Ann rolled over and stretched, feeling the warm breeze caress her skin.
Slowly she opened her eyes, and the full horror of what had happened to her
hit, overwhelming her. Silent tears rolled down her cheeks as she stuffed
her fist into her mouth, determined not to be heard. Her mother and father,
both dead, killed by orcs. Brought to a world where she had changed,
rescued by elves, and now . . . where was she?
Wiping her eyes she sat up, clutching the silken sheets about her naked form. She was in a large room, with tall windows on three sides, looking out over a forest that shone in glorious shades of silver, green and gold. Seeing the white dress laid out for her, she pulled it on, revelling in its softness. Her feet ached where they'd been cut, and her wrists were sore, but Ann felt at peace in this strange place.
She looked at herself in the mirror, astonished at what she found there. She was as slim as she had always wanted to be, her supple form showing a grace as she moved that she had never before possessed. Her jet-black hair fell below her waist, falling about her shoulders in loose curls. Lifting a hand to her ear, Ann gasped. Her ears had grown pointed, making her . . . an elf. And her eyes . . . where they had simply been green before, they now shone from within, a deep haunting green that reminded her of the woodland outside her window.
Slipping her feet into soft slippers, she wandered over to the windows, gazing out at the forest in wonder. There were other trees that stood to the height of the one in which she had spent the night, with staircases running around them, and rooms like her own, jutting out over the forest floor. She could see elven forms walking beneath the trees, singly or in groups, their clothes blending them expertly into the foliage.
A knock at the door made her spin around, her eyes betraying her fear. A young elf maiden with a wealth of golden blonde hair slipped in, nodding gently to the frightened girl by the window.
'Good morning, my lady,' she said, drawing Ann to a chair beside the mirror. 'I am Coeil, your handmaiden.'
She sat her down, and began to brush her black hair, her light fingers making quick work of the heavy ringlets. Ann looked at her in the mirror.
'Where am I?' she asked in a hushed whisper.
Coeil smiled.
'You are in Lorien, my lady,' she replied. 'Lady Galadriel has expressed a wish to meet with you, and so you are to be made ready for her.'
'Lorien? As in Lothlorien? Middle Earth?'
The elf nodded, a little confused by Ann's questions. Ann's mind raced. She was in Middle Earth? But that was just a story, wasn't it? It had to be. But then, how could she explain what had happened to her? Why?
She felt something circling her head. Looking into the mirror, she saw that her hair was now caught back with a copper circlet, the rich red setting off the deep black of her hair. Coeil stood her up and led her down the staircase to the forest floor, where a man and woman waited patiently for her.
They turned to greet her, their features wreathed in smiles. Ann realised, dredging up her knowledge of the books, that they must be Celeborn and Galadriel, the rulers of the elven community in Lorien. She curtseyed gracefully, hoping they would answer some of her questions.
'Of course we shall, child,' the Lady said, coming forward to take her arm. 'You deserve to know of your heritage.'
Lord Celeborn beckoned them over to a secluded bench, where they could talk undisturbed. Ann gazed up at Galadriel a little fearfully.
'How did you . . .?' she began, and found herself unable to finish.
'My wife has many gifts, Lady Aniarel,' Celeborn told her, his smile wry. 'The best known of them is her ability to hear a person's thoughts.'
Ann blinked.
'What did you call me?'
'Aniarel,' he repeated. 'It is your name, my lady.'
'No, it isn't,' she corrected him. 'My name is Ann, and I'm still not sure whether I'm being taken for a ride here.'
Galadriel looked at her sadly.
'Then you shall know all, child,' she said, motioning her husband to leave them. This was something Ann was going to have to face, preferably without an audience. Celeborn bowed to them, and left. Galadriel turned to the bewildered girl, who gazed up at her expectantly.
'Know then, child, that you are Aniarel of Lorien, daughter of Jenien and Licomias. On the eve of your birth, word reached us of a threat in the East, a threat that was directed at you, an unborn infant. The borders of Lorien were attacked with increasing frequency and violence in their attempts to capture you. It was decided that you and your family should be hidden, far from the prying eyes of the evil ones, among the humans in the land you know as Earth. Your parents took you there, vowing to protect you with their lives if the need arose. They took human names, Jennifer and Luke, shortening your own to Ann. You were not to know of your elven heritage until you returned to us, here in the Golden Wood. And returned you have.'
