive, only sleeping, and now, at last, it was awakening once more. Even when I was young, I believed that all nature was somehow tied to the elves, though I knew they were not the creators. My old nursemaid was keen on telling creation stories, all of which were silly and unfounded. Why, she once told me that the earth was formed from the severed fingers of a giant, and his calluses created the great mountain ranges of Middle-earth. She also told me that elves were simply manifestations of nature, and when we started cutting down the forests and drying up the lakes, they too began to vanish. Of all her stories, that was the one that struck me the hardest. That very night, I had Father write a letter to the king in order to save the trees from being cut down, but Mother refused to let me send it, deeming it childish and absurd. Looking back, I couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if I had been able to send the letter. Would it have made a difference? No, it probably wouldn't have.

"Look there," Elladan called, slowing his pace so that he could walk alongside me. He pointed toward a high branch that seemed to be sprouting a new leaf with every blink of my eyes, with buds opening like tiny fingers stretching out toward the sun. "Its sleep has finally ended."

"This is impossible," I said breathlessly. "Things like this just cannot be real."

"But you are seeing it with your own eyes, are you not?" He countered with a cheeky smirk. "How can you say it is not real?"

"Oh, but I cannot always trust my eyes, especially when elves are involved," I replied smartly, flashing a smirk to match his. "You see, I've heard stories of your trickery. Men and women alike claim to have lost their spouses to the beauty of elves, with just a single glance! One fisherman was driven so mad that he set fire to his own cottage while his wife lay asleep in her bed, and then he walked straight into the sea to drown. Villagers sometimes use this story as a cautionary tale for adulterous women, but most just use it to expose the evil magic of elves."

"Evil magic?" the elf interjected, clearly amused by my story. "What exaggerated stories these villagers tell! I can do no magic, and neither can any other elf I know. What is magic to you, anyway? This must be a creation of men, for I have only heard men speak of it, and they use the word so vaguely; everything is magical to them."

I couldn't help but laugh, for even I used that word to describe the elves and their strange ways, but I didn't know how to explain it so that Elladan would understand our thinking.

"Some of the things you do just seem so ... impossible," I said, struggling to find the right word. "Your very existence is so foreign and mysterious to us that we can only describe it as magical."

"But what about us is so magical?"

"Everything!" I answered with a little more enthusiasm than necessary, but I quickly recovered. "To you, it all seems completely natural, but to us, even looking into your eyes seems so ..." I found it hard to finish my sentence with Elladan's mesmerizing eyes staring straight into mine. They were just so curious and innocent, almost childlike. "Really, it's unlike anything else," I finally managed to say.

His brow began to wrinkle. "How strange."

Feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment, I quickly snapped out of my daze and forced myself to look away. That elf's eyes were like a perfectly constructed trap; once he caught you in his gaze, it was almost impossible to tear your eyes away no matter how hard you tried. I'd fallen into his trap countless times, and even now I wasn't completely immune to him. But he was not the elf from the Fellowship, and for that I cursed my luck. I'd finally found an elf who not only looked like the elf I'd imagined, but also possessed his exact qualities, and yet he was not that elf. No, instead, the elf I sought was some quiet recluse whose character fluctuated more than the weather. When he wasn't ignoring my very existence—and everyone else's, for that matter—he was protecting me from harm and discussing topics like love and marriage. Now, of course, he was back to his mysterious, reserved self, and that elf was completely unapproachable in my eyes.

Still, as much as he confused and frustrated me, he piqued my curiosity like no other. I just hoped that I would not be disappointed once I finally solved that riddle of an elf.

"Ana," Turin whispered as he nudged my shoulder. Once I gave him my attention, his tone turned to one of compete fascination. "Look at that!"

He was staring far into the distance, into a place that I would forever call paradise, for it was as close as I would ever get to such a thing. After walking through miles of sleeping trees, we reached a body of water known as the Enchanted River, and it was rightfully called so. The water was so clear and so blue that it almost didn't even look like water; it sparkled as if filled with millions of tiny jewels. But what caught my eye, and likely Turin's as well, was the lush woodland beyond it, which was very much alive and thriving. As soon as I saw it, I immediately thought of the Undying Lands. Back home, there was a small portion of the White Forest that I found most beautiful, where the trees were greener than all others in the wood, and that was my little piece of Aman, my Undying Lands. Whenever I was sad, I would escape there to find peace, but despite my very active imagination, I could not quite capture the real thing. Being here, though, I could almost see it.

