Authors' Note: Well, what can I say? You all know how much I love you and I apologise a thousand times for the wait you had to endure between this chapter and the last. As I have said before, I was walking in the depths of Mordor with major family and personal issues that have kept me away from my computer. If you were in my shoes you would understand immediately the amount of stress and grief I have gone through, so please keep all reviews extra cheerful and know that I will always endeavour to give you a story that is well written and well loved. your Whyte Ivy
Disclaimer: I do not own nor am I affiliated with any of the Lord of the Rings enterprises and many characters/places are taken from J.R.R. Tolkien's masterpiece. I gain no profit from their inclusion. Don't bother suing me, I have no money! Also this work is copyrighted in its entirety and you may NOT copy ANY part for websites etc. or personal/public use (including your own fanfic) without receiving an assent from its author (me!).
DEDICATION: To all who have waited so long for this next chapter and have not given up hope of its final completion. (and of course my beautiful beta Nienna!)
NOTE: words encompassed by these [ ] are telepathic communications.
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To Câlavendë the voice of a Maia could sound no sweeter than the voice welcoming her to Lothlorien.
Come child, I shall be waiting.
The voice withdrew like a wave retreating back from the shore, though the illumination of her hope faded only gradually, the one reminder that what she had felt and heard was not a dream. A soft purr emanated from Kellipson and reverberated around her. It was then that she felt the unmistakable change in the air.
On the Naith to say that everything lived, was an understatement. The very air seemed to vibrate with an undercurrent that breathed power. This undercurrent was entwined in the wind to the leaves, the leaves to the bough, the bough to the tree, the tree to the earth, the earth to the water in a tapestry of amazing simplicity and yet overwhelming complexity. To Câlavend's 'sight,' it was like looking at a web made of flowing gold, green, white, and silver, and all in various hues. This land was protected, because it was loved, and that love made the protection even greater. Câlavendë was certain that one of great power resided within to keep it so.
Haldir tensed briefly as the Lady relayed a swift message, but its contents relaxed him somewhat and he breathed deeply the wholesome air of his home.
"We are almost there," Haldir stated and for a moment true joy showed in his eyes, yet Câlavendë, blind, missed seeing his eyes sparkle like sunshine on water as they journeyed on.
What surprised Câlavendë was the fact that she now travelled upon flat ground. The grass was smooth and felt strange underneath feet used to endless walking of uneven and often stony earth. She felt that here, within this Golden Realm, no-one could mourn the loss of Summer or Spring for all seasons were glorious in their own grandeur. Her footsteps quickened as her own heart began to sing in anticipation. She keenly felt the soft caress of the wind and the sun warming her skin when it penetrated the canopy far above. On one such occasion she found that they had walked into a large open space and beside her Rúmil sighed in contentment.
"Ah Cerin Amroth, never will I forsake thy peace and beauty."
Câlavend's senses perceived the change in the area surrounding her. The air seemed to fall reverent and heavy with the weight of time passing, and the earth remembered an age long past. Here was a sacred place and unbidden the story of the Lord Amroth and his beloved Nimrodel arose to her mind.
"No tidings elven folk have heard of Amroth evermore," the last line of the Lay of Nimrodel fell softly from her lips. Haldir glanced at her quickly before walking more purposefully within the glade. "Amroth built and ruled my city in ages past, though he was lost to the sea that fateful day and Nimrodel was never found."
Rúmil cleared his throat.
"You are well versed in lore my lady. All what you have said is true to what the bards tell us and here is the place where once in the Eldar days Amroth's high house was built."
Câlavendë could sense the hill rising in front of her and the two rings of trees crowning it. There also stood a mallyrn, the largest of them all, in the centre and high within its branches was a white talan. If only she had sight she could have seen the grass coloured a rich emerald green, that was at once all greens and yet utterly different, covering the hill. She could have smiled over how the outer circle of trees had bark of snowy white with leaves of silver and pearl, and the inner were the mallyrn of grey trunks and golden leaves. Yet this she missed, only able to see a ghost of what the world around her entailed.
Along with the distinctly earthy scent Câlavendë could smell a sweet aroma that with a stab of remorse reminded her of the Vine of Dol Amroth's flower.
"It is strange," she hesitated, unsure. "I can swear in this glade is the Vine's flower."
Rúmil laughed lightly and gently plucked a pale bud from the ground at his feet, gently twirling it between thumb and forefinger. "It is the niphredil. Always do they bloom at this place alongside the golden elanor and cover this hill with their beauty. The elleths of the city often weave wreaths of niphredil flowers and sometimes it is used as a token of love. Many I have received and not returned the ardour of the giver."
