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

The Offer

A low murmur passed through the throng, whispers spoken behind fair hands. She ignored them, rising to her feet and re-sheathing the green-glass knife. Her hand stung, irritated as drops of blood trickled onto the earth, spoiling the pure-white petals of flowers as she passed. Each step she took, the hostility of the crowd grew, but she kept her eyes only for the White Lady and the Lord at her side. Reaching them, she bowed her head, right hand to her heart in salute, saying:

I tië antanen ná sí telenë; fírienya únauva úrainë. Antanlyë laitalë an annalyë ar yétan ana námielyë as tulunca hón.

Surprised, Galadriel looked at the bowing figure, then to her husband. A look of confusion marred the blue of his eyes, then cleared as the elleth's meaning dawned. Sharing his gaze with his wife, he stepped forward and placed a hand on her shoulder:

Ëasa tana larulyë furu ana, quen-tára; narlyë meldelma, lá vandalma.

She raised her eyes to his, and he was caught in the depths of their confusion.

Ná sá ú-i vand Eldômi col anqualë ana queni man nau antantë sám? she hissed bitterly, anger and pain tearing at her throat.

Celeborn caught his breath and looked to his wife. Appearing serene and calm, the Lady of Light placed a hand on the elleth's face, caressing, and reaching out to quiet the tumult within her. Slowly, she drew back her hand, offering it in front of her as a gesture of welcome.

Tul, Sálindë, she whispered softly in the old tongue, Masuvalyë as Celeborn ar inye

She looked at the offered hand, and back to the Lady. All at once, Galadriel felt a faint touching of her own mind, feather-light and probing. She smiled openly as the presence sensed her awareness and receded, saying to the warrior:

Tul.

The silver eyes stared long into hers, then looked away, disconcerted by the Lady's gaze.

Salinde felt the confusion within her threatening to take hold, and searched desperately for a way to ease the chaos. Tears pricking her eyes, she searched and searched, ignoring the offer in the Lady's eyes..../There!/ she thought, relief flooding her as she caught the familiar spirit of Hravan. The clamor fading, she looked once more at the Lady, and at the Lord. /They would have me live,/ she thought, perplexed, /Though why is a mystery./ All at once she squared her shoulders, the resignation of her fate coming to mind, and thought /I chose this road knowing I would die at its end. If they wish to prolong its coming, it is their choice, not mine./

And with that, she took the Lady's hand, and was led through the hostile crowd up a set of steps twining around the enormous trees she had seen.

Galadriel sensed her awareness, and tightened her hold on Sálind's hand slightly. The elleth tilted her head questioningly, her eyes as piercing as those of her Marchwarden.

Úharyan ruclyë an cuilelyë, quen-ránë. Ve narlyë sí nauvalyë undu varyanya ar únauva appanë.

The elleth seemed to understand her meaning, and turned her eyes once more to the stairs before them. The Lady of Light looked back at her husband, who nodded his head with a smile, as if to reassure her of their choice. She smiled back to him, and turned her eyes to study the warrior before her. /She is strong and brave/ thought the White Lady, then, sighing, /and justified in her anger against us/

She shook her head, clearing away the darkness of her thoughts, and led Sálindë up the last step, turning to the right, into the door of their House.

Sálindë looked on, her wonder carefully checked behind her eyes, as she took in the sight of the palace in the trees. /We must be so high/ she thought, excitement slightly stirring as she began to slowly believe she would not die, at least not this day.

Back on the forest floor, Orophin was standing shame-faced in front of his brother, his spine straight as iron and eyes downcast.

"I am full of sorrow that you had to witness my defeat, brother."

Haldir looked at him, knowing the wound his brother's pride had received, yet also realizing he deserved punishment for his weakness.

"I did not see a defeat, brother; my eyes perceived a draw, you both were ready to kill and be killed instantly."

Orophin glanced up, his shock apparent, then suddenly hardened.

"You say that as my brother, yet I know you would not have an Elf bested by Avari filth guarding the borders."

"Do you know me so well then, Orophin? That I would cast aside a seasoned archer for an inexperienced youth?" asked Haldir, annoyed at his brother's presumption and refusal of his opinion.

"She bested me, that She-Elf!"

Orophin spat on the ground, his rage and hatred of the stranger beginning to break through his control. Haldir looked on, knowing that this was what his Lady had warned him of, the duty he would have as her guardian.

"Enough, Orophin!" said Haldir, his voice stern and commanding, "It is not wise to speak ill of a guest of the Lady."

He watched as his younger brother struggled to regain his composure, and relaxed when he saw the familiar light in his eyes.

"Come, Haldir, let us find Rúmil and sup awhile. Let us forget, for a time, the troubles of this day."

Orophin slapped him on the back, and they strode tall through the forest floor, heading toward the talan of their brother.

A.N.:

Translation:

I tië antanen ná sí telenë; fírienya únauva úrainë. Antanlyë laitalë an annalyë ar yétan ana námielyë as tulunca hón The path given me is now finished; my death will not be without peace. I give you praise for your gift, and look to your judgment with steady heart

Ëasa tana larulyë furu ana quen-tára; narlyë meldelma lá vandalma It may be your ears lie to you, quen-tára; you are our friend, not our prisoner

Quen-tára high one, noble one; proud one

Ná sá ú-i vand Eldômi col anqualë ana queni man nau antantë sám? Is it not the way of the Eldômi to bear death to ones who would give them aid?

Tul, Sálindë Come, Sálind

Masuvalyë as Celeborn ar inyë You shall dwell with Celeborn and I

Tul Come

Úharyan ruclyë an cuilelyë, quen-ránë. Ve narlyë sí nauvalyë undu varyanya ar únauva appanë I would not have you fear for your life, wandering one. As you are here, you will be under my protection, and will not be touched