Golden-tipped trees with silver limbs and trunks lined a small unseen path, unseen by the eyes of mortals and other untrained beings; there was little watch set upon the borders of this land, few saw them pass by and even fewer deemed them of some importance, one red fox stopped before she crossed their path and when their train ended she continued on her way. The small host gaped in awe at the sheer size of the surrounding wood, the height of the trees that seemed to be so alien to the world, not following the true order of wither and rest in the winter months, nor did they seem evergreen as those upon the mountain heights; seeing his servant's awe at these trees Celeborn smiled and mused,
"You saw them long ago Elornion, in Mithlond during the days of peace, they came from Tol Eressa, by way of Numenor, they are mallorn, the only of their kind east of Valinor."
"That was such a short time for them to grow to such a height my lord! What virtue have they?"
"I know not their virtue, they are the tree-craft of my Lady, in her eyes they grow, under her hand, yet now they have slowed, becoming adapted to the world as they are; the mallorn are the beginnings of the land of Loriannd, we shall come near to the home of Amdir soon."
Then a call as a bird went forth from the height of the trees and a slender gray rope cascaded down before the stopped horse of Celeborn and from the sky it seemed came a youthful elvish form, with straight golden hair, his face bore the features of his parents, who are among the most beautiful of the Eldar living in this world; he wore the garb of a prince, in the style of a traveler, yet upon his Silvan tunic he wore the embroidered mark of Celeborn, and on his hand bore a ring given by Amdir, the King of this land. Celeborn smiled at the youth's ever-smiling face and exclaimed,
"Ionen! It is my joy to see you again..."
Dismounting from the horse Celeborn ran to his son and embraced him strongly, having not seen him in many a long year; many among the small host were astonished to hear their Lord call this Silvan dressed youth , son, yet their eyes saw indeed the face of Celeborn in him now that they stood side by side, and his hair indeed bore the hue of Galadriel's fame, his gray eyes claimed him of Doriath lineage, yet his smile...his smile could not be placed as to where it came from.
"Adar, it is a great joy to see you again as well, long have been the years since I set forth from Eregion; but now our family is together again."
"Your mother has already arrived then?"
"With a great host behind her as well, it seemed as the stories she once told of her coming to Ennor, in the host of Fingolfin."
The youth's simple laugh bade them welcome in a way unexpected, for others dressed in Silvan garb and with Teleri expressions as their own came from the trees above down slender gray ropes, and welcomed them in the Sindar tongue, though pronounced with their rather wild accent that seperated them as Nandor and some of an older forgotten dialect.
Thus in friendship and joy were they welcomed into the warmth of Lorinand, and Celeborn treated as a great king from an foreign land; Celebrin felt at peace among these simple folk, whose eyes knew balance and gentilty, whose faces were not marred by tidings of war or loss of dear family, he envied them their simple joy. As they approached the inner sanctum of the great forest many more inquisitive folk could be seen watching from a distance, their curious eyes shining in the light of the setting sun. At the end of the path lay a wide hall, built low to the ground with the back end forming a natural hill, and the front revealing architecture and design Celebrin had not seen in many years, the stone cut tree-forms of Doriath, and the lamps of charcoal gray metal. The doorway stood open to them and from the opening one could hear the merriment of celebration and one could feel the very roar of the fire upon the their faces and see the music in the dancing light of the lamps.
The hall was wide, wider than even the halls of men, though at first it seemed the ceiling was made for Dwarves, yet once one passed the first lintel the ground dropped and created a grand hall, part above ground and part below, and above the hall children played with the fire-flies and moths that danced to the music from below. As they entered all eyes turned to them and all was silent; many faces seemed eager to run and greet the weary travelers, yet were held back until the small host of newcomers reached the far end of the great hall, where sat a familiar face, crowned in gold, and beside her a slender beauty framed in silver locks; yet beside them at the center of the table sat a richly dressed kingly figure, though his crown was made not of gold or even silver, but bronze and shimmering wood, carved with figures of the Nandor, crests and emblems, representing Denethor, and his father Lenwe, and in the center was carved the crest of Amdir, the rest remained smooth or unadorned, in hopes of a future king. That was the way of these folk, to expect sudden change and live through it unscathed. The remarkable thing of these people was not their joy amidst a world of troubles, or their secret lives away from other folk, but the stasis of their culture, unmoved, unshaken even after all those long years. The crown-bearer stood, wielding a sceptre in his hand, greeted Celeborn with a stern and firm voice,
"Welcome Prince of Doriath, you are late, as you always were to things held in your honor...welcome home gwador, I see my son has treated you well"
To which Celeborn, obviously pulling his kinship to nobility to make Amroth flinch, replied,
"Hail Lord Amdir Malgalad of Lorinand, your welcome is most appreciated...King Amdir Malgalad of the Golden wood. And yes, Amroth has greeted us kindly."
