Disclaimer: All characters and places belong to or are inspired by Tolkien.

A/N: A few things before we get started:

Tilion is the Maia who steers the Moon. Not a major plot point, but it was pointed out to me it could create confusion.

I wanted to give you a timeframe for when this story is taking place. Obviously, it's Post-RotK (that means after the movies YellowSun), seven years after the destruction of the Ring. (Oops! Sorry YellowSun, I just ruined it for you, didn't I? Legoals: Like she cares.) But the thing you should be aware of is that it's spring, very early spring. The mysterious woman was found on March 13—my birthday, but that is not why that date is significant; it's merely coincidence. True to form, I'm not going to tell you why that date is noteworthy; you'll have to figure it out for yourselves. Go check your timeline in the appendix of RotK and do some inferring. If you still don't get it, tell me in a review and I'll let you know in the next chapter.

Flashbacks set off in "" and "" and in italics.



El gwedh enni
(A) Star is binding me

Chapter IV – Memories


Entranced by the fire, Talathion studied the dance of the flames, attempting to predict their next move. The flickering light threw dark shadows across his face, and a thick cloud of smoke hung about him. The burning wood snapped and popped and held him in a conversation he had no desire to take part in. He tried to concentrate on the voices around him, their talk filled with mirth and laughter. A jest was made at his expense, and he half-smiled but had not the presence of mind or heart to return the quip. The voices quickly became hushed, and a period of awkward silence followed until he finally stood and moved slowly away from the fire. Their hearts are yet untainted. I wish not that they sacrifice their joy because darkness invades me this night.

As he continued walking away from the warmth and the light of the fire, Talathion began reliving that awful week in his mind. Enough years had not yet passed to mercifully cloud his memories or to lessen the sorrow and guilt they induced. The sights, the sounds, the odors—he could still see and hear and smell them as if he had experienced them only yesterday.



The attack began at nightfall with a greater force than anticipated, but they were not caught unawares. Long had they felt the presence of Shadow. Ever vigilant they were, watching the Dark Tower from afar, destroying the wretched creatures that came too close to their realm in the northeast. They noted the bold movements, and they knew battle under the trees was imminent.

Talathion remembered running through the forest when the first wave of the attack hit. His company was to draw the host of enemies away from the palace walls, away from the village. The cold, sharp steel of his blade pierced the flesh of any beast foolish enough to come within its reach, spilling their squalid entrails on the newly green grass. How many he slew that night he did not know, he did not care. He just kept running, chasing after the foul creatures, cutting them down, shouting orders to those who fought beside him. He entered into the composed but lethal trance of combat, concentrating only on that which immediately surrounded him. Millennia of years of experience in battle provided him with the focus he needed to survive—focus to defend himself, focus to bring his blade down upon his enemy's shoulders, focus to ignore the reek of blood, the cries of his kin.

It was long into the night before Talathion realized they had been separated. He cursed himself, but he could not worry about that now. Worry would distract him. Distraction meant death.

His company was successful in driving the host south and west, and the battle looked to turn in their favor. Many of the beasts were falling to arrows that were released with unerring precision from the trees. His strength renewed, Talathion intensified his attacks and found himself savagely thirsting for the blood of his foes.

Alarmed calls from above shook him from the daze of combat. A second assault wave had set fire to the surrounding trees, seeking to drive the concealed archers out of the safety of the branches. The archers were doomed; they had no means of escape. The inferno was quickly consuming the dry wood, forcing the archers to draw towards the center of the fiery circle. On the ground, the beasts were poised for attack, waiting for them to eventually drop from the treetops. He watched as several archers jumped down from the trees, watched them wield their short daggers, watched their heroic attempts to slay as many foul creations as they could before they met their deaths. Several arrows whizzed past him, and Talathion knew that many of his kin had chosen to remain above, to give deadly flight to the last of their arrows, to realize their fate in the trees. How many of his kin died that night he did not know, he did not want to know.

The intense heat of flames scorched his skin and burned his lungs. The stench of burning flesh made his nose wrinkle in disgust. The deafening sound of trees ablaze toppling throughout the forest was all he could hear.

Talathion surveyed the scene as best he could through the thick, black smoke. The enemy now outnumbered them greatly. What remained of his company was scattered and disorganized, fighting only for the purpose of staying alive. They were losing this battle. Their only hope in surviving was to push through the host together, but they had to do so quickly. Falling trees had set fire to the forest floor. The blaze was drawing close, threatening to enclose them in a ring of death.