She snorted softly. Ellon! Always stroking their ego's among other things…
"Tell me, lady, how do you tell an elleth that you do not care if they have pined for you for years, or saved themselves for you or even embroidered cloths for our children, without giving them a good shake." He genuinely seemed baffled and she was hard pressed not to laugh.
"Well," she cleared her throat. "Always tell them in person, gently, but firmly. You only shake an elleth in extreme cases for example when they begin stealing your shirts to sleep with. You could always have your brother, the March Warden, with you so they do not feel so inclined to appeal your decision. He would be more than glad to tell them where to place their affections and it will not be somewhere pleasant."
Rúmil smiled wryly at her words and an idea formed within in his thoughts. He lightly pulled on Câlavend's sleeve. "Here, I want to show you something."
Câlavendë, curious, followed him carefully as they made their way up the hill. Her staff seemed to quiver each time it struck the ground and she shivered with a queer sense that she walked the same path as someone else had a long time ago. A voice called to her from above and she realised, a little foolishly, that she was perilously close to walking straight into the great tree at the top of the hill.
"Climb up here using the ladder at the base of the tree." Rúmil instructed her and she eventually stood beside him on the large white flet above the Golden Wood. A sudden gust of wind swirled her cloak around her as she silently stood there and, within it, she thought she could hear the very distant sound of waves crashing on the shore and the cry of the gulls. Weathering the storm of emotions this sound brought to her mind, she was left wondering if she would ever stop hearing the sound that echoed in her blood and resounded in her ears.
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My feet savour the wet sand giving way beneath my feet as I wander slowly along the beach at dusk just below the hide tide line. The wind, tasting of salt, whips my hair so strands fall across my face like red welts and twists my shift out and around my form. I jump back and laugh softly as a particularly swift wave rolls in and washes over my feet, its coldness sending my skin to bristle slightly. The haze begins rolling in from the ocean making the coast seem misty and ethereal, Ulmo, Lord of Waters, must be sulking somewhere in the deeps. My blood sings as I stop to face the endless sea. I had never been more sure than at this moment that the fluid that coursed through my veins ran with seawater and wind, not the liquid red of the Eldar.
Father had told me once, when I was an elleth constantly running down to the beach at any opportunity, that it was a part of the Firstborn to long for the sea because to cross it meant to reside forever in the healing lands of Valinor. Yet my longing had never been like that. I loved the ocean itself, not what lay beyond the horizon. I loved it because of the way it was temperamental in mood and consistent in rhythm. No matter what would happen in the world the waves would always keep crashing on the shore, keep wearing away at the rocks, keep rising and falling in endless ahhhhhs, shhhhhs and booms like the falling of a hundred maces. I did not long to cross the sea to the other realm like my family. I wanted just to stay endlessly close to it.
I know how my people valiantly resist the siren call haunting them, voiced by the cry of the gulls and the sound of the breakers. It was their choice to live by the sea with the rest of their kin and together decide when to dismiss this Middle Earth for the land closer to the stars, but it rips at their hearts and the pain reflects in their eyes.
I stand transfixed as a gull makes a swift dive and skims over the waves before wheeling overhead in a blaze of white. It calls mournfully and turns twice before making its way out to sea.
What would it be like to have wings like yours?
Ahead a little sand crab walks its curious sideways walk into the sea and disappears beneath an incoming wave. I choose a strand of sea kelp twisting its smooth surface around my hand admiring its varying colours before letting it fall to remain on the sand once more.
The marina is not far ahead, but somewhere behind me a sweet voice shouts my name. I resist the urge to keep walking as if I had not heard her and reluctantly turn my back on the white sails and tall masts of the Dol Amroth quays to run back to where my sister waits. I had lingered too long.
On the wind I hear the faint cry of the gull and the sea sighs in return.
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She tasted the salt on her lips, waiting for Rúmil to speak and was touched when he began to describe what they could see from their high place.
"To the south you are able to see the city of Caras Galadhon rise out of the Golden Wood, as the great mallyrns in which our city is built grow tall and strong upon a hill. From there lies the power that you feel within this realm. We turn eastward," his hand gestured slowly, "and you can witness the forest extending on like a carpet of green and gold, even Anduin the Great is like liquid silver winding its way beneath the trees. Further out is the southern reaches of Mirkwood, and Dol Guldur, where evil dwells still. To the north west the wood stretches far, but beyond that is Moria where minions of the nameless one have gathered and overrun the deep halls. We stand now in Lórien, a place where we are both between the hammer and the anvil, yet we are not beaten by both." His voice became softer, almost pleading.
"We have the protection of a higher power and also of our own skilled warriors, the wardens, which keeps this land free from evil influence or interference. It is our love for our realm and its inhabitants that we are so watchful and quick to seek out the enemy rather than the friend. It is our honour and our duty to more often lay hand on the bow string rather than that of the harp, perhaps it is also our curse.
