So far I have forgotten to do disclaimers for any of the chapters. Here it
is now:
Ch 1&2: (The song disclaimers are listed on Ch. 1) I own everyone!
Ch 3: I own Grace/Jean. The others are all Tolkien's
Ch4: I own Talantwen/Feaelena/Kristy. Araeln, Laurëanga, Beleglas,
and Belegceleb I made up for my own demented, twisted purposes. (Mostly to
give Legolas someone to be mad at) All others are Tolkien's.
Ch5: I own Elizabeth. All others are Tolkien's.
Part V
Arrival of Mortal Man
It was February 8 in the Gardens of Elrond, though no one felt the need to number the days of mortal man in the Haven.
There were many fair immortal Elves in the bright gardens, but there was also a more secluded area that few visited. In that secluded place there sat a man. He was tall and strong, though not as fair as the Elves singing in the other parts of Rivendell. The place where he sat was shady, and almost gloomy. It was a perfect place to go to if thought be the need most pressing to the visitor. The trees hung limply over the visitor as though they were meditating the deep mysteries of the Middle Earth and Valinor. Cold stone benches were all that were offered as resting places. The other areas of Rivendell were light, though not exactly gay, and warm. The stone seemed to only add to the ancient feel of the place. The man, however, did not accept the bench, but stood and walked farther into the gloomy interior of the deep forest. At last he seemed to have arrived to were he wished to go, and turned. There he stood reverently in front of a small statue of a woman that was placed over a larger piece of stone. A lump of lead formed in the Man's throat as he remembered the woman that the statue stood for. His mother had chosen to be buried here amongst the meditating trees and the weeping stream that ever trickled behind her grave. She had also brought the man here when he was a baby. The man gently touched a gnarled tree remembering the numerous times others had shown it to him, reminding him that this was the tree that his mother had slept under the day before she had found Elrond and pleaded for him to take her son. The man swallowed the lump, only to have it rise again accompanied by unbidden tears of memory. If only he had listened more closely to everything she had said he might have more memories of her! Something else to remember in the dark recesses of the night to give him warmth and strength for the next day or to hold him to his cause during times of peril. The man caressed the stone image that looked down on him so compassionately and so lovingly. All was so completely silent, that when a noise of feet walking across the crisp foliage that had fallen from the trees, it sounded much louder than it would have normally sounded. The man tuned around quickly, as though he expected to see someone dear to his heart, but instead there stood a maiden that he had never before seen. She was clad in light blue raiment. It was not the fashion of the Elves, nor of Hobbits or Dwarves, yet did not belong to neither the Gondorian, nor the Roheryn. Suddenly the man realized whose it was. It was of his own kin! Of the Rangers from the North! He walked to her, slightly confused. She was a relatively young girl, if there was a message that he need news of, they would surely have sent a horse-man had they even known where to find him, and he knew of no other mortals in who were in Rivendell at the time. "What errand brings you to Rivendell?" He called to her walking slowly towards her. The young lady blinked, then looked up at him as though she had just woken from a trance. "Where?" She asked, looking around, obvious confusion written on her young face. The man stared at her. "Do you mean that you do not know that you are in Rivendell?" The girl shook her head. "I do not even know where Rivendell is, or what it is for that matter." The man was, in the least to say, surprised. Almost everyone knew of Rivendell, and those who did not usually were the people who lived far away in the far north of Middle-Earth. The man put aside his astonishment, and put out a hand, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. What might your name be?" The lass extended her hand and replied: "I am..." She frowned and tried again. "I am..." For a moment or two she faltered and spluttered, then with a shake of her head acknowledged that she knew not her name. "Then you must speak to Elrond." Aragorn said, "He is a mighty healer, and knows many things that are hidden to others." "Do you think he may know my name?" She asked, clenching her fists under her chin in a child-like manner. "Perhaps," Aragorn replied as he began walking back to the maid part of Rivendell where he knew Elrond would be. As Aragorn and the girl began walking, he noticed that she was slightly favoring one foot. "Are you alright?" He asked. The girl bit her lower lip and nodded. She would not confess to how much it really did hurt. "It doesn't pain me much." Aragorn frowned, "Are you sure? Let me see it." The girl sat down on the stone bench, and braced herself. She wouldn't let him see how badly it hurt. Aragorn pressed tenderly just below the girl's ankle, and looked up at her; his face was etched with gently concern. The girl was unaware of just how painfully it would hurt, and bit her lip. Within a few seconds a single stream of red blood had tainted her chin. "It doesn't pain you much?" Aragorn asked, just the slightest trace of mocking in his voice. He held out a fold of cloth for her to use to mop up the blood. "Maybe it does hurt a little." the girl confessed, taking the rag, and wiping off the claret stain.
"Do you remember anything of yourself?" Aragorn asked as they went together slowly towards the Hall of Fire, where Elrond had last been seen reading old scrolls and manuscripts. The girl (who is as you have probably already guessed is Elizabeth) thought hard for a moment, then with a frown shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing at all." She sighed glumly as they reached the immense double-doors. Aragorn nodded as he opened the doors, and walked down the three steps that led into the hall. Elizabeth did not notice the steps, however, and she stepped down on the first one hard. That alone would not have been too terribly awful, but Elizabeth stepped down on her foot that had been hurt. She cried out in pain as she fell, and for the second time, she departed to the realm of dream.
