Many thanks to Crecy for that encouraging review, and also to a certain person who made sure I didn't give up on this - you know who you are!

Chapter Three – A Time for War

She looked out across Rivendell with a sigh, feeling the weight of her self-induced burden keenly in the cool night air. It had been so long since she had lived her life for herself, giving everything she had to bring events to this one moment, where a single decision could change the destiny of Middle-earth and all who dwelt there. There had been times along the road where she had thought to give up, to let them find their own way, but whenever she tried to turn away, that treacherous guilt would creep in, reminding her of what she had sworn in those early years when she had realised that there was a chance that only her memory would stand between Arda and its total destruction. Only once had she turned her back on the path she had chosen, and it had hurt her more deeply than she could ever have imagined. And even now, she could not turn aside, not when everywhere she looked, she was reminded of how much she herself had done to bring them all to this point.

The Dwarves had helped her pack provisions for her journey, and re-equip herself with better armour. She had refused the mithril mail, she remembered, preferring the supple leather jerkin that slipped easily over her tunic and moved with her as she ran through the halls, rebuilding her strength for the troubles that were sure to come. But she had not allowed herself to remain long, bidding farewell to Celebrimbor and the Dwarves before the second day was through. She had known there were only a few miles to her destination, and knew enough not to expect anything but destruction when she arrived. What she hadn't expected, she thought with a rueful grin, was to be knocked unconscious as she entered the wood, by an ambushing party of orcs who had been lying in wait for any Elves that might venture through. Her awakening had been an enlightening experience …

The pain in her head was terrific, unlike anything she had ever felt before. And to make things worse someone was speaking to her. Laurè opened her eyes, watching the world swim into focus and forcing down the nausea that came with it. A groan escaped her lips as she shut her eyes once more, trying to gain control of her body. Ignoring the gentle voice speaking to her was not an option, she quickly realised, since it was trying to make her wake up.

'No, don't move her, she'll fight you,' it said sharply, apparently to someone else, and then turned its attention back to her. 'Come on, sleepy, time to wake up. I don't know, I go to all this trouble to make sure you're not killed, get myself beaten black and blue in the process, and now you won't even give me the time of day. Is that gratitude?'

Laurè frowned, wincing as the expression jolted whatever had been done to her head, and opened her eyes, suddenly aware that the voice was speaking in Sindarin. A feminine Elven face came into view, clearly battered, sporting a split lip, and several bruises, some of which were quite recent. The blue eyes twinkled mischievously as Laurè groaned again.

'Oh, there you are,' she grinned, though there was an edge to the pleasant expression Laurè wasn't certain she liked. 'Hello … remember me?'

Laurè rolled her eyes, smiling up at her old friend.

'Ríel,' she said softly, pleased to see her alive.

Ríel gave her a look of mocking astonishment.

'It speaks!' she exclaimed. 'And what does it say?'

Laurè glared at her.

'Ow,' she answered, moving to get to her feet. 'Move out of the way, or help me up.'

Ríel's grin didn't slip as she bent to help her friend to her feet.

'You took your own sweet time getting here,' she said, only slightly sarcastically. 'We live together for eight thousand years, then you disappear for two thousand! We thought you'd been killed.'

Laurè raised an eyebrow, flinching a little at the pain.

'You and I both know I'm not that stupid,' she muttered, stretching her back carefully. 'What are you doing here?'

'Fighting, what else?' Ríel smiled. 'The Galadhrim are not having a good time of it in this war. We've been fighting Orcs for nearly fifty years, you know.'

Laurè felt a slight twinge of jealousy.

'At least their home is still standing,' she said softly, trying hard not to glower, and clearly failing from the look on her friend's face.

Ríel's smile turned sad.

'They have something to fight for,' she murmured. 'I take it you've seen Fangorn.'

'I've been there,' Laurè said, just as gently. 'And I've brought something with me, as a keepsake.'

Ríel's confused frown quickly turned to a gasp of horror when she saw the blood oozing through Laurè's shirt.

'You're hurt,' she cried, softly. 'What happened?'

'Seems like the Orcs don't believe in leaving loose ends,' was all the reply she got.

'They were waiting for you?'

Laurè sighed, rolling her injured shoulder gently as the warmth of her blood began to slide once more down her arm. She turned to look up at the Misty Mountains, her eyes seeing through them to the memory of a dead settlement, still watched by evil.

