Chapter 1- Imladris: Valley of Hope

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1 Echuir, Year 183 of the Third Age

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She was the furthest away from everything she had known in her life. The thought frightened her, making her realize how insignificant she really was in the grand scheme of things and making her believe that one mere child elleth such as her could never change anything in the world. What differences could she make? What change had her grandfather sent her to make? Even with her high station in birth, she could do nothing. Though at times she could harness a bit of prescience into the minds and hearts of others, but that would accomplish nothing in the long run because she could not yet control this ability. And it was her affinity with others that let her accomplish such things. But if that were true, she would have known on some level what her grandfather's intentions were in sending her to Imaldris. Maybe Lord Elrond would have some insight into this matter, for her grandfather always chose to leave his comments vague on any issue.

Silaerín sighed and readjusted herself on the back of her brown-colored mare, finding that her back was stiff and her backend ached beyond anything she had ever felt in her short life. Actually, it had hurt her for the entire journey from the shores of Mithlond, but now her pains were to a point that they seemingly could not be cured by anyone. Not even the healer who had been assigned as her lady-in-waiting and watcher for the next years could help soothe the aches she had received from riding the horse. If she had known that traveling was going to be so unpleasant, she may have rethought the decision to visit Imladris and learn from Lord Elrond.

"My lady, are you well?"

The voice startled her, and she turned her head to look down at the courtier walking beside her own horse. Silaerín was never addressed as such when in Mithlond, and becoming accustomed to being called a 'Lady' was quite difficult. Especially when she could not even think of herself as a lady. She would have much rather been a high and powerful lord like her grandfather or father. They, at least, were able to do other things instead of mending clothes, gossiping all day about the certain practices of the court, or things that bothered them about other ellyth.

"I am well, Mílwen." Silaerín replied quietly, turning her eyes forwards to the densely wooded road ahead. "I only ache from riding."

"Perhaps it would be better if you walked for awhile." One of the accompanying advisors spoke. She had come to like Galdor very much since the beginning of their journey from the Havens. She had seen this Elf many times at her grandfather's large fortress going about daily business and acting as a liaison to the lands still inhabited by Elves west of Hithaeglir, but she had never been introduced to him until this journey for he had business to attend to with Elrond and his advisors. She understood that, for she would only be in the way if someone took time out of the councils to introduce them. Nonetheless, Silaerín found that Galdor was a very likable Elf and easy to talk with, even for someone so shy as she, and he told many very interesting stories of her father's younger years. It was nice to at least hear her father was not as perfect as he made himself out to be.

Silaerín chewed on her bottom lip and said, "How long is it until we reach Imladris?"

"We will arrive by nightfall," Galdor responded. "I would recommend walking, though, my lady. It will help stretch your legs."

"It is not my legs that ache," she replied and sighed, repositioning herself again. She would live with the pain. Imladris was only a short distance away, she could make it until then. Silaerín decided to focus her attention on other things so that she would forget the aching in her muscles. Her eyes scanned the road ahead, finding that the further they traveled, the more luscious and green the plant life grew. The trees were tall and slender and looked rather full of life with their broad green leaves, despite the fact that it was not even spring yet.

All the different plants and animals she had seen starkly contrasted with her home in Mithlond. She saw no sand, even on the banks of rivers and streams that they had crossed. That was what she had missed most thus far... walking along the beach in her bare feet, feeling the tiny granules move through her toes as the strong wind brought to her nose the salty scent of the sea and whipped her hair back behind her shoulders. She missed being alone, sitting in the golden sun and reading one of the books from her grandfather's library.

Already, though, she could hear the rushing and crashing of water upon rocks as they moved closer to their destination. She had been told that this refuge was like no other Elven realm. She had heard tales that all races of Arda were accepted into Imladris. You were as likely to see Elves as you were Men, or even the much-rumored creatures called Dwarves. Silaerín had only seen Elves in Mithlond, so she could only imagine what these other races were like, even though she had heard that Dwarves were cantankerous and greedy, and she was not too sure she would befriend any of them if she were to come across one. But besides that point, Imladris was also said to be a place of happiness and vibrancy, the very feeling of life within the confines of the valley in which the Last Homely House sat. It was a place of replenishing quality, where you could go if you had been exiled or shunned out of your own lands. Somewhere that you could seek refuge for any reason. Lord Elrond and his people accepted all.

