OK. Here it is. The serious fic. It will be funny in parts, but
it's not taking the mick like the rest of mine. Ruinwen and, of course, me,
belong to me but no-one else you recognize does. Enjoy! And remember
children, what must you always remember to do? You gottit! Review!
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Chapter 1
Ruinwen dropped silently from the leafy bough of a mallorn-tree. She was wearing her green archery clothes and grey-elven cloak and, camouflaged as she was, she was as invisible as any forest spirit. Walking silently as only elves can, she passed through the woods of Lothlorien. The silver- barked trees stretched to the sky and Ruinwen, slipping silently between them, seemed as much a part of this golden haven as the golden leaves or dappled sunlight that picked out the gold in her flowing hair.
Suddenly a note sounded through the wood, a long, sweet, joyful note that echoed and penetrated the last corners of the tranquil forest. It was the call to Caras Galadhon, the city of trees.
Ruinwen was already darting through the trees. She was to join the riding of Lothlorien elves to Rivendell, to attend the council of Elrond. However she, as a young elf, would not attend the council, but stay at Rivendell under the protection of Lord Elrond until they should leave for the Blessed Realm.
Ruinwen was a tall, slender elf of great beauty, with deep blue eyes, long reddish-gold hair and a smiling red mouth. Her name meant 'red flame- maiden' or 'fiery maiden' and, at barely 100 years of age, her fiery spirit, often hidden by a thoughtful outlook, well suited her to this name. The Lady Galadriel herself had taken a fancy to her and would often talk to her of the far distant past, of the First Age of the Sun, and the Blessed Realm, Valinor, the Ancient West. She would tell her her own account of the histories of Arda and that of others, and thus Ruinwen became rich in Elven- lore and fluent in Quenya, the High-Elven tongue.
Ruinwen was sad that her people, the Eldar, were leaving this Earth where she had lived always. She would miss the mighty mallorn-trees and the woods of Lorien, where she grew up. However, she assured herself, there would be far mightier forests, far greener pastures in Erresea, away from the troubles of a war-torn world. And for some of their number, she reminded herself, it would not be leaving home – it would be returning home, to see again lost relations and friends last seen before the sun came into being.
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Chapter 1
Ruinwen dropped silently from the leafy bough of a mallorn-tree. She was wearing her green archery clothes and grey-elven cloak and, camouflaged as she was, she was as invisible as any forest spirit. Walking silently as only elves can, she passed through the woods of Lothlorien. The silver- barked trees stretched to the sky and Ruinwen, slipping silently between them, seemed as much a part of this golden haven as the golden leaves or dappled sunlight that picked out the gold in her flowing hair.
Suddenly a note sounded through the wood, a long, sweet, joyful note that echoed and penetrated the last corners of the tranquil forest. It was the call to Caras Galadhon, the city of trees.
Ruinwen was already darting through the trees. She was to join the riding of Lothlorien elves to Rivendell, to attend the council of Elrond. However she, as a young elf, would not attend the council, but stay at Rivendell under the protection of Lord Elrond until they should leave for the Blessed Realm.
Ruinwen was a tall, slender elf of great beauty, with deep blue eyes, long reddish-gold hair and a smiling red mouth. Her name meant 'red flame- maiden' or 'fiery maiden' and, at barely 100 years of age, her fiery spirit, often hidden by a thoughtful outlook, well suited her to this name. The Lady Galadriel herself had taken a fancy to her and would often talk to her of the far distant past, of the First Age of the Sun, and the Blessed Realm, Valinor, the Ancient West. She would tell her her own account of the histories of Arda and that of others, and thus Ruinwen became rich in Elven- lore and fluent in Quenya, the High-Elven tongue.
Ruinwen was sad that her people, the Eldar, were leaving this Earth where she had lived always. She would miss the mighty mallorn-trees and the woods of Lorien, where she grew up. However, she assured herself, there would be far mightier forests, far greener pastures in Erresea, away from the troubles of a war-torn world. And for some of their number, she reminded herself, it would not be leaving home – it would be returning home, to see again lost relations and friends last seen before the sun came into being.