She stopped, watching a myriad of emotions flicker across Ann's face. The girl had seen all that had been described to her every night, in a dream, repeated since her eighteenth birthday.
She was stunned, thrown off balance by the truth as it mercilessly tore down barriers erected for her protection. Her mind was swamped, as memories of the Golden Wood, playing by Galadriel's mirror, pulling Celeborn's hair, her parents' love, all flooded over her. No wonder she felt at peace here, Ann realised. She had come home.
Tears began to flow, tears for her family, killed so cruelly, and her lost memories. Galadriel wrapped her arms about the shocked girl and rocked her to and fro, as the burdens of a lifetime spent amongst others who were not of her kind were lifted from the fragile form.
Gradually the sobs died down, and Aniarel lifted her head from Galadriel's shoulder. The Lady smiled down at her tear stained face, brushing away an errant strand of hair.
'Should you ever have a problem, little one, you must come to me.'
'You said I would know all, my lady,' Aniarel said softly. 'What of the threat in the East?'
Galadriel sighed, and stepped away, looking out across her land with an expression of deep sadness on her beautiful face.
'The threat has not subsided, child, and we cannot send you back, since they now know where they can find you. We must hasten that which they wish to prevent, to ensure your safety.'
Aniarel rose and stood beside her, her fine features puzzled.
'What is it they wish to prevent?'
'Your marriage, little one,' Galadriel told her, seeing the shock register on her young companion's face. Aniarel drew in a deep breath, her mind reeling.
'Marriage?'
Galadriel smiled at her, hoping this would not come as too much of a shock.
'When you were born, you were promised to a prince of Mirkwood, the forest to the North of here. When we cast the spells to divine what threatened you, we discovered that it was your union that the orcs wished to prevent. The elves of Mirkwood were sworn to silence when you were sent away. Word has already been sent to them of your return. Legolas comes to claim you within the week.'
Aniarel sat down suddenly, her rosy cheeks white with shock.
'Legolas?' she whispered. 'I am to be married to Legolas?'
'What do you know of him?' Galadriel asked, concerned for her young friend.
'He was a member of the Fellowship,' Aniarel stuttered, her breath coming in short gasps. 'And good friends with Gimli, the dwarf from the same quest.'
She looked up at the Lady, who smiled again, glad to see that she knew of the One Ring, and the quest to destroy it. Galadriel took pity on her, and drew her close, letting the warmth of her love flow over the frightened little girl. Aniarel relaxed into the gentle embrace, reminded of her mother and the home she had known before the harsh reality of Earth. As Galadriel held her in her arms, the little elf maiden acknowledged her heritage, and accepted her fate.
*~*~*
An unlikely group rode through Fangorn, chatting and laughing amongst each other. Ahead of the others, a smaller troupe walked. An elf, a dwarf, four hobbits, and a man. They were what was left of the Fellowship of the Ring, having lost Boromir early in the quest, when the Fellowship was broken. Gandalf had been unable to join them, his services needed in the south. Their families rode behind them, letting them walk together for the first time in four years.
They were currently engaged in teasing the elf, Legolas, about his upcoming wedding. He was increasingly worried about it, and his protestations of ignorance of his future wife just fuelled the light-hearted taunts his friends threw at him.
'Come along, my friend,' Gimli teased, 'surely you know what she looks like!'
Legolas gave the dwarf a look, and sighed when he laughed.
'The last time I saw her, Gimli, she was a baby,' he explained for the umpteenth time. The dwarf guffawed with laughter, accusing him of cradle snatching. Legolas gave up and strode on ahead, shaking his head. Aragorn chuckled quietly, holding Merry and Pippin back, as Sam ran after the distressed elf.
'Sam'll sort him out, don't worry,' he told them. 'Gimli! Leave the jokes for a while, hey?' The dwarf bowed to him, a huge grin on his bearded face as he resumed his pace, talking to Frodo.
