Chapter One
"Left? Where has she gone My Lord?" Celeborn's concern was masked in sadness as he listened to Leomë recount Ëmara's final words. As for his part, Leomë could not hide the despair and worry in his heart for his sister as she moved ever farther from his care. At the conclusion of Leomë's words, Celeborn rose and began to muse upon the past as he spoke his thoughts aloud to Leomë.
"All this time I thought the power inside of her had found eternal winter and a time to rest. Your sister was always welcome to our lands, that she feels its causes of sadness come from her is foolishness."
"I imparted as much to her but she no longer holds my counsel of any regard, it is though I speak to one who is deaf." Celeborn breathed a sigh full of pity as his eyes moved across the rolling treetops of Lorien now spreading their golden leaves to the light of the morning sun.
"There is much to be pitied in Ëmara, she has suffered so much." Here his voice returned to sadness as Leomë sensed they were now speaking of Dîniath. "I know she blames herself for his death but surely she must see that her powers, however great and wonderful, could not have seen nor could have prevented it from coming to pass. Destiny makes us puppets to the ever constant measure of time and no one, not even one so great as she, can slow the rising of the sun."
"Again, I did plead with her using the very same words you have spoken but she would have none of it. I fear she has set out only to harm herself and I sit powerless to stop her." Leomë sat down with a defeated slump and turned his eyes to Celeborn, who still stood staring out at his kingdom and yet not really focusing on it at all.
"I know that you seek my counsel but I regret to say I have none to give. Ëmara must choose her own paths and her own destinations." Sensing this was not what Leomë wanted to hear, Celeborn turned his calm stare upon him, speaking to him once more, this time not as a counselor but as a king.
"You could go searching for her and demand that she return to Lorien with you…but how could you move what you know to be immovable? Your sister has a rare and wonderful gift, it affords her great power but denies her happiness. If she would not go with you, how could you make her? Her strength is greater than yours and her convictions more passionate…let her be."
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"You are terribly silent today and I do not wish to disturb your thoughts if they rest upon something important...However, if I could ask you one thing…not meaning to pry…"
"Of course you mean to pry, but ask your questions anyway." Feânin glanced tentatively at his closest friend, Legolas, as they slowly rode through the southern forest of Mirkwood before he began again:
"If you should not be too offended with me, I would ask when you are to be married. Your engagement to the Lady Yavanna was announced nigh on three months ago, how long do you desire the lady or your father to wait?" Legolas' furrowed brow did not rise, as he appeared not to have heard Feânin's question. The latter, being younger and thereby more impatient, shifted his weight before clearing his throat to speak again.
"My Lord…"
"I heard you the first time Feânin." Legolas' face showed the faint trace of a smile as his jaw loosened and his brow fell back into its usual curved lines. "And I suppose you shall be the first to know that Yavanna and I intend to marry upon Midwinter's Day." By now his face was turned to Feânin's as his eyes lustered to a merry deep blue. All traces of his former thoughts were locked away from his mind as he turned his speech to his beloved. "Father and Yavanna know of course but you are the first outside the three of us privileged to know the date of the marriage. Keep it secret for but a week longer, the Feast of Midsummer's Day shall be in six days hence, then shall it be made know to the entire kingdom." Feânin's face broke into a smile as well as he recognized the first signs of true happiness on his friend's face, something few had seen since his return from Gondor at the end of the wars.
"Congratulations My Lord and although I am of less wit than yourself, feel safe in keeping your secret with me. I shall tell no…" Feânin suddenly drew his horse up short, his body sat rigid as Legolas also heard the faint noise that had drawn his companion's attention. It was the soft tread of uneven footsteps, moving in their direction from the thick foliage of the trees to their right.
"Orc?" Feânin spoke the word at hardly a whisper as Legolas remained still and strained to pick up every noise dropped by the wandering stranger. The uneven stepping was a telltale characteristic of the orcs and the approaching creature apparently had a wound or a limp of some kind for every other step was accompanied by the soft brush of fingertips against tree trunks for support. However, the silence and stealth was unlike that of a common orc, the creatures were usually too stupid to disguise or muffle their footsteps.
"No…it is something else." Perhaps the lineage and hunting skills of elves prevented fear from clouding his mind as he quickly motioned for Feânin to dismount. With a few whispered words, their horses quickly made off into the thinning trees a few hundred yards in front of where they now stood.
"The tree." Legolas mouthed the words silently as he pointed towards a nearby ancient oak. Within moments they were both laying across boughs well hidden in the thick green foliage.
Legolas noticed that the sound had stopped for a few moments, to be resumed with what he perceived to be a slight trace of hesitancy. He felt his fingertips lightly brush the rough feathers of an arrow as he wondered whether or not to string his bow in readiness. Feânin was of the same mind as he tightened his grip on the handle of one of a pair of ivory-handled knives strapped across his shoulder blades.
Presently, the forest seemed to split open slightly and it allowed a tiny figure, cloaked in a blue cape and hood so dark it was no easy task to distinguish it from black, to come forth. The stranger was indeed limping badly, nearly appearing to stumble several times as the figure drew closer to the tree where Legolas and Feânin hid.
Legolas stealthily slipped an arrow from his quiver, the presence of the hidden stranger somehow deeply disquieting to him. At this the figure stopped dead and seemed to slightly incline his head towards the tree. From within the folds of the material a deep voice spoke, silencing the smallest bird in the forest and drawing powerful strength into its voice.
"Know if you release that arrow Master Elf, you shall be dead before it reaches me. And tell your friend to sheath his knives…I bring no harm into this forest nor to you." For the first time in his life, fear coursed through Legolas' veins as he wondered if the being could read his thoughts. Glancing quickly at Feânin, he could see the same questions were running through his friend's mind as well. Legolas noticed a coldness which shook through his veins and for a moment, clouded his mind. The moment was lost as the wanderer turned his hood away and made ready to resume his movement through the forest.
The stranger continued his haphazard walking and disappeared into the thick trees almost as mysteriously as he had entered. Legolas could not tell for sure but it seemed in his mind that there was a darkness following the stranger, a terrible power drawing life from everything around the cloaked figure.
"What was that…an elf?" Feânin spoke breathlessly as Legolas sighed deeply, watching the trail of the mysterious stranger and loosing sight of the footsteps in the darkness of the forest. He noticed also that the sound of the strangers' footsteps was no more, as though he had vanished into the blackness of the trees.
"No…it did not have the light of an elf. I should say it was something sinister but my mind is still confused. Something was different about that stranger, something I can't quite put my finger on."