Mae govannen,

Let me first say how pleased I was to have enthusiastic reviews. Though it is not the first story I publish, it is the one I started first: my character's name became my pseudonym, so that gives you an idea of how long this story has been sitting around. I will be in vacation for the holidays, so I thought I'd post the first part of my first chapter before I went.

And to those who expressed their doubts about Laurethiel being a mary-sue, I shall endeavour to prove them wrong.

But for the moment, enjoy!

Namarië,

Laurethiel

BOOK I – THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING

CHAPTER 1 – MANY MEETINGS

Part A

Laurethiel could not wait to get to Imladris. From the moment her brother had told her they were going there on a mission for their father, Thranduil, she had been overjoyed to be able to see her dear friend Arwen again. How she missed her! And how she missed to be able to wander free in the woods! For Mirkwood was become one of the darkest places in all Middle-Earth. Orcs were everywhere, raiding the forest under the orders of the Dark Lord Sauron.

The mere thought of this name sent shivers down the spine of the most courageous, and Laurethiel was not immune to the fear that name evoked. All of Middle-Earth would soon see the fiercest battle of them all.

Laurethiel had known for a long time this final war was coming. She was feeling it in her blood, in the very air she breathed, in the forebodings she received. Something would happen that would forever change the course of events, something that, for better of for worse, would bring about the end of the Elves in Middle-Earth. And her young heart was filled with sorrow at the thought that she would not see her homeland for much longer before she at last sailed West. Or, may the Valar forbid, her spirit went to the Halls of Mandos.

She was jolted from her wanderings by her brother. Tugging slightly on her braid to call her attention, he said, "Wake up, sister mine. We are nearing Imladris."

And it was true. They rounded a path that circled a steep hill, and there they saw it. The Last Homely House, in all its splendor. A waterfall was cascading down a small cliff, giving birth to the Bruinen. The house of Elrond was waiting just beyond it, a jewel of calm and peace in an otherwise dark and sorrowful world.

They passed the Imladris Guard without any difficulties, for they had long been recognised as the Mirkwood delegation to Lord Elrond. Indeed they had been awaited, and the twins Elladan and Elrohir sons of the Half-Elven Lord of Imladris Elrond Peredhil were there to welcome their fellow Prince and Princess after their long journey. They swiftly moved their mounts to flank brother and sister, Elladan on the left and Elrohir on the right, making an imposing calvacade even for Elven eyes to see.

The gates of Imladris were opened for them to pass, and they dismounted, giving back to their horses the freedom they craved. Laurethiel had only the time to take care of her belongings before she heard herself be called.

"Laurethiel!"

Turning her head in the direction of that voice, she soon recognized its owner.

"Arwen!"

The two friends rushed to embrace each other again, in what would seem to a Man's eye as a vastly un-Elvish display of affection born out of a strong and lasting childhood friendship. Neither cared that Arwen's hairstyle undid itself, nor that her gown got dirtied in the process. As they separated, each took the time to see the changes the last thousand years had brought upon them.

Laurethiel could hardly believe her own two eyes. Long gone was the mischievous elf girl that liked to play pranks on her older brothers. In her place, ruined hairstyle and stained gown notwithstanding, stood a princess sure of her place in the world, a princess so overwhelmingly beautiful that she outshone everything in her vicinity. Arwen truly was another Luthien Tinuviel. An evenstar. Undomiel.

Arwen found that her friend had grown greatly, becoming a maiden on the very brink of womanhood. She had an air about her that was definitely adult, even though by Elvish standards she was still but a child. Yet for all the wisdom Arwen felt in Laurethiel, she felt also a remnant of the youth she had been, a restlessness that she herself did not feel anymore. Laurethiel had not yet reached her full potential, and Arwen felt that many things would happen in a near future that would make her friend become what she should be.

"Come, Lotwen," Arwen said, using her guest's Mother-Name of Flower-Maiden, seldom used, and only by close relations. "I must show you around. You will be able to see what has changed. And after, we will go to my rooms so that you can rest before the feast tonight." She looked at Laurethiel in the eye before adding, "And do not even think not to come. It has been too long a time I have been deprived of your company, and would have you be with me this eve."

Laurethiel recognized the commanding tone her friend used, and she knew better than to argue. But she also noticed the tone had taken an imperious edge it had not had before. She could thus do nothing else but nod her assent, and follow Elrond's daughter through her reacquaintance with Imladris.

They strolled in the gardens, taking in a beauty that was unique and Imladris's own, basking in the feel of the trees surrounding them, welcoming the rays of the Sun on their arms, filling their nostrils with the scent of moss, flowers and wild berries.

She saw where trees had grown and where trees had died, she saw new beds of elanor, niphredil and other flowers, set in a soothing pattern along the many paths of the garden of Imladris.

Suddenly, they found themselves in a place that did not exist at Laurethiel's last visit, many hundred years ago. It was a more secluded part of the garden, where a statue was erected. There was a sadness about that place that seized Laurethiel's heart, and she couldn't help but ask her friend the cause of such a feeling.

"This is the tomb of Gilraen, devoted wife to the late Arathorn and caring mother to Aragorn II, heir to the throne of Gondor."

