(A/N: thanks to storybook elf, Lilena, feanen, and icy878. Actually, I'm not sure if all Elves ride bareback. I remember in the movie Arwen rode on her horse with a saddle, but then again, Arwen doesn't even have a horse in the book . I think that Quenya is used in songs of ceremony and stuff like that and Canyaiel knows Quenya very well but she knows Sindarin, just not as well because she doesn't really talk to many people outside of her family so she knows Sindarin but just enough to get by. She would know how to carry on a basic conversation, and she can understand most of it, but other than that- nope. But, thanks for the sources! ()

We aligned into a straight line, save Arwen, who stayed behind us. I looked at my sword, which glimmered in the moonlight.

"If we can hold them off until the sun rises, they should become weak enough so we can be rid of them." The other Elves looked at me.

"I thought you said you never left Imladris," Aisto smiled.

"I haven't," I replied, breaking my short glance to look back toward the orcs, "I read a lot." I held my sword up, and waited for the orcs to come. They rode, and I could almost see their evil smiles. I glanced up at the sky; it was still dark, nearing sunrise. 'Please, let us live to see the sun, please Ilúvatar, please.'

The orcs rode toward us, quickly- too quickly. It became almost a blur.

Focus.

I took a deep breath and prepared to strike. We rode forward, hurrying our horses slightly. I heard Arwen back up. I felt as if I was waiting, waiting for something.

"This is the hour we draw swords together," Calimo's voice quavered a little, "Herio!"

I rode forward, letting out a large shout, "Ú-dano i faelas a hyn!" The orcs were so close to me, I could feel their breath- it felt dirty and hot.

My sword made a nice clean cut as it sliced through the air, making a swishing sound, and then cut swiftly into the flesh of the orc's neck. I ignored the drops of black that flew from its head.

Another, and another, so many heads- now bodiless. I laughed to myself, I felt so superior- I had not even gotten scratched. Five, ten, fifteen- I was starting to lose count- but that did not matter. As long as there were still orcs, I would still be slaying.

They don't stop. There were so many. I looked up, the sun would rise soon. I was getting nervous, what if the sun did not rise.

I was pressed out of my thoughts by seeing a metal sword come toward me. I instantly turned to the side and leaned back and tried to focus, ignoring the pain coming from my cheek.

"I aur telitha!" I said, not pausing to glance over. I sliced another head from its body. The sun started to rise; I felt its heat coming from the east- to my left. Almost at once, as if it were a signal, the orcs immediately turned their evil heads to the east; Aisto rode forward, slicing the heads from two orcs at the same time. As soon as Aisto did it, Calimo, Tirmo, Náro, and I drew our swords again at once and started to kill.

I don't know how many we killed. By now it was at least forty-each. It was much easier now that the sun was starting to rise. These were frail little creatures, and weakened by the sun- though they outnumbered us by at least sixty to one.

The sun rose, coming out from hiding behind the horizon- almost as if the sun was a ball of fiery liquid that was being pulled away from a piece of glass, and almost at once, the metal clanged- and unbeknownst to me, I let my arm rest.

Swords dropped, and the orcs screeched in their horrible black tongue, "Ash nazg!" one of them shouted. I shut my eyes in horror, the atrocious and hideous black language. Fury boiled inside me.

"Herio!" Calimo shouted. I took my sword up again, ready to attack. Together, we killed the remainder of the orcs.

Then, I let out a deep breath that I had not known I was holding, and I looked around.

Heads. Bodies. Arms, legs- everything still as it was before, helmets still on their heads, armor covering their bodies, and swords and shields still in their hands.

There were so many. I would have to guess about one hundred thirty. One hundred thirty to five. How did we do it- without losing a single life? I don't know. I suppose it was all in our paths.

Black. Everything was black. I turned around, looking at our surroundings. The grass was dull and the dirt from the line of us forward was black- stained with blood.

I took a deep breath, "First time killing?" I turned around sharply, to see the slightly smug look on Náro's face.

"Yes," I managed to say back, after drinking in the horrible sight. There was no body here to comfort me. No body would understand. Why did I feel so horrible? It was not to say that these- creatures- did not deserve to die. They did. But, no body could understand the feeling- I could see a vision of myself piercing an arrow through the orc's forehead.

"Come on, I expect you have arrows none," Calimo said, dismounting. He walked about, looking for arrows. We followed his lead.

"This is yours?" Aisto asked, coming up to me with an arrow.

