It was early morning when Legolas and Gimli came through the wide stone arch that signalled the entrance to Rivendell, and Elessiel was just waking from her peculiar dream, and finding herself in the courtyard of the Fellowship. And although neither knew it, they had missed each other only by seconds when Elessiel had run from the courtyard to her bedroom. Chance, it would have it, was not without a sense of humour, so when Elrohir had found Elessiel sitting on her bed, clasping her head in confusion, he knew already what the following day would hold. A council - as he had told Elessiel in her prophetic dream the night before - of five.

So it was as Legolas and Gimli were warmly welcomed into the house of Elladan and Elrohir that Elessiel was also summoned to her uncles' great library, the messenger telling her not the topic of the summons, but only the time. Midday, when the sun shining down directly into the valley of Rivendell poured golden rays like a waterfall, and left few places where shadows could be kept.

Elessiel quietly thanked the messenger, but was still too confused by her dream to really take in what the elf was saying. She decided a walk would best clear her mind, and slipping out along the terrace of her room, she soon found a narrow path to follow away from the houses of Rivendell, and south through a dense area of the forest parallel to the river.

The day was beautiful, brightly lit and teeming with energy, but Elessiel was too distracted to bask in the valley's serenity. She felt hot, frustrated, and smothered in discontent. Her vision held not the beauty of the sun-drenched path leading her away from the houses, but the surreal image of Celeborn. His words played over and over in her mind, and the presence of the ring on Elessiel's hand seemed to weigh her down, it was as though the pure, almost white silver were white hot, and burning a circular scar around her finger.

The forest seemed to grow denser the further Elessiel wandered, and turning back to look into the north, from the direction she had come, she could see only the roofs of the houses of her uncles. The dense canopy of the trees seemed to bend in over the path to form a beautiful natural roof of intertwined branches, of which Elessiel was only dimly aware. Her thoughts spun hither and tither, trying to find a grip in reality, trying in some way she could make sense of all that had happened the night before.

It was a dream, she thought with utter certainty. She found herself mentally going over everything that had happened, yet again.

Finding the courtyard where the Fellowship had first pledged their allegiance to Frodo, to protect him, to destroy the One Ring. She had been sitting on the stone throne of Elrond when Celeborn had found her, and she dimly realised that must have been the point at which reality had become surreality, and waking thought the fodder of dreams. Then the memory of the long walk with Celeborn, during which the time had seemed to pass by with a slow motion of a month, instead of the few hours it had been. Elessiel remembered all they had spoken of, but most clear were the advice Celeborn had given before his departure. It is folly to love the elves...the words rang in Elessiel's mind in a most strange way, and she found herself wondering at the strange irony of such a statement - for Celeborn had first commented on Elessiel's supposed hatred of all elves. Why then did he speak as though elf kind were endeared to Elessiel? It was a mystery that Elessiel guessed only time could reveal...

And then the gift of the ring. Having come to a small clearing in the forest that the sun did not reach, Elessiel stopped, and sinking blindly to the ground against the ancient statue in the middle of the clearing, she pulled the ring from her finger. When she held it up against the canopy of trees the sun seemed to reach it, though all the forest around her seemed comparatively to grow dimmer. Elessiel held the ring out in front of her face, entranced by it's mysterious beauty. Who had Celeborn said had wrought the ring? Este? And had he said it had been gifted to Ulmo from the master of dreams? How fitting, Elessiel thought, that a ring wrought by the master of dreams, should be given to me in a dream. And there seemed such comedy in the thought, that Elessiel felt herself laugh. Rolling the ring around in the palm of her hand, Elessiel began to sing softly, knowing not from where the song came, nor what language the words within the melody were spoken in. The tune was as the lapping of waves against a rocky cliff, and the lyrics were whispered, like a voice on the wind...

She sat so for hours, caught again within the enchantment, not only of Rivendell, but of the Ring of Ulmo, absolved completely from the worries that had accumulated over the previous months, and the previous night more importantly, for the first time in an age.

And all the while Elrohir and Elladan sat waiting with Gimli and Legolas in the great library, in silence waiting for the fifth person, Elessiel, to arrive. But she did not come.

Some time before the dusk was rumoured to arrive Gimli begged leave of the elves, and said he would favour a walk in the forest for a time. He marvelled at the beauty of Rivendell, feeling a strong affection for the should-be-alien elfish architecture that surrounded him. Walking in marvel through the carved arches and passages of Rivendell's homes, he found himself at the forest door.