'Not for me, exactly,' she said, her voice heavy with heartache for the sights she had seen. 'They seem to be under the impression that the Elves will return to Fangorn. There were parties of them set all across the forest, all alert for anything that passed through.'

Ríel frowned, clearly disturbed by this news.

'Won't Treebeard do anything to get rid of them?' she asked.

Laurè laughed suddenly, a bitter sound at odds with her battered appearance.

'That depends on whether the Ents have decided what they're going to do yet,' she snorted. 'I came across them while I was making my way here. Apparently, as soon as they heard the sounds of battle, they held an Entmoot to decide whether they should help you.'

Ríel looked surprised, raising an eyebrow.

'And?'

Laurè looked back at her with a rueful smile.

'It was still going on when I passed through,' she sighed, shaking her head. She nodded towards the other Elves who were watching them. 'Who are your friends?'

The three male Elves glanced at her, clearly unimpressed with her as she gave them an appraising smile, seeing the arrogance that seemed to be abundant in all the Elves who had been born to this world and time. Ríel shared the smile, glancing over at her companions with a mixed expression of pride and exasperation.

'They are Galadhrim, Laurèneial,' she began, and stopped, seeing her friend stare at her in surprise. 'What?'

Laurè let herself smile.

'I haven't heard that name in nine hundred years,' she said in wonder. 'I answer to Laurè now.'

Ríel held her gaze for a long moment.

'You and me are definitely going to have to have a long talk about what we've been up to,' she said firmly. 'But not here, not now.'

One of the Elven men stepped closer, signalling for Ríel's attention.

'We should leave this place, my lady,' he said, his voice soft but tense. 'The Orcs move in greater numbers.'

She nodded, waving him away.

'Alright, Orophin,' she agreed. 'Take your brothers and move ahead. We'll follow.'

He frowned, glancing at Laurè suspiciously before looking back at her.

'My lady, I would not leave you with one unknown to me,' he said seriously, ignoring the look Laurè gave him. 'You are needed in this war.'

Ríel smiled at him, trying hard not to laugh.

'Orophin, the worst she could do to me is dent my ego,' she assured him. 'We are old friends.'

'The oldest,' Laurè supplied, giving him a sweet smile as he turned a stern glare on her.

'If you harm her in any way, you will have to deal with me,' he told her, and turned away, stalking from the clearing in what looked like a foul mood.

His brothers glanced from Ríel to the forest, and followed him, the younger sending the two women an apologetic smile as he disappeared into the shadows. Laurè shook her head, retrieving her bow as she followed her friend from the clearing.

'What a pleasant fellow,' she remarked, provoking another smile.

'He means well,' Ríel said quietly. 'A lot has changed since we were last together, Laurè. It may take you a while to understand.'

Laurè nodded, falling into step behind her as they slipped between the trees. She had not expected anything to be as it had been, but perhaps things had changed too much for her follow. Ríel's warning would not go unheeded, she promised herself. She would try to understand before she acted on anything she had learnt.

Laurè shifted against the stone balcony, hearing those words echo across the years. A lot had changed, and changed again, the world around them continually evolving as the years passed. She rose to her feet, moving back into her rooms, out of the moonlight, and across to her desk, where her books lay open, untouched. She smiled to herself. All those promises she had made to herself to write down everything, and here it was, pages upon pages of memory, and yet there was nothing here that was so very different from the first book she had read so many years before. It was as though she was telling a story that did not need to be told, a song that had already been sung.

She had been grateful for her friend's warning, she recalled, remembering how the shock of these Elven ways were so different from the ways she was used to. These Elves had been given to suspicion and intrigue, with none of the closeness they had enjoyed in Fangorn. She had learned of Ríel's rise in rank, through battle and deeds done, and how her old friend had now commanded an entire regiment of highly trained elvish warriors, mostly of the Galadhrim. As an outsider, no matter how often Ríel told them of her history, Laurè had enrolled herself as an ordinary foot soldier in her friend's little army, prepared to work her way up through the ranks until she was in a position where she could change things.

But to do that, she first had to know her friend once more, and only through speaking with her of the years spent chasing dreams could she do that. Laurè was surprised to find she still remembered that evening with a strange clarity missing in most of her memories …

The soft crackle of the fire was comforting to her as she sat before it, watching Ríel wax her bowstring. It had been a long time since she had spent an evening with an Elven friend, but the evening was not so relaxed as she might hope it was. For they were camped amidst a huge army of Elves, gathered from each of the strongholds, and all around her she could see the fear and anger in her people. They would go into battle the next day, they all knew, and for beings not gifted the death of old age given to mortal Men, the thought of the death that could be awaiting them was not a good one.

