Night embraced the land and the Golden Woods slept, its inhabitants safe within the timeless lullaby of the trees. But for one there was no rest to be found this night and while the forest dreamt, held in a silver sleep beneath the cradle of the moon, a lone peredhel walked through the shadow-filled night. Tonight the familiar paths brought her no comfort and Arwen glided over the land haunted by the silent restlessness of her own heart. Coming to the edge of the wood her keen elf eyes traveled over the silver-green land for a sign of… something. Yet even the nighttime mutterings of the woodland creatures and the wind's whispers through the leaves conveyed no revelations of their own.
With a weary sigh, Arwen leaned against the trunk of an ancient Mallorn tree closing her eyes against the night and the answer she could not find. It seemed as if tonight, just like the night before and the one before that… she would find no cure to the unrest that plagued her.
A sudden breeze swept past her, whisking her loose white dress into rippling waves around her lithe body and causing a little shiver to run over her skin. Running slender fingers through her sable tresses in an attempt to quell their wayward dance with the wind, Arwen decided that she might as well return to bed, even if it meant staring up at the ceiling till dawn.
As sudden as the wind had come, it dropped off. Barely a step beneath the shelter of Lorién's borders, Arwen was stilled by a nameless compulsion and her body seemed eerily as a statue beneath the moon. The whispers of the wind had been replaced by the voice of another kind and Arwen was entranced by the mysterious echo that inundated her senses.
They called to her, the words coming from nowhere and everywhere at once; speaking of things that pulled at the peredhel's heart though she remained still, afraid to move for fear that the speech would stop. It told of living, sang of dreams, whispered of promises, sighed of hopes… but underlying it all Arwen could hear the remnants of a bitter grief. Despite the beauty of those lives and dreams and promises and hopes, the voice wept for the ones left unfulfilled.
As the voice faded into nothingness, tears came to Arwen's eyes, the salty evidence of her sadness lingering on her black lashes before falling in silver trails down her cheeks. Free from the strange thrall, the peredhel let her head fall back as shudders wracked her slender body and she wept. It felt as if she stood there for hours, but it could not have been more than a few minutes and then that errant breeze rose again to dry her tears.
Breathing deeply, Arwen looked out, her beryline drawn as if by an irresistible force toward the night sky. The gentle moon was full tonight and the cloudless sky had uncovered shimmering stars stretching out numberless into the distance. Beneath such a sky her own petty problems seemed insignificant and Arwen tried to find what peace she could in the cloaked mysteries of the heavens, keeping herself from looking too closely for answers.
Finding an unexpected peace that had been eluding her all these many nights, Arwen reached out her hand so that in the distance it seemed as if her hand touched the moon. A glitter on her finger caught her attention and she studied the plain gold band that encircled her ring-finger. Memories returned of when she had received the ring from the Masters of the Rings Guild, and she thought wistfully of those enchanted halls. She had not returned there in a long time and longed once more for the friendships she had found there. She considered her own ring, Olnäthron: the Fire ring of DreamWeaving, how pretentious that sounded and she thought wistfully if only she were able to be a weaver of dream! It seemed apt somehow, on this night of all nights, if she'd had the ability to complete all those unfinished dreams.
But sadly such was beyond any power she knew of… some incomplete things could not be mended no matter how one might hope. Arwen knew an ache in her heart, an unfathomable regret for her inability, but she knew that the Fire Element of her ring would burn the delicate dreams to ashes; the best she could do was draw upon the wishful dreams of the innocent and weave them into reality even if only for a little while… and that would have to be enough.
A sudden sound like thunder clapped in the heavens. A startling light shot out, and Arwen threw her arms over her eyes to shield from the blinding flash. With her blood pounding in her veins, Arwen cautiously lowered her arms just in time to see a tiny star flare into white-hot brilliance then shoot in a brilliant arc across the purple-hued sky. Following its passage in wide-eyed shock the peredhel watched the falling star disappear over the horizon. A ghostly light illuminated the shadowy distance and died. For a moment all Arwen could do was stare at that faraway place. Not knowing why, but feeling the insistence in her heart she turned swiftly and ran back to the inner sanctum of the Woods.
Soon enough, her things were packed; all the necessities for an extended journey and her white robes had been replaced with resilient garments more suited to travel. Leaving in fleet-footed silence, Arwen shouldered her pack and flew down the stairs of the tellain. No one in Lothlorien would be surprised at her hasty departure for she had been passing through there for many years now but she was careful not to make any sound anyway.
Once more that night, Arwen found herself at the edge of the wood but this time she would not be returning to her dreamless sleep. Something was out there: a fallen star and she meant to find it. This intense need to find what lay beyond the horizon had risen inside her and it would not be slaked until her search was done. She did not know what she would find and in truth, she was a little scared that her task was a fruitless one borne out of her lonely desperation. But with firm resolve, Arwen took the first step on her journey. She needed an answer… even if it were not to her liking yet in her heart she knew that what lay at this journey's end would help her find her way.
She would find it at last, the key… the question… the answer…
Across the land, a hundred eyes of all different shapes and sizes and color, caught sight of the shooting star. And as folk have done for centuries before and shall probably continue to do when all these have passed… they cast their wishes into the night.