'For the Firstborn, the Eldar, death is irrelevant, but it is not until we deal the fatal stoke upon another that we realise just what death is and how close we are to it in battle." Rúmil suddenly turned to Câlavendë as if trying to make her see something clearer. "Ask any of us of our devotion and the reply would be the same. We would die for this realm."
Still confused as to why he was telling her this she nodded. Could it be that he was trying to show her a world she could not see, but was about to enter? She was not certain. What she did know for sure was that Rúmil spoke truthfully and she could understand the love for his realm for did she not also feel the same for a white city by the sea.
Câlavendë tried not to start in surprise as a cold voice sounded from beside her. She had not even noticed Haldir's entrance and she wondered if he had been with them the entire time. He stood proudly, storm tossed eyes scanning that which he protected.
"Upon Lothlorien there is no stain. There is no imperfection in the Lady's realm. We risk our immortal lives because of the world that is given to the Eldar who reside within is alike to that of ages past."
Realisation dawned. They are trying to tell me I don't belong here. Câlavendë had never felt so keenly aware that she was out of place in this realm of perfection. Wardens were giving their lives for this utopia and she had a deformity never experienced by her kind. In Caras Galadhon she would find no joy, surrounded by that which she could not be. Feeling she was the stain on this perfect world Câlavendë resolved to meet with the Lady, heal Kellipson and be on her way as quickly as her feet would carry her. Perhaps the wind would lead her over the mountains and to Eraidor.
Rúmil, to put it mildly, felt like pushing Haldir of the flet. What had begun as just a way for Câlavendë to see why Haldir and the wardens acted so harshly towards her when all they were doing was trying to protect something they loved, Haldir had completely ruined. His kind heart could sense she now thought that they were trying to make her leave because she was cursed and his mind tried to think fast enough to salvage what was left of his plan. Rúmil was about to rephrase, but Câlavendë had silently returned to the ladder and was morosely climbing down.
If looks were daggers Rúmil could have seriously injured Haldir, who raised his shoulders as if to say, 'what did I do?'. Rúmil groaned aloud in exasperation and stomped over to the ladder descending swiftly so that he jumped the last few metres to the ground. Haldir could hear Câlavendë murmur that they had best make haste to Caras Galadhon and for the life for him could not understand why Rúmil was so angry.
Haldir, March Warden of Lorien, breathed a sigh of relief when they stood on the white stone path at the brink of the fosse surrounding Caras Galadhon.
"Home."
That one word held so much promise. The journey from Cerin Amroth had been extremely tense with Rúmil glaring at Haldir, Haldir ignoring Câlavendë and Câlavendë not talking at all. All had welcomed the sight of the City of the Trees, even if Câlavendë only saw a vague outline, because it meant an end of what had been a most eventful journey. Before them the fosse dipped deep and the cities living ramparts of tree, vine and stone, that at first glance looked to be just a green wall, rose up from the other side. Behind the ramparts the city could be seen and heard within the many mallyrn that grew high beyond sight. Singing and gentle laughter echoed through the trees and lanterns glinted merrily from heights unknown. Haldir lead them westward along the perimeter of Caras Galadhon and Câlavendë was surprised at how far she walked yet the city still rose away to her left. Eventually they came to a white bridge and crossed to stand in front of the cities great gates framed on both sides by the wall.
Living boughs entwined alongside the beautiful and incredibly strong silver mithril made a gate that was at once striking to behold yet powerful past measure. Lanterns, that burned both night and day, swung from the top of the gate like a string of pearls and each side mirrored the other in perfect proportions. The branches had formed so that if one stood back from the gates two trees could be seen, one gold and one silver on each side. Telperion and Laurelin, the Two Trees of the Valar. The gates were well made by Eldar smiths from long ago and very tall, but only showed a mere shadow of the trees that had stood in the blessed realm. Strength seemed to radiate outwards from it but was tempered by a calmer, a more wise power beneath.
Haldir gently placed a callused hand upon the gates and murmured softly. It opened without a sound and, as they walked through, it seemed also by no living hand. Câlavendë felt an icy finger of doubt trace her spine as the gate closed with a soft rumble behind her and warnings arose in her mind that this city could be both fair and deadly at the same time, just like an edhel blade.
Haldir turned and if Câlavendë could have seen him at that moment she would have seen the Warden become the ellon for a rare moment. So swift was his movement his cloak spread out behind him and his silver hair glinted with both lamp and sunlight. He bowed extravagantly, his eyes twinkling with sudden merriment. The clasp at his shoulder shone brightly and he seemed to gleam with inner power.