"Yes, how did you know?"

He smiled, "It is not an arrow of Imladris, nor is it an arrow of Lórien. Where is it from?"

I took the arrow from his hand, holding the thin dark reddish-brown wood in my hand, with deep golden feathers, and a pointed back, "It is from Mirkwood."

"Oh, did your father get it for you?"

I looked away, "My father died many years ago," I looked right into his green eyes, "He was killed by a band of orcs."

Aisto downcast his eyes, "I am sorry." I shook my head and placed the arrow in my quiver. I walked around, feeling so small and insignificant next to the many dead bodies. I took my arrows out from them and placed them in my quiver.

"Are we finished?" Náro asked, mounting his horse. I mounted and nodded.

"Let us continue our journey. We can make haste and be there in two or three weeks," Calimo said, leading his horse. I turned around, waiting for Arwen, who just seemed in shock. We formed our circle again and Calimo lead on, almost acting as if nothing had happened.

But Arwen and I knew- we were both changed. It was the first time we had experienced death, even though not our own.

"Have you any wounds?" Calimo asked softly, after we had ridden on. I searched my arm, and saw only bruises and scratches. I shook my head.

"You have a large gash on your cheek," Náro said, looking at me. I looked at him, confused, but felt my cheek, only to feel a drop of blood.

"Have you anything to cleanse this with?" I asked. I looked ahead and saw the Sîr Ninglor. I dismounted and ran toward the river. I took a handful of water and splashed it onto my face. It was cool and refreshing. No body had anything to dry it with, so I took a handful of mud and tried to dry my face, which did not work. I mounted back upon my horse and we crossed the river, and continued on.

Three weeks passed uneventfully, and I was thankful. One orc attack was all that was needed. We neared the woods of Lórien; I could see it in the distance.

"Those are the mellryn trees," Aisto said, softly, as soon as we were at the edge of the wood.

"They are very beautiful," I whispered.

And they were. Each tree seemed to touch the sky, and since it was Narbeleth, the leaves were turning to gold.

"Mae govannen," called out a voice. I looked up and on a thick branch of a tree sat a tall golden haired elf. He jumped down.

"It is good to see you again, Haldir," Aisto said, smiling.

"They have been expecting you," Haldir said, looking at Arwen. We all dismounted and were led by Haldir, across the wood and up many stairs, to a secluded place, protected by the beautiful trees of Lórien, where there was a large staircase and an even larger tree- the great tree, and a fountain that spurted out silver water.

"Greetings, Arwen and company, you are now in Caras Galadhon, the city of Lórien," Celeborn said, walking into the room along with Galadriel.

"I expect you all should like to rest and cleanse yourselves. You have been on quite some journey," Galadriel said, barely moving her lips- if she even did, "Rest and we shall inquire of your journey tomorrow morning."

"You have grown quite, Canyaiel of Imladris, daughter of Elenya and Alcarino." Alcarino. My father's name rang in my head. Why was I hearing Galadriel's voice in my head? I felt weary, and walked along without much persuasion to a small sheltered area. There was enough space for our horses, Calimo, Náro, Tirmo, Aisto, and I to fit comfortably on the floor with enough space between us, so it would not seem immoral or misleading. I slept easily that night, guarded by the golden trees of Lórien.

The next morning we walked back to the place where we had met Celeborn and Galadriel the last night.

"Now, I expect you are all rested. Do tell us about your journey," Celeborn said. So, Calimo told him of everything that had happened, from the first day, through the orc attack, and finished when we neared the woods of Lórien.

"How long do you expect to stay?" Celeborn asked, after Calimo's story was completed.

"Until my next journey," Aisto said softly.

"I intend to stay as long as Arwen does, if that is fine by the Lord and Lady. Speaking of whom, may I ask where they are?" I asked.

"They live in another part of the wood. I suppose you shall stay with Arwen, as long as she consents," Celeborn said. I glanced over at Arwen, who smiled.

"I will stay until I can find a group who are traveling back to Imladris," Náro said. Tirmo and Calimo nodded in agreement.

And so it was. I stayed in the protective woods of Lórien for many years. Náro, Tirmo, and Calimo left back for Imladris, to carry an important message from Lord Amroth and Lady Nimrodel to Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrían only a year or so after we had arrived.

"Something bothers you." I turned around to look at the other edge of my small flet where Arwen had climbed up.

