Right, just to warn you there's an explicit swear word in this one, so don't read it if such things offend!

Chapter Six – A Time to Search

Laurè sat on the windowsill, her mind whirling from the onslaught of memory, and yet she knew there was so much more to come. The marriage of Celeborn and Galadriel had been a celebrated event, attended by almost every Elf who could come, and welcomed by everyone. Even the Galadhrim had turned out in force to celebrate their leader's wedding, forming an honour guard for the groom. Haldir, Orophin's brother, had joked that it was in case he got cold feet and had to be forced to the altar. On the other hand, Laurè had been given the sole responsibility of getting Galadriel there looking presentable and not about to run off. That had been quite a task, as she recalled, but everything had turned out well. With her two closest friends married and enjoying the experience, she had decided she could afford to be away for a while, and had packed up to visit the Elves of Eregion, and see for herself this Annatar who had made himself such a friend of the craftsmen.

The journey was not hard, and she had arrived in good time, greeted by Celebrimbor, who had made a place for her in his home for the duration of her stay. Despite her initial wariness, she had found herself impressed by Annatar, his form and address, and even attracted by his fair form. In retrospect, she could see how foolish she had been to allow good looks and charm to blind her to the memories trying to warn her of the disaster that was at hand. But at the time, she had been charmed by him, even befriended, and had found his company pleasant at the very least. There had been no doubt in her mind, even when he had included her in his explanation to Celebrimbor of his plan to create nineteen Rings of Power, to be distributed freely among the races of Middle-earth.

The whole project would take around twenty to thirty years, since the Elves had not yet perfected their art of imbuing metals with magical properties. She looked back with deep regret on the meetings she had attended with Celebrimbor and Annatar, and her input in the decisions about the distribution of the rings for when they were made. It had been her idea to give only three to the Elves, on the basis that they had power of their own anyway, and only seven to the Dwarves, who seemed to have no need for magic in their underground ways. Annatar had tried to convince them to give more than nine to Men, but Celebrimbor had pushed for only the kings to be given the power, stressing the corruptibility of Men through the years. She was thankful that it had not been her to decide who should have the rings, for she would never have forgiven herself for the danger that fell upon the Ring-bearers in the years that followed.

When the news reached her that Galadriel was expecting a child, she had hurried back to Lindon, full of news, and eager to be at her side during her pregnancy. The sight of her old friend settled into domesticated life had certainly been a surprise, however wonderful, and she had been touched to see how Celeborn looked after her as she grew heavy with child. When tiny Celebrían was born, the whole kingdom rejoiced, welcoming the newborn with as much love as they could muster. Galadriel had convinced her to stay and help her raise her daughter, pretending to need the help when Laurè could see for herself how much she loved her daughter. She had stayed as Celebrían grew, happy to be the child's eccentric aunt, full of stories of the world outside Lindon and how it had changed as the years turned. When the child turned fourteen, the little family relocated to Eregion, along with most of the Galadhrim, leaving Lindon as the domain of the few Half-Elves who lived there.

Laurè smiled to remember those years, the carefree joy of each day. There was anger there too, anger at herself for allowing Annatar to have a place in the child's growth. She knew all too well that at the time she had no suspicions, but still she could not forgive herself for letting him so close to the people she loved. It was during those final years of Celebrían's youth that Galadriel was given Nenya, the Ring of Adamant and of Water, and she had worn it like a badge of honour, proud to have been chosen as a Ring-bearer. And why shouldn't she be, Laurè wondered, when it was indeed a mark of how honoured she was among the Elves.

The first inkling she had had that something was terribly wrong had been when Celebrimbor, dressed in robes of ceremony, had processed through Eregion, bearing a gift for Galadriel …

The noise of so many people trying to be as quiet as possible distracted Laurè from her lessons with Celebrían. The young elf-maiden was trying very hard to learn Westron and having little luck, especially since her mind so often strayed to a certain dark-haired Half-Elf these past few months. Laurè had no doubt that Elrond's thoughts were often on Galadriel's daughter as well, but for now, she pushed aside those musings to concentrate on the events taking place before them.

Celebrimbor walked straight to Galadriel and knelt before her, his tiny ribbon-wrapped gift held high in his hands. Galadriel glanced at her husband, and over at Laurè, before bending to help their old friend to his feet.

'Do not kneel to me, my friend,' she said softly. 'Whatever has brought you to my door can be told as equals, for I am no better than you.'

