Mhera's large round, glassy hazel eyes traveled down the immense ebony obelisk pointing at the sky, emblazoned with elf-scripted words filled with gold casting. The tiny elf re-read the haunting poem prologuing the massive monolith, folding her soft pale hands behind her white-robed back, in the same fashion she had seen her matriarch perform. The pretty young elf's brow furrowed under a silky wave of long auburn hair. Soft brown eyes flecked with crystal caressed the words once more, a finger straying upward to tap the side of her jaw in thought. Mind decided, Mhera turned on her heel, and fled to the castle keep. The fabled castle of Mirkwood, from which the matriarch of the land ruled despite her age, was hewn from solid white marble, from its glossed battlements to the monolithic keep standing proud and erect at the center of the sweeping lawns. Mhera gave the massive golden double-doors a soft push, ignoring the lightly armed spear-bearing elves guarding the flanks. They paid no heed to the tiny elf, their almond eyes staring straight ahead, awaiting the end of their arduous shift. Mhera ascended a winding stone stairwell, up to a red-velvet carpeted landing. The elf maiden hurried along this passage, skidding to a halt betwixt two furled potted plants. Before her, a heavy oaken door, studded with semi-precious gems and colored glass, arched between two gardenias, enchanted to hold their full bloom, and sitting proudly in blue china pots. Mhera pushed open the barrier before her, emerging into a bright chamber. Made entirely of glass-covered marble, the empresses' chamber always seemed to radiate light. A large ornate fireplace, studded with the same colored glass from the door, dominated the east wall, while the north wall was open glass, celestial patters etched into it, and unfurling to a seeping marble balcony overlooking the city of Mirkwood. A circular bed, quilted with satin sheets of white, sat on a slightly raised platform of marble. Mhera smiled, watching its sole inhabitant to turn slightly to face her. The aged face of an ancient elf, pale and waxy slid into focus. The wrinkles in the elf's fair skin etched deep, like century old wood. But there was nothing primordial about the large, round, glassy sky-blue eyes dominating the soft face. The elf's waist-length silver-blonde hair, snowy- white in its primeval state, remained sleek and silky, as it once was two thousand years afore. The empress too was dressed in floor-length white silk robes. At her neck hung a jade dragon, encased in crystal, and outlined in gold- a curious pendant that was the source of much interrogation from Mhera. "Mhera, my dear, come in, come in." Mhera grinned, closing the door with a soft snap, and hurried to the aged elf's side. "Did you wake from your nap just now?" "No. I was just.reveling in my past." The Empress of Mirkwood sighed, twisting a strand of loose hair thoughtfully around a gnarled finger. Her eyes clouded over in thought, as they often did when concentrating on the infinite depths of her memory. "Grandma?" "Mm?" Mhera paused, preparing her question. "I know mum told me not to tell you, and not bother you, because she said something about being hurt about it, but, what's that big black thing doing in the center of the grounds?" Mhera watched her grandmother intently, trying to read the large, glassy eyes now glazed over in consideration. The empress took several minutes, reveling over her response, her brain up-turning memories long since banished from constant presence. "That, my dear Princess Mhera, is a long, sad story. A story, which has taken up nearly all my young adult life. Many- a friend has died in this tale, but there are parts in which I cherish dearly." "So you're going to tell me?" The empress smiled warmly. "Of course I am. Soon it will be time for me to pass the throne to your father, I doubt the Council will think it wise to have a drowsy elf in charge. And your father hasn't heard this story, y' mother neither. I would write it down, but some parts are too painful. Much too painful to see on paper." "Grandma?" "Yes, Mhera?" "Does the story have something to do with that dragon necklace?" Mhera asked, pointing. This caught the empress of-guard for a moment, and she self-consciously touched the medallion, unable to answer for a few minutes.

"Y-yes. Yes, in fact, I believe it is where it all started, to my best knowledge." "And Professor Dawson, my tutor from the Shire, said that you played a big part in the War of the Rings." The empress smiled again, waving for Mhera to take a seat beside her. "Than that little hobbit is very thorough with his teachings. Did he tell you all?" "Um.not really. He just said, 'Princess Mhera, you'd best ask Empress Serena, you grandmother, for twas because of she most of this happened!' And I was coming back from his lesson in the gatehouse, and I saw the monument, and I came to read it. And I got more curious, and decided to come up here, and ask you. Was I disturbing you?" She added, remembering the 'royal manners' she was expected to uphold. Empress Serena smiled sadly, touching the medallion again. "Oh no, I was just fingering this, and remembering." She sighed, and looked upward at the brilliant fresco painted on her ceiling, depicting a massive blue-gray dragon flying amongst soft pink clouds. "Mhera, when I was naught a babe, I was taken from my home."