Even ellyth who tended to be very quiet and criticized by their own fathers.

If there was one thing that had helped Silaerín's mind along in her decision to travel to Imladris, it was because of her less than wonderful relationship with her father and brother. She needed more than anything to get away from her overly possessive and stifling father, who seemed to anger at the most insignificant things and think she was incapable of doing many other things. Though she had noticed a slight change in him recently, one that had somehow made him a little more agreeable, he still was like a troll to live with. If she even knew what a troll was... after all, she could only compare her observation to the histories she had read.

And besides her being away from her father, she wanted to be free of her conceited older brother. He was continually received the same amount of consideration as she, but never punished when he was the one who was always doing bad things. And often times, he was even given praise when he had done something against what he was supposed to do, conveniently making her the scapegoat for his wrong doings! Silaerín sighed heavily and shook her head to rid herself of the thoughts of her brother.

Truthfully, her true motivation to travel to Imladris was because she wanted to do something more with herself than sitting on the sandy beach, isolated from most of Arda, left to dream about the other places in the world and the adventures she could be having. Of course, even she knew it was preposterous to want these things at such a young age of thirty-three. There would be no chance for real freedom until she was at least fifty and grown, but more or less until she either found herself in Aman or bound to another Elf.

A cold spray of water found her right leg, and she glanced to the side to see what had caused such a thing to happen. She could not believe she had spent so long and gotten so into her thinking that they were now passing over a rather slender stone bridge, with a huge waterfall to their right. Silaerín gazed up at the cliff summit, at the point where the water spilled over the edge, and her jaw dropped in awe. She had seen many natural occurrences with water, from horrible storms to high tides, cesspools and hot streams, but never had she seen something so breathtaking before. The pure majesty of Ulmo's creation was nothing compared to the force it held as it thundered down the cliff and into the frothing river of water below.

"My lady..." Galdor called to her, drawing her attention way from the waterfall. He nodded silently, motioning for her to look ahead. There she found something even more visually spectacular than the waterfall to her right, which was a big accomplishment. Deep within the hidden valley stood the Last Homely House, partially hidden by trees and plants and set against the colors of the early setting sun. The structures sprawled out in multiple levels with a grand magnificent opulence that only the Elves could master, though most of the structure was still hidden behind the dense tree cover.

Silaerín smiled to herself. Already, she could tell that this would be a wonderful place to learn. Silaerín then spoke, rather quietly as she was still too mystified by the sight before her. "It is beautiful."

Her expression earned a light chorus of laughter from the accompanying Elves, and Galdor glanced at her. "I believe I said that very thing when I first traveled here, though I must point out that you will soon begin to miss the sea breeze and warm sun."

She did not reply to Galdor, her eyes slowly going over her surroundings again, though she truthfully did not think that she would ever miss the sea. On the journey she had thought she would, but not she was not so sure of that. Of course, this was only upon her first impressions of Imladris, but she knew she would love it here as long as the inhabitants of the realm were friendly. And for some odd reason, she felt as though it should not have been Galdor accompanying her and saying such things to her. Galdor should not have been the one giving her the information she wished about Imladris, or sharing of his own personal experiences when he first arrived in Imladris. It should have been her father who now rode beside her, giving her his own brief lessons on the history of Imladris instead of her grandfather's emissary. Her father was the one who should have smiled along with her as she made a fool of herself by gazing open-mouthed at the city.

Why had he not come anyway? It was more like him to accompany her wherever she went so he could breath down her neck and tell her what she was doing wrong, but on this trip he had been detained for some odd reason. Her grandfather had said it was to do with urgent business in the Isle of the Falas, so she had left it at his word. She had no reason not to believe him, but the fact that her father had not even bid her farewell did not sit well in her stomach.

