Centaur's War
Echo the Nymph
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns his own work.
Three survivors went west
Imladris was their goal.
Harlindon held for them no comfort
From the Huntress' Call.
Yet from this elven home,
Did they journey
And reach their home
When trees bloomed in color.
Still, did they feel danger near,
A danger against Gondor.
Chapter 3
Over the course of the months, the surviving huntresses had completely recovered from their battles and the long journey. Galadriel glanced over to them, and noticed that Starpromise and Radiant Light seemed to be teasing their princess. Concerned, she approached them. "What is going on?" The Lady of the Wood inquired.
They fell silent, startled. Never before had she spoken to them.
Prairie Song met the gaze delivered with ease. "They were singing the birthday song." Her reply caused Galadriel to blink.
A chuckle came from behind her. Elrond had completely understood what they had been singing, and found the mildly teasing song as humorous as they did. "Happy birthday, Tinuviel. You are eighteen, correct?"
She nodded, confirming Lord Elrond's assumption. Then, she rose to her hooves. "We do not wish to leave so soon, but my father's insisting. Until we meet again, Lord Elrond." Prairie Song bowed politely before they vanished into the forests.
They moved with the silence that only huntresses could. Not a trace of their passage was left behind, not even the faintest hoof print. Many wonders were revealed to them as they passed into the Fair Lands.
Night fell over them and they stopped to rest. Prairie Song lightly touched a rough marble boulder, that had obviously come from a great distance long ago. "They were here. This was once part of a pillar that bore great light."
Her companions were startled; was that what she had been doing in the library in Imladris? How could she possibly know if that weren't the case?
The princess hid her shock well. I made my choice eight years ago. Why do I still have the powers of a Maia? I am mortal.
A voice, only she could hear, came from the West. ~Prairie Song Tinuviel, you may have chosen the Gift of Men, but your birthright powers will not leave you. And from them, we can see what you have foreseen. You know you will see the elves again. And that you sang of the future, of your descendant and Isildur's Mighty Heir.~
Weeks passed as they continued their journey. Pale late summer greens faded into autumn gold and when the trees were in full color, they arrived at their home; a home that was lit with brilliant reds, oranges and golds.
Wild Wolf looked up as they entered. He wrapped his daughter in a hug so tight that she was having trouble breathing. He gazed at Starpromise and directed his question to her. "Where are the other twenty-seven huntresses?"
Starpromise choked back a sob. "They walk among the spirits. The threat of Mordor is now but a memory from their sacrifice and the sacrifices of brave men and elves."
In surprise, the chief loosened his grip on his daughter. So that is why they still bear the braid. Many friends were lost to Mordor's darkness.
Prairie Song lightly pushed away from her father so she could comfortably speak to him. "Farata, sho kiy ali Gondor ki're shilre. Hi bual, Isildur, siy nae sho kiy." She didn't mention that he also had the One Ring. Knowledge of that would come soon enough, and by Mithrandir. Let him think they didn't know.
A colorful fall passed into a white winter, then a pale green spring and a vibrant green summer.
A strange sense of foreboding swam through Prairie Song as the days waxed longer. Something terrible had happened.
The cardinal's song alerted them to the visitors that had arrived. Two horses came to the High Chief's long house, and the huntresses rose as one. Gandalf the Gray and Lord Elrond entered. "Corta anyo, Lord Elrond." They chorused.
"Sina dosena." He smoothly replied. As he had promised, he kept up with their language.
"Saena corata, Mithrandir."
He blinked; how did they know... Oh that elf. "Nera ahna."
High Chief Wild Wolf greeted them as well before speaking otherwise. "What troubles you?" His concern wasn't unfounded. Their emotions were running high.
"The One Ring wasn't destroyed. Isildur kept it, and now it has betrayed him unto his death." Gandalf supplied.
Prairie Song drew in a sharp gasp. How had the power in her work lasted only a year?
"The Steward of Gondor will rule until the true heir is found." Lord Elrond's tone was deceptively calm. Inside, his emotions were waging war. A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder; a comforting gesture. Then she sang, once more in the common tongue.
"Good-bye, King among Men. The One Ring deceived you.
Fear not for your family, for one among the Numenor will
Rise again. Peace now, Son of Gondor, Friend of Huntresses.
Your spirit will not wander, for the hold was weak. As you were
We will remember, Dunedain of Numenor, Son of Gondor."
The huntresses reached back and braided a single lock of their tail hair as their visitors composed themselves. "Thank you, Tinuviel. You have put into words what I could not." Lord Elrond declared.
They saw their guests off before her father spoke to her. "Why did he call you Tinuviel?" His tone was a little more than demanding.
The princess shrugged. "Lord Elrond calls me Tinuviel, as all elves do, for I sing like a nightingale. Tinuviel is what they are called in Sindaran. It was Lord Elrond who first called me by that name." Prairie Song gazed into the distance, following their path with her eyes. Tilla sebin, mi feylas. Tilla sebin.