"Welcome to Caras Galadhon!" he stated proudly. "You stand now in the city of the Galadhrim, wisely ruled over by the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. It is the Lady of Lórien's wish to speak with our guest immediately and I shall lead you there anon."
Rúmil smiled slightly at his brother's antics, understanding his fey mood at being home again after so long. True joy was an emotion he rarely displayed. Turning to the silent elleth beside him, Rúmil clasped Câlavend's slender hand in one of his gloved. He felt her start in surprise and perhaps fear.
Slowly he bowed over her hand.
"And it is here I must make my exit and unfortunately take my leave of you. I believe this has been a most … interesting encounter and by chance we may meet again, Lady. May you find peace and rest, and," he added with a gorgeous smile, "healing for that Ocelot within our fair city." Câlavendë tried bravely to believe his words of 'peace' and 'rest' and failed miserably. He released her gently when she did not reply and left with a look at Haldir that said that they would speak long and deep together later. He lightly ran up a winding stair at the base of one of the great mallyrns and was soon out of sight. Shouts of welcome could be heard far above the two now left alone at the cities gates.
Tension brimmed between Haldir and Câlavendë, and the latter felt that if he did not speak soon she would leave Caras Galadhon so fast she would be far away before the dust from her boots had settled, an audience with the lady or not.
Haldir's mood had sobered and he looked now at the elleth in front of him. As an outsider she was truly going to find it hard to integrate within this perfect society with its ancient customs and almost allowed himself to feel joy at the thought of watching her try and fail. His heart lifted suddenly, perhaps in shame the stain would not remain long upon the plain.
"Follow me," he said suddenly and Câlavendë recognised that the voice was now that of the March Warden and she shivered in its coldness and authority.
They wound their way between the trunks of the great mallyrns, up many stairs and winding paths till they came to a wide glade where a shimmering fountain fell into a silver basin. From that basin a white stream flowed out between the trees. All around they were surrounded by the lamps of the Galadhrim soft and inviting, shining on the soft grey boles of the mallyrn, adding to the wan sunlight that infiltrated through the canopy. Three edhel, with cloaks the colour of new snow and in mail that gleamed as they moved, stood beside a great winding stair that started at the base of the largest mallyrn. Haldir stepped forward and Câlavendë felt them bow slightly in acknowledgement of his rank. One blew on an ornately carved horn and the note was loud and pure. From the heights above it was answered three times and they were motioned to ascend.
As they climbed higher, talans and tree pathways spread out from their stairway in all directions and they began to meet others crossing their path. They always greeted Haldir warmly; especially the elleths who seemed to falter a little in their attentions under his stern gaze and Haldir always answered them with a cordial pleasantry in what could be said as an annoyingly arrogant manner. Their eyes seemed to linger on the slight elleth beside him whose face was hidden beneath the shadow of a deep hood and no sooner had they left when the word had begun to spread about a mysterious elleth, with a shadowed face and ornate staff, who had arrived unannounced and was at this moment making her way to speak with the Lord and Lady.
Câlavendë felt their stares and she shrank away from them. It had been such a long time since she had been around a large group of her own kin and fear coursed through her at the thought of their curiosity. It would be all too soon before they found out the truth and the curiosity would turn to disdain. She almost screamed wondering what she had done to offend the Valar so that they allowed such behaviour among their beloved children.
They climbed the last flight of stairs and entered a large hall built in the branches of the great mallyrn with sunlight piercing trhough the boughs above. Filled with this warm light the room glowed and many seats were positioned around the chamber, yet all but two were empty.
On two great chairs canopied by a living branch sat the Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel. Both were clad in a white that seemed to have its own luminosity and wore an elaborate circlet, one of mithril and the other gold. The Lady had hair the colour of the golden sun and the Lord, the hue of platinum. Their age could not be guessed as their beauty was timeless, yet within the deep pools of their eyes wisdom could be seen that had been gained through much sorrow, toil and passing of time. Their eyes were kind, but stern were their features except for Galadriel who at the sight of her March Warden and Câlavendë smiled almost unnoticeably.
Standing within this hall Câlavendë felt overwhelmed with the presence that had enfolded her as she had stepped upon the Naith, and subconsciously knew that inside this very chamber the source of the power dwelt. Like a very strong light in what was once a dark room the presence was almost a physical push to her body and she felt she needed to take a step back. Haldir noticed the way she stopped herself from withdrawing back a pace and his once passive features fell into a smirk. So she should be intimidated.
Câlavendë reluctantly pulled back her hood, as she knew it was impolite to be masked in front of sovereigns in their own realm. She smoothed her hair and tucked tendrils that had sprung free behind her small pointed ears. In the same room as these perfect Eldar she hated looking so unclean with mud still caked on her boots and dirt on her clothes and cloak.
They walked towards the Lord and Lady and stopped as both Celeborn and Galadriel gracefully stood to greet them warmly.
