DISCLAIMER: This is fanfiction. All I gain by publishing this story is enjoyment.

A/N: Let me say from the outset that I am not blind, neither do I know anyone who is, neither do I have any experience of the events portrayed. I simply planted and nurtured the seed, and it has grown in what you see before you. I hope you like it.

CHAPTER 1: A NEW VOICE

Our parents are dead. Adar died trying to save you and Naneth from the fire – for all the good it's done you. I must take up the reins of the household; you can't do anything to help. I'm sorry to be so harsh, but we must face facts. I'm all you have now.

Baudhiel's words rang out so clearly, even after all these years. No wonder, for it was the first thing Aníra heard after waking up in complete darkness. She moved to the open window and allowed the gentle breeze to play across her face as she listened to the hustle and bustle of Gondolin. Yet again she tried to imagine what the City looked like. There must be crowds of elves and horses and carts, all of them milling around each other on the smooth, stone streets. The cacophony was a world away from the little homestead where she and her sister spent their Minorities. Back then, it was the very silence that was deafening, with only the occasional rustle of wind through the trees and long grass to break the monotony.

It was pointless asking Baudhiel to describe the City, for she always spoke the truth: 'why, when you can neither see nor appreciate it?' The Gondolindrim were a proud people, creators and admirers of beauty. Aníra was not beautiful; she'd be jeered and laughed at. It was far safer if she remained in seclusion.

That was what Baudhiel said.

XXX

They had come to Gondolin to seek a fresh start, away from all the gossip-mongers of their last home. Apart from their cousin Gwirith and her husband Límdur, Baudhiel and Aníra were complete unknowns in the City. Here Aníra could hide away as much as she liked and no one need think it strange. It was easy to be unseen within a cottage tucked away from the main thoroughfare. If only Baudhiel wasn't so busy trying to scrape together enough coin for them to get by, she might have time to take Aníra outside. As it was, Baudhiel was always out herself, plying her trade as a seamstress. Of course no client could come to their cottage, it being so bare for Aníra's sake. Even after Baudhiel returned home, she still had all the cooking and household chores to see to. Gwirith had offered to help or accompany Aníra herself, but her overtures were always rebuffed. Both she and Límdur were well versed in the disparities between the sisters, but neither could seem to penetrate their innermost circle. There were only so many times they could offer assistance.

So Aníra stayed at home, patiently waiting for Baudhiel's return. Her afternoon meal and a jug of water were within easy reach, and the fire was carefully banked, as she was terrified of open flames. Gwirith sometimes came round while Baudhiel was out to keep her company. It was through their conversations that she was able to glean just how passionate Aníra was about her lute. Her parents, Líndariel and Ainion, had met through their mutual love of music and it had always been a source of great pride to them that at least one of their daughters was similarly gifted. Miraculously, Gwirith had managed to find Líndariel's most prized possession: a lute given by Ainion on their binding day. In truth, it was more miraculous that it had survived the fire and the hubbub that followed.

Aníra remembered Líndariel taking the lute with her that evening. Its image was so clear in her mind: a shiny, dark, bulbous body, silver strings, and the shimmery, pink flowers painted on by Baudhiel as a surprise. Unfortunately, Ainion was less than impressed. While normally mild-mannered, their father could also be very exacting. Aníra privately felt he had generally been a lot tougher on Baudhiel than was perhaps necessary. After the fire, the lute had been found and brought to Baudhiel, who had put it far from Aníra's reach, lest she break it with her clumsiness.

Upon hearing this, Gwirith had gone straight away to look for the lute. She eventually found it tucked away in a chest. It had taken a lot of encouragement on Gwirith's part to persuade Aníra to take the lute from her, after all how could she play music now? But once the familiar weight was in her arms, she couldn't resist plucking a few notes. She was soon hooked and would play a little each time Gwirith came over; they had fun trying to remember tunes without any musical prompts. It was their secret. Gwirith had assured Aníra that the lute had been stored in such a way that Baudhiel wouldn't know of its being moved, especially as she herself had no interest in playing music. Thus, it was now hidden under Aníra's bed and she could get at it whenever she wanted to.

