Celesil ran off to the land above the valley of Rivendell. Wisps of deep brunette hair blew into her face, and her long, nimble fingers brushed them out of the green-blue eyes she was blessed with. After some time she slowed down to a steady stride, taking in the fresh scent of the new life belonging to spring. The maid held no knowledge of the rumors being spread, and felt no fear of invaders.

After traveling some bit by horseback, she reigned in her steed and stopped for a respite by a lone tree. The thousand year old oak was her favorite spot to escape reality. Once there, she would wile away the hours singing, reading, or playing her ocarina as Ruinwen, her mare, grazed the field.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel/ silivren penna miriel/ o menel aglar elenath!/ Na-chaered palan-diriel/ o galadhrimmin enorath,/ Fanuilos, le linnathon,/ nef aear, si nef aearon!" Her voice filled the air in the ancient Sindarin aria.

Celesil reluctantly headed back towards the Last Homely House as the creeping red fingers of the sun began to disappear, indicating that darkness was nigh. She squirmed as she remembered what Legolas, an elf friend of her father's, had told her once during one of his tales: "When the sun burns red, blood has been spilled."

The day blew one last zephyr until the cold of night fell upon the land, only this warm, gentle breeze brought with it the wiff of smoke. The maiden rounded the last bend. Alas! Rivendell was burning in the distance, heaped in flames! Ruinwen's pace quickened from a walk to a trot, from a trot to a canter, and from a canter to a gallop. Celesil's heart was beating. 'What's happening? Who did this? Where's Nolër and the others?' Questions raced through her mind as she flew down the hill in a state of mental confusion.

At the foot of the stone bridge, the Half-Elf left her mare and stumbled into the chaotic scene. Already she saw a corpse, Legorfin, sprawled out before the gate. It appeared the Elder had been shot many times from behind with arrows in his last step towards escape. Feeling sick and choking back tears, Celesil stepped over the body and looked around. Quickly she gathered up her billowing dress to keep from catching a spark from the roaring flames. Eyes smarting with irritation from the smoke, she worked her way over a few other bodies and burning floors.

"Nolër!" she gasped as she spotted her master, moaning beneath a burning ceiling beam. A pool of blood suffused on the floor. "Great Iluvatar, save him!"

"C..Celesil..." Nolër mumbled feebley. "M...Mirkwood...Elves...Run...n...now..."

Celesil held his head. Nolër was dead. Tears spilled. After a few brief moments, Celesil whiped the tears from her eyes, snuffling, picked up the sword next to her dead teacher, bloodstained as it was, and holstered the blade into her belt. Then she picked herself up and sprinted through the entrance. She did stop for a second, though, to notice the unique arrows in Legorfin's back: jet black stems with dark green feathers. Funny. What kind tree produced black wood? With that she ran from the burning building, mounted her mare and rode as fast as she could towards Gondor, weeks away.