He let out a war cry and heard it echoed throughout the forest. Again he found his strength renewed as he felt the presence of his kin draw toward him. Pushing forward, they fought as one, leaving a trail of dead bodies in their wake. They turned together to fend off the attacks that came at them now from the rear and the sides. Catching a quick glance behind him, he spotted a small opening in the blazing wall and thanked the Valar. He could see their escape, their victory.

He ceased his backward steps, allowing others to pass by him and out of the circle of fire. Four of his company remained by his side, helping him to ward off the enemy, to stay their position. A loud, creaking noise from above told him it was time to move and to move quickly. Delivering one last blow to the creatures in front of him, Talathion sprinted away, the others following him. The host surged forward only to be crushed or set aflame by a burning tree as it crashed to the ground. A few of the creatures managed to break free from the fiery trap, but it took little effort to kill them. The others he watched with great pleasure as they scampered about, flailing their limbs, shrieking in pain as they were burned alive.

Satisfied that they had won this battle, Talathion urged his small company onward. Distant shouts alerted him to the fact that other battles were being fought elsewhere in the forest. They quickly traversed the fallen, blazing trees, making their way westward where his elven senses had determined the need for reinforcements to be greatest. He found the company there to be hard-pressed and under threat of fire just as his had been. He joined his kin in battle, dispelling the hideous creatures until none remained alive.

The two depleted companies became one and moved to lend the service of their deadly blades to other kin fighting throughout the forest. How many battles he joined that night he could no longer recall. How long he fought beneath the trees of his home he did not know. Eventually, the host of enemies withdrew, their number severely diminished. It was midday, or so Talathion estimated, for the Sun had hidden herself behind dark, heavy clouds.

Several of his kin gave chase to destroy the repulsive creatures that remained alive, but many stayed behind. Fire still threatened to take their homes. They worked ceaselessly into the night and well into the next day, setting counter fires and chopping down trees to stop the spread of the blaze. It grieved the elves greatly to have to bring more ruin to their beloved forest, but in the end, they had no other alternative. The clouds finally burst and Talathion found himself thanking the Valar once again for the much-needed rain.

By nightfall of the third day the risk to their homes was extinguished, and their attentions turned now to graver matters—locating and burying the bodies of kin. It was a task Talathion had been dreading. Nothing had he heard of his son, and none had seen him. Fighting the orcs and wargs and battling the fires, he was given no opportunity to consider what had become of him. With nothing else to occupy his mind, it was all he could think of.




Even now, seven years gone, the distressing thoughts plagued him. Lingering for a brief moment at the edge of the trees, Talathion gazed at the Moon hanging confidently in the dark night sky. Tilion had guided a full vessel that night as well.



Talathion remembered all too well the fateful trek he had made through the charred and blackened trees of Mirkwood. Nuindolien, his wife, had searched with him, having ignored his pleas that she stay behind. He knew what they would find if their efforts proved successful, and he wished desperately to spare her from the experience, but she was as willful as the day he first met her, as willful as her brother. Neither spoke as they walked along, she finding comfort in quiet companionship, he silenced by guilt and regret.

Nuindolien had discovered his body though she did not know it, burnt beyond recognition as it was. She had thought it was the corpse of an orc, its flesh so blackened and desiccated, and had passed it by. But he paused when his eyes caught the glint of elvish steel in the pale silver moonlight. He saw the charred hand still clutching the black-handled knife that he had given to him at his coming of age, and he knew instantly it was Mellhawion. Crouching down beside the body, Talathion pried the bones of burnt fingers open and felt the smooth handle of the knife, unscathed by the flames that had killed its wielder. He wrinkled his nose involuntarily, the air around him filled with the putrid smell of seared flesh. He turned his head away, repulsed by the sight, and let out a heavy sigh. Nuindolien turned at the sound, denial written on her face. Stifling a cry, she ran over and fell to her knees. He watched as a single tear fell from each of her deep blue eyes as she realized that this was what remained of her son. Her hand went to caress what had once been Mellhawion's face, but it crumbled beneath her light touch, the flesh burnt to the extent that it no longer held together. Her tears poured forth at that moment, and there was nothing Talathion could do to comfort her.