Years had passed- 1452 years, to be precise. Both Arwen and I had grown little- we were both still very young looking, but we were a bit taller and our hair longer. In those long years, the former Lord and Lady were lost- never to be found- although we have tried. Celeborn and Galadriel had now become the Lord and Lady of the Golden Wood.

"Nothing bothers me," I replied, giving her a curious look before turning away.

"Do not think I do not see it in your eyes," she walked closer, "You grieve over something."

"No," I replied, my voice unconsciously growing higher in pitch, "I am afraid I haven't a single thought as to what you speak of."

"You were always a bad liar," she replied. I turned around and met her face, stretched with worry and concern.

"Do not worry yourself over something so small and insignificant." She shoved a piece of paper into my hand.

"It was in my bag. I expect it is yours," I unfolded the paper and scanned it quickly as she continued; "I am worried. Tell me what troubles you. You are my only friend here, and I hate to see you upset like this."

I just stared at her; her grey eyes were swirling in emotions, and then decided to tell her, "My sister betrayed me." That was all I needed to say. Instantly, she knew. Suddenly, my ears picked up a call.

"Arwen, the Lady Galadriel calls." Arwen and I climbed down from my flet and walked toward Lady Galadriel's voice, which led down the stairs to a small garden, surrounded by golden trees. In the center stood a large silver basin, and nearby stood the Lady.

"Darkness is coming. Go back to Imladris, there you shall be safe." I wondered what she meant, when I heard her voice in my head.

"The world is not safe- it is changing. I sense an evil. Go back to Imladris." That night we hastily gathered a group of eight Elves and started our journey back. After four long months, we made it back to Imladris, luckily without a single orc attack. And that was good; orcs were becoming more resilient and were no longer weakened by the sun.

We rode quickly, barely stopping for the night. Our horses were weary.

"Ada, ada," Arwen shouted, running into the palace, leaving her horse to wander Imladris at his will, "Ada! What is happening?" she asked softly, finding her father just outside the healing room.

"Come, child. Your mother," he said quietly. Arwen ran inside.

"Tolo dan nan galad," Elrond whispered, holding Celebrían's hand.

"Nana, nana," Arwen whispered. Almost at once Celebrían's eyes opened. They shared the same silver-grey as Arwen's, but now, they swirled with sadness.

"Nana," Arwen smiled.

That year was a very painful year. Days passed and Celebrían only seemed to be saddening. That was a gloomy year- the year Celebrían passed the sea. I remember Arwen, looking so miserable. She shed many tears. I never saw her cry before- in all the 2288 years of my short life.

Elrohir and Elladan were enraged. They had saved her from those- orcs- and she still left.

That next morning after she left, I was taking a walk and I saw Elrohir and Elladan.

"Where are you off to?" I asked, looking at them upon their high white horses- weapons on their back.

"We are going orc hunting," Elladan said, spitting out the words in fury and anger swirling in his cold grey eyes.

"Let me go with you," I said, almost pleading, "I could be a great-"

"No!" Elrohir shouted, getting angry, "We have no need to take care of some silly maiden. It is bad enough we have had to care for you before you left for Lórien- why did you not just stay there and never return? We need not any extra trouble."

Elrohir and Elladan threw me dirty looks- both with rage flowing through their silver eyes. They rode off toward the gates of Imladris, their dark hair flowing back. I stood there for a while, watching until they became mere specks. Then, I turned around and walked back.

"I can not stay here any longer," Arwen murmured to her father, "The pain is too near. Let me return to Lórien and grieve there," she turned to me, as I was standing in the door frame, "I do not ask you to come with me. In fact, I ask you not to." I nodded. If it were anyone else, I would be angry, but Arwen was different. When she was upset, she wished to be alone.

I could not help but feeling alone, too. There was a yearning in my heart. For a fleeting second, I wished someone loved me. Then, I quickly ignored that thought. I was a bitter elf.

Two hundred nineteen years passed in a breeze. I felt alone in the world.

That must be the worst feeling- to be alone. I walked along the garden path to the familiar meadow, and I climbed a tree and sat comfortably in it. Arwen was still in Lórien, and I had not spoken to my mother for- I thought for a moment- one-thousand nine-hundred seven years. I hadn't spoken to my sister either.

And what for? All for some silly wood-Elf who thought he knew what love was. And Elladan and Elrohir- I don't even know what to think of them.

"Canyaiel? Is that you?" called a soft voice from the meadow.