Elrohir quickly discovered an old, moss-covered boat nearby, providing us safe transport across the river, which had currents so powerful that we would be swept away with a single step. After Elrohir told us this, Turin called the elf's bluff, but when dared to test the waters, the boy ate his words and hopped onto the boat along with everyone else.

"Well, this wood is not as terrifying as the legends say," Beinion mused as he leaned over the edge of the boat and started scooping water into his hands to wash the dried blood off his face. "Perhaps the legends were false."

"No, the legends are true," Elladan replied as he guided the boat along with his paddle, matching the movements of his twin, who stood at the other side. "This place was once cursed. In fact, that water could once send a man into a deep sleep and steal his most precious memories." As Beinion froze, the elf smirked. "But the waters have since been cleansed, so you probably have nothing to worry about."

As soon as those words left the elf's mouth, Beinion's face turned a sickly pale color. Moaning, the young lord slumped back into his seat and dropped his head between his legs, a position he maintained for the duration of the crossing.

Upon reaching the other side, Legolas hopped off the boat and said to everyone, "We will rest here for the night," and those were his last words to us, for as soon as we began setting up camp, he disappeared into the forest to spend another night in seclusion. By now, I had grown used to this habit of his, but this time was different than the others. Normally, he would linger around camp for a while and pretend to be interested in our discussions—mindless chatter to him, no doubt—but today he seemed to lack the patience even for that. This change me made me all the more curious.

"Ana!" Turin suddenly shoved his hand in front my face and began waving it around. "Are you not listening?"

"He always leaves," I muttered, answering his question without realizing it. When I turned to face him, I saw a small frown on his face, but I paid no attention to it and asked, "Don't you find it strange?"

"I find everything about that elf strange," he answered flatly. "But why do you care all of a sudden? Just days ago, you wanted a balrog to rise up from the ground and eat him, and now he's a curiosity?"

I cringed, remembering all the malicious thoughts I'd once carried for the elf. Early on, it was sometimes hard for me to sleep at night, so to pass the time, I would fantasize about Legolas meeting his tragic end. Over the nights, I'd explored many great deaths, but the fight with the balrog was definitely my favorite because it reminded me of Gandalf the Grey's battle on the Bridge of Khazad-dûm. I shared my dream with Turin because I thought it would amuse him, a mistake I would not make a second time. Now, he was using it against me.

"Things are different now," I argued, but I lacked the conviction to appease the great Turin.

"What is different?" he demanded. "What has changed?"

I was reluctant to answer, but ultimately I gave in and murmured, "He is the elf from the Fellowship of the Ring."

My response was met by a long and very awkward silence, interrupted only by the sound of Beinion's fingernails scraping across the inflamed skin of his most recent mosquito bite, his fourth of the day. Then I heard an even worse sound: Turin's roaring laughter. Clearly, he thought my sincere answer was nothing more than a joke.

"He can't be the elf from the Fellowship," Turin declared after recovering. "He has both his legs."

Once again that inescapable legless elf had managed to crawl into our conversation. I desperately wanted to know where he had heard such a ridiculous variation of a classic story. This was history they were destroying, after all!

"For the last time, there was no legless elf!" I shouted, reaching the limit of my patience. "It was Legolas, the elf!"

Turin fell silent again—considering my words carefully, I hoped—and for a good while, he just stood there, rubbing his chin and pursing his lips tightly. He showed promise for about ten seconds, but then he started shaking his head in disagreement.

"No, he can't be the elf," he insisted.

"He is! He told me himself!"

"Oh, Ana, how can you be so blind?" Turin exclaimed, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Clearly, he was lying to you! He's just some common elf who enjoys toying with the hearts of silly girls like you. Can't you see the game he's playing? He's just trying to take advantage of you!"

My eyes narrowed, and I didn't even try to hide the hurt in my voice. "So now I'm just a silly girl?"