For Elbereth's sake, she should have at least been sharing this with someone from her family! Not with Galdor, no matter how much she liked him, and even though she silently wished her father were more like him.

Silaerín steeled herself from the now heavy feeling upon her heart. There was no reason to be worrying about this now... she was Imladris. She sighed and found herself listening to the prevalent chatter amongst the traveling Elves, not really caring what was being said or if she was being spoken too. All she needed was noise to take the visions in her mind away. Usually, she would go out to the beach and sit in the sand, listening to the rise and fall of the crashing waves on the shore when she started to think such things about her father, letting the dreadful and difficult thoughts drown in the waves, and then hope they were carried off to the sea.

Finally, they made it past the gates, and one of the other guards traveling with them helped her from her horse. Silaerín steadied herself for a moment, trying to gain some semblance of functionality in her legs before even thinking about moving or looking up around her. But once she did, she was overcome by the beauty all over again. Exploring would be such fun in this place.

"Galdor!"

Her attention was drawn from her continuous gaze of the grounds to where the strong voice had called out to the Elf. The person who had called to him was rather a sight to see from his long golden hair, and slightly taller and more imposing frame than most other Elves. He glided down the steps from the main house, taking very long, confident strides. A bright smile spread on his features as he embraced Galdor in a quick welcome. She knew that Lord Elrond and his advisor Erestor were both dark-haired Elves, so it could not be one of them, and yet this gold-haired ellon had a presence about him, stating that he was quite noble and commanded a large amount of respect.

"Mae govannen, Glorfindel." Galdor said.

The Balrog slayer Glorfindel? It could not be him. He had passed on and been sent to the Halls, and Mandos very rarely restored any Elf so that they could go back to Middle-earth. There was no way that this was Glorfindel of Gondolin. But then again, perhaps that was why he seemed to require such a great deal of respect.

"Have you brought us any good news?" this supposed 'Glorfindel' asked. "Please tell me that you have, for I do not wish to be in council for all of your time here."

Galdor sighed, "It depends upon what you classify as bad and good."

"I do not like it when you start with statements like that one, mellon," the golden-haired Elf replied, his piercing brown eyes falling upon her then. His face dropped and he turned to Galdor. "Where is Nenvír?"

"He was detained with matters in Mithlond," Galdor responded quietly, glancing at her almost quickly, as though he was not sure what to say in the matter. As though she would know the diplomatic way of coming up with an excuse! After all, she had been lied to, and told that he had a problem in the Falas to attend to, not on the coast.

Glorfindel sighed and let a large, sincere smile cross his face as he looked at her, "I should not worry about the news you bring then...I suppose if Círdan is letting his granddaughter out of the protection of the Havens, then the state of affairs of the world are not so horrible."

Galdor nodded his head and smiled. "True, mellon nín... My lady, this is Lord Glorfindel. He resides here in Imladris and serves as Lord Elrond's advisor on issues of defense and the guard."

"My lord," she responded politely, curtsying lowly before him. Silaerín could not bring herself to look directly into his eyes, it was just too disconcerting for her to do that with any new acquaintance, much less a lord of another Elven realm. What would she do when she actually met Lord Elrond, if she could not handle Lord Glorfindel?

Glorfindel chuckled lightly, "Welcome, my Lady Silaerín. I am very glad that you could come here to learn from us, even though I only speak for myself."

That did not sound too promising. Did Lord Elrond not wish to have her here? Silaerín sighed and met his eyes briefly, but it was diverted by the Elves now descending the stairs Glorfindel had come down. There was Lord Elrond, a circlet of mithril atop his head of dark brown hair, dressed in rich robes of luxurious fabrics and colors. He walked smoothly, though there was a slight stiffness in the way he moved, not usually seen in Elves. Perhaps it had to do with the slight amounts of mortal blood flowing within him that made him do such a thing? Or was it because of a characteristic he had picked up as a child?

