Nénariel walked alongside the river Laurënen, pondering the events that had taken place over the last few months. It had been five years to the day since Moradan had fought against the Várelen, but to the elf queen it seemed like time had hardly passed.
But there were whispers that Moradan was gathering his strength and rebuilding his army. Unable to ignore the rumors any longer, Nénariel had sent messages to the leaders of Middle Earth to come to a council that would be held the next day at Telerindór, home of the Várelen.
Reaching the falls of Laurëa, Nénariel paused and looked around. The leaves on the trees had already started to turn golden. The smell of autumn was in the air, and the weather was turning cool. Closing her eyes, the only sounds that Nénariel could hear was the water flowing over the rocks and the wind blowing through the trees.
"My lady!" Nénariel was jolted out of her reverie by the calls of the captain of the Várelen, Aearion. "My lady, the soldiers are all preparing for battle, if need be."
"Very good," Nénariel allowed her soft purple eyes to linger on his dark blue ones. Sighing gently she fell into his strong, muscular arms. "I don't think I can keep my love for you a secret much longer."
"You know how harmful it would be if anyone discovered. You are a high elven queen, respected and admired throughout Middle Earth, while I am only the captain of the Várelen. The problems our relationship would cause would be numerous."
"I suppose you're right," she sighed, defeated. "But after our next battle against Moradan you will be looked upon with more respect. But for now my love, we will have to meet in secret." Nénariel felt him pull her closer.
"I love you, my star of the waters," he whispered in her ear, translating her name from the elven language of Quenya into the common speech. Time sped by as they remained intertwined, and it finally slowed down when the sounds of the Várelen could be heard as they were searching for Aearion. Quickly kissing Nénariel goodbye, Aearion went and joined the searchers.
Watching him leave, Nénariel felt as though her heart would break. Regaining her composure she slowly made her way back to Taurëcarde, her home.
Arriving at Taurëcarde Nénariel made her way to the library to prepare for the next day's council. It was her duty to inform the others of Moradan's power and the threat that he posed. Opening the thick leather-bound book that lay on the desk Nénariel found the section describing Moradan. Skimming over the words she quietly read aloud to herself:
Moradan is one of the three fire lords of Middle Earth. He was born from the fires of Mandos, and is the strongest of the three. Soon after being given his strength and powers by his creator, Moradan escaped and broke the bond, which held him to Mandos. Setting out, Moradan had one clear goal in mind, controlling Middle Earth and it's people. Moradan was harmed by the Várelen, led by the elf-queen Nénariel, and was driven back into the shadows. He has not been spotted since.
Here the explanation of Moradan ended. The book went on to talk about the rebuilding of Middle Earth and the precautions that were necessary for the next time that he attacked.
But these precautions didn't take into account the new army that Moradan was forming. The army that consisted of more than just Orcs.
Walking to her room, Nénariel lay down on her bed, closing her eyes. With thoughts of the next day's council in her head, she feel into a deep restful sleep.