He gathered as best he could their son's body within his cloak and together they journeyed to the Forest River. Nuindolien offered a lament as they watched his remains float down the river, the current swift from melting snow in the Grey Mountains. When she finished her song of farewell, she opened her eyes and he gazed into them. No longer did sapphires of blue sparkle within them; Talathion knew that it would not be long until he would lose her. She had been filled with despair these last months, despair for the fate of the elves, for the doom of Arda. Now grief consumed her.




Once again, Talathion found himself slowing his steps, trying in vain to slow the rush of memories that bombarded him. The wind picked up, rustling the branches of the trees. It whispered their last words to each other.



"I can not go on, my love. I have lost a part of my heart."

"We will find comfort in the sea. Let us pass into the Undying Lands."

"It would do no good, for my mind is beset by visions of his death, by questions that will go unanswered. They will never cease to haunt me."

"I can not bear to lose you as well."

"You already have. I am an empty shell."

They had stayed there, on the bank of the river. He held her head in his lap, running his fingers through her thick hair, not quite as gold as the king's. His gaze caressed the contours of her face. His entire being was focused on remembering every detail about her, for he knew he had not long before she too would leave him. Her sweet scent was like that of lilacs in bloom. Her skin was soft as a newborn babe's. Her laugh, once melodic and contagious, now silenced forever. Her long eyelashes curled slightly at their ends, always lightly tickling him whenever she rested her head on his. He had loved her as best he knew how over these long years, but he knew he had to let her go. She would stay if he asked her to, but he could not ask that of her. She would slowly waste away, forced to relive the memories of this week in her dreams and in her waking hours. She would suffer through them for him, but then she would no longer be the one whom he loved. Nay, it was better if she passed now so that he would look back on his time with her with some happiness and peace, and not be filled with sadness and regret for what she would become if she stayed. Placing one last tender kiss on her supple lips, Talathion vowed to love her always and to do all that he could to protect her brother and his family and their home. Then Nuindolien expelled her last breath as the sun's rays disappeared beneath the horizon.

Passing with her was not an option for him. Talathion's sense of duty held him to this life. King Thranduil had need of him even with the young prince away on the Quest. The villages of the elves were even more vulnerable since the attack four days ago. Much preparation would be required in these next few days as more attacks threatened their woodland realm. And should the Quest be successful and the Ring destroyed, there would be much rebuilding in their villages and restoring of life to the forest.




Talathion stopped when it dawned on him where his feet had carried him. He had drawn far from his companions, their songs lightly carried on the wind. He could still see the faint glow of the campfire though the trees. Turning away from the light, he recalled for the first time in several days the woman that Legolas, Celebhil, and he had discovered in this clearing one week ago. He had thought much about her that day after Legolas allowed her to escape from their elven village. Escape? We did not hold her against her will. Yet she had held the prince hostage and for that, she should not go with impunity. Indeed, he had wanted to discuss her actions and the prince's response, or lack there of, with Legolas. It disturbed him that the prince had not dodged her attack and thus avoided the predicament in the first place. And then, to be held there, paralyzed and at the mercy of the knife. Talathion did not understand. Legolas was truly a skillful warrior, as he had proven to the warder on several occasions, including one just that morning. Surely, he would have been able to wrench the knife from her grasp before she would have even been aware what was happening. The prince had great strength and great agility, this the warder knew, but sometime between his playful revenge on the sparring fields and their arrival at the Healing House that morning, those abilities had abandoned him. Perhaps it was the sea-longing.

Talathion shook his head at this, quickly dismissing the thought. True, he did not yet experience the sea-longing and so did not know its ways, but he had watched Legolas carefully over these years since his return from the Quest, seeking to somehow protect the young elf from the anguish of the call. He had come to learn much about it in his observation. Much like an affliction it was, for there were days when Legolas suffered greatly, enduring the constant call of the sea. And then there were times when the prince seemed very much like the elf Talathion had known and protected under the trees of Mirkwood—carefree, adventurous, quick to anger like his father, quicker to delight just like his mother.... At times mischievous, Talathion thought, a smile playing on his features. Truthfully, he rather enjoyed being the victim of Legolas' pranks, especially now as the pranks were so rare, but he would never admit this fact. It reassured the warder when Legolas still found ways to enjoy and entertain himself in this land. Talathion also found great pleasure in thwarting Legolas' attempts. It had turned into a game of sorts between warder and prince.