Sam caught up with Legolas a little way ahead of them. The elf looked stricken. His hands fell limp at his sides, and he walked without the spring in his step that marked him out from so many of his kind. He really was scared about his forthcoming marriage. Sam cleared his throat, jumping back when Legolas turned on him.
'If you're here to tease me, Samwise Gamgee, don't even think about it! I've had it up to here with Gimli's misplaced sense of humour!'
He took in the startled expression on the hobbit's face.
'Oh, I'm sorry, Sam,' he sighed, putting his hand on the hobbit's shoulder. 'I'm just a little too worked up about this. I shouldn't have shouted, I'm sorry.'
Sam grinned suddenly.
'Don't worry,' he told his friend. 'I was terrified before my wedding too, and I've known Rosie since we were children! It's natural.'
'But most men have at least seen what their bride looks like, haven't they?' Legolas threw up his hands, bringing them down hard against his thighs. 'I am going to be nervous wreck until I see her, Sam. What if she doesn't like me? What if she hates me?'
His face took on an aghast expression.
'What if I don't like her? I'll have to spend all the ages linked to someone I detest . . . oh, dear.'
Sam's eyebrows had slowly risen throughout this little tirade, returning to their rightful place as Legolas looked at him helplessly. The little hobbit rose to the occasion.
'Stop worrying,' he told his friend in a firm tone of voice. 'It'll all turn out for the best, just you wait and see. But if you start feeling sorry for yourself without having ever seen the girl, I'll give the hiding of your life, Legolas Greenleaf!'
Legolas looked surprised.
'Don't judge her on what you don't know, judge her on what you do know,' Sam scolded, wondering why he was defending an elf he'd never even heard of until a week ago. 'Do you know if she's ugly?'
Legolas glanced down at his little friend, and sighed.
'No.'
'Do you know if she's cruel?'
'No.'
'Do you know how she's going to feel about you before you've even met?'
'No.'
'Well, there you are, then.'
Sam looked up at Legolas with a self-satisfied grin on his round face. The elf wore an expression of profound relief.
'You're right, Sam, I'm being unfair,' he agreed, patting the hobbit's shoulder. 'She's probably just as scared as I am, isn't she?'
'Yes. Even if she is ugly, cruel, and hates you with every ounce of her living essence.' Sam grinned up at his friend, who sighed in mock frustration, and laughed aloud. This would be a wedding to remember.
Wiping her eyes she sat up, clutching the silken sheets about her naked form. She was in a large room, with tall windows on three sides, looking out over a forest that shone in glorious shades of silver, green and gold. Seeing the white dress laid out for her, she pulled it on, revelling in its softness. Her feet ached where they'd been cut, and her wrists were sore, but Ann felt at peace in this strange place.
She looked at herself in the mirror, astonished at what she found there. She was as slim as she had always wanted to be, her supple form showing a grace as she moved that she had never before possessed. Her jet-black hair fell below her waist, falling about her shoulders in loose curls. Lifting a hand to her ear, Ann gasped. Her ears had grown pointed, making her . . . an elf. And her eyes . . . where they had simply been green before, they now shone from within, a deep haunting green that reminded her of the woodland outside her window.
Slipping her feet into soft slippers, she wandered over to the windows, gazing out at the forest in wonder. There were other trees that stood to the height of the one in which she had spent the night, with staircases running around them, and rooms like her own, jutting out over the forest floor. She could see elven forms walking beneath the trees, singly or in groups, their clothes blending them expertly into the foliage.
A knock at the door made her spin around, her eyes betraying her fear. A young elf maiden with a wealth of golden blonde hair slipped in, nodding gently to the frightened girl by the window.
'Good morning, my lady,' she said, drawing Ann to a chair beside the mirror. 'I am Coeil, your handmaiden.'
She sat her down, and began to brush her black hair, her light fingers making quick work of the heavy ringlets. Ann looked at her in the mirror.
'Where am I?' she asked in a hushed whisper.
Coeil smiled.
'You are in Lorien, my lady,' she replied. 'Lady Galadriel has expressed a wish to meet with you, and so you are to be made ready for her.'
'Lorien? As in Lothlorien? Middle Earth?'
The elf nodded, a little confused by Ann's questions. Ann's mind raced. She was in Middle Earth? But that was just a story, wasn't it? It had to be. But then, how could she explain what had happened to her? Why?
