Sweet day, so cool,
so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky;
The dew shall weep thy fall to-night,
For thou must die.
~George Herbert
Chapter 1: Arraleea
The stony chamber was dim and dusty, but from the skylight, one shaft of light pierced the center of the room. The light fell before Elrond, who sat upon his marble throne, with his hand upon his chin. It had been one hundred years since he returned from Gray Havens. It was the 6th age in Rivendell, the last elven stronghold, and it was dying with Middle Earth. None of the others noticed how Rivendell grew dimmer and saw how its walls eroded day by day. Strange evils, probably the side effects of man's technology, lurked beyond its walls and became bolder year by year. Sadly, the elves were becoming more human, with most having lost their elf-sense.
"Elrond!" A bright female in blue garlands and muddy dress ran into the round room.
From the columns to the left of Elrond, a lean elf in green stepped forward to stop her, "That would be Lord Elrond, Master of the Elves. Or for you, you may address him as 'Father.'"
She smirked at Legolas and pushed him aside, "Father, look what I found!"
Elrond looked on hopelessly at his daughter. Meanwhile, she opened her fist to reveal a brass ring upon her palm. It gleamed strangely. Legolas and Elrond were shocked.
"It can't be another ring of power." Legolas looked at Elrond for confirmation.
"Arraleea," Elrond said sternly as he leaned forward to look at the ring, "Where did you find this?"
"I…" Araleea faltered. She darted glances behind her.
"These are not elven symbols on the ring, sire," Legolas spoke urgently.
"Arraleea!" Elrond stood up in anger.
"I—I found it!" She blurted.
"You went outside again," Elrond began his tirade, "I cannot protect you outside Rivendell; it is not safe. Not anymore."
"No, I—it wasn't my fault. It was an accident." Arraleea stole a glance at Legolas.
Legolas looked back grimly, "She lies, My Lord."
"Legolas!" Arraleea said in exasperation, "You always take his side! Father, won't you believe me?"
Elrond ignored her plea, "How many times have I told you?"
"Five thousand and twenty nine times." Arraleea muttered with her eyes on the ground.
"Exactly. My child, times have changed. When Elrohir ruled in my absence..." Elrond sighed as he gazed at his daughter, "Alright, that will be all."
Arraleea could not believe her luck. She turned about and quickly fled the room. Elrond watched his daughter's silver gown vanish through the door. He foresaw danger all about her and he could only watch helplessly.
"You long for the sea," Legolas spoke softly.
"Yes," Elrond said heavily.
"Perhaps it is time we left for Gray Havens. It is the year of the crescent moon and the tides are…"
"Legolas," Elrond found himself at a loss of words, "You do not understand. The time will come, not with tide nor moon."
Elrond looked about the chamber, noting the white slabs of granite that encircled the room. From the right, a messenger dressed in a tan tunic bounded into the room. He kneeled before Elrond, "The druids have arrived, Master Elrond. Do you wish to welcome them personally?"
"Yes, let them come. Tell the elves to prepare themselves."
"What of the Half Elves and the Dark Elves that have gone with Elrohir?"
"No matter. The Silvan Elves will do."
The messenger left from where he came and a group of nine cloaked men entered the room. The leader was an old man leaning against a gnarled staff.
"My friends, welcome to Rivendell," Elrond stood with a smile and addressed the elder, "Brother Lucas, I expect that the journey went well."
The hooded monk lifted his hood, "Blessings to you, Lord Elrond. May sweet Rivendell never wilt."
The elder paused and continued.
"The pilgrimage was most difficult. Master Elrond, your southern border is not secure. I fear the tales of demons and wraiths are true."
"All is well here. Elrohir and my finest warriors will ensure your safe passage back south."
"Aye, that was why we crossed the lowlands from the east. Demons seem to have Rivendell surrounded."
Elrond's brow furrowed. He turned to Legolas, "Go find Arraleea and make sure she is safe. Don't let her leave Rivendell."
