Disclaimer: This work of fiction is based on Tolkien's "Lord of the Rings" trilogy. All settings and characters belong to Tolkien except for Valariel, Runevalas, and Maranwe, who are mine. I've received no compensation for this. Please note: the Elvish language contained here is from the Tel'Mithrim and is used with their permission. The word "feahoon" is my own creation based on their language and is being used PENDING approval for addition to their lexicon. For more information, visit their website: www.grey-company .org.
Rating: PG (romance and some violence)
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The Sword of 'Lorien
Haldir knelt by the bed, stroking his mate's hair. She was dying. Alive when they found her, Runevalas was too far on her way to the Halls of Mandos to be called back. Seeing what the Orcs had done enraged Haldir nearly beyond reason. He'd returned to Lothlorien to find her dying despite the best efforts of Lord Celeborn to call her back. Haldir tried to reach her too, but to no avail. She could not bear the horror of what had happened to her at the hands of the Orcs.
"I don't want you to go, A'maelamin my beloved, but you will not let us bring you back." The sadness in his voice weighed heavily on his words. Celeborn watched the Marchwarden of Lothlorien sadly. Normally proud and arrogant, it was rare for Haldir to reveal any vulnerability.
"I killed them all, Runevalas," Haldir said softly. "They paid for what they did to you with their blood and their heads. At least take that knowledge with you to Mandos."
She felt so cold, as if all the snows of the north filled her veins. She would be gone in moments. Runevalas had conquered him, healed him, at a time when Haldir had been convinced he would never love again. He was a warrior but her gentle touch and kind smile had brought a softness back to his life. And she'd brought to him one additional gift that he'd never expected… Suddenly, a sigh ran through the room as Runevalas' soul skimmed through the quiet of the Golden Wood. Haldir knew she was gone.
The Elf looked at the floor and murmured an ancient prayer. Then he stood and squared his shoulders. He feared what was outside the room more than what he had found inside it. He opened the door and looked out. Tall and regal, the Lady Galadriel waited. Her expression was soft and thoughtful, and Haldir could feel the kindness and understanding of his sorrow that radiated out from her. Galadriel had felt Runevalas' soul flee its bonds and fly free.
:You did all you could, Haldir. Your mate had a kind heart; she was not a warrior as you are.: The Lady's voice echoed in his head. His eyes met hers and there was only sorrow in them.
Then he looked down at the girl with Galadriel. Valariel. His daughter. The greatest gift Runevalas had ever given him.
To a human, Valariel looked to be a child of about seven, but she was already close to 300 years old. With the virtually eternal lifespan of Elves, she was still well within childhood. She wouldn't be considered an adult until she reached close to 1,000 years old and her deep brown eyes turned to the brilliant sapphire blue of the 'Lorien Elves.
"Father?" She looked up at Haldir. "Where's Mother?"
"Valariel," said Haldir, picking his daughter up in his arms, "your atara mother was hurt, and she has gone to the Halls of Mandos."
Young as she was, Valariel knew what that meant. She started to tremble and curled closer to her father. Haldir wished he could do something – anything – to make his daughter feel better, to take the pain away. But even for an Elf, pain was part of life.
Many lifetimes of Men passed outside the Golden Wood, all but unnoticed by the Elves. Valariel grew and the ache for her mother began to ease. Her father and her uncles, Rumil and Orophin, watched over her and taught her. Galadriel watched her, too, and Valariel loved the Lady of the Wood.
One day, a stir rippled through the 'Lorien wood. Strangers had crossed the borders of the Elven lands. Haldir took some of the Archers to find the intruders and determine if they were friend or foe. A day later they returned in the company of several other Elves. Some were from Rivendell, with their dark hair, and the others were from Mirkwood, most as blond as the 'Lorien Elves.
"Will I get to see them?" Valariel asked her uncle. "I've never seen other Elves before. At least, none from outside of 'Lorien!"
"Perhaps," said Rumil, "but it will only be a passing look. They are here to take counsel with Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn and then they will depart. A High Counsel is no place for a child."
Valariel frowned – as close to a pout as you would ever see on her, for her father would not condone sulking – and folded her arms. She did not like to be reminded she was still a child. Well, then, she said to herself, I must make sure I do see these strangers before they leave.