Celebrimbor rose, almost beaming at the honour he seemed to think had been bestowed upon him.

'My lady,' he said formally, bowing his head to her. 'I have to come to present you with the last of the Elves of Eregion's great task. You have been chosen to bear the last of the Elven Rings of Power, as befits your rank amongst us. All Elves know and revere your name, and it is for your great deeds for us that we present you with Nenya, Ring of Adamant and Water, to be borne by you until the end of your days.'

As Laurè watched in mounting horror, he placed the little package into Galadriel's hands, stepping back to allow her to open it. Laurè could not quell the sudden beating of her heart. The name – Nenya – had stirred a memory in her that could not be suppressed. In her mind's eye, she saw war and death, the hordes of Sauron overrunning Middle-earth, killing all in their path. Without thinking, she gripped the hand of Celebrían tightly, causing the young she-elf to gasp.

'Laurè, what is wrong?' she asked softly, her eyes on the Ring that lay glittering in her mother's hand. 'Isn't it wonderful? That mother should be chosen to bear one of only three Rings given to the Elves?'

'Three Rings for the Elven kings under the sky … seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone … nine for Mortal Men … doomed to die …'

Laurè's eyes widened as the snatch of verse came back to her, and she suddenly knew Annatar for who he was; Sauron, the Deceiver, the Dark Lord come again. A vision of a single gold band, spinning in fire, filled her mind, and upon it she saw there were markings. But she did not need to read them to know what was written there.

'One Ring to rule them all, one Ring to find them,' she breathed, hardly able to watch as her friend placed Nenya on her finger. 'One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them … oh no …'

Leaving Celebrían's side, she pushed her way over to Celebrimbor, taking him by the shoulders in her urgency.

'The other Rings, have they been given out already?' she demanded.

Surprised, it took him a moment to answer.

'Why, yes, my lady, some years ago,' he told her. 'Annatar insisted that this be the last given. He wanted you to see your friend honoured in such a way.'

Laurè gasped in sudden fear. Sauron knew her for what she was; he knew she could see ahead to his plans. Why else would he make sure there was nothing she could do to prevent the war that was to come? Galadriel stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder.

'Laurè, what is it?' she asked, worried. 'What has happened?'

Laurè turned to her, eyes wild.

'I have to go,' she said urgently. 'Tonight, before any harm comes of this.'

Celebrimbor laughed, a little nervously.

'Harm, my lady?' he scoffed lightly. 'What harm can come of Elven craft?'

She gave him a hard look.

'More harm that you could possibly imagine,' she hissed, whirling away from them and hurrying to her room.

She began throwing things into a pack, changing into her travelling clothes, and strapping Angùrei to her hip. When she emerged once more, the Elves were still there, watching her with wary eyes and chattering amongst themselves. Only Galadriel approached her, albeit with some trepidation.

'Laurè, tell me,' she beseeched. 'What is wrong?'

Laurè only shook her head as she swung up into the saddle.

'I dare not,' she told her friend. 'I must see for myself, first. I will return, I swear.'

And with those words, she rode off, out of the realm of Eregion, her destination clearly the lands of Men in Westernesse.

It was here that the memories turned dark, even though there was one more moment of joy before the darkness of Sauron fell over them. When she had heard the name of her friend's ring, Laurè had realised something was wrong, but by that time, all nineteen of the rings had been made and distributed, and there had been nothing she could do to prevent the bearers from wearing them. The rhyme had kept repeating itself in her mind, and she knew something awful was going to come of the making of these Rings, because she had made the connection between the fair stranger, Annatar, and the deceiver, Sauron. Laurè lifted a piece of parchment to her face, reading it in the moonlight.

'Three Rings for the Elven Kings under the sky,

Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone,

Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die,

One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne

In the land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them

One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them

In the land of Mordor where the Shadows lie …'

This was the rhyme that had so haunted her in those dark years, the rhyme she had caused to be written down and passed into legend and myth. She had never stopped blaming herself for the forging of the Rings, knowing as she did the extent of the destruction they would cause.

The kings of Men who had taken the Rings would not listen to her, turning her from their doors, showing her the signs of the corruption that had taken hold in their hearts. Just a look at them had told her that they were lost, their minds gone to darkness and their bodies soon to follow. Some had already fallen to shadow, leaving behind them kingdoms wracked by civil war, and too weak to withstand assault from without.

