I own none of the characters seen in the first two sections save Mellolaes, but the only ones I did not first write of in the latter section are Denethor and the mentioned, but unseen, king Thingol. The places mentioned and that the stories are set in, though, are not mine at all.

I do not mean to make any money off this story, so please just read it and enjoy.

Mellolaes sighed and entered the room. After closing it behind her, she just leaned back against the door. She gazed empty-eyed straight ahead of her.

"What is it nurse of my Lord's youngest child? Why is your face and your form so this night?"

Mellolaes replied in a flat, dull voice. "Estel noticed a deer with a hint of red on its chest while we played outside today. He became certain it had a wound. I chased it through the thick snow to bring it back and prove it was not so to him. But the creature was quite playful and thought it a game. He gave me a merry chase through the woods instead of cooperating to calm Estel down. Of course, I kept coming back to check on Estel, who called out encouragement to me the whole time. I kept telling him the creature was too happy and too spry to be hurt. Apparently though, Elrond has already told him of how some can be hurt greviously, even to the point of death, and not know it is so if they be excited enough … I could wring the great healer's neck."

"Perhaps you should not say so in his own house to his chief steward." Despite his warning, Erestor sounded rather amused and grinned at the elleth. His look was warmer than any he had given her before his injury, bedrest, and the long hours he had spent listening to her story.

Mellolaes smiled slightly herself, straightened before the door, and continued her other story now. "Anyway, (as it turned out) some joker, and I have my suspicions as to who, tied a red string around the beast's neck and set it loose. Once I realized this, I became set upon, since Estel would ask me 'Are you sure' if I tried to simply tell him of this, taking it off the beast to prove to my charge the deer was absolutely not in any danger of dying. But that also turned into quite a quest. The deer was as playful as whoever put that string there. When I finally succeeding in getting that string off, (and it would have been much easier if I had been wearing my trousers instead of this skirt!) and troomped back to my charge, his father was coming out to us. He asked why we had been out so long and weren't Estel's fingers getting cold? They were."

Erestor winced, but instead of chiding whispered, "I am sure if they were 'very' cold a nurse as skilled as you would have noticed."

Mellolaes nodded. "Indeed, not even Estel noticed, not out of the beginning of frostbite, but just out of his concern for the deer. He was very happy to see the red string in my hand. Elrond was not. I think he will be asking around after who put it on that deer to begin with."

A dangerous glint came into Erestor's eyes. "Indeed, and when he finds this jokester, he may send them to me to talk to as well. It will give me something to do."

Mellolaes laughed. She strode through the room to sit in the, now far more comfortable, chair beside Erestor bed. He'd had a new chair moved there for her next to his "invalid bed" as he put it. Mellolaes often chided him for so naming it. As she'd said, she'd known plenty of real invalids. He was not one. He merely nodded his ascent gravely at such times, and replied, "But it's as close as I am likely to get to being one."

Now, Mellolaes' green eyes met the watchful, but bright gaze of his near-black eyes. "Speaking of what you can do here in your 'invalid bed' would you like to hear me continue my story?"

Erestor leaned back against his pillows. He closed his own journal, which had been open in his hands. He'd been purusing its pages looking for more patterns in the events of this valley's doing he was in charge of overseeing to do so still better. "If you wish, elleth. It tis an interesting story."

Mellolaes gave the dark-haired elleon a tired, but satisfied grin. "Indeed, great purveryor of elf-legends and histories?"

"More so than I gave it credit for being in the beginning."

Mellolaes nodded, but continued. "You wouldn't mind, then, would you, if I skip ahead in it a little bit? I might not have started such a long story if I'd realized how much Estel would still keep me busy outside and in during these winter months."

Erestor gave a brighter grin as he answered. "As you wish."

. . .

Two, identical ellon took turns watching and listening to this conversation through the keyhole outside the room's door. The youngest told the eldest's mind through his own alone, for they were elven twins and the ears within they spied upon were elven ears, "You owe me five coppers, dear brother."

"And I'll pay you, dear brother, as I pack to get away before they realize 'I' put that string on the most mischievous deer living within our great valley."

"Shame on you brother, making our little brother's fingers' and toes' grow chill!"

"I had no idea he'd think it hurt! It was only meant to be a small joke between you and I. Besides, you bet me I couldn't do it."

"I bet you that you 'wouldn't' do it, because it was so silly. Now it seems especially so ..."

"Well, I'll go pay you and you can explain to ada after I disappear."

"Or hold you for him until you can."

"Traitor …"

The two were now walking down the hall side by side as the story of old was told behind them.

. . .

A silence was falling over the Singing Woods. A cool, hard something turned over and squirmed in Celuant's heart when he heard this. He turned from his work. Sarnhael left off chipping away at the mass of obsidian he'd been turning into a knife wondering if he'd ever finish it. He rose and began to walk back into the trees hugging the riverside he'd been working on.

Having learned over the long time he'd lived in the Singing woods, how to identify and begin to travel in the direction of the original disturbance that silenced singers, he began to do so. By listening to the singing usually all around in the Singing Woods, and overhearing where voices softened and voices fell silent altogether, you could navigate oneself to the source of the silence.

He noticed something else now as he walked. The silence seemed to start or deepen wherever he was. He also noticed he saw neither face nor form of any singers either.

Finally, he came to a clearing. There, his eyes were drawn to a tall elf with pale, pale blond hair just a touch of gold among nearly white strands, wearing like cloth in a traveling outfit with trim of also pale, but real gold. He looked down upon the elleth before him. Lathwinn the Great looked back up into the stranger's face intently as he talked to her. Behind her stood her brothers Melarbeth and Ranthalion. The latter, the perhaps wildest ellon among already wild elves, turned his gaze upon Celuant. His stare was hard as the obsidian Sarnhael had been working with.

Celuant stopped. His feet spread out into a firm stance, but he made his return gaze as mild as he could make it. It surprised him, when a sadness welled up from his heart. My life here had been "good" while it lasted. I hope whatever happens now will not poison the memories I bear out of it. Sarnhael found himself thinking he should have appreciated more "everything" he'd experienced here, the songs, the rustle of the leaves, the fresh taste of leaves and berries and warmth nuts left you with as they traveled from mouth to stomach, the laughing and rushing of the rivers, and chipping sound of obsidian as he worked with it, and the love of these good elves he'd held back so much from all this time he'd dwelt among them.

Lathwinn, finally, stepped away from the stranger in blue and white. She raised her face, her hands, and her voice to the limbs of the surrounding trees. "Now, I know you have all realized my friends, my kin, a guest is among us. He comes from King Thingol himself, from Doriath, with news from that king, an edict and a warning, and all here are asked to come and hear it!"

Celuant sighed to himself. I am finished.

What do you think will happen now?

God Bless

ScribeofHeroes