The following day, she strolled through 'Lorien, working her way closer to the buildings where the Lady and Lord dwelled. She moved quickly, but without hurrying, something her father had taught her. It gave the impression of a purpose, but not urgency. Everyone knew she was the Marchwarden's daughter and they all assumed she was supposed to be there. Valariel knew her father would be vexed beyond words if he caught her, but she had no intentions of that. Intentions and reality, however, often differ unexpectedly.
She slipped between two Archer guards as introductions were being finished. "And last in our company is Legolas, son of King Thranduil." The Elf inclined his head respect to Celeborn and Galadriel. He was tall and fair, even for an Elf. He had the sides of his hair caught back in a traditional herringbone braid and as he turned Valariel noticed his brilliant blue eyes.
She couldn't smother a gasp as she saw his face and the small noise brought the attention of everyone in the room to her. Haldir's scowl was dark, but Galadriel's expression was bemused at best, and the Lady of the Wood glanced at Legolas who was now looking Valariel straight on. The Elf prince smiled as the girl stared at him, her eyes huge and her mouth slightly open.
Valariel understood then how a bowstring felt as it quivered after the release of an arrow. Deep inside her somewhere, there was a shout of recognition, an exultation of joy. This Prince of Mirkwood was her feahoon, her spirit heart, her soul mate.
"Valariel!" Haldir's voice brought her back to the present, a cold splash of water and she started. "You should not be here." Her unabashed stare at the Prince of Mirkwood was inappropriate at best and Haldir, ever mindful of decorum when before Galadriel, was appalled. He took her firmly by the arm and walked her away from the group.
"Do not be angry, Father. I was curious…"
"The counsel hall is not a place for children," Haldir said firmly. "And you have made a spectacle of yourself by staring so at Legolas. You have embarrassed yourself, and you have embarrassed me."
"But, Father, he… he…"
"There will be no more of this. You'll return to our dwelling now and remain there until I return."
"Do not be too harsh, Haldir." Galadriel had quietly followed them. "She is only curious."
"I want to stay," Valariel said taking advantage of the moment. "I want to see my feahoon again."
Haldir's grip tightened on her arm. "What did you say? You should not even know that word yet. It is something you cannot understand!" There was an edge to his voice that Valariel had never heard before. "You will NOT call him that again!"
** ** ** **
There's more to come. Hope you enjoy. Thanks as always to my regular reviewers, especially Mercury G. and Evenstar E. Constructive feedback is always welcome!
Rating: PG (romance and some violence)
** ** ** ** **
The Sword of 'Lorien
Haldir knelt by the bed, stroking his mate's hair. She was dying. Alive when they found her, Runevalas was too far on her way to the Halls of Mandos to be called back. Seeing what the Orcs had done enraged Haldir nearly beyond reason. He'd returned to Lothlorien to find her dying despite the best efforts of Lord Celeborn to call her back. Haldir tried to reach her too, but to no avail. She could not bear the horror of what had happened to her at the hands of the Orcs.
"I don't want you to go, A'maelamin my beloved, but you will not let us bring you back." The sadness in his voice weighed heavily on his words. Celeborn watched the Marchwarden of Lothlorien sadly. Normally proud and arrogant, it was rare for Haldir to reveal any vulnerability.
"I killed them all, Runevalas," Haldir said softly. "They paid for what they did to you with their blood and their heads. At least take that knowledge with you to Mandos."
She felt so cold, as if all the snows of the north filled her veins. She would be gone in moments. Runevalas had conquered him, healed him, at a time when Haldir had been convinced he would never love again. He was a warrior but her gentle touch and kind smile had brought a softness back to his life. And she'd brought to him one additional gift that he'd never expected… Suddenly, a sigh ran through the room as Runevalas' soul skimmed through the quiet of the Golden Wood. Haldir knew she was gone.
The Elf looked at the floor and murmured an ancient prayer. Then he stood and squared his shoulders. He feared what was outside the room more than what he had found inside it. He opened the door and looked out. Tall and regal, the Lady Galadriel waited. Her expression was soft and thoughtful, and Haldir could feel the kindness and understanding of his sorrow that radiated out from her. Galadriel had felt Runevalas' soul flee its bonds and fly free.
:You did all you could, Haldir. Your mate had a kind heart; she was not a warrior as you are.: The Lady's voice echoed in his head. His eyes met hers and there was only sorrow in them.