I was so sick of people not taking me seriously. "Pay no mind to her," they'd always say. To everyone: the guards, the servants, and Mother most of all, I was just some foolish girl who lived in a fantasy world filled with elves, ents, and other creatures who had long disappeared from Middle-earth. But with Turin, I thought for certain he lived in the same world as I did, that we shared the same dreams, but now I was beginning to think it was all a lie to keep me happy.

"Come on," he recanted, trying to lighten the tension with a smile and a laugh, "you know what I meant." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "You're just excited. You're not thinking clearly."

"No," I said more harshly than I intended, and without thinking I pushed his hand away and stepped back. "Whether you believe me or not, it doesn't matter because I know it's him—I know it."

As soon as I left, Turin started shouting for me to come back, begging me not to take his words seriously, but I refused to listen. I marched past the itching, scratching Lord Beinion, past the quarreling twins, and entered the wood, unintentionally following Legolas's exact path, but, of course, I never saw him. I went into the wood to escape from Turin, but once I crossed the tree line, I lost the will to be angry. There was just something about these trees that put my heart at ease. As I sat on the ground amongst the fallen leaves and tiny wildflowers, I could hear nothing but the wind's quiet whistle, and it made me smile. When I was young, I often mistook this whistle for the voices of the trees, and I thought they were trying to speak to me in language I couldn't understand.

Maybe I was a silly girl, after all.

The whistling soon stopped, and for some reason I thought back to what Elladan had said when we'd first entered the forest. He said the trees were alive, even had heartbeats, and if I listened very closely, I could hear them. Although my previous attempt had failed, I thought that maybe in this wood, which was so full of life, I would finally be able to hear it, so I found a tree, the tallest, thickest tree around, and pressed my ear against it. Minutes passed, and a gentle breeze tugged at my hair, tickling my cheek, but I heard nothing. Sighing, I pulled away and frowned at the silent tree. "Am I not ready yet?" I asked even though I knew it wouldn't respond. "No, I don't think so. But one day I will be."

Smiling in defeat, I gazed upwards, allowing my eyes to travel up the massive tree that seemed to reach all the way up to the sky. The height of it was extremely intimidating, yet I had this overwhelming urge to climb. It was strange, this feeling, for I hadn't climbed in years, and I wasn't sure if I could make it, but there it was, impossible to ignore. Abandoning all reason, I climbed and climbed, branch by branch, until I found a place to rest. I ended up stopping at the fourth highest branch, a strong, sturdy branch, and from there I had a view of the entire forest; I could even see the mountain peaks.

"This," I said, slightly out of breath, "is by far the most amazing sight I will ever see."

I could have stayed up there forever, enjoying the fresh air and beautiful landscape, but just as I started to get comfortable, I saw movement on the forest floor beneath me. His body was partially obstructed by the branches, but I saw glimpses of a grey cloak, so I knew it was Turin coming to apologize.

"Turin, leave me alone," I said with a sigh. "I forgive you, okay? It doesn't matter anymore."

When I glanced down again, though, I saw that he still hadn't left. He had a habit of doing this when we were young. Whenever we fought, I would hide up in a tree, and he would wait below, kicking the trunk until I came back down and accepted his apology. Before he could start his assault, however, I delivered my counter-attack: I pulled off my boot and whipped it at him. Now, I wasn't expecting it to hit him—it never did in the past—but today Fate was most kind to me. The boot bounced down branch after branch until it hit its target. I heard the noise; it was a direct hit. Unfortunately, the target wasn't Turin, and I didn't realize what I'd done until he stepped into view, peeking up through the branches, that golden-haired elf whose path always managed to cross mine at the worst possible moment. Turns out, Fate was being unkind, after all.

"Lose something?" Legolas asked, holding up the boot for me to see.

"That might be mine," I replied casually, though there was no hiding the guilty bear foot that dangled over the edge of the branch. "It must have slipped off as I was climbing. A size too big, I think."

A small smirk began to spread across his face, and that was when I decided to abandon the horribly unconvincing lie.

"I'm sorry," I said. "I thought you were somebody else."

"An enemy, clearly," he replied, but then he smiled and asked a question I did not expect: "Would you mind some company?"

I took a moment to survey the limited space around me. "Well, you can try," I started to say, but as soon as those words left my mouth, he began effortlessly climbing up the tree, stopping not even once. It took me nearly ten minutes to climb this high, but he managed to do it in less than one. This great feat gave me yet another reason to admire the elves.

