Celebwen Telcontar: I want to thank all the people who have reviewed, especially Elenhin, my wonderful Beta, and LadyDeb. Thanks to all of you, and a massive group hug!
"Danielle," Laura, the eldest child of the last Chieftain of the Bardréd people, spoke to her eldest child, whose belly was swollen with pregnancy. "Daughter of the Bardréd, our traditions have been passed down from the time of Elessar and Bard of Dale, and they from their ancestors. You have married secretly outside of the Bardréd people and are with his child. You have also told your husband of the sacred histories.
Danielle Josephine Gates, your name is erased from the histories of our people." Laura stepped forth, unpinned the eight-pointed star with the mountain engraved upon it from Danielle's cloak, and had Danielle's younger brother, Derek, unpin his large leaf shaped brooch and replace it with the star. "No longer are you a Bardréd, you are Outcast." The assembled Bardréd turned and left, black clothes of mourning flapping in the stiff breeze. Uialriel, Danielle's Mearas friend, attempted to go to Danielle, but Laura and her Mearas stallion, Ithil, stopped her. Then, Danielle fled.
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Laura sat up in bed. She hadn't thought of that day in ages, why now? She decided to get up and start the day, rising and placing a dress robe about herself. She walked into a separate chamber of the rock-hewen palace that the Bardréd had lived in since King Thranduil of Mirkwood had gone over the sea with the remaining Elves in his household, leaving the palace to the Bardréd.
Memories. They were as numerous as leaves in an autumn wind. Laura tossed a handful of leaves into the brazier, feeling the wind wash over her and smelling the herbs burning and the scented smoke wreath the chamber. She lifted her hand as she approached the pedestal, holding a hand hovering over a cloth covering a sphere.
The palantir that had been in Orthanc during the War of the Ring.
Laura swept the cloth off, and placed a hand on either side of the black orb, willing it to speak to her.
A group walking down a spiraling staircase. A woman falling, then being caught by Derek and another man. The man kissing the woman.
The stairs breaking. The woman being hurled onto a dumbwaiter elevator. Derek following, then Patrick. The blonde man hurling himself over the gap onto the elevator.
A wall sliding out of place. A grand treasure in view. Scrolls on a shelf. Stairs in the far wall.
A wind, stronger than any other. Doors shattering inward. Wall falling inward. Great beast seen, unfurling its wings. Fire streaming from jaws. Patrick grasping a gun from the woman, firing at the dragon. Dragon dying, Patrick dying. Woman weeping. Derek holding her.
Noise, speech. Woman speaking in Sindarin. Derek answering.
Danielle. Speaking Sindarin. Woman and Danielle looking alike. Woman also looks like Patrick.
Woman's name.
Silence.
Laura wrenched her gaze from the orb, flying halfway across the room. She had a granddaughter, one who could speak Sindarin.
Danielle had raised her to be a Bardréd, Laura could see the kinship to the Heirs of Bard in her straightness of back, strength of will, and light in her eyes. Danielle had to be reinstated as a member of the Bardréd family.
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Danielle groaned as she lifted the cumbersome crate from the wooden floor. Every step was hard with the heavy container in her arms.
'Derek, can you help me?' she wheezed, her lungs being hampered by the bulky crate. He took one end, and she the other, and they bore it downstairs, and then set it on the table. 'Silence, can you come here?' Danielle said before sneezing dust from her nose. Derek wrestled the top off with the help of a claw hammer. Sadusky wandered over and yelped at the training equipment in the crate: banged up metal practice swords, blunt daggers, a tiny bow that was worn with a broken string, and arrows that had some heads coming off or others that were splintered. 'Silence, can you train Ben in weapons, Derek can you in history and I'll train him in Sindarin?' she asked.
"What is this stuff?" Sadusky asked, confused. He picked up a sword, and looked at it. "It's a piece of junk!"
"They're training weapons, meant to teach, not kill. The live weapons are quite different. Ben!" Silence said, yelling the last word. He came down, yelling, Tarichar latched onto his scalp.