"Lady Câlavendë, daughter of Súl, from Dol Amroth we formally welcome you to Caras Galadhon as a guest of this realm. March Warden, I also welcome you home. You have been too long at the borders."
Câlavendë felt the deep and melodious voice of Galadriel wash over her like a wave. Haldir placed a hand over his heart and bowed deeply towards his superiors. Câlavendë, not knowing the traditional structure or customs, resorted to the etiquette of Dol Amroth. She touched her forehead and then placed the same hand on her heart and bowed low as a sign of respect and acquiescence. Kellipson whined softly within his cloth pouch.
Celeborn acknowledged them with a regal nod and watched with amusement as Haldir rose and Câlavendë followed a moment later, obviously taking her lead from Haldir.
"Lady Calavende you hail from Dol Amroth, do you not?" Celeborn asked his eyes warm.
Câlavendë prayed her voice would still work. "Yes, my lord," her voice wavered but held.
"Long days have passed since we have seen our kin from that fair city. We wish to speak with you more." As he sat back again he noted how her jaw tightened as obviously he had unknowingly struck some hidden cord.
Galadriel had looked long and hard into the face of Calavende and now turned her keen gaze to her March Warden and it was his turn to flinch. He cast down his eyes as he saw her disappointment.
"You disobeyed our laws March Warden." Haldir's blood ran cold at first at the thought of punishment and then iced over at the thought that she would chastise him in front of Câlavendë. "I sent no word to you of the fate of Lady Câlavendë and you decided to take it upon yourself to take offence to a condition that is beyond your comprehension to endure," Câlavendë blushed deeply at this reference to her blindness. "Will you in the future let such arrogance and prejudice override the laws that govern us? Will it be on the borders or in battle where you risk the lives of those around you? You were foolish and I was ashamed that you, highest commander of the Wardens, behaved in such a way that is against all our teachings. Therefore I have decided that for one enqui you are stripped of your title and relieved of your duties. At the end of this time you will have to prove to us why you should remain the March Warden and if you fail, the title will be forfeit. Do not abuse the leadership you have been given, Haldir. I shall not be so lenient again. You stand chastised and forewarned."
Galadriel's words, spoken in a tone that was calm, but also deeply commanding, cut into him like tiny knives. Added to this was the fact he was shamed in front of the one he had tried hard to turn away. He wanted to appeal her judgements, but reprimanded had not the right.
"I expect you to make amends to our guest for this injustice, Haldir," she prompted, one eyebrow elegantly raised.
Haldir stiffly turned to Câlavendë, jaw tight.
"Please accept this humble apology and forgive my unjust, though provoked, behaviour. I hope that our encounter has not adversely affected you in any way, Lady Súliell," he said through thin lips.
Câlavendë, digusted by his insincere speech, allowed anger and steel to lace her voice.
"Your apology, March Warden, though not heartfelt, is acknowledged and forgiven are all your grievances towards myself. The slight, however, will not be forgotten." She knew she stood on a precarious edge, inSúlting Haldir before his own Lord and Lady, but she would not let him think that he could be absolved from all wrong doing with an apology.
[I do think, my lord, that he has much to learn from this elleth.]
[As do I, beloved.]
"This event I know will not occur for a second time!"
"Never, my lady. I swear it shall not happen again." Haldir uttered with upmost sincerity, bowing low.
Galadriel's tone lightened.
"You may wait outside for now Haldir, my Lord and I will converse with you shortly about the activity on our borders, there is much to discuss and I know you have much to report. For now we wish to speak with Câlavendë," she paused, watching the elleth's face carefully. "… alone."
In astonishment Câlavendë felt her heart painfully skip a beat. From inside the cloth the Ocelot shifted.
Haldir bowed low again and retreated proudly from the chamber to stand outside. All could hear the sickening sound of one fist hitting unyielding wood.
[You do not think I was too harsh?]
[No. You just wounded his pride. In this way he will learn that even as March Warden he is not above the laws that govern our city. It sends a warning to all our wardens as well.]
Celeborn turned his gaze again upon the now nervous elleth.
"Please, sit with us," he murmured.
Feeling as if her knees would give out at any moment she allowed herself to walk towards a seat that had been set aside for her. Both the Lord and Lady sat down elegantly. Her staff hit the seat's legs with a loud 'thwack' and she grimaced at the harsh sound in the silent chamber. Concentrating hard on her every movement in relation to what she sensed she was able to sit gracefully without mishap, laying her staff to one side. She clasped her hands in her lap tightly, fear gripping her heart. In the silence she could hear the whisper of a leaf falling to the floor.