Gradually, Aníra began to play the lute more and more whilst her sister was out. Sometimes she played traditional tunes, both quick and slow, and at others she made up her own. They became a bit jumbled together, but that didn't matter. The sound itself was wonderful to hear. New, yet familiar.

An ever-changing voice.

XXX

As part of her trade, Baudhiel would sometimes go out in the evenings to social gatherings. With the evenings getting warmer and longer, Aníra also began to venture outside, but only as far as the little walled garden at the back of their cottage. There was a rickety, wooden bench set amongst the lavender she always went to. Sat there, idly playing, Aníra felt truly at peace and she would often not notice the flight of time until she heard the creaking of the front gate that heralded Baudhiel's return.

On one balmy evening, Aníra settled into her accustomed position and breathed in that heavenly scent. As she began to pluck the melodic notes of a tune from her childhood, Aníra felt moved to hum, and then lightly sing the long-remembered words…

When you taught me how to dance
Years ago with misty eyes
Every step and silent glance
Every move a sweet surprise

Someone must have taught you well
To beguile and to entrance
For that night you cast your spell
And you taught me how to dance

Light reflections in a lake
I recall what went before
As I give, I'll learn to take
And to be alone no more

Other lights may light my way
I may even find romance
But I won't forget that night
When you taught me how to dance (*1)

Her tune came to an end, although the birds kept up their singing. Aníra let out a sigh.

"That was truly beautiful."

The suddenness of the deep, masculine voice jolted Aníra to her feet. The sickening sound of wood crashing onto stone met her ears, but she paid it no heed as she flew to the safety of the kitchen. He must not see her! The whispers, the ridicule, the Gondolindrim did not like ugly people. Baudhiel's trade would suffer, forcing them to move from the City, and it would be all Aníra's fault. Just like their parents' deaths.

Huddled in a corner, Aníra could hear the ellon calling out.

"I'm so sorry for startling you. Please come back."

The click of the gate, and then bootsteps as the ellon walked tentatively up the path. Aníra squeezed her knees tightly as she listened to his progression. Surely, he wouldn't come in? She kept as still and as quiet as possible, willing him to go away, but she didn't know how hidden she was. Would he be able to see her from the doorway? The bootsteps stopped.

"Won't you come out and tell me your name?" He was still outside, away from the threshold. "I'm sorry about your lute. If you don't mind, I could take it away to be repaired?"

No! Don't do that; what would Baudhiel say?

"It'll be safe with me. I'll bring it back as soon as I can. Then, maybe we can be properly introduced?"

Aníra held her breath, but the boots began to retreat. The gate clicked. Silence.

Slowly, she unwound herself and leant against the wall. What had she done? Like their father, Baudhiel had a harsh tongue and it was a weapon she wielded with great skill. Aníra didn't want to antagonise her sister any more than necessary, especially when she was working so hard to support them. A lesser sister would have forsaken Aníra long before now. She should be loyal; she should never have taken… the lute!

Aníra got up and tiptoed to the door. Once outside, she followed the familiar path to the bench. Kneeling down, she felt all around her, but there was nothing. The ellon had definitely taken the lute. Would Baudhiel actually find out, though? She never played it, and since Gwirith had found it, she – Baudhiel – hadn't mentioned anything to indicate suspicions.

Aníra felt her heartbeat slow just a little bit. She leant back against the legs of the bench, fingering her long braid. She began to think of the ellon's voice. There had been an aristocratic note to it, but also… warmth. Aníra relived his first words: 'That was truly beautiful'. They fizzled and simmered inside her. An ellon had never said that to her, at least not directly. They had always complimented her parents, hoping their youngest daughter would one day be as talented as they.

How long had the ellon been watching her? What had he been wearing? All Aníra knew was that he wore boots, but then so did many ellyn. Was he wearing robes, or tunic and leggings? Was he dark or flaxen-haired? Baudhiel, a darkling, had taken after their parents, but Aníra stood out with her thick golden waves. She remembered running through the woods and fields, her hair billowing out behind her.

