**A/N: I'm still relatively new at this fan fic stuff, so write a review! Good or bad, I don't care, just give me your opinions. If you don't I'll hunt you down and smite you with my sword. Or I just won't give you a nice sugar cookie.
You get the idea, review my story!
Oh yah, and with all this disclaimer crap that seems to be so popular- I don't own anything, etc etc. Except my sword and sugar cookies. And maybe my two characters. The end.**
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Opening of the Void
At the end of the First Age, in the War of Wrath the Valar came from out of the West and together with the Children of Illuvatar, they destroyed the armies and fortress of Angband that belonged to mighty yet evil Vala, Morgoth. The Dark Lord was defeated and banished into the empty regions of the universe known as the Void where he was to be confined forever.
But there are some legends that predict he will return once again before the ending of the World . . .
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The afternoon sun peeked through the tapestry of the yellow mallorn leaves overhead, its gentle light streaming golden upon the quiet forest floor. The woods of Lothlorien had always been a place of such beauty throughout the ages of the World and the elves who inhabited the forest rejoiced in its splendor. For many long years Lothlorien, thought to be a place of magic by many others, remained untouched by any evil found elsewhere in Middle-earth.
From amongst the great trunks of the ancient trees the sounds of swords clinking against each other could be heard along with laughter. In a small clearing of the forest, two elves of relative youth could be found sword playing. One of the elves, a male, held in his right hand a long, silver sword that gleamed a faint blue in the sunlight. The other elf, a female, bore a beautifully made sword, its slightly curved blade shining brightly, in her left hand.
"Remember to keep moving your feet, Losawen," instructed the male elf, "and pay close attention to your opponents body movements."
"Stop sounding like you know so much," Losawen told grinning elf, "your knowledge and skills in sword fighting are not that much better than mine, Fimbros. Besides, I am still better than you in the ways of the bow." She made a swipe at him with her blade, but he swiftly countered it, knocking the sword right out of her hand.
"Ah yes, that may be true. But for now I still am better with the sword then you." said Fimbros gleefully, his gray eyes shining with mirth. He began dance, albeit in a rather ungraceful manner around the clearing swinging his sword at the multitudes of imaginary foes. Rolling her eyes at his actions, she took a stick from the ground and threw it at the direction of his prancing feet. The stick met with its intended target, causing Fimbros to trip upon it and fall backwards on to the ground.
"What was that for? You know, it is considered rude to throw objects at someone who is trying to celebrate their victory, as insignificant as it may seem to you," he told her indignantly, sitting up and plucking twigs out of his dark hair.
"You dance like a drunken dwarf wearing boots of iron," giggled Losawen who walked over to where he was sitting.
"A sad but true fact I must admit," he replied forlornly, looking sadly at the ground.
"Oh get up, I will show you how it is done," she said, grabbing Fimbros's hand to pull him to his feet.
"Why how very kind of you," he told her with a hint of mischievousness in his voice as he brushed off the dirt from his clothes. In the centre of the clearing Losawen began to demonstrate how dancing was supposed to be done, explaining each step as she went along. As soon as she turned her back to him he grabbed his sword and started to run off, trying unsuccessfully to silence his laughter. Turning around to see what Fimbros was doing, she immediately stopped as she saw him running away. She quickly collected her sword and ran off after him.
The afternoon sun was slowly disappearing now as the evening began drifting into the canvas of the sky, painting it with innumerable shades of colour. The trees of Lothlorien seemed to exude a soft orange glow, their branches coming alive and swaying in the occasional breeze. Losawen continued running after Fimbros, eventually catching up with him as they neared the elven city of Caras Galedon where they lived. Losawen lunged at Fimbros, grabbing ahold of his legs, making the two elves fall to the ground.
"Well that was certainly not polite. This is the second time you did that to me today, is there no end to it?" chuckled Fimbros, preparing to stand up though he fell back again only to find that his foot was stuck in Losawen's sword belt. As they disentangled themselves, they did not notice one of the elf-Wardens approaching them.
"And what is it that the two of you may be doing?" he asked, glaring at them, "King Thranduil of Greenwood will be arriving here at Lothlorien sometime this evening. Such a rambunctious display of childish behavior is not what we would like for him to see. Now run along you two, and do not do anything that could cause us embarrassment before the royalty of Greenwood."