But now that game had higher stakes. Why do I seek to hold him here? Indeed, why does he stay, for he cannot endure the call of the sea for much longer? He will depart soon, I believe, and that brings great sadness to me. I have lost so much, and I am not willing to let him go so easily. Talathion knew the reasons Legolas stayed in Middle-earth, though he did not fully understand them. Similar to Legolas, the warder remained in this land because of obligation to others and of a desire to see the land restored to its beauty. However, unlike the prince but much like the Woodland King, he was not so willing to turn Arda over to the care of men. He longed for those great years of the Firstborn. He did not like this change in the tide. It was because of men that evil had remained in Middle-earth for two ages and that Arda consequently came to great ruin. Thus, wasn't it also man's fault that he had lost his wife and child? In fact, a man was to blame for the affliction that his prince endured and would continue to endure.*

Talathion sighed, abandoning this line of thought. It was not his place to judge the decisions Legolas made when it came to friendship, this he had learned well. But it was his duty to protect the prince and see to his well-being. He would need to be even more vigilant these next few weeks, as Legolas clearly did not have all his faculties about him. It came as no real surprise that the prince had not been present to lead the spring plantings, though Talathion had hoped this year would be different. The warder had observed that the sea-longing was at its worst for Legolas in the spring. Perhaps the land springing back to life served as an unwanted reminder that his heart no longer found delight in the trees. Or more likely it was the familiar scent of the salt of the sea as winds blew up from the south, bringing with them memories of when he had first heard the cry of the gulls on those shores. However, Legolas had seemed to be in good spirits of late, his recent ruse on the warder a testament to this.