'Queen's Heir. Come, off of his head,' Derek said firmly, grabbing the protective cat about the waist. She yowled, but allowed him to take her off.
Several minutes later, Ben and Silence were in the training room, facing each other. Silence held her blade like a live weapon used to decapitate orcs and other foul creatures; Ben, on the other hand, held his as far away from him as possible.
"Alright, Ben. First things first, you need to be holding the sword correctly, not as if it's the tail of a snake that will bite you." Ben shifted his grip on the practice blade, wishing he were anywhere else. Silence could tell because of his eyes shifting from side to side and sweat breaking out along his brow. He was frightened, of a sword. "Benjamin Franklin Gates, the sword will not bite you! Use it!" She attacked him, making a very simple move that even an infant would have no trouble in finding the weakness in. Ben yelped and dodged.
"You're trying to kill me!" Riley rushed in, apparently to aid Ben, and got the edge of the sword against his arm, barely scraping him. He yelled and picked up a live sword, attacking Silence. With Riley using no finesse, Silence easily parried the blade and sent it spinning across the floor.
"Riley, get out before you get yourself killed. This is a training session, not a playground. Leave." Riley yelped as she raised her sword in a mocking salute, and rushed from the room, white faced. "Alright, Ben. Come at me. Pick up the damned sword and attack!" He looked at her oddly.
"Why? Why do I need to learn this?"
"Because every Bardréd, correctly taught, must know it. Now fight!" She swung the blade at him, the dull iron metal whistling through the air straight for his neck. He yelled and brought up his sword, blocking it. The two blades met with a ringing crash, and he dropped the sword. "Pick it up," she snarled. He scrambled for the sword, yanking it up and nearly braining himself with the hard iron blade. "Eru give me patience! You'll be slaughtered in testing!" Silence growled in frustration. She lifted the blade, and he tried to attack her, nearly giving her a concussion, if she hadn't brought up the blade in time. "It's passable, but you need to be better at finesse! Come on, Ben, attack!" She held her blade in a parry as he brought his down in a sweeping move, trying to be graceful, and looking like someone who was trying out for the Nutcracker Ballet. Silence sighed in frustration. The way he moved and instinctively held the blade, she knew he was a natural. Now if he would only allow that natural ability to work!
She came up with a new plan. In a blurring motion, she began to attack, forcing him into retreating and parrying. The clangs and crashes showed where he had met her blade, and he soon was trying to anticipate her movements. Until he made a mistake and tried to attack, leaving his side open and unprotected. The flat of Silence's practice blade struck his ribcage, and he yelped and fell to his knees, holding his side. "Ben, never leave your sides unprotected! If nothing else, use your arms to protect your sides; your arms heal and will not kill you, but if I accidentally had ruptured your spleen or liver, you would not heal!" Silence snapped at him, racking up her practice blade and getting a pot of tea started, shredded dried willow bark being the only ingredient. Soon the tea was ready, and she handed him a cup. "Careful, it's hot. It may not taste all that good, but it will take away the pain." He took a sip, choked, and spat out the tea.
"What the hell is this!"
"Willow bark tea. Willow bark is high in the same stuff they put in Advil."
Ben groaned and drank the tea in a long draught, choking and spluttering at the throat-wrenchingly bitter taste of the tea.
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The aircraft docked and Laura stood. She calmly left the plane, and walked to the hold area. Being led down were three horses: her Mearas stallion, Ithil, Danielle's Mearas mare, Uialriel, and Derek's Mearas mare, Elen. She let her eyes wander as the horses got into the trailer of the truck she had rented, and got in and started it.
'Wretched American cars,' she muttered, sliding into the drivers seat after mistakenly getting into the passengers side. She pressed her foot to the pedal, and drove off, her mind wandering over what she would say to her daughter. "Yipe!" she yelped. She had let her mind wander too much, and she swerved her car into the proper lane, one of the horses screaming and kicking the side of the trailer in near panic. She drove to a nice suburban house, rather large, and stopped the car, letting the horses out.