Three paths stood before him, one north, to the base of the waterfall that slowed the course of the river as it ran through Rivendell. This path veered off up a well-trod path, lit by bright lamps, even during the day, and Gimli could hear the far-off rumble of water from that direction. The second path walked it's way slowly, winding here and there to the shore of the river, and then on over to the other side of the valley via an ancient bridge. This path also was lit with the light of lamps, and though the path looked more enticing for it's labyrinthine qualities, he chose the third path. A less worn track lit sparsely, and dimly, but all the more interesting for the separate direction it took, away to the south where none lived, and few ever walked.

Finding himself under a woven canopy of leaves along the track, Gimli calmed finally. It had been a long journey from Gondor, where he had arrived only two weeks ago from the Glittering Caves. At first Gimli had been sorely resentful of Legolas asking him to leave for Rivendell so soon, but a gift from Eldarion changed his mind. It was a letter from Aragorn, written in the dwarfish text of which even Legolas knew little. The contents had been mixed. A lamentation by Aragorn for passing before he could see Gimli, and a prediction - as he had offered all his family - of the future. Love, Aragorn had written. Gimli would develop a 'deep and enlightening love', as Aragorn put it. Gimli had kept the letter beside his heart on their journey from Gondor, there was something about the tone of Aragorn's words, as though his friend were almost mocking him. That night - his last in Gondor - Gimli had dreamt of the Lord Celeborn. The elf had been standing in a silver forest, holding aloft the hand of a young woman whose face was obscured, and from the moment he had woken, Gimli had felt a strange sense of expectancy in his destination. He knew something amazing would come of his time in Rivendell, and although he did not know what exactly, the sneaking suspicion that it would be good was enough to propel him towards the elvenhome.

The one peculiar feature of his journey across Middle-earth to Rivendell in the northwest was Legolas' behaviour. The dwarf and the elf had travelled far together in previous years, and their adverse origins had not hampered the development of their friendship, and Gimli prided himself on the fact that he could determine Legolas' feelings at any time. But lately the elf had been...different, closed even. Along the journey to Rivendell, Legolas had acted as though he were tracking someone.

It had begun on the morning the two departed from Minas Tirith. Instead of travelling straight into the west, along the main road from Minas Tirith, Legolas rode out of the city towards the north. Gimli had almost considered his friend insane when the elf had stopped at the last hill from which a traveller could see the White City, then turning in each direction as though looking for something, or someone, he had spurred the horse he shared with Gimli on into the west. The path they travelled after that was haphazard and random to say the least. They picked their way across the country through conditions that often bordered on life threatening.

But eventually they had found their way to the forest within which Rivendell was hidden, and so into the counsel of Elladan and Elrohir. Gimli had been surprised to learn the twin sons of Elrond had not yet abandoned their father's home, and the prospect of counsel with them had been enticing, for there is much to be discussed when old friends meet again. So for hours they had sat in the library, talking of old days and people of the past, but Gimli had received the impression that his elven companions were constantly waiting for something. For what he did not know, but they seemed on edge, glancing often towards the doors, and out the windows of the library to the valley below. It had so for more than four hours, until Gimli cared not for discussion, and wanted only to walk the old paths of an old elvenhome, as he had so many times before.

But now walking along the disused path he had chosen Gimli found his way to a most distant area of the valley, and turning a sharp corner in the dim path he heard a sweet sound drifting down the track to him from beyond. The dwarf stopped, and turning this way and that into the forest he looked for the familiar white glow that only the mind could see that indicated the presence of an elf maiden. It was almost as though he expected to see Melian herself walking towards him from further down the path. But when no one approached, Gimli took up his pace again, turning each bend in the path with curious suspicion. Finally the path widened out into a small clearing, floored with soft, long grass and roofed with the branches of the trees that ringed the clearing. The branches overhead had completely formed a canopy, twisting together like silver snakes to make a roof just thin enough for the light of dusk to slip through in parts, but leave other patches of grass completely shadowed. In the middle of the clearing was an extremely old statue of a young woman, standing with head lowered and hands clasped as though in mourning. The statue seemed not to dominate the dell, but to blend naturally into the surroundings. It was as though the stone woman was bound to the environment, a mere thread in the natural tapestry. Gimli was so confused by his location; he almost took the sweet sound of song to be coming from the stone lips of the statue, until he noticed the young girl sitting by the stone woman's feet.

