Disclaimer: I own nothing that is recognizable to the Lord of the Rings franchise. The languages used in this story are Quenya, Primitive Elvish, and Sindarin. These are all owned by J.R.R. Tolkien.

What ARE mine are the original characters and the Darkmen tongue

Choosing of the Council

"Are you certain, Sálindë; Thauron has returned?"

"Yes, Áravelca; his messengers and spies are as serpent-tongues in the Southlands, promising riches and lands for their loyalty."

Keeping her place on bended knee, she spat her disgust on the hard-packed earth floor:

"Darkmen are gathering to His land, my queen. Men and fell beasts of all kinds, chanting His name. I have heard tales of the Dark One's supreme power and his plan to rule all those who oppose Him. It is also whispered that His presence is ever watchful, yet not in physical form. The Bane of Men has not found Its way to Him, though His spirit has lost none of its…potency."

She turned her silver eyes to her, worry evident in their depths.

"It is said that Anár will soon set on those of the West, Mother."

The warrior before her stood, tall and regal, hard as the scales of the ancient dragons long slain from the Keep, and as beautiful as her namesake. Sálindë recalled how her mother had always stood tall and proud, even at the death of her consort, Sálind's father Helcarusco.

Bronze and silver glinted in the lamplight as the ruler of Osto Áraquendi paced the floor. After long minutes, she looked up into her daughter's eyes.

"He will destroy the worlds of Men and Eldômi."

Her spy nodded affirmatively.

"It is so, my queen."

"And after he enslaves them," thought Áravelca out loud, "He will come for what we protect."

"That is so as well, my queen."

Again, silence reigned as the younger Elf remained on bended knee to her queen, and Áravelca, in turn, gazing at a tapestry hanging on the smooth rock wall.

"For the sake of our souls," she said hoarsely, staring at the likeness of her other family, "We must send word of this to the Eldômi, to the one Tárion spoke of as 'crowned with light'."

"Alatáriel," breathed the kneeling figure, overcome by the legend of this powerful Elven woman born on the shores of Valinór..

Áravelca sneered slightly at her daughter's awe, but pressed on nevertheless, ever aware of the threat to her people, and those of their Kindred.

"You have heard of her spoken in reverence, my daughter, yet do not allow yourself to be taken in by her words of wisdom."

Startled, the Elf stood, her tall height matching her mother's equally, shock in her eyes:

"What is it you speak of, Mother?"

"I believe it is time to make our existence known to our distant kin once more, as well as our aid in this age of impending doom."

She watched as her daughter's eyes sparked with anger, and heard as her usually calm voice replied coated in ice:

"Respect I have for you, my queen, but I trust you have not forgotten the last time it was believed to have been wise to give aid to the Eldômi."

Áravelca turned to Sálindë, her midnight cloak swirling in loose folds.

"Nay, I have not forgotten, daughter of mine," she hissed in reply, "I remember very well how our actions were repaid, but now is not the time for vengeance. This is the same enemy whom our people distrusted and fought against three thousand years before. The same evil that threatened our lands and its mighty treasure, our sworn duty to the gods."

Anger swept through Sálindë, its claws evident in her voice:

"Yet we are to forget the past and swear blood to those who betrayed us?"

"You forget, my daughter," said the queen, turning away from her again, "They call us the betrayers, the enemies of the gods."

Neither spoke for long moments, until came the question:

"Will you speak to the Council of this?"

"Yes," the older woman sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose, "As I will speak to your brothers, and our people."

In silence, Sálindë bowed her head, gripping her fist to her chest in a clenched salute.

"Then it shall be done, my queen."

Stiffly, she bowed and exited the chamber, her black cloak sweeping behind her.

As she stood before the assembled Elders, she gazed blankly at her surroundings. The limestone caverns beneath the mountains were numerous and vast in the domain of the Áraquendi, but few were as large and intimidating as the Council Chamber. There were representatives from all the surviving tribes of the Kinn-lai, at least two from each. As she watched them, the younger envoy of the Russeledâ flushed an unnatural crimson at a particular argument.

The cavern was lit by a gentle pale blue glow, emitted by a massive stone chandelier. The light itself came from various plants stored and collected in pockets carved into the rock. Its branches extended far from its source, allowing for maximum visibility in the cave.

Voices droned through the entire space, arguing, explaining, wheedling, convincing, and accepting. At long last, Sálindë saw her mother stand at the head of the Council, flanked by Salinde's eldest brother and heir to the throne, Máeran, and her advisor, Taurossë. The iron in her mother's stance told her all she needed to know of her fate.

"It has been decided, Sálindë, child of Áravelca and Helcarusco, Princess of the Áraquendi, that news of the Abhorrent One's return must not be kept secret from the Eldômi, no matter the penalty of such a message.

"You have been chosen as the most worthy to bring such a message to the one known as Alatáriel. This task will be perilous, both on the journey, and once you reach the lands of Laurinataur; it is not certain whether you would survive to return to our land. It is not a command, but rather a choice. We have chosen you to be the champion of the Kinn-lai: it is your choice to fulfill this destiny, or walk another path."

For long minutes, silence reigned as each member of the Council looked at the lone Elf before them. She stood tall and proud, yet her eyes held defeat; the part of Áravelca that was the mother of this warrior nearly broke as the Dawn-Elf replied:

"I will go to the Eldômi…I will find Alatáriel…and I will give her your message."

Here she squared her shoulders, and the proud set of her shoulders rose as she inhaled deeply.

"If I am to die by the hand of the Abhorrent One, or by the blade of my Kindred, then I shall bring honor to my people by dying with valor."

Áravelca-the-queen raised her staff and rapped it loudly on the floor as Áravelca-the-mother wept bitterly at the choice of her only daughter.

"So shall it be."

Sweeping her leg over her saddle, she glanced back at the farewell party. Áravelca raised a hand in formal farewell, and her brothers crossed their left arm over their right chest in salute. As the other members of the company copied the gesture, she knew they were praying to the gods for her protection.

Unexpectedly, Áravelca urged her horse toward her, leaning close to murmur:

"Do not forget the past, my Fire Song. Keep it burning with you on your journey: look deep within yourself and discover if whether or not past misdeeds are worth the destruction of the world."

Nodding her silver head in understanding Sálindë glanced once more at her brothers, then spurred Hravan's sides swiftly, bracing herself as he broke out into a swift gallop.

"Nornoro, meldenya," she whispered in his ear as the land rolled by her in a harsh blur, "Nornoro tyelca."

A.N.:

Áravelca Dawnflame

Sálindë Firesong

Helcarusco Icefox

Translation (Q):

Thauron the Abhorrent One (You guess who…)

Anár the Sun

Eldômi "Twilight Elves" (Q and Avarin)

Alatáriel meaning "maiden crowned with radiant garland"; Telerin name for Galadriel

Russeled Red-Elves (Avarin)

Máeran meaning "Iron Hand"

Taurossë meaning "Mighty Storm"

Laurinataurë Lothlórien, the Golden Wood

Nornoro, meldenya Ride, my friend

Nornoro tyelca Ride swift