Echo the Nymph
Disclaimer: Tolkien owns his own work.
Three survivors went west
Imladris was their goal.
Harlindon held for them no comfort
From the Huntress' Call.
Yet from this elven home,
Did they journey
And reach their home
When trees bloomed in color.
Still, did they feel danger near,
A danger against Gondor.
Chapter 3
Over the course of the months, the surviving huntresses had completely recovered from their battles and the long journey. Galadriel glanced over to them, and noticed that Starpromise and Radiant Light seemed to be teasing their princess. Concerned, she approached them. "What is going on?" The Lady of the Wood inquired.
They fell silent, startled. Never before had she spoken to them.
Prairie Song met the gaze delivered with ease. "They were singing the birthday song." Her reply caused Galadriel to blink.
A chuckle came from behind her. Elrond had completely understood what they had been singing, and found the mildly teasing song as humorous as they did. "Happy birthday, Tinuviel. You are eighteen, correct?"
She nodded, confirming Lord Elrond's assumption. Then, she rose to her hooves. "We do not wish to leave so soon, but my father's insisting. Until we meet again, Lord Elrond." Prairie Song bowed politely before they vanished into the forests.
They moved with the silence that only huntresses could. Not a trace of their passage was left behind, not even the faintest hoof print. Many wonders were revealed to them as they passed into the Fair Lands.
Night fell over them and they stopped to rest. Prairie Song lightly touched a rough marble boulder, that had obviously come from a great distance long ago. "They were here. This was once part of a pillar that bore great light."
Her companions were startled; was that what she had been doing in the library in Imladris? How could she possibly know if that weren't the case?
The princess hid her shock well. I made my choice eight years ago. Why do I still have the powers of a Maia? I am mortal.
A voice, only she could hear, came from the West. ~Prairie Song Tinuviel, you may have chosen the Gift of Men, but your birthright powers will not leave you. And from them, we can see what you have foreseen. You know you will see the elves again. And that you sang of the future, of your descendant and Isildur's Mighty Heir.~
Weeks passed as they continued their journey. Pale late summer greens faded into autumn gold and when the trees were in full color, they arrived at their home; a home that was lit with brilliant reds, oranges and golds.
Wild Wolf looked up as they entered. He wrapped his daughter in a hug so tight that she was having trouble breathing. He gazed at Starpromise and directed his question to her. "Where are the other twenty-seven huntresses?"
Starpromise choked back a sob. "They walk among the spirits. The threat of Mordor is now but a memory from their sacrifice and the sacrifices of brave men and elves."
In surprise, the chief loosened his grip on his daughter. So that is why they still bear the braid. Many friends were lost to Mordor's darkness.
Prairie Song lightly pushed away from her father so she could comfortably speak to him. "Farata, sho kiy ali Gondor ki're shilre. Hi bual, Isildur, siy nae sho kiy." She didn't mention that he also had the One Ring. Knowledge of that would come soon enough, and by Mithrandir. Let him think they didn't know.
A colorful fall passed into a white winter, then a pale green spring and a vibrant green summer.
A strange sense of foreboding swam through Prairie Song as the days waxed longer. Something terrible had happened.
The cardinal's song alerted them to the visitors that had arrived. Two horses came to the High Chief's long house, and the huntresses rose as one. Gandalf the Gray and Lord Elrond entered. "Corta anyo, Lord Elrond." They chorused.
"Sina dosena." He smoothly replied. As he had promised, he kept up with their language.
"Saena corata, Mithrandir."
He blinked; how did they know... Oh that elf. "Nera ahna."
High Chief Wild Wolf greeted them as well before speaking otherwise. "What troubles you?" His concern wasn't unfounded. Their emotions were running high.
"The One Ring wasn't destroyed. Isildur kept it, and now it has betrayed him unto his death." Gandalf supplied.
Prairie Song drew in a sharp gasp. How had the power in her work lasted only a year?
"The Steward of Gondor will rule until the true heir is found." Lord Elrond's tone was deceptively calm. Inside, his emotions were waging war. A gentle hand was placed on his shoulder; a comforting gesture. Then she sang, once more in the common tongue.
"Good-bye, King among Men. The One Ring deceived you.
Fear not for your family, for one among the Numenor will
Rise again. Peace now, Son of Gondor, Friend of Huntresses.
Your spirit will not wander, for the hold was weak. As you were
We will remember, Dunedain of Numenor, Son of Gondor."
The huntresses reached back and braided a single lock of their tail hair as their visitors composed themselves. "Thank you, Tinuviel. You have put into words what I could not." Lord Elrond declared.
They saw their guests off before her father spoke to her. "Why did he call you Tinuviel?" His tone was a little more than demanding.
The princess shrugged. "Lord Elrond calls me Tinuviel, as all elves do, for I sing like a nightingale. Tinuviel is what they are called in Sindaran. It was Lord Elrond who first called me by that name." Prairie Song gazed into the distance, following their path with her eyes. Tilla sebin, mi feylas. Tilla sebin.