Chapter 4
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no-one except Myria. This chapter is really just a link for the other chapters, and so it's very short. Please R&R. (If anyone cares, at the time of writing - early November - in The Two Towers, Frodo and Sam are in the Black Lands with Gollum. That is all.)
And so the days passed, swept away like leaves in the autumnal wind. Myria spent her days gazing from her window at the haven in which she dwelt, while casting her mind to her cousin in the woods of Lóthlorien. She grew increasingly fond of the esteemed hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, and spent much of her time in his chamber, as he chronicled his adventures and created poetry. The words that flowed from his pen had a beautiful musical quality almost akin to the elven poetry, so beloved of her people. The halfling was wise, and he possessed a sense of humour quite foreign to Myria, laughing at himself and at others, but never unkindly. Both valued the others company, and forged a strong, if unlikely, friendship. Arwen Undómiel had arrived in the woods of Lóthlorien. Every time she visited the wonderful place, she was struck by the astonishing beauty of the woods. Arwen spent long hours with her grandmother, the Lady of the Golden Woods, Galadriel, whose wisdom she revered. She spent many hours simply wandering the woods, and marvelling at their immortal beauty, for she knew that in years to come, the elven people would depart Lóthlorien for the Grey Havens, and the beauty of the woodlands would slowly be destroyed. The Dark Lord was extending his reach until his outstretched fingers almost brushed the boundaries of the Celeborn and Galadriel's realm, and their combined power could not repel him forever. Aragorn grew restless, and left the elven sanctuary of Rivendell to wander the troubled land. His inner thoughts mirrored the turbulence of the stricken land, although outwardly he retained his composure. Sauron was gaining power, and Aragorn knew he would have to fulfil his destiny. It was as he was wandering alone with his thoughts, that once again his mind guided him to the boundaries of Hobbiton. He had visited the Shire many times before in order to protect the peaceful inhabitants from the peril they did not yet know of, enclosed as they were from the outside world. It was there that he met Gandalf. Guiding a small pony driven cart, the wizard was an imposing sight; his wild beard spilling out over his worn grey robes, and the deep blue hat resting upon his bristling eyebrows. One hand clutched a gnarled staff, and piercing blue eyes focused directly upon the Ranger. Beneath the blustery exterior, however, there lived a compassionate, mighty wizard. As Aragorn rode up to the wizard's cart, he was greeted with a voice full of urgency. "They are coming. The Nine have left Mordor." Gandalf was clearly not expecting for events to twist with so little warning. Aragorn was also shocked, but his eyes did not betray his private thoughts. "Then we must protect the little people. The Ring must be brought to Rivendell." He wheeled his horse around and galloped away. Arwen heard the soft footfalls that betrayed her grandmother approaching from a long session with her magical fountain, a useful medium similar to the palantir which showed her reflections from the past, present and future. In this way, Galadriel could learn of events yet to come. However, the fountain showed many reflections of possible futures, and only one skilled in such matters could see how terrible events may be prevented. As Arwen turned to greet her grandmother, Galadriel's fair face was sombre. When she spoke, her rich voice betrayed nothing of her thoughts. "You must return to Rivendell. The One Ring will be sent there, and you must aid the Ringbearer. Sauron has awakened the evil that dwells in Mordor. The Nine have left Barad-Dûr." Her thoughts a turmoil, Arwen cast her eyes downward and nodded. As Arwen's procession left the elven sanctuary of Lóthlorien, she felt a deep sadness, as she felt the mourning of a land under a terrible threat. The very trees spoke of the great evil upon the land, and Arwen knew that fair Lóthlorien would very soon be empty, devoid of life and the elanor flowers so beloved by the elves.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and no-one except Myria. This chapter is really just a link for the other chapters, and so it's very short. Please R&R. (If anyone cares, at the time of writing - early November - in The Two Towers, Frodo and Sam are in the Black Lands with Gollum. That is all.)
And so the days passed, swept away like leaves in the autumnal wind. Myria spent her days gazing from her window at the haven in which she dwelt, while casting her mind to her cousin in the woods of Lóthlorien. She grew increasingly fond of the esteemed hobbit, Bilbo Baggins, and spent much of her time in his chamber, as he chronicled his adventures and created poetry. The words that flowed from his pen had a beautiful musical quality almost akin to the elven poetry, so beloved of her people. The halfling was wise, and he possessed a sense of humour quite foreign to Myria, laughing at himself and at others, but never unkindly. Both valued the others company, and forged a strong, if unlikely, friendship. Arwen Undómiel had arrived in the woods of Lóthlorien. Every time she visited the wonderful place, she was struck by the astonishing beauty of the woods. Arwen spent long hours with her grandmother, the Lady of the Golden Woods, Galadriel, whose wisdom she revered. She spent many hours simply wandering the woods, and marvelling at their immortal beauty, for she knew that in years to come, the elven people would depart Lóthlorien for the Grey Havens, and the beauty of the woodlands would slowly be destroyed. The Dark Lord was extending his reach until his outstretched fingers almost brushed the boundaries of the Celeborn and Galadriel's realm, and their combined power could not repel him forever. Aragorn grew restless, and left the elven sanctuary of Rivendell to wander the troubled land. His inner thoughts mirrored the turbulence of the stricken land, although outwardly he retained his composure. Sauron was gaining power, and Aragorn knew he would have to fulfil his destiny. It was as he was wandering alone with his thoughts, that once again his mind guided him to the boundaries of Hobbiton. He had visited the Shire many times before in order to protect the peaceful inhabitants from the peril they did not yet know of, enclosed as they were from the outside world. It was there that he met Gandalf. Guiding a small pony driven cart, the wizard was an imposing sight; his wild beard spilling out over his worn grey robes, and the deep blue hat resting upon his bristling eyebrows. One hand clutched a gnarled staff, and piercing blue eyes focused directly upon the Ranger. Beneath the blustery exterior, however, there lived a compassionate, mighty wizard. As Aragorn rode up to the wizard's cart, he was greeted with a voice full of urgency. "They are coming. The Nine have left Mordor." Gandalf was clearly not expecting for events to twist with so little warning. Aragorn was also shocked, but his eyes did not betray his private thoughts. "Then we must protect the little people. The Ring must be brought to Rivendell." He wheeled his horse around and galloped away. Arwen heard the soft footfalls that betrayed her grandmother approaching from a long session with her magical fountain, a useful medium similar to the palantir which showed her reflections from the past, present and future. In this way, Galadriel could learn of events yet to come. However, the fountain showed many reflections of possible futures, and only one skilled in such matters could see how terrible events may be prevented. As Arwen turned to greet her grandmother, Galadriel's fair face was sombre. When she spoke, her rich voice betrayed nothing of her thoughts. "You must return to Rivendell. The One Ring will be sent there, and you must aid the Ringbearer. Sauron has awakened the evil that dwells in Mordor. The Nine have left Barad-Dûr." Her thoughts a turmoil, Arwen cast her eyes downward and nodded. As Arwen's procession left the elven sanctuary of Lóthlorien, she felt a deep sadness, as she felt the mourning of a land under a terrible threat. The very trees spoke of the great evil upon the land, and Arwen knew that fair Lóthlorien would very soon be empty, devoid of life and the elanor flowers so beloved by the elves.