There was a tremor in Arwen's voice as she recounted to her friend the sad story of such a noble lady, and her eyes lit up as she told of Aragorn, of how brave and courageous he was, and how he despaired of ever being able to live up to the destiny he saw before him.

Laurethiel sensed that there was more, that Arwen was hiding her true feelings. But she didn't press her friend further on. Arwen would tell her when she was ready.

"But I see am boring you," Arwen said, "and forgetting how tired you must be from your journey. Come! In my rooms you will be able to take a bath and scrub the dirt from your trip."

They crossed the gardens toward the house, and Arwen led Laurethiel through a maze of halls and stairs, to her rooms.

As everything in Imladris, Arwen's rooms were nothing short of spectacular.

Her canopy bed, made of the rarest woods and decked with the finest silks, stood in the center of the room. At its left was a vanity complete with mirrors and chair. To the right of the bed, there vere two doors, one leading to a private bathroom, the other to an impresive wardrobe.

Arwen led her friend to the bathroom, urging her to undress and soak into a bath.

"Even as you are come for an extended stay, I don't suppose you brought anything suitable to wear for a feast, so as you relax in the water, I will look into my wardrobe to see what I can lend you tonight."

"But, Arwen!"

"No buts, Lotwen You are going to go. Because you want to. And I know it."

Laurethiel smiled, nodding her agreement. And slipped behind the curtain.

Half an hour later, Laurethiel emerged from the bathroom.

Even expecting the best from her friend, she was caught by the sheer beauty of the dress Arwen presented her with. It was a shimmering creation of pale green interwoven with the most delicate golden filligree. It reminded her of the first leaves of spring in Mirkwood, fragile yet strong, beautiful in its simplicity.

"It is a gown I do not wear often. It is so pale it makes even me, an Elf, look sick, unless I am really in a good mood, but on your matte skin, it will do wonders. The green will enhance your eyes, and the gold will bring out the copperish highlights in your chestnut hair."

Together they dressed, reminding themselves of more cheerful times, of when they were young children playing dress-up, of when the threat of the Dark Lord wasn't as strong as it was now.

While Arwen was arranging Laurethiel's hair, she managed to gather enough courage to finally tell her of her decision. She would bind herself to Aragorn, and forsake her immortality.

"Lotwen, you cannot begin to imagine what it is to love and to know you are loved in return. Even Father doesn't understand, as much as he loves Mother. He does not understand that I simply could not go on living without Aragorn. Even if I go into the West with Ada, I know I shall die. If not from from a mortal death, from heartbreak..." With barely contained anguish, she cried, "I may be the Evenstar, but Aragorn is both my Sun and my Moon!"

Arwen had been holding this secret for too long, and in a very uncontrolled display of emotion, she allowed streams of tears to run down her face.

Laurethiel did not know what to do. Usually, it was Arwen who comforted her, not the other way around. So she did what came first to her mind. She led her friend to the bed and gathered her in her arms, letting Arwen shed the tears she so desperately needed to get out.

"Arwen, Arwen! Come, you must get hold of yourself," she whispered after a while, still stroking her friend's hair. "I feel for you, and I understand your need to cry, but we must finish to arrange ourselves, or we will be late for the feast."

"You are right. I shall not let myself fall to pieces. Not when Aragorn needs me to be strong. Not when the fate of Middle-Earth is about to be decided."

With an angry and decisive gesture, she swept the last tears from her face and composed herself again. She would show to all the world tonight that she was worth the title of Evenstar.

And she silently thanked her friend for her support, embracing her one last time before sailing out of her chambers, Laurethiel trailing behind her.

Just out of the banquet room, they met with Lord Elrond of Imladris, who was waiting for his daughter to arrive before going in himself. A lord had to go in with a lady, and since her mother's passing into the West, that duty had fallen to Arwen.

But before going in, she took care of introducing her friend.

"Father, forgive me if we are late. I met again with a dear friend of mine, and in our reacquaintance, we did not see the hour pass." Lord Elrond smiled ever so slightly. His daughter was not that late, and it had been so long since he had seen her so happy!

"Father, may I again introduce Princess Laurethiel Lotwen of Mirkwood, daugther of Thranduil King of Mirkwood and twin sister to Prince Legolas. Laurethiel, it is my great pleasure to have you meet again my father, Lord Elrond of Imladris."

Laurethiel remembered enough of her protocol lessons in time to fall into a gracefully proper curtsey before Elrond. The Elvish lord seemed to have been pleased enough, for he announced she would sit with her brother at the high table tonigth.

"But, my lord...," she started. She did not want to seem impolite, but all she really wanted was to go in, eat, and go to the gardens as soon as she could. Big gatherings were not her style at all.

"You will do well, child. Do not worry." Elrond smiled, trying to reassure her.

Laurethiel hated to be called a child. She was two thousand nine hundred and thirty one years old, after all. But it was true. For an Elf, she was extremely young. One of the last to ever be born in Middle-Earth. As for dining at the high table, well, it seemed she would have no choice. She would only have to be patient and bid her time until she could escape from all this noisy business. And at least she would be with her brother. It could have been worse.