Even she had become downhearted as the night drew on. Angùrei lay across her knees as she sharpened his edge with a whetstone, listening with interest as Ríel told her of the years they had spent apart.

'I was never one to face my emotions, you know that,' she said softly, the firelight casting dancing shadows across her face. 'I just couldn't face going back there, to feel the pain of knowing that they're not there anymore.'

Laurè nodded, knowing that feeling as keenly as her friend.

'So what did you do?' she asked.

Ríel sighed, glancing up at the full moon shining down through the swaying branches above them.

'I kept myself busy,' she sighed. 'I went to Doriath, to see for myself the so-called goddess queen who reigned there …'

Her voice trailed off, her eyes becoming distant and shining with some unknown delight that Laurè couldn't trace.

'Melian really was a goddess, Laurè; she is of the Maiar, and she knew things that would have seemed fantastical to me only a few hundred years ago,' Ríel murmured. 'I learned so much from her, how to do things that you wouldn't believe.'

Laurè smiled to herself, thinking of the things she knew her people could do, and the writings of her people in that oft-remembered book.

'I dunno, I expect I could believe quite a bit,' she muttered ruefully.

She was looking straight at her friend when Ríel next spoke, and saw for herself the truth in her friend's words. Her lips didn't move, nor her expression change, yet Laurè heard the words in her mind as clearly as if they had been spoken in her ear.

'Can you believe this?'

She stared, astonished by her friend's sudden powers. Ríel's grin looked in danger of eating her nose.

'And that's only half of it,' she enthused, her cheeks flushed with the effort of putting her thoughts into another mind. 'I can do so much more, but it's nothing compared to Melian's powers. She was amazing, Laurè, I'm so sorry you never met her. It was awful when she left, but there was nothing here for her after Thingol was murdered.'

'Well, she obviously made a big impression on you,' Laurè joked, trying to shake the shock from having her mind placed wide open for anyone to get into. 'But I refuse to believe you've spent two thousand years just doing that. What else have you been up to?'

Ríel looked shifty for a moment, glancing down at the fire.

'Fighting,' she said simply.

Laurè blinked slowly, not understanding why this was something to be ashamed of.

'And?' she prompted, encouraging her friend to tell her everything.

Ríel looked up at her again.

'That's all,' she said defiantly. 'I've been fighting for more than a thousand years, in every war that has shaken this land since then. I've seen death and destruction a thousand times over. I was there when the Nogrod Dwarves killed Thingol and overran Doriath. I've trained thousands of Men and Elves to defend themselves, I'm known in every city in Middle-earth, and this is what I do. This is what I'm best at.'

'Now that's something I refuse to believe,' Laurè shot back. 'Being good at war is not something to be proud of, and it's certainly not the only thing you're good at. What about the skill you just showed me? Is there anyone else, apart from this Melian, who can do that?'

'Not that I know of,' came the quiet reply. 'But how can speaking in people's minds, knowing what they're thinking, possibly be of any real use in these times?'

Laurè shook her head slightly, smiling.

'Not in these times, perhaps, but what about the ages to come?' she said gently. 'What about in the wars to come when you may not be just a soldier, but a leader, a queen? What about when Sauron rises to take over Middle-earth in the stead of his master, and the One Ring is forged? What then?'

Ríel stared at her, confusion written large on her face.

'What on earth are you talking about?' she demanded. 'Who says Morgoth's lieutenant is going to rise against us, and what in the name of Melian does a piece of jewellery have to do with anything?'

Laurè rolled her eyes, thumping the whetstone to the ground beside her.

'Are you seriously telling me you haven't worked out what's going on?' she asked. 'That nothing in this new way of life has reminded you of anything you might have seen or read before The Change?'

Ríel frowned, clearly thinking back, and shook her head.

'No, why?'

Laurè leaned forward eagerly, desperate to convince her friend of what she had discovered.

'I think I know what's going to happen,' she said earnestly. 'Not now, but thousands of years in the future. I know what's coming, Ríel.'

Ríel raised an eyebrow, but didn't speak, giving her the chance she always gave to explain herself.

