*note: Hmmm...the usual...alas! I do not own Middle-Earth or the Lord of
the Rings. They belong to the genius who gave my life meaning, Tolkien.
Hail!
*This is my first fan fic so be nice....please take into consideration my age...I'm but 15, and an under-grad student busy with growing up and school work. All corrections and comments welcome. Hantale!
Aranel
by Linneleth
Laughter rang out among the Elves of Imladris, known to men as Rivendell. The tall and beauteous beings drew near to the bridge that connected the elvenhome to the rest of the valleys in the outskirts of the Misty Mountains. They raised their arms and called out hearty greetings in Elven as a group of travellers drew near to the entrance of their home-valley.
"Suilad!" "Suilad!"
At the foot of the bridge stood an Elf maid clad in white, with hair as dark as the shadows of twilight and eyes the color of the grey evening, calm and possessed of great beauty. She smiled, and her face, which seemed to be ageless, suddenly took on a youthful countenance. "Welcome, Princess of Imladriel!" she called out as the travellers stopped at the foot of the bridge.
Another Elf maid stepped forward from the gathering of elves who had just arrived. "Hail, Princess of Imladris." She was like the first in height and grace, but she was as light as the other was dark. The rippling waves of her hair were as sunlight poured from the heavens, and her white arms and clear face were without flaw. She was clad in soft green and gray, and she wore no ornament. Her beauty needed no embellishment. Her eyes were the clear green of the woods, and they gleamed warmly as she greeted Arwen Undomiel, the daughter of the Lord of Rivendell.
Arwen, the dark-haired one, came forward and extended both hands towards her in greeting. "We've been waiting for you, meleth. It brings me great joy to see you once again, Mikhaella --- safe and hale."
Mikhaella, daughter of the Elf-king of Imladriel and childhood friend of the Lady Arwen, smiled back as she regarded her friend with shining eyes."Nay, Arwen, the joy is mine, I assure you." She grinned in girlish delight, "Why, look at you! You haven't changed at all since we last met!"
The two had parted ways when Mikhaella was but a young adolescent. Her father had thought it was best for her to go back home and spend more time in serious study, not in the care-free, happy-go-lucky realm of Rivendell, where she could be easily distracted. It had been one hundred and fifty two years exactly since the two last saw each other, though they had kept in touch through letters and missives that they sent when one ambassador would visit the other elfhome. They had been girls when they met, although Arwen was a good century older, and instantly felt a connection to each other; now they were women fully-grown, but the bond was still there.
"But you have, Mikhaella." Arwen stepped back to observe all the details of her closest friend,"In 100 and 52 years you've grown!"
The princess of Imladriel gave a laugh, as clear as the sweet gurgling brook,"I've come of age, my friend."
Arwen smiled in agreement. "I can see that." She tucked Mikhaella's arm around hers as they were wont to do when they were children,"Come, you must be weary from your travels. Did you have a safe journey?"
"Safe...and uneventful," the other answered, walking with Arwen up the stone steps that led to the magnificent Homely House of Elrond, the father of Arwen and the ruler of Rivendell.
"Rivendell has not changed much, I see." Mikhaella observed as they walked through the graceful arches constructed by elven craftsmen of old. The arches were a predominant feature of the Rivendell architecture, displaying both beauty and strength. The timeless beauty and serenity of Rivendell seemed to both gladden and sadden the princess. Arwen wondered silently why.
"Father seeks to preserve as much as he can," Arwen said softly, "Especially now that ---" She cut herself off and fell silent, not wishing to voice out her troubles.
"Yes?"Mikhaella prodded gently, looking closely at her friend,"You can tell me, Arwen. You can feel it too, can't you?" They paused and looked at each other. "That sense of darkness...of evil....it's in the air and the ground and the water..." Her eyes were troubled, "Something's not right in the land. In Imladriel I felt it the strongest, and so did Father."
That was why she was sent to Rivendell in the first place. Her father had thought it safer for her to be there. He had sent her away, and Mikhaella was not sure why. But being the obedient daughter that she was, and looking forward to the fact that she would be reunited with her dear childhood friend Arwen, she went.
"Something's wrong." Arwen said softly, "I know not what it is, exactly. I do not think anyone does. But Father has been ever-watchful these past few weeks, and I think he knows something's afoot. Any Elf can sense it. It seems to be coming from the southern regions of Mordor....We are fortunate to have not been as badly affected by this...this thing...as the rest of the land."
Mikhaella was silent as the went on. From not quite so far a distance there came a peal of laughter from the Elves of Rivendell. The singing of the Elves reached their ears...the perpetual music that surrounded the enchanted valley that was Arwen's home.
"The laughter of your people ring out still in your city," Mikhaella said quietly,"The merry-making still goes on and the lively joy of your people has not been quenched. It's been quite some time since my ears have heard the music of our people."
"Does no one sing anymore at Imladriel?" Arwen asked, surprised and more than a little dismayed.
Mikhaella shook her head, her smile long gone. "Not for the past months." She kept her eyes on the path before her. Seeing the splendor and joyfulness of Rivendell brought memories both bittersweet and poignant. Imladris was nowhere near as unaffected by the darkness in the land as Rivendell was. Not a trace of internal devastation or gloom could be found in the elvenhome's gardens and walls. Mikhaella wondered at how Rivendell could have not been changed by the happenings in dreaded Mordor, as Imladriel was.
"My father has the Ring, Vilya," Arwen answered her unspoken question,"It protects the city from the darkness that has been spreading. But if ever the hordes of evil do arise, even Rivendell can offer no protection against them."
Mikhaella looked at Arwen. "Rivendell alone stands uncorrupted among all the elvenhomes on this side of the Misty mountains," she said, "You are fortunate, Arwen."