"We understand you hail from Dol Amroth. For far too long we have heard only murmurs of thought and action from that city, isolated in our realm as we are. Tell us, what news, Lady Câlavendë," Celeborn asked, leaning slightly forward in anticipation of her response. He did not have the power to see the minds of others like Galadriel did, and so he relied more on what he heard from messengers and long conversations with his beloved.
Câlavendë swallowed nervously. "I am afraid all news I may have is not recent nor perhaps relevant any more," silence again claimed the hall and she felt this as a gesture to go on. "When I … departed from Dol Amroth it was after Prince Imrahil's Captain and close friend, Lord Anardil, was murdered. A suspect was chosen and condemned, but I know not of the punishment," the lie stung her lips and burnt her throat. "The Corsairs of Umbar have been harrying the coast of late and we have sent many ships to attack those who lie in wait upon the sea. The banner of a white ship on blue has flown in battle upon the ocean for many years of men. I believe the Prince, though wise, seems to be poorly advised by one I find to have much venom in his sugared words. No others feel the same. We survive within our high walls, though our numbers are many. That is all I know."
[She started with a lie yet ended with severe truth. Such a contradiction is uncommon. Should I press her?]
Barely noticeable Galadriel shook her head before she spoke.
"And what of you, Câlavendë? You travel alone, which we find admirable yet foolish in these uncertain times, that much is known. Mystery surrounds thy form and I feel that you are like a breath of wind. Hold you to close and you will twist away vehemently, yet set you free and your power fails. Why is it that you are so far from home? Who and where is your kin?"
This at least Câlavendë knew the answer too.
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The sound of running footsteps can just be heard over many voices and the strands of jovial music being played by minstrels. Those who are dancing, twirl about majestically and I watch as my sister weaves her way through the crowd, nodding gracefully to those who murmur well wishes. Face beaming in happiness, Pelladiel laughs as she embraces me close, her midnight curls smelling of salt and mint.
"You have come. I was so afraid that some tear to a royal under garment would keep you away. Look," her gaze shifts from the many faces talking by the walls and those who dance in the centre to the great tables laden with gourmet and exotic delights. The lighted tier of two hundred candles on a wheel hanging from the high ceiling make bejewelled dresses shine and the room turns into a kaleidoscope of moving colours. "All this is for me, and the night has yet to start." Her sweet voice rises above the hum of the revelry and I protectively notice others eyeing her in a suggestive manner. The rich blue of her gown accentuates the deepness of her eyes and perfection of her form and I know she is pleased with the amount of male attention she is receiving because of it.
"I do swear, you are the vainest elleth in all of Arda, Pella." I exclaim only half joking. Youngest of the family she has perfected the art of enamouring all to her so that she can preen under their compliments and use their love to her advantage. This party to celebrate her maturity was an example of her manipulation. Failing to accept a small ceremony like Kellipson and I, she endeared Lord Anardil to her cause and he on her behalf had gradually worked upon our parents until they agreed.
Grabbing my hand, Pella begins pulling me over to where my family stands at the edge of the great hall, conversing with those around them. Before I reach them, almost tripping over people in my forced haste, a hand snakes around my waist and a warm voice whispers into my ear.
"One would think, sister o' mine, that you arrive late just to escape the pain of welcoming stiff backed edhel and gossiping women at the beginning of this night."
I grin and turn to kiss the cheek of my brother affectionately.
"Suilad, to you too, dearest Kip." I step back, still smiling and note how well Kellipson looks in his celebration finery. Working on ships has given his broad shoulders shape and he fills out the elegant dark green tunic, which highlights the emerald of his ocean eyes. All too soon I know he will be back in peril upon the sea. Tonight he looks healthy and content with a mischievous grin upon a well-defined face. I push back a lock of his fallen onyx hair, that seems to have a deeper hue of blue to it and he catches my hand to kiss it gallantly.
"You look exquisite tonight Câla. I will not be surprised if you have company seeking ways to wear less clothing in that sewing room of yours after this finishes," he raises an eyebrow suggestively and I punch him lightly on the shoulder, smoothing the non-existent creases from my own shapely dress.
"And you, I think, will be finding a nice little balcony to haunt far away from the Lady Cesina?"
Kellipson's face paled and his body tensed.
"I thought she was not invited?"
I put my hand over my mouth to stop the laughter, as the terror on his face is bordering on downright comical. Seeing the jest he rolls his eyes, trying to ruffle my hair as I embrace him.
"Ah, Kip, you have always been my favourite brother."
"Câla, I'm your only brother," he reminds lovingly.
"Precisely." Resting my head against his chest I become sober. "How long?"
He grazes his chin across my head and whispers into my hair. "Three enqui, maybe less." I sigh, but he lifts my head with his fingertips. "Which means we have less time to prepare for the great Purple Haired Elf Extravaganza." I laugh again. It is a long running joke between us, wanting to dye three prudish lords' silver-tresses a bold violet whilst they sleep.
