Notes: Not much of this belongs to me. If you see something that was in the movies or in the books then it is quite obviously Tolkien's. However ideas, like the Silme are mine, even if they are slightly unrealistic. The language is not mine: It is sindarin, all though I am not very familiar with the race of elves, and if you are and you spot some Quenya mixed into it, please do not kill me for it.

xxx

"When will you be back?" It was a simple question. I asked him that before he left. He told me 'soon, I promise'. He turned his back, his bow already strung, his arrows sighted in their quiver. His feet kept an even pace, his perfect balance. I stood with the rest of the waiting. Worried. Unkempt.

I turned then too. He had made his promise, and I believed it. He had kept his promises before, why would this be any different. But autumn faded, and winter fell upon us. The leaves that fell among us seemed to change to snow, and still we waited. Waiting. Worried. Unkempt.

I remember each night sky. The gold that fell from the sun, pouring through the barren branches of each tree, lighting our faces and warming our hearts. Then the moon would shine the stars around it. The snow would seem almost magic. And as I stood there, I still believed you. Waiting. Worried. Unkempt.

But you broke your promise, my brother. You left with your promise and you never returned. That was when the winter turned to ice, and when the sun darkened. That was when they handed me our Ada's bow and shook their heads solemnly. That was the first time you ever broke your promise. Waiting. Worried. Unkempt.

My Ada was of Lothlorien. He was one of twelve Lothlorien elves how came to this place, who came to Erulissë. He helped craft the walls that we walk through. He helped build the rooms that some now take for granted. Have they forgotten? Have they forgotten what we came through? What we came /from?

I remember very little of the world outside of Erulissë. As far as I can recall there were processions of elves, like us, leaving. I knew that my Ada had no intentions of leaving. He did not want to undertake such a journey. So we stayed. By word of mouth we heard of this, colony almost. Moving to the White Mountains, near man, but far enough away that we would not be noticed. Ghosts amongst the trees.

Once he finished helping with the building, he helped to patrol and keep Erulissë safe. But he passed. I believe it was because of our Mother. She did not want to stay. There was a longing in her heart. But she trusted my Ada, and she left us to him. But ever since she left there has been the constant longing in his heart. The constant ache. Even though he smiled so brightly on the outside, it was clear to us, to /me/ at least that he was hurting, but there was naught I could do. When he passed my brother would follow in his footsteps. My brave, strong brother, he left with the only thing our Ada had given to us after his passing. His Lothlorien bow.

My Ada's bow was a beige colour, ripe and splendid in many ways. The silver inlay curves about it, flowers, trees and animals sweeping over it. The string of it pulled taunt as it cuts into the wood, twanging as it sends arrows through the air. I will assume that it was in my brother's hand the day he died. And it is in mine now as I stand in front of the entrance to the Main Pavilion of Erulissë. My name is Isilwen Táralóm, and since my brother's death I have been a mourner. But I feel that is about to change.

Isilwen's golden hair fell around her in waves as her auburn eyes search the Pavilion, scouting for any other than Thalion Dae-Galad, and Captain Naerfren. It came to her as unusual that the Pavilion was empty save for those two. It felt incomplete without the laughter and jokes of the younger, and the singing of the mourners.

The wind blew through her in whispers, the night was calm, and her gray gown that slid around her slender figure was cool, she seemed collected and composed. She inhaled a deep breath and stepped into view of those in the Pavilion.

"Isilwen Táralóm" a voice called. Her eyes flicked to face Thalion Dae-Galad. His noble features turned towards her, the Captain Naerfren ever at his side. She swallowed hard and walked towards him, setting a good pace with her feet.

"Aiya /hail/, Dae-Galad! Leader of the Erulissë elves, and Captain Naerfren, bold and trusted commander of our combat affairs. Le Suilon! /I greet thee/" Isilwen said respectfully. She dipped her head and stood a couple of feet away from them.

Dae-Galad looked over the young elf. She seemed perfectly calm, standing there with a good posture, but her eyes spoke of agitation. It was no wonder that she was nervous, they had called her here for no apparent reason. They were taking great care not to alert a lot of the people here, chaos and fear was something that they couldn't handle at this moment.

"Isilwen Taralom, your father and your brother were both fair shots with a bow and they did their duties carefully. From what I understand from both them and those around them, your shot could possibly match your brother's, your father's too perhaps. Is this true?" Dae-Galad asked suddenly.

Isilwen appeared momentarily taken aback by the question and for a split second her eyes flashed anger at the mention of the deceased. But she calmed herself and answered, "It was never a competition. It is not in my place to judge my own shot."

There was silence. Naerfren ran his hands through his hair, he had known that Isilwen would prove a challenge but… Dae-Galad looked to his friend for a moment. It had been on his better judgment that he had brought her here, now he expected to see something, and that something had better come from Naerfren.

Naerfren stepped forward, bringing himself closer to Isilwen, she shifted uncomfortably. He opened his mouth as if to say something and then shut it, lifting his finger over towards the opposite end of the pavilion. "Isilwen," he said sternly, "can you see that vase over there, with the flowers on it. The one in the middle of the farthest table?"

Isilwen squinted and followed his finger, "Yes…" she replied.

"Good, I want you to shatter it in one shot." He said with a monotone. Isilwen cocked her eyebrow slightly. The vase was glass and far enough away to make for a hard shot, but it was not Impossible.

Pulling an arrow from her quiver she pulled it into a comfortable position in the bow. Raising the bow up she sighted the vase through her right eye. Carefully she drew back the string, feeling the power of it pull at her arms. She checked her positioning: once, twice then pulled her fingers off the arrow.

There was a twang followed by a smash as the vase fell the floor, impaled by her arrow. She pulled the bow down and ruffled her shoulders, confident in her power over her weapon. Naerfren looked to Dae-Galad, a smug expression upon his face.

Dae-Galad looked happily bewildered, as he looked Isilwen over again. "What they say about your shot is true, and not exaggerated in any way. There is a situation growing, and we need people like you right now. We are ending your mourning, we want you to join the patrol."

Isilwen didn't react. She calmly nodded her head and strode off. Naerfren and Dae-Galad watched in silence for a moment. Then Naerfren clapped his friends shoulder before he too sped off. They all had better things to do than watch the sun fall.

Xx

Whoopsie, bit of a clipped ending I must say, I must say. But I just wanted to get this out there. As you can probably tell I am incredibly infatuated by the slowness of the beginning! Haha, not. I just want this to end! But with no character development the whole story may as well go down the drain! Grr! If anyone is still reviewing this story, even though my long.. absences, then you guys rock! You're so patient!

Felarof