Standing to their feet, the pair nodded and quickly left. The two friends walked along the white roads of the city for sometime talking about many a things. As the evening slowly faded into the darkness of the oncoming night, lights began to spring up all over the city like countless stars.
"We could go and see if we may perhaps catch a glimpse of King Thranduil's arrival," suggested Fimbros suddenly, "It is rare that I ever see the Northern elves of Greenwood, and even if I do they are usually just messengers, not royalty,"
"I do not think there is much to see about the king himself," replied Losawen, "though there will almost certainly be some sort of great celebration or procession, which I should like to see." Fimbros nodded and the two swiftly made their way to the gates of the city.
The great entrance to Lothlorien had been decorated wondrously, for garlands of silver flowers were strung all about and banners were set atop the walls. There was a rather large gathering of the Galadhrim by the gate already, waiting to greet their kindred from the North. There were elves to be found on many of the flets around the area as well, all whom were anticipating the king's arrival. Fimbros and Losawen weaved their way through the crowd in an attempt to find a spot where they could see the main roadway clearly, though they ended their search unsuccessfully.
"I suppose we shall have to be content with standing at the very back, and hope we do not miss anything worth seeing," said Fimbros dejectedly.
"No, wait, I have an idea. The flets, some of them are empty. We could go up in one of them, the view would be much better than anywhere down here," Losawen told him, scanning the area above them. Her eyes settled on a small flet close by, with no faces to be found looking over its wall-less sides.
"Up there," she told him, pointing at the flet.
"What if it belongs to someone? What if they find us?" Fimbros asked hesitantly.
"They are probably busy elsewhere, or else they would be up there watching," she reassured. They ran over to the tree where the flet was and hastily climbed up the ladder leading to it. Once on top, they went over to the side by the road and leaned over it, their stomachs to the floor and heads resting on crossed arms.
Not long afterwards, a company of elves riding upon horses could be seen approaching the open gates of Lothlorien. As they drew near, the sounds of silver horns to herald the guests could suddenly be heard, and when the party entered through the gates, there arose a music of cheering forth from the crowd.
At the front of the procession was the king, riding atop a great white horse. He seemed to be aged, yet not as a youthful vigor could still be traced in his wise and solemn visage. There were two others, both males, on horses to his sides. One was an elf of some great age who proudly bore the banner of Thranduil, and the other was one who didn't seem to be much older than both Losawen and Fimbros.
"Who is he? The fair-haired one?" Losawen whispered to Fimbros, indicating the younger elf.
"I am not quite sure, perhaps he is the king's son, the prince. There is much of a family resemblance between the two," he answered back quietly. He took a sidelong glance at Losawen who was intently watching the elf in question. As she watched him, the elf glanced up at her direction and for a brief moment their eyes met.
"If you are thinking what I think you are thinking," Fimbros said, grinning before he continued on, "than it seems to me that perhaps you - " He stopped in mid sentence as he heard someone climbing up the ladder to the flet they were on. Losawen heard it to and snapped her attention towards the ladder hole. Before they could do anything, a head appeared out of the hole. It was the same elf-Warden who had lectured them before. His face showed shock for an instant before it transformed into recognition and anger.
"You two again! Did you not understand what I was saying to you before, or perhaps you need to be reminded," he asked furiously in a loud voice, catching the attention of several nearby elves. He started to stride angrily towards Fimbros and Losawen who were completely caught off guard.
"Quick, jump. We're not that far off the ground," said Fimbros somewhat fearfully, gathering his wits. Without thinking, Losawen did as he instructed. The both of them didn't land too hard on the ground, though it might have had something to do with the unknowing elves below who helped break their fall.
By this time, they had caused quite a commotion that attracted the attention of the incoming visitors. Fimbros helped Losawen to her feet as the two hastily apologized to the others around them, then turning around they ran in the opposite direction of the ruckus. Losawen stole a quick glance backwards as she ran, and saw that the face of the elf she had been watching was now silently lit up with amusement at the spectacle.
**A/N: Let me know what you think! Seriously, write anything, it doesn't take that much time anyways! And it's polite. J**