~*~

It was dark. It was dank. It emanated death, an aura of evil and malice hanging so heavily in the air it choked out all that was wholesome and healthy, good and loving. Nearly immediately upon coming into consciousness I could feel the despair of past captives, feel their pain and their fear mingling with my own and instinctively I struggled.

Cruel laughter and a sharp blow made me lie still again, a foul breath in my ear whispering, "Hush little elf, for your torment has not even begun."

In the dimness I could make out my surroundings.

A large cave that reeks of excretion and orc with very poor lighting but perhaps that was for the best. There was a large fire in the back wall, near which I was bound. Seemingly a million leagues away was the mouth of the cave through which I could see the glorious light of early morning. How long ago it seemed that I had seen the sunlight! Turning my head slowly and carefully, I could see Finliwë bound next to me with arms held over her head and chained to the wall at the wrists.

"It shall turn out well in the end my lady," she smiled bravely though her eyes held a multitude of pain. "I am sure even now we are being sought."

I smiled back though I think my lips wavered. "Where is the third?"

Finliwë's eyes looked down. "They have done away with him."

Stomach lurching, I asked quietly, "Who?"

"Kinthar."

I gnawed at my lips and hung my head as far as my position would allow me.

Kinthar had been a young but powerful warrior; a sorrowful loss for he was barely past his majority. He reminded me much of my own sons when they were that age.

Glaring around at the orcs scattered about the cave, most of them lost in sleep, I was lost. How could such creatures come to such evil? They breathed, ate, slept in the same way that all living beings do yet unlike men, dwarves, and elves they were infused with such a hate for all that is good that I do not understand. I will never understand.

Day waned on slowly and we were left relatively unnoticed as most of the orcs, save the one that stood guard, slept in heaping masses on the floor.

I remember when I first came to Imladris with Amar and I first met Elrond.

I was of age but still very young in mind, body and spirit so at first he seemed much too wise and aloof in his long years to be of any great interest to me. I had heard much of his bravery and all those things but had never paid him much heed when I met him other than the usual polite motions.

His feelings upon our first acquaintance however were quite the opposite, though he gave no indication.

I did not fall in love with him during my first stay but I remember noticing how different he was from most other male elves as he was gentler and more patient, a healer and very kind. I had not heard of many male healers or of many male elves that loved and studied lore as Elrond did. Yet I also knew that he was a great warrior and a counter part to Gil-galad and that impressed me as well. He seemed a plethora of a great many things which at first I found confusing.

While in Imladris I spent much of my time in the stables, out on horseback, or up a tree in the orchards. I adored nature, birds, and the lush valley in which the house was nested. I remember my first reaction to the great roaring of the waterfalls; Elrond had offered to take me to see them up close (I think I also had some persuasion from Amar as well).

We had the usual polite and boring conversation while strolling out to the falls. Nothing extraordinary or anything that would qualify us as any more than very polite friends, at least in my mind.

At first the falls had intimidated me a little as they were immense and loud and wet, but even though he sensed my trepidation Elrond said nothing as he guided me around the mist with one hand on the small of my back.

I remember that I was impressed with his touch…he was not forceful or pushy but rather soothing, and that subdued my coercion and sparked my curiosity. That was when I first started to like the Lord of Imladris.

I spent a great deal of time in the stables. I had loved horses from an early age.

Amar and Glorfindel had decided to breed their horses to produce an offspring with the same coloring and build as its parents: large, beautiful creatures with supple golden bodies and pure white manes and tails. Amar's mare was stubborn but gentle in temperament (much like Amar herself), and Glorfindel's stallion was fiercely independent but willing to serve his master. Together they had produced a spindly legged frisky ball of mischief, complete with the gold and white coloring. I half wished that Glorfindel had chosen Asfaloth instead as he is much better behaved but that would have defeated the purpose for Amar had desired a horse of the same coloring for me.

It was early in the morning during our stay and I had just finished dressing when Glorfindel tapped on my door. He poked his head in and grinned, "Your foal is about to be born. You would not want to miss this."

I followed him out to the stables to where Amar's beautiful Palomino lay on her side gripped in labor with Amar at her head, stroking, soothing and singing. What surprised me the most was who was perched at the other end of the horse…apparently the Lord of Imladris did not find it beneath his dignity to be on his knees in a mound of dirty bedding, up to his elbows in equine muck.