The Dwarves had, at least, listened to what she had to say, allowed her to examine their Rings, and see for herself the power at work. But their answer to the problem had been to shut the doors to their underground kingdoms, even those of Khazad-dûm, which ever after was known as Moria, which in Elvish meant 'dark hole', a testament to how angry the Elves were at being abandoned to fight Sauron alone, for they had not known that the kingdoms of Men would join them when their plight grew desperate.

Even now, Laurè could feel the terror that had coursed through her veins during those long days of hard riding, the despair that had surged through her as she thought on her own part in bringing this great evil upon the world. She had no idea how long it would be before Sauron forged the One Ring of his making, but she had known that however long it took, it would not be enough time to build bridges between the Races strong enough to withstand the deadly attack that would come. She had ridden with all speed back to Eregion, trying to push back the images of her home in ruins, as it would be in the years to come. She had known Sauron would strike quickly, once his strength was complete, at the place of the forging, and she had determined to warn her friends of the imminent danger, even if they believed her mad. One person, she knew, would believe every word, and it was to Galadriel she ran on the eve of Celebrían's wedding, knowing no one else she could turn to …

Galadriel was waiting for her, standing at the edge of the woods that enclosed Eregion as Laurè rode up, reining her horse in as she drew level with her friend. One glance told her that Galadriel had already worked out what the problem was. Nenya was no longer on her hand.

'I've been worried sick about you,' Galadriel snapped, embracing her friend roughly. 'Do you have any idea how much you scared us, running off like that? Celeborn's started pacing again, and you know he hasn't done that for years.'

Laurè could only offer an apologetic smile.

'I had to see for myself what was happening,' she explained, and gestured to her friend's hand. 'Where is Nenya?'

Galadriel's face darkened.

'In a box by my bedside,' she said shortly. 'And you've no idea how insulted Celebrimbor was when he noticed I wasn't wearing it.'

Laurè snorted softly.

'I can guess,' she muttered, swearing under her breath. 'I've fucked up royally this time.'

At this, Galadriel turned her around, gripping her shoulders tightly and forcing her to look into her eyes.

'Listen to me,' she said firmly. 'This is not your fault. You can't be expected to remember every little detail, especially details that weren't a huge part of the story. Yes, you should have been a little more cautious, but there's nothing we can do about that now. We just have to decide what to do with the time that is left to us.'

With those words, Laurè was ushered into Galadriel's home, where Celeborn almost crushed her in a warm embrace, echoing his wife's greeting as he did so. Elrond stood in the corner, nodding sternly to her as she offered him a weary nod over Celeborn's shoulder. Galadriel's husband pulled away, staring her straight in the eye.

'How dare you scare me like that?' he demanded. 'You could at least have explained yourself before going.'

Laurè gave him a weak, weary smile.

'You definitely wouldn't have let me go if I had,' she joked half-heartedly, barely aware of the meaningful look shared over her head as she sat down, shedding her cloak and sword as she did so.

'Are you alright?' Galadriel asked, moving to sit beside her.

'Yes,' Laurè assured her. 'I'm just tired. I've been riding hard for days now.'

Celeborn and Elrond sat opposite, leaning forward in curiosity.

'Where did you go?' the Half-Elf asked, his handsome face creased in concern for his friend.

Laurè let her eyes wander to the window, where she could see the forges still glowing red in the evening gloom. A wave of unbearable longing for this not to have happened swept over her, and must have shown in her face, for Galadriel wrapped an arm about her shoulders as Celeborn slipped his hands over hers. After a long moment, heavy with grief, she spoke.

'I went to the lands of Men, to the kingdoms Celebrimbor gave the Nine Rings to,' she told them, a bitter smile twisting her lips. 'But I was too late. Three have fallen to shadow already, neither living nor dead, and their kingdoms falling to ruin. As for the others, I was turned from their gates before even laying eyes upon them, but I spoke with their captains. They each report that the king has become hard and cruel, looking each day more like a wraith than a living breathing being. It is too late for the kings of Men. In the years to come, they will rise as the Nazgûl, and serve as Sauron's foulest minions.'

She watched Celeborn's face as he frowned in confusion, looking from her to his wife and back again, and realised that he did not know of the events she was speaking. It seemed there were some things Galadriel had not shared with the one she loved. She glanced at her friend, who was warning her husband with a look to save his questions for later, and almost smiled for the first time in weeks to see her so clearly the matriarch of her little home. But Elrond did not look at all surprised, merely worried, and she remembered that he, of all the Elves, had had the greatest gift of Foresight, next to Galadriel. No doubt he had seen it coming too.