Silaerín sighed, and found that even though she held so many questions that needed answering from him, her attentiveness moved quickly to the regal elleth on his arm. She had a light golden hair, more evidence from a Sindar background than a Noldo. Long and beautiful it was, wrapped in the delicate circlet and chains of fine metals. The Lady Celebrían's gown was of the finest weave as well, and of the deepest wine color, offsetting her porcelain skin and pale eyes. A beauty she was. As a matter of fact, they both were equally as lovely as they made their way to her, and it only made Silaerín wonder more what Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel looked like in their visages. Perhaps she would chance a sighting of them while she was here?

They stopped before her, and Lord Elrond looked at her curiously for a moment, then smiled slightly. "Welcome to Imladris, Lady Silaerín."

"Thank you, my lord," Silaerín replied quietly, again unable to meet his eyes. That was until she felt soft fingers beneath her chin, lifting her head so that she gazed up, though she found that it was Lady Celebrían standing before her, not Lord Elrond. Silaerín took a deep breath and let it out of her lungs slowly. This was one of the most frightening things she had ever done before... meeting the lords and ladies of other realms... and she was not very sure she wanted to do this as a regular occurrence in her life.

"My lord, the contingent from Mithlond has arrived into the city."

Elrond looked up from the volumes of parchments strewn about his desk and let out a long sigh. Still no closer to an idea upon how he should deal with the problems of the world, he was glad for a slight diversion from his work. Nodded his head and stood up, adjusting his robes over his body slightly before speaking to the maid. "Very well. Have you alerted Lady Celebrían yet that our visitors have arrived?"

"Aye, my lord, she is the one who bid me to come tell you," the maid replied.

"Elladan and Elrohir?" He questioned, walking towards the door where the maid stood.

"They are nowhere to be seen, my lord. Lady Celebrían said they were with Lord Celeborn, but he has since returned without them," she said and stepped out of the door, letting him pass by her.

Elrond nodded his head and smiled slightly. "I had imagined that they would disappear when our guests would arrive."

The maid laughed, "They have become very proficient at disappearing for everything, if I may say so, my lord."

"You may say so," Elrond chuckled, motioning for her to walk with him down the long corridors. "However, I wish that they would outgrow it."

She nodded her head and smiled, as they both found Celebrían standing at the exit of the house waiting for Elrond to arrive. The maid looked between both of them and sighed, bending in a slight curtsy. "I will go make a final check to see that the guest suites are ready for the visitors."

"Thank you," he replied and turned to Celebrían. "Where are your sons?"

"Where do you think they are?" Celebrían asked, raising a challenging eyebrow. "You know where they go when they do not wish to be seen."

Elrond sighed heavily, "Remind me to speak with them about this. They are fifty now, they should not behave like children."

"You could not punish them even if your life depended upon it, meleth," she said with a soft smile. "You love your sons too much. And I do recall another, much older and wiser ellon who is rather proficient at hiding from my mother."

He laughed, "You forget Erestor, meleth. I hide from him as well."

Elrond gazed out of the opening the stood before, watching Glorfindel greet Galdor quickly and exchange a few words. Glorfindel then noticed the elleth standing nearby, and Elrond could see his face drop. The young elleth shifted uncomfortably after she saw the look upon his face. He would have to speak to Glorfindel about doing such things around her and then asking about her father in such a displeased way. Elrond had found it hard to believe that any child of Círdan could act in such ways that Nenvír did, but he had seen how controlling and angry he was at many councils. Had this been why Círdan was so insistent on his granddaughter coming to Imladris to learn from him?

The thought angered him, if that was the case, that someone would treat their own child in such a way that she was better sent to Imladris than remaining with her family.

He sighed again and watched as Glorfindel redeemed himself with a truly sincere smile to the child, welcoming her to Imladris. Elrond watched as the Elfling curtsied lowly, her eyes remaining fixed on the ground even after she had straightened herself up from her show of respect. If anything was certain, this elleth was very, very timid to not even be able look at Glorfindel. Everyone was able to gaze upon Glorfindel, something that had chagrinned Elrond for many years now.