Beside the King stood the youth who escorted the small host before the king, so alike they seemed in voice and appearance that many among the arrivals swore that he was indeed the son of this King Amdir called Malgalad, rather than their lord Celeborn. None could quite say definitively as to which lineage he derived, for his eyes were that of Celeborn, yet his smile, the mysterious unknown smile was clearly that of this King before them. Such a mystery he seemed then and to all he had remained a mystery of lineage, a puzzle for future generations to solve, yet now that was secondary for food was cooked and music strung up again.
Once the festivities were under way the others separated to find their families, many of whom stood by while greetings and long sunderings were forgiven. Celebrin stood at first in the midst of the reunions and stood by his Lord's side, still holding high the banner marked with a silver tree amid three stars in a field of deep green, until another servant came and took it from him to place it among the King's banners, digging a deeper hole for the larger standard it was held on, placing it a short distance below the banner of the King. Then not knowing what to do in that time he walked from the hall out into the upper world, where the stars sparkled in the holes of the canopy. He sighed at once again finding a place of beauty, only to have its beauty diminished little by the fact he knew none with comfort to speak with at such times; mainly about thoughts that were personal to him. He climbed the side of the hall that gave rise to green grass and white flowers, and in the distance saw a figure watching the stars as he was, smoking a pipe, allowing the smoke to fly as incense around his face. The scene of that figure struck him odd, for he sat as no Sindar or Nandor would, instead his back was erect and his legs folded in a cross formation, and he faced west seeing the stars and moon disappear behind the mountain. Celebrin oddly found himself beside the figure, intrigued by his odd garb in the midst of the others, he was easily visible, for his garb was that of a Noldo, bright colors and even brighter gold interlaced among the fabric. Celebrin sat beside the smoking figure, reclining upon the slope of the hill, plucked a white flower put it to his nose and smelled; the scent traveled through time and space, into the realm of memory,
"Ele! Niphredil? It has been so long since I saw such grow again."
"Many things in this place seem to be from memory do they not?"
The figure spoke in a familiar voice, and despite the many times they remained apart, their reunion this time was calm as if expected, as if they had never departed for more than a few hours of the day. Such was how they functioned these two companions, their minds understood the joy to see the other, and understood the words that had been said many times before...for them there was no need for words, just the presence of the other, was enough. And they sat in silence until the song of the nightingales was spun throughout the night, and silent conversation melted into voiced discussion, started by the Noldo who smoked a pipe of great craftsmanship,
"The lady Galadriel could not leave the safety of Imladris without escort given by Elrond, she would not in fact leave without me it seems, for I was all she required, with so great a host. I saw the dwarves Celebrin, magnificent beings they are, so skilled with hand and noble despite their mood and stature. They made for me this pipe, though I have little use for it, I do not smoke normally, who does in these times, such a strange custom they have- learned by another culture they say-yet I find it a waste not to use such a precious gift."
"Did they trust you?"
"You are always so wary of others, it is what keeps you from speaking with others, but it is what makes you a terribly good judge of character if I may say so myself."
The two laughed at the comment, Alphindil always the one to seemingly break the silence with a shallow comment made in jest; the pipe smoke filled the air about them like tendrals of soft cloud surrounding two peaks of a mountain, shrouding it in mist. They shared the tales of where they had been, each trading off as to who saw the greater feat or the most beautiful thing they saw or touched, leading to a night of laughter and mock jests, trading barbs that were made of down, until the midnight hour passed them and sunrise flowed in between the forest's mighty trunks. The Niphredil closed its gentle petals in the light of the sun and yellow blossoms opened in the face of her, releasing a sweet fragrance, the oldest form of elanor the world had seen since the days Yavanna walked the earth and danced. There upon a hill filled with these flowers the silvan-folk saw them, one in particular saw them from above, Amroth son of Lorinand, prince among the whole of the Golden Wood, from his high talan above the hill he saw them and smiled seeing the joy of which he had never seen and returned to his work building his own home in the trees, and while he did this he sang,
"Love the morning, birds around
and you foxes on the ground
tra-lah-lay-lah-lay-lah
Aid me in this gentle work
Of my home above the earth
Tru-lah-lu-lah-lay-lu..."