Legolas nodded.
"Protect her as you would me. That is your only duty now." Elrond became agitated, "Upon your honor, swear that you will, Legolas."
Legolas looked frightened and promptly, "I swear—"
"Now, go!" Elrond's voice was tense.
Legolas bounded out the room, and the Druidic Brethren watched in confusion.
Elrond turned to his guests. "I apologize. The Silvan Elves are in the grove and will teach you all that you can learn."
"Perhaps we came at a bad time," the elder suggested, "Perhaps next year?"
"No, you may not find us next year." Elrond spoke ominously.
The grove was a sunny and green valley, with flowering trees that cried white blossoms. Not a soul could be seen in this beautiful valley, except one elven maiden. Our bold Arraleea never bothered to blend with the flora as the others did. She made herself visible to all and she ran cheerily along a winding path leading to the south of Rivendell.
"My lady," a Silvan elf addressed her politely as she passed.
Arraleea stopped and smiled at him, "Llywellyn, will you make my garlands white?"
"Of course," Llywellyn closed his eyes and chanted something elvish.
"Thank you," she gushed and went to look at herself in marble water stand. The white garlands made her dark hair appear even darker, and overhead the crimson sun cast shadows upon her image. Then she remembered her father. Father dearest would be sending Legolas to spy on her soon. She gave Llywellyn a wink of secrecy, skipped away, and vanished into the woods.
Legolas entered from a hilltop overlooking the grove and scouted the area. He sensed Arraleea's presence rising from the south. Legolas spotted Llywellyn among the elms and rang toward him.
"Llywellyn, which way did she go?"
The Silvan appeared undecided.
"You mustn't hide her. You musn't play along with her games," Legolas chided his cousin, "I'm to find her under the strict orders of Lord Elrond."
Llywellyn sighed and pointed to the woods, where Legolas soon disappeared.
Meanwhile, Arraleea headed for a stony clearing on the outskirts of Rivendell. She emerged from the forest and stepped into heavy underbrush. A few feet away, an old cobble path that was lined with pillars led to the outside world, and Arraleea followed it to the battered gates. She had come just in time to hear the creaking of the gates opening and the sound of horses and clanking armor. Arraleea slipped behind the pillars and slinked towards the gate. When she was at the last pillar before the massive gates, she heard the familiar voice of the wagon driver.
"C'mon Sally," the driver whispered to the horse in elvish, "I know you're tired. We're almost home."
"Will you hurry?" an irate elf yelled from beyond the gates.
The massive war wagon containing armaments and supplies struggled to pull through the gates. Arraleea watched and waited until the horses and driver had passed her pillar, before she moved on through the gate.
"Where do you think you're going, young lady?" A deep voice jolted her.
With her face muddied and dress torn, Arraleea glanced nervously up at her interrogator, a warrior elf donning splendid silver armor. He leaped off his horse and took off his helm. Raven black locks of hair tumbled forth, revealing Elrohir's face.
"Brother," Arraleea was caught again, "I came to meet you. How did the campaign go? Did you exterminate the demons?"
Elrohir smiled, "No need to call me brother, Arraleea. We are not related by blood."
"But I love you as a brother," She noticed that the war wagon had slipped by and so had her chances. She couldn't believe she had been caught twice in a single day. It was her worst performance in ages.
"Not more?" Elrohir teased and his gray eyes twinkled merrily.
"Tell me about the monsters. Tell me about your adventures." Arraleea changed the subject, "I've grown up listening about the adventures of the Fellowship and the historic battles, but this—this is real."
Elrohir chuckled, "Well, these are very peculiar monsters unlike any you have heard of. They are not the orcs, wildmen, or goblins of the past."
"Are they human?" Arraleea asked and added quickly, "I mean, are they of human sorcery."
The prince stared at her for a moment, "No, no they are not. Human sorcery is impotent, if it exists at all."
"Arraleea," someone called her. Elrohir looked up to see Legolas running towards them.