"She looks very much like Lord Círdan." Celebrían said, slipping her arm in his.

Elrond nodded his head, looking over the very obviously Sindar elleth. Her hair was such a pale blonde it looked almost white, though her skin was darker than most of her kind, but that was to be expected with her residence at the Havens. All of the Falathrim had darker skin than most, which almost looked peculiar with their light silver-blonde hair. But he had to agree with Celebrían, the elleth looked much more like Círdan than her father, though she still retained a great femininity about her.

"She looks so fearful, Elrond," Celebrían said quietly, gazing at her, "No Elfling her age acts like that. They are nearly always playful and gregarious, curious about everything. Look at our sons."

"Our sons are oddities, Celebrían," Elrond replied with a smile. "But you must take into account who her grandfather is. He is very controlled and quiet much of the time. And secondly, I would not be one to pass up the idea that her father has had something to do with this."

She sighed, "I suppose you are right, meleth. We should not even be drawing conclusions yet, I think. She is far from her home, and is probably very frightened about that. Let us go down to welcome her."

He glanced at her and started down the stairs, Celebrían following closely. When they finally stood before her, and he welcomed the Elfling to Imladris, she responded with a quiet thank you. Her remained fixed on the ground, Elrond growing slightly more angry. This was more than the elleth being frightened by her surroundings. Just the feeling he was receiving from her, told him that this behavior was often expected of her elsewhere, even if there was a degree of nervousness as well.

Celebrían dropped her arm from his and stepped in front of him. She placed her fingers beneath the child's chin and lifted so that her eyes were finally visible to them. Celebrían smiled warmly, and placed her hand on Silaerín's cheek. "Come with me, pen neth. You must be weary of your travels and in need of rest."

Silaerín did not reply, but another older elleth stepped forward. "I am her handmaid, my lady. I should tend to her."

"Do not worry," Celebrían replied with another smile. "You are probably weary as well. My handmaids will see that you are taken care of."

Elrond sighed as he watched his wife disappear with the child. This was going to take some time to get to the bottom of the Elfling's problems, but he would do just that. Círdan had foresight, and must have known that by sending her here she would receive just what she needed to break her of her timid nature and nurture her in an accepting environment.

He turned to Glorfindel and Galdor, "Welcome, Galdor!"

"Thank you, my lord," Galdor replied. "It is always a joy to travel here."

Elrond joined them. "Please, go take your leave now. I wish to speak to you about some things not having to do with state, but it can wait until later this evening after the meal."

Galdor nodded his head, and bowed his head slightly. "My lord, I know what it is you wish to ask me about, and I will tell you as much as I can. However, I will now take you up on the offer for rest. It has been a long journey."

The Elf left Elrond and Glorfindel standing alone, and Elrond turned to his advisor. "Did you sense that the child's behavior was odd?"

"I did, Elrond." Glorfindel nodded his head. "But I should say I expected as much. You have seen the way Nenvír acts."

"Aye, that is true," Elrond agreed and looked towards the house. "Well, I shall be heading back. There is still much work to be done before the meal."

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Hithaeglir- Sindarin name of Misty Mountains.

Ellon/ellyn- male Elf (s)

Elleth/ellyth- female Elf (s)

Mae Govannen- Well met.

Mellon nin- my friend.

Meleth- love

Pen neth- little one, young one

More on age: 33 Elvish years would equal 12 Human according to my calculations.

Calendar: In Rivendell Reckoning (the Elvish calendar). So this date corresponds to Feb.11, the beginning of the season of "Stirring".

A/N: Sorry about the long wait, life has been absolutely crazy lately. In notes for this chapter: At the time of this chapter, Galadriel and Celeborn were not yet the rulers of Lothlórien. It has been suggested that they stayed in Imladris for a good amount of time after the marriage of Celebrían and Elrond, as they lived rather nomadic lives, not having a realm of their own to reside in.