Suddenly, Elen and Ualriel's ears went up and they shoved past Ithil as the door opened to admit none other than Danielle. Uialriel nuzzled her several times, nipped at her hair, and all but embraced the woman.
"Úialriel…? 'Mother?' Laura ignored her.
'Mother, why are there two horses here?' Silence asked. Ben stood near her, doubled over, his face in pain and a practice sword in one hand, a cup of tea in the other. He had obviously come from a session of sword training.
'Silence, Ben, this is your grandmother.' Laura snatched the blade from Ben and chased Silence outside, beginning to fence with her. Both giving it their all, and soon both women were soaked through with sweat, and were panting. Ben's eyes were wide.
"So that's how you use it! That was beautiful!"
'Silence, you are good. Who is Arassuil's grandson?'
'Argonui son of Arathor I.'
'Elros Tar-Minyatur and his son and grandson?'
'Vardamir son of Tar-Minyatur and shis son Tar-Amandil.'
'What does kûd-dûkan mean and in which tongue?'
'Kûd-dûkan means "hole-dweller" in the tongue of Rohan.'
'What is today?'
"Blotmath minya., odo, neldë yeni." November First, (age) Seven, three Elven-years November 1, 532 Seventh Age.
'How did the Fourth Age end?'
'A great plague swept through the lands of Arnor and Gondor, killing many people. The sheets of ice came down from the North and covered much of Arnor.'
'The Fifth Age?'
'The last true Dumedain, Alexander III, died, as did his horse, the last horse with Mearas blood outside of Bardréd raising.'
'Very good. Now the Sixth Age.'
'The Dwarves were driven farther into their mountains, the Hobbits began to shrink into their own lands and are unnoticed by Men, and the last of the Sylvan Elves went over the sea into Valinor.'
'Who are the Four Ancestors?'
'Bard, King of Dale; Elessar, King of Gondor; Éomer, King of Rohan; and Faramir, Prince of Ithilien and Steward to King Elessar.'
'What happened to Ecthellion IV?'
'He wed outside of the Bardréd, and was outcast.'
'Very good, Silence, very good. When I return to the Bardréd, you are coming with me, to be tested and to raise your Mearas.'
'Thank you, Grandmother.'
'You are most welcome, Granddaughter. Silence Dogood Hithen Aglariel Dalehiril Telcontar Shaw Gates Bardréd.' Laura stood and helped Silence up as well, then embraced her.
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Shaw picked up the sword, as did Ian. Silence was watching this practice session, wondering how far Ian had gotten in his training. Within the first minute, Silence knew that Ian was a natural with the sword. But the way his eyes flashed and the way that he dodged, his flying hair, and his knotted and bunched muscles, they reminded her of her uncle, in a way. Also of her mother and her grandmother. Laura came and stood near her, her eyes wandering over Ian and Shaw.
'He is Bardréd. I can tell. He has the eyes of the Heirs to Anarion, lost since Tari Firnorn wed with a non-Bardréd. Look at him, his grey eyes, his voice, his height. They are all Bardréd traits, but most often come through in the Firnorn line. The Telcontari have darker hair, the Firnorn's hair is lighter from the line of Eorl merged into it from Eowyn daughter of Eomund. The Daleter, on the other hand, have the strength of Bowmen, and also the patience that neither the Firnorns or the Telcontari have. He is of us, he must be trained. He will have a Mearas, and will also have a portion of the treasure of Erebor. The line of Firnorn has been long lost to time. It has at last been found.'
'He is a Steward?'
'Close enough. His ancestor is Faramir son of Denethor.'
'I never knew.
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Marie Narfin Aglariel Caranar Stone Bardréd saw the dust being kicked up by a running horse. By the speed, she identified the creature as Mearas, and then the rider was in her midst.
He had aristocratic features, was very tall, and had brilliant piercing blue eyes beneath golden hair. His eyes. They held her and took her breath away. They were like a pair of blue stars, with a net of gossamer about them. They held the timeless ages in one glance, and were sorrowful yet laughing. She knew he was no Man, or Adan, but Elf.