He had looked at me briefly and smiled before turning back to the task at present.

I remember his hands working diligently to extract the tiny foal that was emerging covered in the slimy sac. I sat with Amar at the mother's head but I was distracted. His hands were long and skillful, honed with years (and years and years) of wisdom, healing, birth, and death. With these hands Elrond gave a last mighty tug and out slid the baby horse who promptly started to writhe and protest to bright airy newness of her environment.

"Easy there," he had stayed her thrashing limbs as her mother rounded her head and began to lick her foal clean. "What shall you call your young thing, Celebrían?"

Elrond's inquiry was as genuine and kind as it ever but suddenly I turned my head away and felt my cheeks grow warm at his gaze. That was the first time I noticed how beautiful and intelligent his eyes were, they seemed to tell volumes more in a single glance than he could speak in a life time.

I named the foal Elishen.

Elishen turned out to be an escape artist, at an early age learning to undo the latch to her stable door and wandering outside. At first her mother would have none of this but gradually gave up and her wanderings became quite frequent (even in the worst of rainstorms) but as there was no great danger in the valley and the other elves regarded her escapades with mere amusement.

It had been raining lightly all day and I was bored indoors; I did not mind spinning or weaving but I did not enjoy it and after a while I grew restless. Slipping out of the house I made my way to the vast expanses of pasture that lay beyond the stables which were adjacent to the orchards.

Elishen had grown, loosing some of her gangly-ness, her formerly bushy mane and tail were beginning to lengthen and her coat was growing silkier instead of the baby down that it first felt like.

When I found her Elishen was as usual frisking around in the rain but stopped to turn and look at me with her wide, youthful eyes as if to say: "Come, there is no harm in a bit of water! Play with me, for everyone else is indoors!"

I laughed at her expression, dashing toward her and she ran and we dodged between the apple trees for however long I do not know. I had probably slipped in the mud once or twice and it had begun to rain harder with the rumble of thunder in the distance. "No more!" I had insisted, leading her back to the warmth and dry of her stall.

I had just latched the stall door and was still laughing with one hand placed on Elishen's withers when I saw a figure standing in the stable aisle.

It was Elrond, looking dignified and particularly dry if not also slightly amused as he paused from attending his own horse and turned his attention to me.

Immediately I felt a little self conscious and ashamed of my bedraggled appearance, with my hair hanging lank and damp from its braids and my dress saturated and mud streaked. This was no way to appear in front of your host much less an elf lord!

I think it was that day when I realized that I was really maybe not as young as I thought myself to be and had determined to leave childish things, such as running about in the mud and rain, behind me. It was also then that I stopped seeing Elrond as so very much older than me.

Evening has fallen and there was dread welling up in my chest. My shoulder is throbbing.

The nocturnal orcs have begun to stir, ignoring us as they attended their own needs which consisted mostly of bandaging wounds that had been sustained from last nights struggle. They have their own system of things; no real kinship is recognized and they live somewhere between animalistic and civilized. Things – food, namely – were free for all but at least they cook what they eat first. There is an unspoken hierarchy of whoever was the strongest got the first pick, followed by those who were weaker down to the most feeble being left bare bones. It ruthlessly insured that the strong stayed strong and the weak stayed weak. I do not know exactly what they ate; some kind of meat…as to what kind I dare not even guess for Kinthar's body was unaccounted for as far I know.

Beside me Finliwë is whimpering softly in either pain or fear as we are forced to watch them eat.

I close my eyes and try not to think of it, resting my mind and praying to the gods above that we would be rescued from this nightmare.

At length, around midnight, the orcs turn their attention to us.

In years to come I will never tell anyone what happened. I do not want to remember what happened, and yet I remember it all: their faces, Finliwë's face, the terror at what would happen, the lingering terror from what had happened.

Finliwë is beginning to lose hope and is beginning to surrender to their evil devices.

Against my skin I can feel the heat of terror undulating off her body as her spirit begins to break, even though she is several arm lengths away and there are orc bodies in between us. I call out in encouragement in elvish that in the end all will be well, but at the sound of our tongue the orcs become furious. We are then separated and dragged into different crevices of the cave so that we could not see each other; only hear the other's screaming.