Then he looked down at the girl with Galadriel. Valariel. His daughter. The greatest gift Runevalas had ever given him.
To a human, Valariel looked to be a child of about seven, but she was already close to 300 years old. With the virtually eternal lifespan of Elves, she was still well within childhood. She wouldn't be considered an adult until she reached close to 1,000 years old and her deep brown eyes turned to the brilliant sapphire blue of the 'Lorien Elves.
"Father?" She looked up at Haldir. "Where's Mother?"
"Valariel," said Haldir, picking his daughter up in his arms, "your atara mother was hurt, and she has gone to the Halls of Mandos."
Young as she was, Valariel knew what that meant. She started to tremble and curled closer to her father. Haldir wished he could do something – anything – to make his daughter feel better, to take the pain away. But even for an Elf, pain was part of life.
Many lifetimes of Men passed outside the Golden Wood, all but unnoticed by the Elves. Valariel grew and the ache for her mother began to ease. Her father and her uncles, Rumil and Orophin, watched over her and taught her. Galadriel watched her, too, and Valariel loved the Lady of the Wood.
One day, a stir rippled through the 'Lorien wood. Strangers had crossed the borders of the Elven lands. Haldir took some of the Archers to find the intruders and determine if they were friend or foe. A day later they returned in the company of several other Elves. Some were from Rivendell, with their dark hair, and the others were from Mirkwood, most as blond as the 'Lorien Elves.
"Will I get to see them?" Valariel asked her uncle. "I've never seen other Elves before. At least, none from outside of 'Lorien!"
"Perhaps," said Rumil, "but it will only be a passing look. They are here to take counsel with Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn and then they will depart. A High Counsel is no place for a child."
Valariel frowned – as close to a pout as you would ever see on her, for her father would not condone sulking – and folded her arms. She did not like to be reminded she was still a child. Well, then, she said to herself, I must make sure I do see these strangers before they leave.
The following day, she strolled through 'Lorien, working her way closer to the buildings where the Lady and Lord dwelled. She moved quickly, but without hurrying, something her father had taught her. It gave the impression of a purpose, but not urgency. Everyone knew she was the Marchwarden's daughter and they all assumed she was supposed to be there. Valariel knew her father would be vexed beyond words if he caught her, but she had no intentions of that. Intentions and reality, however, often differ unexpectedly.
She slipped between two Archer guards as introductions were being finished. "And last in our company is Legolas, son of King Thranduil." The Elf inclined his head respect to Celeborn and Galadriel. He was tall and fair, even for an Elf. He had the sides of his hair caught back in a traditional herringbone braid and as he turned Valariel noticed his brilliant blue eyes.
She couldn't smother a gasp as she saw his face and the small noise brought the attention of everyone in the room to her. Haldir's scowl was dark, but Galadriel's expression was bemused at best, and the Lady of the Wood glanced at Legolas who was now looking Valariel straight on. The Elf prince smiled as the girl stared at him, her eyes huge and her mouth slightly open.
Valariel understood then how a bowstring felt as it quivered after the release of an arrow. Deep inside her somewhere, there was a shout of recognition, an exultation of joy. This Prince of Mirkwood was her feahoon, her spirit heart, her soul mate.
"Valariel!" Haldir's voice brought her back to the present, a cold splash of water and she started. "You should not be here." Her unabashed stare at the Prince of Mirkwood was inappropriate at best and Haldir, ever mindful of decorum when before Galadriel, was appalled. He took her firmly by the arm and walked her away from the group.
"Do not be angry, Father. I was curious…"
"The counsel hall is not a place for children," Haldir said firmly. "And you have made a spectacle of yourself by staring so at Legolas. You have embarrassed yourself, and you have embarrassed me."
"But, Father, he… he…"
"There will be no more of this. You'll return to our dwelling now and remain there until I return."
"Do not be too harsh, Haldir." Galadriel had quietly followed them. "She is only curious."
"I want to stay," Valariel said taking advantage of the moment. "I want to see my feahoon again."
Haldir's grip tightened on her arm. "What did you say? You should not even know that word yet. It is something you cannot understand!" There was an edge to his voice that Valariel had never heard before. "You will NOT call him that again!"
** ** ** **
There's more to come. Hope you enjoy. Thanks as always to my regular reviewers, especially Mercury G. and Evenstar E. Constructive feedback is always welcome!