"I did not expect to find you up here," he said after he'd returned my shoe.

"Why is that?"

"Nature is rare interest for men," he replied, "especially trees."

"Well, I love them," I said with a shrug. "As a child, I would spend hours talking to the trees in the forest, believing them to be ents"—I laughed a little—"which is ridiculous, of course, because all the ents fell when they burned Fangorn to the ground."

Legolas's eyes darkened after I spoke, and I could see that somber expression returning to his once peaceful face, the same expression I'd hoped to never see again. Right away, I knew I'd made a great mistake to mention a forest that shared a similar fate to his own home, but as I stared past the Enchanted River and into the wood of black trees, I realized it was an impossible subject to avoid. The Middle-earth he knew and loved no longer existed; everything was gone now, destroyed. I wanted to believe things would get better, really, I did, but it was hard to see the light in all this darkness.

As I grasped the amulet, I thought aloud, "Right now, this little jewel seems pretty insignificant, doesn't it? This world needs no plague. It is already cursed." In hindsight, I should have stopped there, but there was something I had to ask to ease my troubled mind. "Do you ever think, even for a second, that maybe we deserve this?" Again, I considered stopping, but my lips continued to move on their own. "I know you hate us, and I cannot blame you; I would hate us too for what we did. Maybe we should just let fate run its course."

"No," Legolas suddenly said, and his voice was so strong that I was caught off guard. "Not once have I considered it. No man deserves that fate, no matter how corrupt he may be."

Falling silent for a moment, he then opened his mouth only to close it again a few seconds later. He seemed uncertain about something; he was hesitating. I tried to search his face for some kind of clue, but he was impossible to read. Finally, he looked right at me.

"I do not hate you," he said, and for a second I thought he was talking about me specifically. "The blame for Middle-earth's fate cannot be placed in the hands of one race. We caused this, all of us."

Honestly, I wasn't sure if he truly meant what he said or if he was just saying it to make me feel better. Really, it didn't matter. Whether he meant it or not, I was glad to hear him say it.

"It's amazing here," I said to lighten the mood. "If I lived in a place like this, I don't think I would ever leave."

"You like it that much?" he asked.

Smiling, I nodded my head vigorously. "It is unlike any place I've ever seen."

In response, he leaned forward just a little and said in a low voice, "Then I would like to take you somewhere, a place I think you will like very much."

"A place?" I repeated because I couldn't form any thoughts of my own. I was completely mystified by his proposal. An elf, an elf of all people, wanted to take me somewhere. From the look on his face and that glimmer in his eye, I could tell that it was a very special place, an interesting place, and that made me very anxious.

Instead of waiting for an answer, Legolas gave me just one look, one lingering look that ignited my curiosity, and disappeared beneath the branches. By the time I even started my descent, he was already waiting on the ground for me, and so I felt compelled to move faster, but with this speed came recklessness. On the way up, I was carefully watching my foot and hand placement, but this time, I was more focused on reaching the ground. I nearly slipped a few times, but I managed to make it down safely.

"Where are we going?" I asked right away.

Throwing me a playful look, he replied with a small smirk, "Do you really intend to waste time with questions?"

"Well, I ..."

Wasting no more time, he gently took hold of my wrist and pulled me deeper into the wood with him. He was running fast, but not so fast that I was unable to keep up, and his grip on my wrist was loosening with every step he took; soon it had slipped so far that he was holding only my fingers, and his touch was so soft that it seemed intentional. He, of course, was completely unabashed by this, as if he hadn't even noticed. I, on the other hand, was extremely flustered.

His character is so inconsistent, I thought as I stared at him in awe. I never know what to expect from him.

After exiting the wood, we came upon a stone bridge that led straight into another dark, creepy cave. Considering the last cave I entered was home to hundreds of little monsters and a pack of goblins, I wasn't exactly eager to go inside. I stopped right in the middle of the bridge and refused to go further.

"Another cave?" I said, pulling my hand away from his.

He took a step forward and then turned around to face me. "Do you really think I would put you in harm's way?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Maybe," I answered honestly, backing away from him.

He cracked a small smile and held out his hand once more: palm up, wide open, and very inviting. "Trust me, this place is not dangerous."