Pella coughs slightly and for a fleeting moment I see an emotion in her eyes I do not understand before it swiftly passes to be replaced with humour. For the moment I ignore the feeling of trepidation it causes and look behind me to find my parents, elegant in their edhel aura and bow formally before rushing into their arms.
"Daughter, what a sight for edhel eyes you make. How do you fare in your new home?"
I laugh lightly and kiss the forehead of my father. Imposing in a kingly way, he is broad shouldered and tall with a foreboding face that changes dramatically when he smiles. Slow to anger, when mad his fury is great and terrible, but he is more prone to laughing than aggression.
"You make it sound as if I have moved to Minas Tirith! The palace is wonderful Ada and I have just been proclaimed Royal Seamstress by the sovereigns of Dol Amroth," I watch as his face lights up with joy and satisfaction, "and I am treated with much respect as both elleth and seamstress. Oh Ada, the cloths I work with are of all different tones, shades, weaves and thickness and it feels so right to do what I have always loved. I am truly blessed."
He places his callused hands on either side of my face and whispers vehemently, "I always knew you had a gift and I am pleased to find you are using it well."
I lower my eyes, and he gently pushes me in the direction of the dancers.
"Go, I believe your brother is waiting for you to show these revellers the true meaning of dance."
I touch his hand momentarily before moving towards Kip who is speaking impatiently to one of the minstrels beside the dance floor. Pella is talking animatedly with Naneth, who smiles meaningfully as I pass, and again I see the strange look pass across my sister's beautiful face. I murmur greetings to those I know and wonder at the Eldar talking to the mortal humans, the edain. Talking with friendship to a man that would live only a short time in the reckoning of immortality, knowing he will age and all too soon die. So many conversations must start with, "You are much like your grandfather, child."
Eternal life does not mean the Eldar do not feel the death any less of those of the edain they have befriended in their short time upon Arda. What it does mean is that we cannot dwell on loss too long or that sorrow may consume us, fading it is called. Fading saves us from an eternity of anguish, after all forever is a long time to always grieve. Mortals say my kin are cold and heartless, but sometimes the Eldar have to be able to put aside grief or our race would no longer stay this side of the sea.
I recognise immediately the song Kip has chosen and as he leads me into the dance, for a little while I can loose myself in the rhythm and colours of music.
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Câlavendë touched her staff lightly, drawing strength from its solid weight.
"My mother is Lady Elenarya and my father Lord Súl, who are part of the last host of their kindred. Soon they all shall sail to the Undying West, but for a time have dwelt in harmony with the edain of Dol Amroth. I have two younger siblings, Kellipson and Pelladiel, the former currently serving upon the ocean under the Ship and Silver Swan, the symbol of our city. I travelled with a … friend for a time," thinking of Shaneth and his sacrifice tears shone in her eyes, but she blinked them back. "But now I journey with the wind as my guide. My Lady, by your grace, I will stay here only as long as it takes to heal this Ocelot. My Kip," the pet name for her brother fell softly from lips that suddenly refused to move. A hand seemed to have taken her heart and twisted it painfully within her chest.
[She does not tell us why she left Dol Amroth.]
Galadriel studied the sorrowful elleth before her and noted the intense inner battle to remain composed.
[Yes, there is much she leaves unsaid, but I believe it may be for her own protection. Living sightless has left her in a world of shadows.]
The Lord leaned forward, with what could have been intrigue on his usually emotionless face. "Do you suffer true blindness?"
Câlavendë clutched her hands and bravely lifted her head, concentrating on sensing the nobility before her and feeling again like her face was bathed in light from their direction.
"Yes, my lord."
"So you see nothing? As a child of the Eldar you must still be able to 'see' something."
For a moment Câlavendë could have laughed. Still so incredulous?
"I sense but do not see, my lord. It is like," she searched for a word, "…seeing the outlines of the living. It takes focus and control to even see this and I rarely 'see' this way. I rely more upon my staff and edhel senses. They have sufficed."
Galadriel nodded thoughtfully. "You see the essence of life, interesting in one so young."
Her curiosity heightened. The cause of the elleth's blindness was shrouded in mystery and Lady of the Golden Wood extended her power to probe deep into the mind of Câlavendë to see why. Different from telepathing, which was non intrusive merely a projected thought or emotion, Galadriel entered Câlavend's mind and at once was enveloped in a dreadful oppressive darkness that seemed endless. Before she could delve deeper a shrill voice screamed in fear and pain, "NO! Get OUT." The Lady withdrew sharply, her eyes narrowing in shock.