It was after that woman left. Clearly she had some sort of affect on the prince's state of being. Talathion had noticed Legolas' initial reaction to her when they had found her. He had appeared to disappear within himself, even if only for the briefest of moments. Legolas had said he had sensed something within her, but what it was he did not know or at least did not say. But the greater mystery was still what had transpired in the Healing House. The more Talathion considered it, the less explanation he had for Legolas' actions. Never had the warder experienced such lack of input or knowledge when it came to the prince's security, and this worried him greatly. Deciding to return to Edhilbar in the morning to seek out the prince's whereabouts and question him about the woman and what it was that he had seen in her, Talathion turned and began to journey back to the warmth and light of the fire.

~~~


She stirred from sleep, feeling something new, something almost odd. Her body was warm; no longer did coldness invade her bones.

She opened her eyes, but quickly squeezed them shut to protect them from the sudden brightness of the sun. Waiting a few moments, she slowly opened her eyes again, allowing them to adjust to the light.

Sitting up, she felt the something slip off her body, and cool air began to nip at her skin. She fingered the material that lay over her legs.

Panic seized her.

Someone had been here. Someone had been watching her. Someone had placed this over her body.

Panic released her.

Someone had been with her. Someone had been watching over her. Someone had placed this over her body.

It had been the reason for her warmth during the night. She looked more closely at the material. It was dark green, like that of the forest trees. The fabric was soft and weightless, but still provided much protection against cold winds.

She folded the material and lay it next to the knife that she had slept with during the night. Standing up, she looked around the glade.

An all too familiar emptiness in the pit of her stomach told her it was time to find something to eat. Her eyes drifted toward the red flowers that had been her meal yesterday. She felt like retching at the thought of eating those things again. Little did they do to dispel her hunger.

She crossed over to the stream and knelt down beside it, splashing the cool water on her face and taking a sip.

A cry from the air overhead quickly drew her attention. A magnificent bird was soaring above. She watched it for some time, but soon it moved on, disappearing over the tall trees.

She looked into the water and noticed fish swimming idly, oblivious to her presence. Her spirits lifted and her belly rumbled at the thought of the filling meal one of those would make.

She shook her head. She would have to find a way to catch the fish. And if she was successful in that, then she would need a fire.

She stood, picked up two rocks from the bank of the stream, and carried them over to the tree beneath which she had slept. The kindling she had gathered the day before still waited for the fire she had been unable to start.

She began striking the rocks against each other, over and over and over. Her arms hurt from the repeated motion, but she desperately wanted a fire, desperately needed a fire.

Her heart jumped when she saw the first spark, but she had not been prepared and it had not caught. She tried again, but there was no spark this time. Again, she tried, and again.

Finally, her persistence paid off. She watched as the tiniest amount of smoke rose from the smallest patch of orange. She cupped her hands around the precious flame to shield it from the slight wind. She cried out as the flame died.

It did not take her long to make a spark again and catch the fire on the dry leaves. This time she did not make the mistake of robbing the flame of its breath, and soon she had a decent fire.

She sat back, her legs beneath her, and admired her handiwork for some time.

Her stomach reminded her that she had started the fire for a reason. She turned and looked at the stream. Starting the fire seemed easy now compared to what she would have to do for her next task. She had no means of catching the fish, and surely if she found a way, it would mean immersing herself in the stream. She shivered at the thought of cold water dripping from her body. But she did have the warmth of the material and the fire now.

She grabbed the knife and started to move over to the stream. She was halfway there when she spotted the bird again flying low towards her. As it came closer, she could see it grasped something in its claws. It flew past her, dropped its load next to the fire she had built, and took to the sky once more.

She cautiously made her way back to the fire and inspected the offering. A small animal lay motionless at her feet.

She bent down and picked the animal up by its long ears. A fine meal this would make and a relatively effortless one at that.

She removed the skin from the animal with the knife. Using the thickest limb she had gathered for the fire, she skewered its meat and held it over the fire, her mouth watering.

With the meat cooked fully, she sat down with her back against the tree and slowly ate her meal, savoring every last morsel.

For the first time she felt satisfied, content, unafraid. She was beginning to accept that this was home.


*****



*This is alluding to a point that Ithilien makes her story, Cry of the Gull. It will be expanded upon in later chapters. If you have not read that wonderful story, go read it...now!

Sorry for the long time between postings. I'm still quite slow with the whole writing process. Hopefully, the next chapter will be out in about a week, but I'm not quite sure. I'm very distracted right now by my Minnesota Twins! But I'll try to write between innings.

Response to Reviewers


al & Legolas: First of all, thanks for beta'ing and for your wonderful reviews. You and Legolas are awesome! I see you're theorizing on the origin of the mystery woman. Yay! I'm not going to tell you if you're right or wrong, though. *evil cackle* Yes, Celebhil got a little action in that last chapter. Don't worry, Legolas, there's some in store for you too. But like al said, you'll just have to be patient and wait. Elladan and Elrohir know nothing about supervising visits, that's why Legolas and I think they would be perfect. Come on. Please!

Mija: Thank you for saying this is beautiful. I try my best to pack in a lot of imagery and symbolism so I'm glad that you're enjoying it. Thanks for adding me to your favorites! I'm honored.

TreeHugger: Thank you for the compliment on my descriptions. It's something I struggle with and is mainly the reason why I write so slow. But I'm getting faster. My mouth is hanging wide open--did you just use Legolas and great and romance in the same sentence?! Wow! Yeah, if you thought Talathion was serious in the last chapter, what's your impression of him now? And as you can see, the woman's technique improved! BTW, when Legolas said technique, what were you thinking? I don't think I should tell you what I was....

YellowSun: Thanks for suffering through this story once again. And to clear something up, it was LegoALS, not LegoLAS. Legolas is much too nice to shoot you with an arrow; it's his twin brother you have to watch out for. FYI, as I'm writing this, 71 days until the release of TTT; I know you can't wait. (Legoals: Yeah, right!)

Nebride: Wow, you reviewed twice! Thank you! Keep wondering about the woman; I shan't say anything. I am dropping hints here and there for you though. And yes, she will give Legolas something else to think about, but will that be good or bad...?

Ithilien: Whew! *wipes forehead in relief* It's good to hear your radar hasn't detected any Mary Sues. Be sure and ticket me if it ever should. Poor Legolas, indeed! (copyright TreeHugger) And it's only going to get worse for the poor elf. So many questions, and so few answers. It will all be revealed in time, don't worry.

Alon: Are you still with me? Thanks for reviewing chapter 2 and for adding this to your favorites. I must say that I was reluctant to write any fan fiction because I was afraid of those Mary Sue traps so it's very encouraging to hear that so far, I haven't fallen in!

Melian: Huge thanks to you for beta'ing. This story is taking shape because of your awesome insights and the intriging discussions we have, so give some kudos to yourself as well. Chocolate chip are my favorite, BTW, but really I prefer Cappuccino'n'Creme NutriGrain Bars. Yes, good angst is good angst and thank you very saying that mine is really good angst. As for the whole sending Legolas back in time to rejoin the Fellowship, I'm putting that plot bunny in a cage and one day, I might just let it out and play with it.