Arwen only extended a hand to her. "Let us welcome you to Rivendell's protection, then." she said gently,"Come. Father is eager to see you."
*This is my first fan fic so be nice....please take into consideration my age...I'm but 15, and an under-grad student busy with growing up and school work. All corrections and comments welcome. Hantale!
Aranel
by Linneleth
Laughter rang out among the Elves of Imladris, known to men as Rivendell. The tall and beauteous beings drew near to the bridge that connected the elvenhome to the rest of the valleys in the outskirts of the Misty Mountains. They raised their arms and called out hearty greetings in Elven as a group of travellers drew near to the entrance of their home-valley.
"Suilad!" "Suilad!"
At the foot of the bridge stood an Elf maid clad in white, with hair as dark as the shadows of twilight and eyes the color of the grey evening, calm and possessed of great beauty. She smiled, and her face, which seemed to be ageless, suddenly took on a youthful countenance. "Welcome, Princess of Imladriel!" she called out as the travellers stopped at the foot of the bridge.
Another Elf maid stepped forward from the gathering of elves who had just arrived. "Hail, Princess of Imladris." She was like the first in height and grace, but she was as light as the other was dark. The rippling waves of her hair were as sunlight poured from the heavens, and her white arms and clear face were without flaw. She was clad in soft green and gray, and she wore no ornament. Her beauty needed no embellishment. Her eyes were the clear green of the woods, and they gleamed warmly as she greeted Arwen Undomiel, the daughter of the Lord of Rivendell.
Arwen, the dark-haired one, came forward and extended both hands towards her in greeting. "We've been waiting for you, meleth. It brings me great joy to see you once again, Mikhaella --- safe and hale."
Mikhaella, daughter of the Elf-king of Imladriel and childhood friend of the Lady Arwen, smiled back as she regarded her friend with shining eyes."Nay, Arwen, the joy is mine, I assure you." She grinned in girlish delight, "Why, look at you! You haven't changed at all since we last met!"
The two had parted ways when Mikhaella was but a young adolescent. Her father had thought it was best for her to go back home and spend more time in serious study, not in the care-free, happy-go-lucky realm of Rivendell, where she could be easily distracted. It had been one hundred and fifty two years exactly since the two last saw each other, though they had kept in touch through letters and missives that they sent when one ambassador would visit the other elfhome. They had been girls when they met, although Arwen was a good century older, and instantly felt a connection to each other; now they were women fully-grown, but the bond was still there.
"But you have, Mikhaella." Arwen stepped back to observe all the details of her closest friend,"In 100 and 52 years you've grown!"
The princess of Imladriel gave a laugh, as clear as the sweet gurgling brook,"I've come of age, my friend."
Arwen smiled in agreement. "I can see that." She tucked Mikhaella's arm around hers as they were wont to do when they were children,"Come, you must be weary from your travels. Did you have a safe journey?"
"Safe...and uneventful," the other answered, walking with Arwen up the stone steps that led to the magnificent Homely House of Elrond, the father of Arwen and the ruler of Rivendell.
"Rivendell has not changed much, I see." Mikhaella observed as they walked through the graceful arches constructed by elven craftsmen of old. The arches were a predominant feature of the Rivendell architecture, displaying both beauty and strength. The timeless beauty and serenity of Rivendell seemed to both gladden and sadden the princess. Arwen wondered silently why.
"Father seeks to preserve as much as he can," Arwen said softly, "Especially now that ---" She cut herself off and fell silent, not wishing to voice out her troubles.
"Yes?"Mikhaella prodded gently, looking closely at her friend,"You can tell me, Arwen. You can feel it too, can't you?" They paused and looked at each other. "That sense of darkness...of evil....it's in the air and the ground and the water..." Her eyes were troubled, "Something's not right in the land. In Imladriel I felt it the strongest, and so did Father."
That was why she was sent to Rivendell in the first place. Her father had thought it safer for her to be there. He had sent her away, and Mikhaella was not sure why. But being the obedient daughter that she was, and looking forward to the fact that she would be reunited with her dear childhood friend Arwen, she went.
"Something's wrong." Arwen said softly, "I know not what it is, exactly. I do not think anyone does. But Father has been ever-watchful these past few weeks, and I think he knows something's afoot. Any Elf can sense it. It seems to be coming from the southern regions of Mordor....We are fortunate to have not been as badly affected by this...this thing...as the rest of the land."
Mikhaella was silent as the went on. From not quite so far a distance there came a peal of laughter from the Elves of Rivendell. The singing of the Elves reached their ears...the perpetual music that surrounded the enchanted valley that was Arwen's home.
"The laughter of your people ring out still in your city," Mikhaella said quietly,"The merry-making still goes on and the lively joy of your people has not been quenched. It's been quite some time since my ears have heard the music of our people."
"Does no one sing anymore at Imladriel?" Arwen asked, surprised and more than a little dismayed.
Mikhaella shook her head, her smile long gone. "Not for the past months." She kept her eyes on the path before her. Seeing the splendor and joyfulness of Rivendell brought memories both bittersweet and poignant. Imladris was nowhere near as unaffected by the darkness in the land as Rivendell was. Not a trace of internal devastation or gloom could be found in the elvenhome's gardens and walls. Mikhaella wondered at how Rivendell could have not been changed by the happenings in dreaded Mordor, as Imladriel was.
"My father has the Ring, Vilya," Arwen answered her unspoken question,"It protects the city from the darkness that has been spreading. But if ever the hordes of evil do arise, even Rivendell can offer no protection against them."
Mikhaella looked at Arwen. "Rivendell alone stands uncorrupted among all the elvenhomes on this side of the Misty mountains," she said, "You are fortunate, Arwen."
Arwen only extended a hand to her. "Let us welcome you to Rivendell's protection, then." she said gently,"Come. Father is eager to see you."