'You don't remember a book called Lord of the Rings?' Laurè pressed. 'Or even a film?'

Ríel's frown deepened.

'Film?' she queried, obviously intrigued by a word she hadn't heard in many years. 'I … I remember the word, but …'

'Moving pictures?'

Comprehension dawned on her friend's face.

'I got ya,' she smiled, dropping unconsciously back into the slang they had used as children. 'What film are we talking about here?'

'The Lord of the Rings,' Laurè said, feeling her spirits rise a little with this small victory. 'It's got hobbits – small people – a wizard, you know all that mystical fantasy stuff.'

Ríel's eyes narrowed as she tried to trace back to the time when she had seen this film.

'Go on,' she prompted. 'I'm still nowhere near following you, but this is entertaining, at the very least.'

Laurè let that pass, knowing she was only trying to lighten what had become a very serious discussion. She knew these little moments of levity were all a part of their friendship, how they had developed together through their years of hardship and loneliness. She knew, however, that she would have to come up with something very convincing to make her believe this.

'There was an elf,' she said, smiling slightly as the memories of that time long ago came back to her. 'You thought he was lovely, as I recall . . . something about always having a thing for blondes?'

The look on Ríel's face was one worth remembering, and a joy to watch for Laurè who scarcely believed herself, let alone expected to convince someone else of her strange epiphany. There was remembrance there, coupled with astonishment and amusement, and a kind of strange wonder that quickly dissolved into horrified incredulity. Ríel stared at her.

'You're not serious,' she exclaimed, ignoring the startled glances she got from many of the Elves sat close by. 'That's not really going to happen, is it?'

Laurè shrugged.

'I really hope not,' she sighed. 'But either way, we won't know for at least another thousand years or so.'

Ríel had slumped backwards, her bow forgotten.

'I don't believe it,' she was muttering. 'It can't … I don't know what to think.'

Laurè smiled.

'Join the club,' she laughed.

A soft smile curved her lips as she remembered that night, with amusement now, though it had terrified her at the time. To find herself in the midst of an epic story, to be the only one who even vaguely know what would happen to them all as the ages turned, put her in the most awful place she had ever been. They had talked long into the night, ignoring the others as they bedded down to catch what little sleep they could before the morning march. When the morning had come, they had greeted the dawn with no little relief, each feeling their age keenly as they watched the hundreds of Elven warriors around them rise from their slumber. Laurè could remember standing on the crest of the hill and watching them go about their morning routine, and thinking that she could remember the years each of them had been born. She had been standing in the midst of an army of children compared to her, and the thought did not do much to cheer her. They would be going into battle in just a few short hours, and she had found herself possessed of an almost instinctual wish to protect them all, no matter what it took.

The horror of that day did nothing to quell that instinct, either. She recalled with startling clarity the sight of thousands of Orcs arrayed against them; of Wargs stood snarling among them; of Werewolves, spitting and growling; each sound declaring the death of the Elven army. It had been a truly awesome sight, one that even now chilled her as she thought back on it. But even with the chill, she had the privilege to recall Ríel as her commander, riding up and down their line, shouting encouragement and praise to her warriors as she passed them by …

'Do not falter,' Laurè heard her shout as she rode past. 'Do not show fear! These things cannot stand against us! We are the first-born, the ancient people; we owe this earth and its peoples our allegiance! They look to us for guidance and protection, and we will not fail! I will die before I see this world fall!'

She swept past once more, galloping along the line to shout her encouragement to others, and Laurè felt the spirits of those around her rise in response to their fiery leader's passion for the world around them. She felt her own fear subside, her fingers gently holding her bow loose, an arrow lightly nocked and ready to fire. She had never fought in a disciplined battle before, and now she would enter into war at the side of her friends, knowing that many of them would not return. Perhaps she would be one of those whose life would end on this beautiful day, but somehow she doubted it. She would be damned before those evil beings facing her across the wide plain took her life.

Around her, the Galadhrim took up their battle cry, and she joined her voice to theirs, shouting for her lost home deep in Fangorn Forest, and determining to make them pay for the loss of so many she had loved. Images of the blackened and mutilated bodies flashed through her mind, and she almost faltered, choking with grief at the suddenness of her realisation that they were all gone. She and Ríel were the last of the Fangorn Elves left here on Middle-earth; all others had gone into the West or died in battles such as these. But hard on the heels of the mind-numbing grief came a thought that pulled her from her despair. They were the last, yes, but they had knowledge that meant other peoples would go on to live for many thousands of years after they finally passed on. She did not have time to grieve, she knew, there was work to be done, and there were only two of them to see it done. Perhaps there would be time later on, she thought, taking up the cry once more as the Orcs began to swarm down the hill towards them.