Part V
Arrival of Mortal Man
It was February 8 in the Gardens of Elrond, though no one felt the need to number the days of mortal man in the Haven.
There were many fair immortal Elves in the bright gardens, but there was also a more secluded area that few visited. In that secluded place there sat a man. He was tall and strong, though not as fair as the Elves singing in the other parts of Rivendell. The place where he sat was shady, and almost gloomy. It was a perfect place to go to if thought be the need most pressing to the visitor. The trees hung limply over the visitor as though they were meditating the deep mysteries of the Middle Earth and Valinor. Cold stone benches were all that were offered as resting places. The other areas of Rivendell were light, though not exactly gay, and warm. The stone seemed to only add to the ancient feel of the place. The man, however, did not accept the bench, but stood and walked farther into the gloomy interior of the deep forest. At last he seemed to have arrived to were he wished to go, and turned. There he stood reverently in front of a small statue of a woman that was placed over a larger piece of stone. A lump of lead formed in the Man's throat as he remembered the woman that the statue stood for. His mother had chosen to be buried here amongst the meditating trees and the weeping stream that ever trickled behind her grave. She had also brought the man here when he was a baby. The man gently touched a gnarled tree remembering the numerous times others had shown it to him, reminding him that this was the tree that his mother had slept under the day before she had found Elrond and pleaded for him to take her son. The man swallowed the lump, only to have it rise again accompanied by unbidden tears of memory. If only he had listened more closely to everything she had said he might have more memories of her! Something else to remember in the dark recesses of the night to give him warmth and strength for the next day or to hold him to his cause during times of peril. The man caressed the stone image that looked down on him so compassionately and so lovingly. All was so completely silent, that when a noise of feet walking across the crisp foliage that had fallen from the trees, it sounded much louder than it would have normally sounded. The man tuned around quickly, as though he expected to see someone dear to his heart, but instead there stood a maiden that he had never before seen. She was clad in light blue raiment. It was not the fashion of the Elves, nor of Hobbits or Dwarves, yet did not belong to neither the Gondorian, nor the Roheryn. Suddenly the man realized whose it was. It was of his own kin! Of the Rangers from the North! He walked to her, slightly confused. She was a relatively young girl, if there was a message that he need news of, they would surely have sent a horse-man had they even known where to find him, and he knew of no other mortals in who were in Rivendell at the time. "What errand brings you to Rivendell?" He called to her walking slowly towards her. The young lady blinked, then looked up at him as though she had just woken from a trance. "Where?" She asked, looking around, obvious confusion written on her young face. The man stared at her. "Do you mean that you do not know that you are in Rivendell?" The girl shook her head. "I do not even know where Rivendell is, or what it is for that matter." The man was, in the least to say, surprised. Almost everyone knew of Rivendell, and those who did not usually were the people who lived far away in the far north of Middle-Earth. The man put aside his astonishment, and put out a hand, "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn. What might your name be?" The lass extended her hand and replied: "I am..." She frowned and tried again. "I am..." For a moment or two she faltered and spluttered, then with a shake of her head acknowledged that she knew not her name. "Then you must speak to Elrond." Aragorn said, "He is a mighty healer, and knows many things that are hidden to others." "Do you think he may know my name?" She asked, clenching her fists under her chin in a child-like manner. "Perhaps," Aragorn replied as he began walking back to the maid part of Rivendell where he knew Elrond would be. As Aragorn and the girl began walking, he noticed that she was slightly favoring one foot. "Are you alright?" He asked. The girl bit her lower lip and nodded. She would not confess to how much it really did hurt. "It doesn't pain me much." Aragorn frowned, "Are you sure? Let me see it." The girl sat down on the stone bench, and braced herself. She wouldn't let him see how badly it hurt. Aragorn pressed tenderly just below the girl's ankle, and looked up at her; his face was etched with gently concern. The girl was unaware of just how painfully it would hurt, and bit her lip. Within a few seconds a single stream of red blood had tainted her chin. "It doesn't pain you much?" Aragorn asked, just the slightest trace of mocking in his voice. He held out a fold of cloth for her to use to mop up the blood. "Maybe it does hurt a little." the girl confessed, taking the rag, and wiping off the claret stain.
"Do you remember anything of yourself?" Aragorn asked as they went together slowly towards the Hall of Fire, where Elrond had last been seen reading old scrolls and manuscripts. The girl (who is as you have probably already guessed is Elizabeth) thought hard for a moment, then with a frown shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing at all." She sighed glumly as they reached the immense double-doors. Aragorn nodded as he opened the doors, and walked down the three steps that led into the hall. Elizabeth did not notice the steps, however, and she stepped down on the first one hard. That alone would not have been too terribly awful, but Elizabeth stepped down on her foot that had been hurt. She cried out in pain as she fell, and for the second time, she departed to the realm of dream.