I nibbled a little on my bottom lip, still very uncertain. "What is it, exactly?"

"I am afraid I cannot tell you. You will have to see for yourself." He pushed his open hand out further, as if to tempt me. "Interested?"

Yes, more than anything. As soon as he told me of this secret place, my mind started spinning with curiosity. Although I had no idea what it was, I knew for certain that it was something special, something that would bring me closer to the world of the elves and somehow closer to him. This was the moment I'd been waiting for, and I certainly wasn't about let it slip away.

I stepped forward and placed my hand in his. "Okay."

Closing his hand around mine, he led me across the bridge and toward the mouth of the cave. It was a peculiar opening, completely different than other caves I'd seen. The arch was intricately carved, with vines and flowers running throughout, and there was strange lettering etched into the stone, which I could only assume was some form of Elvish. It was absolutely beautiful, yet completely natural, so unlike the arches in the lavishly designed castle in Archet. Part of me wished to stay and admire it for just a bit longer, but a larger part of me wanted to see what lay further ahead, so I followed him into the cave.

The tunnel was pitch-dark, so dark that I couldn't even see Legolas walking right beside me. If I had been there alone, I would have panicked, but the elf's presence comforted me a little. He moved confidently through the tunnel, as if he had walked it a million times before, and his hand left mine only when we finally came to a stop.

"Wait here," he said.

I stood waiting in the dark, and for a while the only thing I could hear was the soft pounding of my heart, but then Legolas started saying something in Elvish, something foreign and utterly captivating. His quiet words filled the darkness, and then a dim golden light began to glow. I first saw it out of the corner of my eye—it was hardly visible—but then it started spreading across the walls, slowly filling the entire hall. It was the vines that were glowing so brightly, as if lit by the sun itself. Just like outside, they lined the high arches and columns, illuminating everything in the most amazing way. Now more than ever, I felt like I'd finally entered their world.

I became completely uncontrollable then, as if something inside me just exploded. I was like a child discovering the world for the first time, and everything, even the tiniest scratch in the stone, held its own fascination. I was standing in the great hall of the Woodland Realm, a place where hundreds of elves once stood. Although they left long ago, I could still feel their presence somehow; in fact, I could almost see them. Gathered together in their finest clothes, the elven men and women were waiting to be addressed by their king, a great elf, wise and respected. Finally, he entered the hall and ascended the great stairs, but he did not sit on his throne; instead he stood before them with a proud smile on his face and a crown of flowers atop his head. A king of kings he was.

When my illusion eventually faded, I found myself standing right in front of the king's throne, a fine chair made of smooth carven wood. Out of respect, I dared not sit on it, but I did touch it just once; I couldn't help it.

"This king," I thought aloud as I delicately traced my fingers across the arm of the chair, "I wonder what his name was."

"His name is Thranduil," Legolas answered, and his voice surprised me because I was so caught up in my fantasy that I'd completely forgotten about his presence.

"Thranduil," I repeated, finding the name oddly familiar. In order to grasp a vague memory, I repeated his name several times in my head, each time trying to match the name to a face. This process eventually brought me back to Lord Elrond's porch, where two elves were arguing about whose son would destroy the amulet. One of those elves, I recalled very distinctly, was Legolas's father.

"Thranduil is your father," I said quietly, though he could hear me clearly with those exceptional ears of his. After he nodded his head, my voice returned to its normal volume. "You are his son, and that makes you ..."

"... a prince," he finished for me, but his voice lacked the arrogance I would expect to hear from any other man. When he spoke, it was as though he was declaring it the most simple title, like a butcher or a farmer, instead of the noble one that so many desperately clung to.

"A prince," I whispered to myself, but the words didn't feel as strange as I thought they would; actually, they felt completely natural.

Before meeting this peculiar elf, I thought I had a knack for reading people, and I prized myself on being a fantastic judge of character. I could tell my nursemaid was a bore after her first story, and I knew Beinion was a snob the moment I met him, but after meeting Legolas, everything began to unravel; all the assumptions I made were proven false one after another, and now I didn't know what to expect from him. But I wasn't angry, not in the least.

I walked down the stairs and joined Legolas by the hall's entrance. "Thank you for bringing me here," I said, "I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it."

