Disclaimer: Everything you recognise is Tolkien's - *bows and sighs*

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Chapter I: Restless Nights

«Autumn was steadfastly approaching and every elf was overjoyed, for that meant there would be many feasts to celebrate its coming. It was the wood-elves' favoured season, the leaves' renewall and the changing environment reminded them that the world still moved, and they were part of it.

«This particular year, though, there was an added reason for the celebrations. The Queen was with child and everyone awaited with excitement for the birth. Of course the royal family was the most anxious of all, and each day the feeling seemed to double as the time diminished.

«The Queen was fairly certain the child would be born in Autumn, despite the Master-healer's words pointing to the early Winter. She had a glow about her, rather, her own usual glow seemed to have grown, for the Queen was very kind and full of love, and loved in return by all for it. The King, too, was radiant with the prospect of a second child, but, much to his displeasure, his duties kept him from his family some times.

«And the Prince, the soon-to-be older brother, was no exception. If anything, he was the most thrilled of the three, second only to his mother. His father had given him a temporary leave from his duties and he spent most of the time accompanying his mother, since the two had always been very close.

«One day, the last day of Summer, the Queen decided to make a small trip in the bright green woods encircling the palace, she grew tired of too much stone. The King worried, he was always so when it concerned his beloved pregnant wife, but he knew as well as any that there was no harm in it and permitted it. The Prince would go with her.

«At first the Queen was content with just wandering among the nearest trees, but her more adventurous vein soon surfaced and she asked her son if he would show her the dark stream she heard so much about. The Prince complied without hesitation, it was rare the occasion in which he'd see his mother acting so, and he liked it when she did. In those few and precious occasions he would see a beautiful and young elven maiden and it was clear to him why his father loved her as he did, and his own love for his mother was strengthened.

«He watched as his mother stared in amazement at the small clearing which the stream crossed. On both sides, trees covered every other sight beyond that place and some white deers on the opposite shore were disturbed from their calm grazing and started running away. All was silent and seemingly peaceful, as the two elves sat down on the soft grass to rest for a while.

«There they spent good part of the afternoon, till the Queen finally admitted she wanted to return, she had a feeling they should be back, and the Prince once again agreed. As it was, they would already be home not before Arien's ship had completed its journey across the sky.

«When the Queen raised, she felt ill and weak, and the Prince was immediately at her side. She smiled gratefully with closed eyes, evening her breath, but when she opened them there was nothing but shock in them. The Prince followed her gaze and looked in the same direction she did, but all he was in time to see was a black arrow passing by him and hitting his mother, and, behind it all, a fleeing orc.

«The Prince held his mother and tried to take her away, but she stopped him with a determination of steel. Her eyes explained and he understood, though he was still overtaken by tears. The child would come, and he had to help her. The Prince did what he could to staunch the bleeding wound, but it was a grievous one, and the Queen was too weak already.

«Night fell all too soon and the passing hours were nothing but a few waves of the river washing on the shore. The labour was difficult and the Prince followed his mother's whispered instructions through gritted teeth. The moon was high in the night when the first cries of a newborn were heard. The Queen tiredly looked at both her children and, with a last few incomprehensible words, her wound stopped hurting and she expired.

«The Prince, holding the little, fragile baby, was torn between ultimate grief and ultimate joy, and he moved not, except to hold the cold hand of his beloved mother, while protecting the baby from the blowing wind.

«Then, he realised something. His sister, for a girl it was, had not been named, his mother had not had the time to. He looked at the bright eyes and the dark hair, just like their mother's, and said in a grave voice, yet full of emotion: "You shall be named Moralphwen."»


In a distant wood, Moralphwen uneasily awoke from her disturbed sleep. That was not the first time she had had that dream, and each time it repeated, it got more real, as if it was trying to prove it was more than just that.

She looked around and found Simbelmynë, her guardian, still sitting in the arm-chair next to her bed, sleeping. She smiled at her, Simbel had always been like a mother to her, stern but loving, and Haldir, one of the captains of Lórien, was like her father. She had no memories of her family and knew nothing of them.

For some reason, though, she'd never felt entirely at home in the Golden Woods. She had always been different, both physically and mentally. She was tall and proud, like a princess of the Old Days. Her hair was dark but her eyes were of a greyish blue, and clear as Nimrodel's waters. She was elegant and graceful, yet unusually strong, resistant and audacious for a maiden of Lothlórien.

Moralphwen slowly woke Simbel and asked her to sing a lullaby, to make the dreams go away. Simbel then sung an old song, short and simple, but with a delicate melody. It was what she would always sing to the maiden, ever since she was but a little child, and indeed Moralphwen fell back asleep to the sound of the familiar tune and the familiar voice.

Unconsciously, she heard her guardian quietly putting the chair back in place and leaving for her own room with a worried sigh.