'And the Dwarves?' Galadriel asked, ignoring the deepening frown on Celeborn's face.

Laurè laughed mirthlessly.

'If anything, they are worse than Men,' she spat, anger mixing with despair in her tone. 'They listened to me, every one of them, but they would not heed my words. They tried to destroy the Rings, despite my telling them it could not be done. When that didn't work, they threw me out and sealed the doors behind me … even the doors of Khazad-dûm, from whence I have come tonight. They intend to sit this out, as if the Eye of Sauron cannot see through stone and metal to where they are hiding from the evil that is upon us.'

Celeborn's eyes darkened and he cursed softly.

'Let them stay in their halls of Moria,' he muttered angrily. 'Let them rot in the graves they have dug for themselves.'

Laurè raised her eyes to his.

'Do not blame them,' she said softly. 'They don't understand what is happening. If I were in their place, I should probably try to hide myself, but unlike us, they don't know what lurks in the depths of their mines. I fear if they delve too deep in search of peace, they will find only death and fire.'

Galadriel nodded, drawing in a sharp breath as she remembered the shape that would now haunt their dreams, the creatures she had fought in the wars against Morgoth and had almost lost her life to.

'The Balrogs,' she breathed. 'Fire and evil and hatred, all rolled into a living harbinger of death.'

'That's the one,' Laurè agreed. 'A not so small pain in the arse.'

The room fell silent as they each remembered the horror of the Wars, each contemplating what war now would mean for them. But Laurè had no need to contemplate, she knew what was coming; that Sauron's attempt to completely annihilate the free races of Middle-earth would almost come to fruition but for one king in the lands of Westernesse, the king she knew would not be born for many years to come, who would become the greatest Elf-friend in Middle-earth but who ultimately would cause longer suffering for those who walked her fair surface. Feeling eyes on her, she looked up and found Elrond gazing intently at her.

'What have you seen, my lady?' he asked softly.

Galadriel looked at him sharply, and followed his gaze to Laurè who was looking back at him with barely concealed terror.

'Laurè doesn't share much of what she sees,' she said, trying to draw the pressure off her friend. 'Not even with me.'

Elrond nodded, not taking his eyes off Laurè's. She felt trapped by his stare, unable to look away as he waited for his question to be answered.

'Too much,' she murmured, her voice trembling. 'So much, it hurts.'

Elrond watched her for a few moments longer and nodded, releasing her from his piercing gaze.

'Then the question remains,' he said, suddenly taking charge. 'What do we do now?'

Celeborn looked at his friend sternly, as if asking him with his eyes what he was doing. Laurè glanced at Galadriel, catching the almost imperceptible nod in reply.

'We can only wait,' she said softly. 'Wait and prepare our armies, if they will listen to us.'

Elrond made a small sound of agreement.

'I cannot guarantee that Gil-galad will listen to me, but I will try to make him see what is coming,' he told them.

Galadriel rose, a determined look on her face.

'You're not doing anything until you have enjoyed a decent honeymoon with Celebrían,' she declared firmly. 'There's nothing we will be able to do until the One Ring is forged, and that won't be for …'

She looked at Laurè to finish her sentence, which she did.

'We have at least a few hundred years before everything goes horribly wrong,' she told them confidently. 'The Men will have to fall completely under the Shadow, and Sauron will have to gather however many of the Rings he can before he starts to take over Middle-earth. We have to make sure he doesn't get any of the Elven Rings. They can't be touched by darkness, or we will never be able to destroy the Dark Lord.'

Celeborn stood slowly, moving to stare out of the window deep in thought. Laurè didn't dare say anymore, exhausted from her long ride and this fearful conversation. She pushed herself to her feet, stretching slightly.

'Anyway, there's nothing we can do tonight,' she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful. 'And I hear there's a wedding tomorrow, so we can't have three of the main attractions looking like death warmed up. Go and get some sleep.'

She made for the door, retrieving her cloak and sword as she slipped out into the night. She could hear them still talking behind her, but they obviously knew she wanted nothing more tonight. She rolled out her blankets, settling herself down in some comfort against her horse's belly. It was only fractionally warmer, but the company, combined with the lack of speech, was what she wanted tonight. But she knew it would be a long time before she slept.