She felt something circling her head. Looking into the mirror, she saw that her hair was now caught back with a copper circlet, the rich red setting off the deep black of her hair. Coeil stood her up and led her down the staircase to the forest floor, where a man and woman waited patiently for her.
They turned to greet her, their features wreathed in smiles. Ann realised, dredging up her knowledge of the books, that they must be Celeborn and Galadriel, the rulers of the elven community in Lorien. She curtseyed gracefully, hoping they would answer some of her questions.
'Of course we shall, child,' the Lady said, coming forward to take her arm. 'You deserve to know of your heritage.'
Lord Celeborn beckoned them over to a secluded bench, where they could talk undisturbed. Ann gazed up at Galadriel a little fearfully.
'How did you . . .?' she began, and found herself unable to finish.
'My wife has many gifts, Lady Aniarel,' Celeborn told her, his smile wry. 'The best known of them is her ability to hear a person's thoughts.'
Ann blinked.
'What did you call me?'
'Aniarel,' he repeated. 'It is your name, my lady.'
'No, it isn't,' she corrected him. 'My name is Ann, and I'm still not sure whether I'm being taken for a ride here.'
Galadriel looked at her sadly.
'Then you shall know all, child,' she said, motioning her husband to leave them. This was something Ann was going to have to face, preferably without an audience. Celeborn bowed to them, and left. Galadriel turned to the bewildered girl, who gazed up at her expectantly.
'Know then, child, that you are Aniarel of Lorien, daughter of Jenien and Licomias. On the eve of your birth, word reached us of a threat in the East, a threat that was directed at you, an unborn infant. The borders of Lorien were attacked with increasing frequency and violence in their attempts to capture you. It was decided that you and your family should be hidden, far from the prying eyes of the evil ones, among the humans in the land you know as Earth. Your parents took you there, vowing to protect you with their lives if the need arose. They took human names, Jennifer and Luke, shortening your own to Ann. You were not to know of your elven heritage until you returned to us, here in the Golden Wood. And returned you have.'
She stopped, watching a myriad of emotions flicker across Ann's face. The girl had seen all that had been described to her every night, in a dream, repeated since her eighteenth birthday.
She was stunned, thrown off balance by the truth as it mercilessly tore down barriers erected for her protection. Her mind was swamped, as memories of the Golden Wood, playing by Galadriel's mirror, pulling Celeborn's hair, her parents' love, all flooded over her. No wonder she felt at peace here, Ann realised. She had come home.
Tears began to flow, tears for her family, killed so cruelly, and her lost memories. Galadriel wrapped her arms about the shocked girl and rocked her to and fro, as the burdens of a lifetime spent amongst others who were not of her kind were lifted from the fragile form.
Gradually the sobs died down, and Aniarel lifted her head from Galadriel's shoulder. The Lady smiled down at her tear stained face, brushing away an errant strand of hair.
'Should you ever have a problem, little one, you must come to me.'
'You said I would know all, my lady,' Aniarel said softly. 'What of the threat in the East?'
Galadriel sighed, and stepped away, looking out across her land with an expression of deep sadness on her beautiful face.
'The threat has not subsided, child, and we cannot send you back, since they now know where they can find you. We must hasten that which they wish to prevent, to ensure your safety.'
Aniarel rose and stood beside her, her fine features puzzled.
'What is it they wish to prevent?'
'Your marriage, little one,' Galadriel told her, seeing the shock register on her young companion's face. Aniarel drew in a deep breath, her mind reeling.
'Marriage?'
Galadriel smiled at her, hoping this would not come as too much of a shock.
'When you were born, you were promised to a prince of Mirkwood, the forest to the North of here. When we cast the spells to divine what threatened you, we discovered that it was your union that the orcs wished to prevent. The elves of Mirkwood were sworn to silence when you were sent away. Word has already been sent to them of your return. Legolas comes to claim you within the week.'
Aniarel sat down suddenly, her rosy cheeks white with shock.
'Legolas?' she whispered. 'I am to be married to Legolas?'
'What do you know of him?' Galadriel asked, concerned for her young friend.