How times had changed. She no longer went anywhere, least of all at speed. Her hair was always pulled safely away from her face and her clothes were practical. She had no need for fine fabrics or fancy patterns, not when there was no call to impress. Now her gowns were rough and non-descript. Now all she needed was food, shelter, and clothing – what else was there?

Love. Aníra scoffed to herself. As soon as the ellon came back – if he came back – and saw her for what she was, he'd recoil. Either way, it ended in the same, lonely blackness.

Still, it had been nice to dream.

XXX

Aníra heard the tea-tray being set down on the table.

"Out with it, then," Gwirith commanded, "I know you have things on your mind and for once it's not music. Where is your lute anyway?"

"I don't have it anymore," Aníra replied.

"Why ever not? Baudhiel didn't find it, did she?"

"No … an ellon took it."

Judging by the sudden spluttering, Gwirith had just inhaled a mouthful of tea.

"An ellon … here? Talking to you?"

"I know; ridiculous, isn't it?"

"That's not what I … what happened?"

Aníra told Gwirith all that had transpired the other day. At the end of her account, Gwirith let out a long, low whistle. To her, this was exciting and intriguing, then she saw the way Aníra was wistfully turned towards the open window.

"Sooo …" she lingered on the word in a gossipy fashion. "What's he like?"

"His voice was … like nothing I've ever heard before. It …"

"Captured you?"

Aníra nodded, feeling her ears heat up.

"Aníra, this is great news! Hopefully he'll be an Elf of his word and return the lute. I wonder how long it will take."

"But what if he comes back when Baudhiel is here?"

"What if he doesn't? The only thing you have to worry about is not being quite so jumpy the next time he visits. You know, I have been thinking of popping round more often. If I was here, I would be able to tell you all about this fish you've hooked."

Aníra flushed again.

"I haven't 'hooked' anyone. He'll run a league as soon as he sees me properly anyway."

"Aníra, you've got to have a little more faith in people. How do you know he'll be like that?"

"Surely I've told you of Ruscion, the farrier back home?"

"Yes, well, it sounds as though this Ruscion was a vile excuse for an elf. You can't take his example as a blue print for the whole of elfkind."

"I know no one here. It is better I stay where I'm happy and safe."

"Are you sure about that? Aníra, please, I don't pretend life in Gondolin will always be easy for you, but think about what you already have here. You have me, Límdur, and now this ellon. Your world is expanding, don't let Baudhiel's narrow view of it cage you up."

XXX

"Aníra! Aníra!"

The elleth in question quickly dropped her brush and hurried out to the hall, in slight trepidation of what she might be confronted with. Baudhiel sounded lively, happy even, something she hadn't been for quite some time.

"What is it, Sister?"

Aníra shrieked in surprise as her sister not only gave her a big bear-hug, but also began to whirl them both around, laughing gaily. When they finally came to a stop, Baudhiel squeezed Aníra's hands.

"Aníra, I believe I met my Soul Mate this night, and you'll never guess who it is: Lord Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower! Can you believe it?!"

Aníra raised her eyebrows in astonishment. Gwirith had told her of the twelve different Houses of Gondolin and how Lord Glorfindel was one of their most revered Captains. Descended from a royal line, Glorfindel's martial prowess was said to be second-to-none. Great deeds were expected of him. He was quite a catch, indeed.

"Oh, Aníra, it was so magical. He's charming and witty and so well dressed. He is such a good dancer, too. He danced with me twice. There were other ellyth as well, but I know he singled me out."

Baudhiel hugged Aníra again.

"I'm finally going up in the world."

Aníra listened until the rustle of her sister's skirts faded. She was still rather stunned. If a couple of dances could have this effect, what would happen if they began courting properly? Despite Gwirith's assurances, Aníra remained unconvinced about the citizens of Gondolin. Of all people, Lord Glorfindel was like to be used to the very best things in life. Blind and scarred, she was no one's ideal sister-in-law. Gwirith had always been of a 'sunny' disposition and, like everyone else, was able to be optimistic.

One thing was certain, though: life was about to change.

TBC

*1 As sung by Katie Melua for the film Miss Potter.