~*~

"Here," Elladan called to the two elves dismounting and picking his way over the bodies of their slain kin. "They took Amar and two others of this way, to their den." Straightening he pursed his lips in sorrow and fury. "They will all pay dearly for this."

~*~

I truly did not think I could bear it anymore.

The silhouettes of my captors dancing along the walls of the cave, flickering in firelight, grating voices in a harsh tongue of their own, the mottled and dirty skin…all this is burrowing into my memory and I am to spend the rest of my life trying to forget it.

Someone is calling to Mandos for pity, their voice echoing off the stone walls and magnified ten fold. Screams are even louder. The voice sounds foreign, but it is probably me for Finliwë had gone quiet long ago. Through a veil of pain I am praying to the Valar that it was because the orcs had lost interest and had left her alone, praying that it will all be over soon or that I will wake up and find that it was all a horrific nightmare.

The orc's foul hands are everywhere: their leering lips over predatory teeth, the rings thrust in the pointed ears that were not unlike elves…

My only source of comfort is that my daughter has been spared this.

The pain is increasing…I cannot bear it! There is that strange, pleading voice echoing off the walls again and then there is another scream…

The moon was out but its silver light paled in comparison to that of the stars. I do not think I had seen the stars shine as bright anywhere as they do on Imladris. I was staring up at them in wonderment at the window, leaning farther and farther out over the sill when I heard a chuckle and felt a hand on my shoulder. Pulling back in I turned to face Elrond.

"You do not want to fall," he had said. "I could not answer to your Amar."

I smiled at the very thought, and we stood side by side not saying a word for several moments.

At length he told me, with some uncertainty, how much he had come to care for me. Still I do not remember his exact words but I was shocked! The thought of this elf lord being in love with me - or anyone for that matter - was so absurd to my thinking. I had said nothing for several minutes for my brain had stopped working very well at the moment.

Elrond left me standing before the window and Amar and I departed the next morning, nothing further being spoken between Elrond and me other than a polite goodbye.

Though she said nothing at the time I think Amar knew everything that had transpired.

Over the centuries that followed I stayed in Lorien and heard little of Imladris, until the end of the Battle on Mount Orodruin and the fall of Gil-galad. Upon Amar's urging I visited Imladris again during the first year of the Third Age, and this time I was by myself.

The procession that had brought me from Lorien was met at the gate by the elf lord and Erestor. Remembering the coolness of our last parting I thought I saw Elrond give the briefest of wavers (the first and last time I ever saw that!) as he stepped forward. Dismounting I greeted him with a warm embrace, which seemed to erase any unease or questioning as to the condition of our friendship.

I could tell there was a change in him though I was not sure what…he seemed a little sadder but much stronger in soul to my eyes. Perhaps it was not he that had changed but myself as I was older and a very little wiser, but he had also seen the fall of many friends and his mentor.

Maybe both of us had changed – our friendship was certainly much different. When I had first come to Imladris my interaction with its master was limited, consisting of me mostly being led by him and asking an occasional question to be polite.

Now no longer did I climb the tall trees of the valley and only a few times did I go out on horseback. When I did it was with Elrond. Instead I spent much time in the gardens, sometimes in company of the elf lords and sometimes alone. Instead of polite questions followed by equally polite answers we had lengthy and intellectual conversations, filled with laughter. We both shared a love for flowers, beauty and art and he and I made a wind chime that still hangs in the garden to this day. We did little meaningless and often mundane things that at the time seemed anything but mundane, and I began to look at the world with renewed wonderment whenever I was with the elf lord. I was perpetually happy. Maybe that's what it is to fall in love.

Everyone was very courteous and had I been a little older, a little wiser, or perhaps had a little more insight I might have seen what everyone was alluding to. Glorfindel especially shamelessly hinted to me about Elrond's affections but I did not pick up on it.

Again I left and Elrond bid me to come again and I returned at the end of the first century of the Third Age. By that time I anticipated my stay with great happiness and for reasons that at the time I did not understand I found myself looking forward to spending more time with Elrond.

When I left a year later we had exchanged the traditional silver betrothal rings. I still have his tucked away in my drawer in Imladris.