She was dressed in dark blue, her long hair seemed so pale a shade of blonde to almost be white, and her skin all the paler from the contrast of the dark material of her clothing. Her face was turned away, and her hands clasped something to her chest which Gimli could not see. He feared that should he take a step closer the sweet sound of her voice would cease, but he could not stay idle at the distance he was.

Gingerly he stepped from the confines of the path into the clearing and slowly to the side of the girl. Slowly the girl stopped her song and turned her face towards Gimli, who caught his breath at the sight before him. Galadriel..." The Lady of Light!" He cried with quiet alarm. But it could not be..." I must be dreaming...but it is a sweet dream, for I thought you had departed!" He said quickly. The girl stood now, and turning herself fully towards the dwarf in confusion, she opened her mouth to speak, but Gimli beat her to it. " But you are no elf! What evil sorcery is this that would bring a sprite such as yourself to Imladris, for you are no elf!" He cried in alarm, stumbling backwards.

Elessiel shook her head and took a step towards the dwarf, wondering at his nonsensical babble. " No I am no elf, nor a sprite. But you seem to know me all the same, just now when you called to me by the name of Lady of Light. What errands have you among elves?"

" I am Gimli, son of Gloin, and Master of the Glittering Caves under the Hornburg." He said with pride. " Your face is such a semblance to the Lady Galadriel, I wondered for a moment if I was still sleeping in the library, but it is not so."

Elessiel cocked an eyebrow at Gimli's words, she knew of him now, knew his connection to her father, and knowing now his identity she was reminded of the summons to the library. With haste she smiled politely and walked past Gimli towards the path, maybe if she hurried she could meet her uncles as they left the house for their evening walk.

" Have I offended you in some way, Lady?" Gimli called. Elessiel stopped and turned for a moment. " I would not have you take offence at my words, for those who take offence at being named a semblance to the Queen Galadriel would not know their foolishness. But please, do stay and speak with me."

Elessiel smiled and moved closer to the dwarf. It was hard to believe he was a companion of Legolas - how such a kind, sweet creature could have come into the friendship of the cold, meddling elf Elessiel did not know. " What would you have me speak to you of, Master Gimli?" She laughed.

Gimli smiled graciously and bowed slightly. " That song you sing, I would have you speak to me of such things; for it is long since I have heard it. Tell me, fair Lady, where would a maid such as yourself learn the words to a song so sweet?" There was a tone of wonder in the his voice.

Elessiel shrugged uncomfortably, unable to rid herself of the knowledge that she would see Legolas again. " I am not sure." She murmured, aware for the first time that she couldn't place the origin of the song. It had been years since Arwen had stopped speaking to Elessiel in the speech of the elves. Yet here was a song composed entirely in elfish, and not only the lyric, but the melody seemed so familiar that the fact that Elessiel didn't know the translation for any of the words seemed impossible. " Please, excuse me."

Gimli bowed again. " May I ask but one favour, My Lady?" He said quietly.

Elessiel turned and smiled warmly. Each moment she spent in the company of the bashful dwarf endeared him more to her. " What would a Master among dwarves ask a maid among humans?"

" For a name, by which to sing a song concerning one so fair." He said humbly.

Elessiel blushed at his sweet words and cleared her throat. " Your fair words win your argument, Master Gimli." She paused for a moment, as Celeborn's words rang through her mind like the echo of a bell. You shall take the name of Altariel...but for some reason she could not bring herself to speak those words, to use the name which Celeborn had given her, not yet. "Elessiel Tindomerel."

A smile spread across the lips of Gimli when he heard the sweet voice of the maid before him speak those two beautiful words. Elessiel Tindomerel, Twilight Maiden. It was such a fitting name Gimli almost laughed at the simplicity of it. He was quite suddenly gripped by the conviction that this may have been the love Aragorn had written about, for even as Gimli stood up straight to meet the curious stare of Elessiel he was aware of the affection he felt for her. To protect her from danger, and ensure her happiness, with such an affection as though she was not a barely introduced stranger, but a dear friend. But his thoughts were interrupted by the soft sound of footsteps coming down the path, and although the noise was barely more than that of a distant breath, he knew instantly the identity of the person to which the step belonged.

Elessiel frowned in curiosity at the queer look that Gimli portrayed, staring not at Elessiel, but over her shoulder. In a moment that seemed to last and eternity she turned slowly, and almost stumbled when she saw the person whom Gimli had been staring at.

" Elessiel." A face with twinkling, superior eyes confronted Elessiel. A smile beguiling it's owner shared some knowledge with Elessiel, but still kept many secrets.

" Legolas."

***