Knowing something had passed between them, Celeborn looks to his disconcerted Lady and back to Câlavendë who is breathing heavily with the palms of her hand pressed against her eyes.
When Câlavendë eventually spoke, her voice was hoarse and pleading. "I beg you my lady, to never do that again." Her head throbbed from what had felt like a glass sliver being driven into her skull then suddenly removed.
The piercing blue of Gladriel's eyes, filled with sympathy and regret. "Of course my child, you have my word."
[What happened? You look as if Fëanor himself has risen before your eyes.]
[Soon. I will tell you what happened soon, beloved. For now let her rest.]
"Câlavendë, you may leave us as we can see you are exhausted and have suffered through many hardships. Fear nothing whilst you are in my realm, as you are under my protection." The Lady rose and approached Câlavendë with a fluid grace, stooping to kiss the pained elleth upon her brow. "A guide will show you too your rooms and where to heal the Ocelot. Tell Haldir we wish to converse with him now. Rest well, dearest, we will speak again soon."
On weak legs, from either the surprising kind action or the affect of a piercing headache, even she couldn't tell, Câlavendë leaned heavily on her staff, bowing again the fashion of her people before concentrating on putting one foot in front of the towards the door. Before she passed though it, she turned back slightly.
"There is something else I beg to ask before I leave."
"Yes?" Galadriel responded knowingly, one eyebrow raised.
"I would ask a favour of you, my Lady."
With slight nod the lady assented. "It shall be granted if it is so in my power."
"I wish for no one else to know of my … condition, yet." The Lord and lady shared meaningful glances: this elleth was a mystery in need of solving.
"As you wish. Those who know shall not speak of it, by my command."
To Câlavend's mind, this lifted a great burden. She could remain ambiguous and free of scorn in the short time she remained within the Golden Wood, as long as nobody knew, and she would be long gone before they could find out. Leaving the chamber the gem within her staff glinted once and behind her she did not hear the sharp intake of breath.
[Did you see?]
[I saw. Long has the river of time passed since we have seen the "re Hwesta Silme within Lothlorien. This is an interesting revelation indeed.]
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NOTES: Finally!! I hope it is long enough, and mayhap the wait between chapters will not be so long!! If you do review, please keep in mind to keep all posts extra cheerful and I beg you to answer this simple question. Why did you choose to read Estelio Ammen? The name, the synopsis, the amount of reviews, someone recommended it to me etc. Be as honest as you can. Do you like it? Just wait till the twists, I promise you will never see them coming. REMEMBER to add me to your Author Alert, to be the first to read the next chapter hot off the press. IN NEXT CHAPTER: "friends, enemies and healing an Ocelot in 25 ways."
Thankyou too: Elenwe: thankyou, I am very honoured to even be thought of as a favourite author. Haldir's Heart and Soul: love your name!! Keep reading. Moonbunny: thanx for the tip off (I am looking into it!) and I actually changed chap 4 (incl. Miss Suliell) and will repost so it's not so confusing!! Kellipson is nothing from Star Trek sorry! J ! Lalita22: you are so gorgeous you know that??!! Yami Ray: I hope your heandache is much better and you get muchr est and sleep, you deserve it! nevvy: the Ocelot is actually a real wild cat!! Why Cala is betrothed to "he", well ever heard 'love can make one blind', I feel just as sorry for her! Birds are gorgeous, I have a budgie named Pippin who follows me around my house! Sarah: reviews are good for the author!! Yes, by beta is absolutely wonderful!! Kallastron: well here was Galadriel's meeting with Cala…. just makes it all the more intriguing Galadriel not being able to read Cala's mind!! Nienna Nir: hullo!! J!! Your ex-fiance is like "him"? You will be surprised that there are others!! evil glare Haldir's attitude at this moment can not be helped… sometimes he is just a big git with to much ego!! Andrea/Veasse: I can guarantee I will finish this story!! Leah: there are 4 things that a writer (like myself) deem as the highest of compliments and you have hit two of them. (i.e. favourite list, and made into a movie)!! I am so ubelievably humbled and gives big hug - and YOU (in your own words) digacool!! Chelleybelle: great name! And thankyou. Mel: speechless is good! Lady of Dragons: you are wonderful!! Keep reading please. Believe in the light: another wonderful name! blushes thankyou for your beautiful review, emotion is always good! Emilia: please do read again!! Grace to you! Rennjenn: I'm glad you like it! Michelle: an update jus for you, sorry about the wait!! I really do hope you enjoyed this chapter and my story. Your review was so sweet and humbled me. People like you are the ones who make writing this story so fantastic. Mari and Proudly Unbeatiful: I'm happy to know you're enjoying it!
Copperstring: I'm glad I could write to provoke such emotion from you, it is always wonderful for an author to know how their audience is reacting to their story!