The Elves drew their bows taut, loosing volley after volley of arrows into the heaving dark mass of bodies, watching in horror as the Orcs simply stepped over their fallen companions to surge across the field, seemingly uncaring that their formidable army was slowly being whittled down before they had even landed a single blow on an Elven body. It seemed that no order was given along the Elven lines, yet as one, they all sheathed their bows, drawing swords and daggers as they readied themselves to meet their enemy head on. The crash as the two armies came together would have deafened an onlooker, but as it was, there was no one to watch the fearful battle. As for herself, Laurè was caught up instantly in the more immediate problem of staying alive in the midst of a thousand screaming, howling Orcs and Wargs. Angùrei cut through flesh and bone, seeming to move with a mind of his own, saving her life time and again as she ducked the wild thrusts of the Orcs that swarmed about her.

The carnage seemed to go on for an age, but suddenly she found herself in a small opening in the mass of heaving bodies, trying hard to ignore the Elven faces among the dead. A war cry alerted her to Ríel's whereabouts, and she spun in time to deflect a blow that would easily have taken her torso from her legs had she not moved. She swung her sword, slashing rather than thrusting, and watched black blood fountain up from the mouth of her would-be attacker. She could see Rìel's sword flashing above the heads of those around her, and feel the push as they stumbled back under her assault. But as suddenly as she had noticed it, both the cry and the blade disappeared, and the Orcs surged forward, their own cries renewed with the apparent death of the Elves' leader.

Hot fury coursed through Laurè and she set about her with renewed strength, hacking her way through the black bodies around her to where she had last seen her friend fighting. But try as she might, she could not gain ground, nor push from her mind the terrifying thought that Ríel had fallen beneath some Orcish blade. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she cried out in fear and anger, and somehow that awful sound echoing around her head found it's way into words that she screamed at the top of her lungs.

'To Ríel! Galadhrim, protect your commander!'

For a moment it seemed that no one could possibly have heard her above the dreadful din, and she felt herself pushed back, falling to the ground amid the pushing, bleeding horde. But hands reached down, pulling her to her feet, and she glanced up at the face of Orophin, bloodied and bruised, and looking astonishingly angry. All around her were the vanguard of the Galadhrim, each grimly hacking into the Orcs' line. The gruesome creatures fell before them, giving ground reluctantly, until Laurè spied a familiar flash of golden hair beneath their feet. It seemed that Orophin and his brothers had seen it too, for together they hurled themselves at the Orcs standing over Ríel, pushing them back ruthlessly to pull the beaten she-elf to her feet. Rùmiel lifted his head, whistling shrilly, as Laurè took her friend's weight, keenly aware that all that was keeping them safe was the fury of their comrades as the Orcs began to push back. As if in answer to the Elven whistle, a horse forced its way through the conflict, moving to stand beside them as they manhandled the badly hurt Ríel into its saddle. Laurè allowed herself one glimpse of her friend as the horse forced its way back to safety, before taking up a war-cry of her own, fuelled by anger and fear, that became a rallying cry across the plain.

'Galadhrim! Ríel!'

It rose from a few determined voices, to a roar, thousands of tired voices raised in newfound vigour, their bodies responding to the determination of spirit that spread with the cry. Repeated over and over again, it seemed that it was by strength of voice alone that the Orcs were pushed back, further and further, until finally their line broke, and those few that were left broke and ran, squealing in terror, and Laurè realised that her comrades were looking to her for orders. Even Orophin, who had held such a low opinion of her mere hours before, was watching her with wary awe, and she almost laughed when she realised what a sight she must make for them, standing amidst piles of dead Orcs, Angùrei dripping with black blood, her own blood staining her fair skin and matting the pale blonde hair that lay lank and sweaty against her head. Coming to herself with a start, she barked out orders, sending twenty of the able-bodied to chase off the remaining Orcs, and ordering all others to see to themselves and the wounded. They would take a full body count later, she knew, but even now, blood still humming with the thrill of battle, she could see that the list would drive another shard into her heart; be another pain to lock away until a day when she could take the time to remember and grieve.