He smiled. "It was my pleasure. I hoped you would like it."

"How could anyone not like such a place?" I replied earnestly. "This kind of world no longer exists for us—it is but a legend, a myth—and so many have forgotten how special it is, but I haven't, and I refuse to."

His smile grew. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?" I asked, confused.

"Speak with such passion, about everything. Some would find it absolutely exhausting."

I smiled. "How else should I speak, if not with passion?"

His smile fell then, and he just stared at me with this odd expression; it was the perfect combination of hesitation and temptation, and it confounded me to no end. If I was a silly girl, as so many thought, I might have mistaken this as a look of affection, or at least the consideration of it, and right now I was feeling very silly.

"It's getting late," I said, looking away to hide my flushed cheeks. "The others are probably wondering where we are."

"Right," he agreed. "You should return to camp."

My eyes widened. "You're not coming?"

He smiled and shook his head. "I would like to stay just a while longer, if that is all right."

"Of course."

"Unless you need me to walk you back to camp," he offered considerately.

"Please, stay," I insisted. "I can manage just fine on my own."

"Are you sure?" he asked, searching my eyes for even the smallest hint of doubt, but he would never find it.

"I'll be fine, I promise."

As I entered the tunnel, I saw him walk toward the throne, and it took all the strength I had not to stay and watch the elf from afar. But he needed to be alone, and I respected him too much to pry. He wasn't at all like I thought he would be, the elf from the Fellowship, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing; and while my feelings for him weren't as strong as they should have been, I did respect him, and that was good enough for now.

At last, I felt like I'd finally made a mature decision, and I walked back to camp with my head held high, but when I saw Beinion coming toward me, all that pride began to fade away, leaving me with a very sour taste in my mouth.

"Where have you been?" he demanded, closing the distance between us. "I have been searching everywhere for you."

"Where I go is no concern of yours," I fiercely replied as I tried to move past him, but he quickly caught my wrist and pulled me back. Normally, I would attempt to wiggle free, but I knew now that it was futile; he would never let me go, so I just stood there, glaring down at the dagger that was sheathed at my waist and wanting nothing more than to drive it straight into his heart.

With his free hand, he took my chin and pulled my eyes to his. "Why must you fight me, Anariel?" he asked gently, but the look in his eye was anything but. "It hurts me to see you suffer, really it does, but you give me no choice." His fingers soon left my chin and drifted up to the faint welt that remained on my cheek. Like a proud artist admiring his masterpiece, he traced around my bruise with his fingertips. "Women like you," he said, "seem to respond only to violence."

"You cannot hurt me," I said confidently, but my voice was weak.

"Is that so?" he challenged, narrowing his eyes.

I'd just taken a single breath when he suddenly slammed me against a tree with great force, knocking out all the air I'd taken in. As I stood gasping for air, he pinned my arms tightly to the trunk and then threw all his weight into me, making it even harder for me to breathe.

"Do you think that elf will come to your rescue again?" he taunted, pushing so hard against my arms that the tree bark was beginning to cut into my skin. "Do you think he can stop me?"

"You're nothing more than a coward," I managed to choke out, and the more I spoke, the stronger I became. "Just a spineless little boy who can only prey on those weaker than him. But I am not afraid of you, Beinion."

My words ignited a fire in the young fox's eyes, and this time he didn't even try to conceal his anger. Taking my throat, he pulled me away from the tree and then threw me straight to the ground, where he began kicking me repeatedly in the stomach, screaming furiously at the top of his lungs, "I am the son of a mighty conqueror, and like him I will burn cities to the ground in the name of the Great King! My conquests will be legendary!"

Amidst his kicking, I was slowly able to lift my head from the ground, and with my elbows supporting my weight, I glared straight into his eyes. "Hobbits. Your father conquered hobbits. What glory can be had from that?"

After delivering one final kick to my gut, Beinion knocked me onto my back and then climbed on top of me, straddling my legs and shackling my wrists with his hands. When I was fully restrained, he leaned back and looked down at me with a wicked smile.

"Yes, hobbits," he said, his eyes burning with a mad rage. "We drove them from their homes, slaughtered those who fought back, and enslaved whoever remained: men, women, and children." Then he lowered his lips to my ear and whispered, "But you will be begging for their fate when I am finished with you, my dear, sweet wife."

