Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Actually, this is mine. All of it. I am Tolkien. No? Okay, only Myria's mine, blah di blah di blah.

Thus it came that every morning, Myria called upon her halfling friend, as they tended to wander through the beautiful valley together. Myria found that even when she was content in her own solitude, the halfling could lift her out of her silent mood with one of his incredible tales. Bilbo's knowledge of the world and its inhabitants often surpassed that of her and her younger kindred, yet he made light of it all, and his wisdom sought cover behind his anecdotes. For Bilbo's part, he was astounded by the grace and solemnity of the elf maiden, and found her to be both old and young, knowing great sadness and happiness, as was the way of the elves. He spent much of his time trying to assist her in letting the happiness shine through in her expression, knowing she had seen great troubles. She regarded him as her confidant, and he thought of her as a good friend whose company was most enjoyable. Thus the unusual pair were quite content in their companionship. Early one morn, as Myria came to call upon her friend, she found him quite engrossed in some old papers. "A good morning to you, Master Baggins. What can it be, I wonder, which involves you so?" Bilbo looked up at Myria, and it seemed to her that he was older and wearier. Yet a sparkle danced in his eyes. He passed a hand over his forehead. "Welcome, Myria, I have been looking over some old manuscripts. I have not viewed them for a long time. Did you know, I used to have a keen interest in mythology, and took it upon myself to translate many works. Here, you may read them." He pushed a yellowed page towards her, covered in thin spidery handwriting in faded black ink. Myria read its title, 'The Lay Of Gil-galad'. She glanced at Bilbo, a question in her eyes, to which the aged hobbit motioned her to continue her reading.

Gil-galad was an elven king. Of him the harpers sadly sing: The last whose realm was fair and free between the Mountains and the Sea.

His sword was long, his lance was keen, his shining helm afar was seen; the countless stars of heaven's field were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away, and where he dwelleth none can say; for into darkness fell his star in Mordor where the shadows are.

As Myria read the words, she felt a great stirring in her breast. Regardless of the hobbit's incessant chatter as she was reading, she had felt herself spellbound; captured by the essence of the words, having never heard the songs of her people in the Common Tongue. A conflicting range of emotions rose inside her; sadness at the fall of her people, pity that the true majesty and sentiment behind the tales could never be known to those who spoke in the Common Tongue, pride at the might and elegance of her kin, fear of the darkness that dwelt in Mordor. She had an overriding sense of confusion, as she could no longer remember whether any of these things had happened, or were yet to happen. A wave of realisation swept over her, as she recalled fragments of distant memories, regarding the seers. Her grandmother, Galadriel, was one of these beings, able, with the use of a medium, to delve into the past and future. However, it was rare indeed that an elf should experience such visions and premonitions without such aid, even for one of the House of Olwë. Instantaneously, Myria was acutely aware that the time of the elves on Middle Earth was drawing to a close - soon, she would be making the journey to Valinor, with the remainder of the elves. The people travelling to the Undying Lands would leave behind much sadness and ruined hope, if the new Alliance should fail and the land should be enshrouded in a Second Darkness. Myria felt no instinctive tug at her mind to tell her this would not happen, and she wished with all of her being that this should not be so.