'He was a member of the Fellowship,' Aniarel stuttered, her breath coming in short gasps. 'And good friends with Gimli, the dwarf from the same quest.'
She looked up at the Lady, who smiled again, glad to see that she knew of the One Ring, and the quest to destroy it. Galadriel took pity on her, and drew her close, letting the warmth of her love flow over the frightened little girl. Aniarel relaxed into the gentle embrace, reminded of her mother and the home she had known before the harsh reality of Earth. As Galadriel held her in her arms, the little elf maiden acknowledged her heritage, and accepted her fate.
*~*~*
An unlikely group rode through Fangorn, chatting and laughing amongst each other. Ahead of the others, a smaller troupe walked. An elf, a dwarf, four hobbits, and a man. They were what was left of the Fellowship of the Ring, having lost Boromir early in the quest, when the Fellowship was broken. Gandalf had been unable to join them, his services needed in the south. Their families rode behind them, letting them walk together for the first time in four years.
They were currently engaged in teasing the elf, Legolas, about his upcoming wedding. He was increasingly worried about it, and his protestations of ignorance of his future wife just fuelled the light-hearted taunts his friends threw at him.
'Come along, my friend,' Gimli teased, 'surely you know what she looks like!'
Legolas gave the dwarf a look, and sighed when he laughed.
'The last time I saw her, Gimli, she was a baby,' he explained for the umpteenth time. The dwarf guffawed with laughter, accusing him of cradle snatching. Legolas gave up and strode on ahead, shaking his head. Aragorn chuckled quietly, holding Merry and Pippin back, as Sam ran after the distressed elf.
'Sam'll sort him out, don't worry,' he told them. 'Gimli! Leave the jokes for a while, hey?' The dwarf bowed to him, a huge grin on his bearded face as he resumed his pace, talking to Frodo.
Sam caught up with Legolas a little way ahead of them. The elf looked stricken. His hands fell limp at his sides, and he walked without the spring in his step that marked him out from so many of his kind. He really was scared about his forthcoming marriage. Sam cleared his throat, jumping back when Legolas turned on him.
'If you're here to tease me, Samwise Gamgee, don't even think about it! I've had it up to here with Gimli's misplaced sense of humour!'
He took in the startled expression on the hobbit's face.
'Oh, I'm sorry, Sam,' he sighed, putting his hand on the hobbit's shoulder. 'I'm just a little too worked up about this. I shouldn't have shouted, I'm sorry.'
Sam grinned suddenly.
'Don't worry,' he told his friend. 'I was terrified before my wedding too, and I've known Rosie since we were children! It's natural.'
'But most men have at least seen what their bride looks like, haven't they?' Legolas threw up his hands, bringing them down hard against his thighs. 'I am going to be nervous wreck until I see her, Sam. What if she doesn't like me? What if she hates me?'
His face took on an aghast expression.
'What if I don't like her? I'll have to spend all the ages linked to someone I detest . . . oh, dear.'
Sam's eyebrows had slowly risen throughout this little tirade, returning to their rightful place as Legolas looked at him helplessly. The little hobbit rose to the occasion.
'Stop worrying,' he told his friend in a firm tone of voice. 'It'll all turn out for the best, just you wait and see. But if you start feeling sorry for yourself without having ever seen the girl, I'll give the hiding of your life, Legolas Greenleaf!'
Legolas looked surprised.
'Don't judge her on what you don't know, judge her on what you do know,' Sam scolded, wondering why he was defending an elf he'd never even heard of until a week ago. 'Do you know if she's ugly?'
Legolas glanced down at his little friend, and sighed.
'No.'
'Do you know if she's cruel?'
'No.'
'Do you know how she's going to feel about you before you've even met?'
'No.'
'Well, there you are, then.'
Sam looked up at Legolas with a self-satisfied grin on his round face. The elf wore an expression of profound relief.
'You're right, Sam, I'm being unfair,' he agreed, patting the hobbit's shoulder. 'She's probably just as scared as I am, isn't she?'
'Yes. Even if she is ugly, cruel, and hates you with every ounce of her living essence.' Sam grinned up at his friend, who sighed in mock frustration, and laughed aloud. This would be a wedding to remember.