As he spoke, his knee started brushing against my leg, slowly raising the skirt of my dress, which had already climbed up to my knee. Was this the madness Mother warned me of when I was young, the crazy lust that resulted when a man was pushed too far by the woman he desired? Somehow, I knew it would eventually come to this, but I thought it would happen on our wedding night, not in such a beautiful forest as this. It felt wrong for such a vial act to be committed in such a pure, innocent place. But I knew one thing for certain—I made a promise to myself long ago—no matter what, I would fight him with every inch of my being, so I drove my knee straight into that vital organ that separated our genders, and then I did it once more for good measure.

Groaning loudly, Beinion rolled off me and fell onto his back, clutching his injured appendage with both hands, but I refused to stop there. Taking my dagger, I threw myself on top of him and pressed the blade right to his throat. It was quite amazing how fast all the pain washed away from his face once he realized his life was in danger.

"If you ever touch me again," I threatened, "I swear, it will be the last thing you ever do!"

But the arrogant lord just laughed.

"You cannot kill me, Anariel," he said, his eyes focusing on my trembling hand. "You know it, and I know it."

"You're wrong."

I tightened my grip on the hilt, desperately trying to steady my hand, but it just kept shaking. There was no reason to hesitate or feel remorseful. He deserved to die, and I had every right to kill him. As long as he lived, my pain and suffering would never end. This was the only way to free myself.

Just die! I mentally screamed as I pulled back the dagger and plunged it toward his bare throat with all my strength, but I couldn't even leave a scratch. Suddenly, my blade stopped just short of his neck, as if some invisible barrier had been placed between us, and it was impenetrable. He was right; I couldn't kill him. Like a pathetic girl, all I could do was run away, and so I took off without any sense of direction; I ran just to get away, and I kept on running until my feet refused to let me go further, convinced that if I stopped for even a moment, he would catch me and finish what he started.

Deep into the forest and far from camp, I stumbled into a part of the wood that felt different somehow, darker. All around me, I could hear faint whispers in a language I couldn't understand, and shadowy figures crept along the borders of my vision only to disappear when I turned around. One of those shadowy figures, I distinctly noticed, had the shape of a woman, the same woman I'd seen once in a dream. Just like before, her bewitching voice was calling out to me, telling me to follow her, and I was helpless against it. My feet followed her beckoning voice heedlessly as her dark, wispy form appeared and vanished before my eyes, twisting and bending around the trees. She led me all the way into a small ring of trees, where she stopped at the northernmost tree and then disappeared, but not before tracing her long, misty fingers along the black arrow that protruded from the trunk. Its red fletching stood out against the dark tree bark, instantly reminding me of the cut I still bore on my cheek, a wound dealt from a similar arrow.

My eyes widened. "He's here."

With so much happening, I'd nearly forgotten about the elf who'd attacked us days ago. He came so swiftly and disappeared just as fast, but he left a lasting impact on our fellowship, none so strong as the wound he left Elrohir, which had only recently finished healing. If that arrow was in fact his, and I knew it was, then I had to find the others quickly.

Spinning around, I started running back the way I came, hoping meet at least one of my companions along the way. By now, they had to be looking for me, and with three elves on the hunt, they couldn't have been far. I was confident that I could reach them in time, and I eventually did, but it was not who I was expecting.

Out from the trees came Turin, completely alone, without an elf in sight. Like a fool, he'd decided to turn the search for me into a competition and separated himself from the rest of the fellowship. When he saw me, his first reaction was to boast about how he'd bested the elves at their own game, deeming his senses superior to theirs, and only when he stopped bragging long enough to see the look of sheer terror on my face did he finally show concern.

"What is it?" he asked. "What's wrong?"

"We have to go," I murmured, unable to control the panic in my voice. Desperately, I clutched his arm and began pulling him along, but he resisted me with all the strength he had. Finally, with one hard tug, he ripped his arm away and grabbed my shoulders to restrain me.

"What happened?" he asked, his eyes full of worry.

"He's here!" I shrieked. "The elf from before, he's here in this forest!"

But Turin was no longer listening to me; he wasn't even looking at me. Instead, he was staring right past me, his eyes narrow and focused on something in the far distance. I opened my mouth to speak, but he clamped his hand over my lips before I could utter a sound and told me to be quiet. His tone was serious, more serious than I'd ever heard.