He slid off of his Mearas, a white stallion who wore no tack.
'Thank you very much, my friend Silmir,' he murmured in Sindarin to the stallion, who snorted and nuzzled him. 'My Lady, will you please take me to Laura Harriet Ariel Dalehiril Shaw Bardréd?'
'I am dreadfully sorry, My Lord, but she is no longer in this area. She has left for the United States.' Marie felt very flustered around the enigmatic Elvin lord, and soon was playing host to him, though he knew the way about the Bardréd caves like the back of his hand, most likely because he had lived here long before the palace had been in the keeping of the Bardréd people and the various branches of the family.
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Laura switched on the television, and saw the newest President of the United States, Andean Gorge, making a speech.
"And so, My Fellow Americans, we shall be with them, with our troops in Iraq, and with those who aid our country. The new Special Forces Unit will be at the edge of our lines, protecting you all…" Gorge made Laura feel nervous for some reason or other. He was too good-looking: she recalled tales of Númenor and how Sauron was as Annatar, a glorious-looking person who was enigmatic and very manipulative. Also, Gorge was manipulative in his own way, and liked being the center of attention. She brushed off the feeling. She was going back to Germany soon, so why would she need to trouble herself over Andean Gorge? She had other things to worry about, such as the new and only Firnorn, Ian Howe. She would have to get him into the Bardréd as well, and she had already decided on an arranged marriage between him and Silence. Besides, Silence already seemed to like him, and she they needed an Heir for all of the families, and since Laura's grandmother was a child of the Edorashil, Silence was of all three families. And Ian was a Firnorn. Not to mention that it was better to wed with someone you like and could learn to get along with, rather than someone you did not know in the least.
It would be done. Silence would wed with Ian Howe.
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The blonde Elf looked around the trees. This had been his home, for years uncountable. His father had dwelt in the Palace, and had been Elvenking here in the Forest of Mirkwood.
"Many memories, eh?" a familiar voice asked. Legolas swiveled about to face an old man leaning on a staff, his clothing pristine white.
"Mithrandir!" Legolas cried. The old Istar nodded sagely and looked carefully at the Mirkwood Elf.
"You look just as you always did, my friend. I take it you have felt the stirrings?"
"I have felt something. Like…Like a great evil, come back to live. But Morgoth is not free, and Sauron is dead… Or is he?"
Mithrandir sighed then nodded sadly. "I have felt the Ring's presence in this world. It was never truly destroyed, not even in the fires of its forging. The rock brought forth by the eruption of Orodruin after Frodo cast it away holds it, and its evil still lingers." Legolas stared at his old friend in surprise.
"I thought it had been destroyed in the Fires of Orodruin!"
"It had been partially melted, but the Ring could not be fully destroyed, not even by the power of the Fires of Orodruin." Legolas sighed in a silent prayer.
"And thus because of the fact that the Ring was not fully destroyed, neither was Sauron. Evil walks this earth again."
"Yes. We must aid the Bardréd, the ancient Heirs to Isildur, Anarion, Eorl, and Girion." Legolas looked around.
"Indeed we must, my friend. Indeed we must." He began to slice off strong, long, thin branches from trees, in order to make more arrows. The third war with Sauron was about to begin.
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Silence pulled her horse to one side as the ground cleft down to reveal a majestic canyon. The sedimentary layers of the earth were laid bare in sunset colors with sandstone reds, pegmatite and quartzite dikes of pink and crystal white, and a rising blush of mudstone, shale, and another layer of sandstone.
"Hey, Silence!" Riley yelled. The sound bounced off the rock walls, and an unstable rock tumbled, pushed by the sound waves, down into the canyon with a terrific crash. The horses skittered and whinnied, startled by the sudden noise.
"Naldaro, naldaro, mellon nin. Dinnen, daro, Elgollo," Stop crying, stop crying, my friend. Silence, stop, Starcloak. Silence whispered to her horse. The appaloosa mare snorted and settled down, her speckled rump quivering with suppressed excitement. "Riley, do not shout. This land, it magnifies every sound you make. The greatness is what causes the echoing of the voice."