Elrohir returned to his horse and Legolas excused himself, "Prince Elrohir, I hope that all is well with you. And Arraleea, you have your father immensely worried. You are not harmed?"
"Harmed?" She pulled a branch from her hair, "Never better."
Legolas looked at her skeptically and turned back to Elrohir, "The druids have arrived and they speak of demons surrounding our city. Know you this?"
"Yes, I intend to deal with them at daybreak. However, the southern route is secured for the monks to pass."
"Lord Elrond appeared shocked to hear this news. I suppose you have not informed him of your campaigns."
"My Father," Elrohir spoke, "He grows weary and wishes to sail over-sea. Sometimes I feel as if I welcomed the demons that come to devour our city. While he does not resist them, I will."
Legolas did not speak and he glanced at Arraleea, who trudged sullenly beside him. When they had reached a fork in the road, Legolas nudged her and told Elrohir, "This is where we part. I'm to see Lady Arraleea back to her quarters."
Elrohir assented and he spurred his horse to join with his men. As for the other two, they walked in silence until Legolas spoke.
"No more tomfoolery and sneaking off into the night," Legolas told her, "I have orders from Lord Elrond to see that you don't."
"Even elves need sleep," she reminded him.
"And I suppose you are not an elf?" Legolas retorted.
"I hate it when you are my nanny," Arraleea whined.
"I wish you had one."
"No," Arraleea said thoughtfully and laughed, "A real nanny would never catch me."
Legolas smiled briefly and became serious again. It was dusk, and they had reached a building supported by columns that was carved into the side of a mountain. Delicate vines acted as curtains and flowers decorated those 'curtains.' Legolas leaned against one of the columns and waited for her to enter.
"I shall not sleep tonight." Legolas told her.
Arraleea entered her already lit chamber and threw herself on a pile of soft pillows and blankets. From her pocket, she retrieved the ring she had shown her father. She slipped it over he forefinger and noted how it was so plain and yet so beautiful. A breeze blew through her hair, and she asked it to blow out the lamps. She shivered and fell asleep.
Meanwhile, not far from Arraleea's chamber, was the encampment of Elrohir and his elves. Elrohir paced about restlessly. How could the demons have surrounded the city, after all the demons he had slain in their sleep? He wanted to form a band of elven elite to fight them, but these demons were elusive at night. Suddenly, the shrill impassioned cry of demons pierced the air. The fight had come to them. Elrohir's warriors heard the cry as well, and the camp bustled with elves seeking their armor and brandishing their blades.
Legolas too heard the scream, but strangely, he did not sense their approach. He was impatient to seek out this mysterious demon, but first he stole into Arraleea's chamber and found that she was safe and asleep. Immediately, Legolas headed for Elrohir's camp to seek orders.
Ahead of Legolas, a messenger in tan limped as he rushed toward Elrohir's headquarters. When the boy had found the prince, "My Lord, several of the guards on the southern border have been killed."
"How many survivors?" Elrohir demanded and noticed Legolas enter the room.
"Three," the young elf cried, "It was all we could do to keep the Enemy from rushing through the gates. Captain Ioni'ab of the Dark Elves fought bravely to the end so that we could escape."
Elrohir bowed his head in grief, "My friend, friend of Rivendell, may you rest in peace."
"My Prince, let me fight on the southern front," Legolas spoke fiercely and added quietly, "Though I fear that our weapons will be useless against these enemies."
"That I fear as well," Elrohir said, "But their main force is attacking the eastern gate, and I can only spare so many to fight there tonight. No, you will not fight tonight. Vengeance must wait. I want you to scout the other gates and report to me if you find any demon signs."
As Legolas left, Elrohir could tell from his elves' rallying cries that all was not well. There was only four more hours until dawn and the demons would flee back to their holes, but he could not sit and wait. The rallying cries were coming less often and seemed to have stopped coming. He tucked a dagger under his belt, grabbed his sword, and headed for the battle.