And thus the days in Lorinand continued and passed slowly in the times of the earth, yet all was not paradise and soft council, for immediately after all had settled all able bodied elves were sent to work on the defense of the lands, a task headed by the three mighty lords, Celeborn, Galadriel and King Amdir.
In the workings of the days three groups toiled in the kingdom, one of Nandor people who worked among the trees, building talans high in the trees, where none could reach hook or arrow; these were guided by the hand and minds of Amroth, their prince and trusted voice of Amroth.
Another was of Sindar, from Doriath and Mithlond and Imladris, who had followed Celeborn all their years; they built the great foundations of the walls surrounding the most populated area of the woods. These walls stood high and were made by the art if Doriath, which had protected Doriath before the Girdle was wrought, and even after it broke, it kept the forces of Feanor at bay, if only for a while; these mound and wall builders were under the direction of Celeborn in the north and Celebrin in the south building into hills and valley.
And within the work of the two without was the smallest of the groups, in small forges made then where none had once been, using ovens and hearth fires as their tools were the few Noldor that chose to follow Galadriel rather than their King Erenion. These were busy in the making of weapons, swords, armor and shield; they made great doors for the wall and strong supports for the making of the great talans which could hold many guards and supplies rather than a few at a time. They were under the guidance of Galadriel and her newest aid, Alphindil of Gondolin who knew much of metal work; yet they did not in anyway build things of Noldor regalia, for political reasons much was made in bronze and silver, in the fashion of the Sindar, for deep sentiments still were fresh in the minds of many Sindar and Nandor who remembered still the golden armor of the Noldor at the time of the Kin-slaying at Doriath.
Thus did the small kingdom of Lorinand grow, by hands and minds diverse and flowing from different ways of life, and many an elf from the Northern realm came and learned of the ways of fortifying their elven kingdom. And thus while Gil-galad maintained his northern realm in the west, the forgotten kingdoms in the east rose and grew strong to stand the tide that would seem to come. And for years uncounted the three heralds of the Lords spoke often with one another and in their sharing of ideas and designs the great work of elven minds came forth, and the culture that once was considered minimally important in the grand scheme by both Noldor and Sindar became the strongest to stand against attacks by the wild men and the forces of orcs that raided the eastern side of the mountain.
Yet for all their union in friendship something happened none upon the earth intended, for late one night as the Lady Galadriel slept, dreaming of her home beyond the western shores, in dream and sleep she saw:
The western sky grew blood red and thunder clouds in the form and sound of eagle wings came forth from the high peaks of Valionr and descended upon an island nation whose barren land and mighty hills of tombs cracked beneath the thunder of rage. A great groan came forth from the hallows of the world and the seas threw boats and mighty ships here and there, and the mighty mountain in the midst of the island nation threw fire and ash from its great height burning great temples and buildings of stone, crushing men, women and children with large rocks thrown into the upper airs. And one figure cried out from the top were a bloodied altar cracked in the shaking of the earth, a woman seeking help from the silent stars that were masked by ash and darkness. Then all was taken beneath the waves as Beleriand was in the War of Wrath, naught but the cries of agony and the rushing of waves could be heard by any, and the blood red sky crackled and rumbled thunder...
Thus did she awake that night, covered in tears and sweat, her breath never ceasing, and when the sun reached over the bloodied skies she and her husband set out for Imladris, leaving their heralds to care for their people in that foreign land that came to be home. And thus did rumor come to the ears of all there that the world had changed for it could be seen and felt in the water and air; the rivers ran differently and the mountains seemed taller than ever before and the stars began to revolve around the sky, or rather they now moved quicker. Elves from the southern lands spoke of the horizon seeming curved and now unending, and the sea now with no destination, just endless distances of ever-moving water. The world had changed forever, and none but the elder kind could feel it; men would later sail in search of the world's end but that would be many years after, when all the Eldar knew was become history and myth, the road west was bent so that east became west and north became south...the world had changed.