"Uh… yah. Well, Silence, I…" He looked at her. "There's a restaurant back there. Do you wanna go there for lunch?"
"Lunch? It's three in the afternoon. And that's a McDonalds, and a greasy one at that."
"Uhh… Dinner, yah. Dinner."
"Riley, what's wrong?" Abigail asked.
"I… uh…" He kicked his horse forward, more cruelly than was necessary, and drew near to Elgollo and Silence. Ian had now fallen back to ride with the others after scouting out part of the canyon.
"Spit it out, Riley," Silence said. She was irritated so far at him, but decided to let him say his piece.
"Er… Do you wanna go for a shake-shake?"
Silence looked at him. Abigail groaned. And Ian fell back. Riley began to look nervous.
"Cel, Riley. Loa ore." Go away, Riley. Grow a mind.
"What the hell was that?" Ben asked. He was looking straight ahead, at a massive forest that was above the canyon, and infringing upon it.
"Welcome, my friends, to the Black Forest of Germany," Laura said from Ithil's back.
"Home…" Danielle whispered. Uialriel neighed slightly and pranced in place.
"Do not touch the water, it is enchanted to cause one to sleep should one touch it. This is Mirkwood, not simply the Black Forest." A scurrying sound came across as a tiny black squirrel scampered overhead, and a clicking was heard.
"What is that?" Ben asked.
"Most likely branches clacking," Sadusky replied, hopefully.
"Don't be too sure. Parts of the forest are darkening again, and we believe it may be the spiders."
"Don't say that!" Abigail said, shuddering. She dismounted quickly and found a place to regurgitate her breakfast.
"What is this, the sixth time you've done that in three days?" Riley asked. Ben rolled his eyes.
"Riley, Abigail is pregnant, I think. The cravings for red beans and rice, pickles, and vanilla, along with the three year old salsa on freezer-burned ice cream are another part of her condition."
"It's not a condition!" she screamed.
"So are mood swings."
Horse, Riley's mild-tempered gelding, made an odd snort as Riley cried out in horror.
"Oh! Ah! Ah! Get off! Eh! Oh! Hoh! Hoh! Ah! Ehh!" he cried, sawing at the reins and clamping his legs about Horse's barrel. Then, with a whinny, the gelding reared and came down, attempting to buck off its rider.
"Roch, mellon nin, naldaro!" Horse, my friend, stop crying! Laura cried, grasping for Horse's reins. The spiders that had decided to land on Riley were most likely crushed as he fell from the saddle onto the forest floor.
"Ahhh… humans…" a voice said in the distance in the trees.
"Oh shit…" Ben said, remembering the Attercops and Tomnoddys from The Hobbit. Spiders the size of their horses would not be a good thing. Shaw's Elen snorted and held her ground, as did the other two Mearas. The non-Mearas horses, on the other hand, spooked and only the calming hands of their riders kept them calm. The sounds of huge bodies scurrying through the forest made the horses even more nervous, and Vixen, Abigail's chestnut mare, fled into the forest, and gave an odd grunting squeal. Silence believed that she had been turned into giant spider food.
"You said it," Riley replied, struggling with Horse, who was still trying to flee with Riley's hand and foot entangled in the reins and him grabbing a tree branch. Elgolo reared and screamed her terror, and Silence was knocked from her saddle as the mare bolted out of the forest. With a splash, Silence landed in the river, and blackness encompassed her mind.
Celebwen Telcontar: Firnorn, in Sindarin, means 'Dead Tree'. As the White Tree died when the Heirs to Isildur left the City of Minas Tirith in the care of the Stewards, I figured that to be a good name.
Balrog: I see. Makes sense, sort of. If you don't mind, I'll get back to my apple rolled in gneiss crumbles, now.
Celebwen Telcontar: Alright. Go ahead. Break your teeth on rocks. Please review, people.