"Can you hear that?" he asked.

Quieting my breathing, I strained my ears to listen. The sound was faint at first, but then it began to grow—the steady clang of metal on metal partnered with deep, sporadic grunts. By now, I'd become accustomed to the sound, but I was still surprised to hear it now.

I pulled his hand from my face. "Orcs."

He nodded his head. "And they're coming this way."

"Then we have to run," I said. "The others can't be far."

As I spoke, Turin remained concentrated on the approaching army, surveying their movements from a distance, waiting for the perfect time to strike, as was Turin's way. His fingers were already inching toward the hilt of his sword. This boy would never flee from a battle, and nor would I. Yes, I would probably be slain, but at least I would die the proper way, a warrior's death, with a blade in my hand and my greatest ally at my side.

"We must fight," I declared as I too began to reach for my dagger, but my fingers had just barely tickled the hilt when I felt Turin's hand on mine, halting my movements. Startled, I cast my gaze upwards only to find him smiling down at me.

"Not you," he said, his eyes full of strength. "Today, you must run."

"What?" I couldn't believe my ears. "But what about you?"

"I am a warrior, Ana," he replied boldly, flashing a large grin to match his brazen attitude. "Turin the Great does not run from orcs."

There was something hidden behind his smile, though, a secret he kept locked away behind his lips. I'd seen his confident, boastful grin at least a hundred times, but this one was different. His green eyes lacked the brassy luster of his smile; they were dull and full of anguish, but they were trying their hardest to shine. Somehow, Turin the Great knew he would not survive this battle, and he accepted his fate. For me, he was ready to sacrifice his own life, but I wasn't ready to lose him.

"Come with me," I pleaded with tears forming in my eyes. "We're supposed to finish this together. You promised you would be there with me to the end. You and me, like Sam and Frodo."

By now, the tears were freely falling down my cheeks, and Turin was trying his best to stop them. Gently cupping my face, he wiped away my tears as they fell, but he could not dry them all, and soon his hands became drenched with my warm tears. With nothing left to do, he pulled me into a tight embrace and held me as I sobbed into his chest.

"I'm sorry, Ana," he said as he suddenly grasped my shoulders and pushed me away. His touch was rough and firm, but his tone of voice was even harsher. "You are not Frodo, I am not Sam, and this is not the Fellowship of the Ring."

A single tear rolled down my cheek, the last I would shed for him, and then his voice softened.

"This is your adventure," he told me as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, "and you must see it to the end, but without me."

"Turin ..."

Releasing me, he took a step back and bowed his head, the first time he'd ever done such a thing. When he rose again, he wore a small smile, and he said, "If this should be my last stand, Anariel, it has been a pleasure fighting alongside you."

I forced a smile. "The pleasure was mine."

"Go now," he ordered as he turned to face his opponents, who were fast approaching. Their thundering stomps and savage grunts interrupted the tranquil wood, destroying the serene paradise I'd come to love. Still, I would have to say goodbye to it. My movements were staggered, and every step was a struggle, but I was able to begin my retreat, and when I was about ten feet away, Turin gave one last request:

"I want to be remembered as a hero, not as a fool, so when you tell this story, leave out my senseless antics."

I giggled quietly, feeling a tear sting my eye, but I refused to let it fall; instead, I smiled and replied, "Then I would have nothing to tell."

We shared a laugh, the last laugh we would ever share, and then Turin drew his sword from its sheath and admired it for the last time. Ever since he was young, it had been his dream to wield a great sword, and now, at last, that moment had come. He would finally become the hero he was destined to be, and when facing death, he would show no fear, for this was the path he was meant to take.

"Warriors to the end," he muttered to himself, and I could just barely read his lips. Then, taking a deep breath, he straightened his posture and proudly announced for all to hear, "And I am Turin the Great. I may not be a king or a knight, but today I will achieve greatness!"

Sword in hand, Turin charged his enemy with the strength of a thousand men, and that was the last I saw of him before my departure. I would never know how many orcs he killed or how he was defeated; all I would have are the memories of a young boy with a wooden sword, who would later go on to become one of the greatest warriors I'd ever known.

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