A jarring sensation, followed by sharp pain across her ribs. Light spun in her vision and tears blurred her sight. She searched for the familiar face of her brother. The newfound stillness was just as shocking as tumbling through the air had been. The floor had disappeared out from under her, and now she lay still across the rubble. Her brother's form was gone and replaced by flames. The wood and metal was splintered and sharp beneath her body.

Her mind was muddled, flashes of events faded in and out as she tried to make sense of what happened. The smoke was smothering and thick. Long dark strands of hair weaved around her neck choking her. She gasped trying to fill her lungs, only to get a smothering wall of smoke. The heat was increasing. She shifted, halfheartedly attempting to free herself from the burning building only have the rubble beneath her shift, sending her further down. The woman grit her teeth and ignored the pain. She stumbled to her feet and spun around. The building was engulfed in flames. The long tendrils of fire crackled and consumed the walls. Her clothing was hot on her skin and her eyes burned. The sound of the fire was disrupted by the sound of creaking wood. A new wave of pain spread across her body at the impact. This time she did not get up.

A light breeze blew through the trees rustling the long grasses. Red was just starting to decorate the trees and the weather was growing colder at night. Fall was nearing. A young elleth lay nestled between the roots of a large oak tree. She shifted slightly, still not awake. Her hair was dark and curled softly around her face which was still round with youth. It wasn't terribly cold, but the sky was overcast and the winds were damp, holding the promise of rain. Another gust of wind blew a large yellowing leaf across her cheek. Her eyes blinked open. They were wide and grey, confusion evident on her delicate features. She rubbed at her face and pushed herself up. She remembered snippets. There was heat and pain. She remembered the face of a man, he was smudged with soot and calling to her. Her heart knew she loved him, but her brain could not remember who he was. Fire surrounded the two of them, he pulled her hand and the two of them fell through the floor. She had not seen him again.

She remembered the struggle to breath, the fear, the pain that tore her body apart and the burning. The fire that swallowed her. The young elfling had begun to weep. Fear of being alone, fear of the pain she did not understand, and the loss of the man consumed her. Minutes passed, and while her grief did not subside her tears slowed. A soft vibration seemed to be flowing through her, it distracted her from her memories.

The comforting sensation seemed to flow up from the earth into her heart. The trees felt the sorrow of the elfling, they did not want her to suffer. They sang to her. It had been many years since the forest had given birth, and they wished for nothing more than the child's happiness.

Many miles away a border patrol had been resting. They had fought hard the night before, driving a group of rogue orcs from their borders. More of the beasts had been appearing in the past decades, and with their numbers their confidence grew. They were venturing further into the elven lands and the patrols were working double to keep the borders secure.

The battle had been hard, and they were enjoying their much deserved rest, treating their wounds and cleaning their weapons.

The elven warriors were used to the constant whispers of the leaves and the mumbling songs of the woods. But in a matter of minutes the elves had felt the shift. The forest grew louder. The energy of the trees was more focused. They did not whisper many songs, or hold hushed conversations, but joined together as one stronger voice. Glorfindel, one of the taller elves, stood and looked into the trees. He still donned his armor, though his blade rested against a nearby tree. All of the first born in the camp had paused their activities to listen.

"What does this mean?" A youthful elf asked quietly. His figure was slim and his long brown hair was braided neatly back. He had only just come of age 7 cycles before, he was too young to have fought in the war but he remembered it. He was still seated near the fire where he had been tending to a pot of stew. He looked to their commander for an answer.

Glorfindel remained silent for a moment. They all remembered the last shift in the trees, the Battle of the Gladden Fields had brought the terror of war from distant trees. But this was different, this had happened over the span of minutes not days. Their song had darkened then, as the unease of battle approached and darkness contaminated the land. No, the song now was of concern and comfort. He felt it in his heart, all the elves did, even though it was not meant for them.

"I do not know" he finally replied to the younger elf. "But we must be vigilant."

The elfling wrapped her arms around the tree. She didn't understand why this was happening, just that she wished to be closer to the welcoming branches and kindly leaves. She wanted to thank them. The evening was growing cooler, but the little elf was not cold. Her dress was thin and light, but the trees shielded her from the wind as she walked. They were quieter now. Her bare feet walked lightly making almost no sound on the forest floor. The clothing she wore blended into the natural tones of the forest. Her dress was simply cut, no more than a frock. It was a beautiful green, as though she had been clothed in the very leaves the trees bore. Her dark hair was tangled with twigs from her sleep on the forest floor. She clenched the fabric in her fists and continued her walk.

She had been comforted by the song of the forest, but she was tired and lost. It still felt like the fire burned her skin even with the cool air. She tried not to dwell on the foggy memories that kept creeping into her mind. The forest while pleasant was still unfamiliar. Her heart ached for the man who disappeared into the flames. Other faces also appeared in her mind, faces that she couldn't name but made her throat tighten.

The little elfling did not stop walking that night. Even as fatigue clung to her bones she did not stop. When she did, memories of the fire burned in her mind. So she walked. The trees kept her company. She tripped for a fifth time that night, landing hard on her hands and knees. She did not rise like she had the last four times. Her body ached with tiredness and her knees stung. The light grey of dawn was hitting the leaves, the cool chill of fog and morning dampness sank through her skin. She wrapped her arms across her chest and let the despair consume her once more. Her thoughts spiraled. Where was she going? The trees here looked the same as the ones from hours before. How would she eat? Why did she still burn? Why had the man left her? Would he come back for her? Or was she the one who had left him?

She felt guilt for her misery when she knew the forest was trying to cheer her. But it wasn't enough. She was overwhelmed and confused. She was cold and burning at the same time.

"The forest is unsettled" Glorfindel muttered. They were on the move again. The patrol was due to return to Imladris in a weeks time, and if they could he wanted to be there early. He wished to report what they had heard. He was not sure how far the song had reached, or if Lord Elrond had heard it. But changes in the trees were usually tied to important historical events, the coming and goings of troubled times or rare visitors to the forest. The group rode quickly all understanding the urgency of their return.

"Sir!" one of the elves on the left of the Patrol called out "I hear something" he added. Glorfindel adjusted his horses reins and called for the group to halt. He did not wish to postpone their arrival home. But he humored the soldier, knowing him to be of honorable character.

Glorfindel dismounted and the other elf as he did the same. He had met the soldier on a number of previous patrols. He was broad shouldered and of good heart, a gentle elf but fierce in battle. He was an elf of few words, for him to have called out to the group he must truly have heard something. Perhaps it pertained to the behavior of the trees the older elf theorized.

"Ornthalas" he greeted with a nod. Before turning and cocking his head to listen into the trees. Glorfindel furrowed his brow. Through the sounds of the woods and the snuffling of the horses he could make out a faint unfamiliar sound. With a few quick commands, the majority of the patrol remained behind. Glorfindel and Ornthalas started west, going against the wind. They had their weapons at the ready and moved with all the silence and grace of skilled soldiers.

The forest was calling out now, wailing in sorrow. It was heartbreaking to any elf who heard. Glorfindel inhaled deeply, trying to quell the sadness that rose up in his heart at the song. The two warriors pushed further, heading into the heart of the song.

The elfling allowed her emotions to swallow her. In her mind she no longer sat in the forest. She was back amongst the rubble the flames surrounded her and she sobbed. She knew the forest was calling to her. She could hear it in the back of her mind crying with her. But she ignored it. She allowed her exhaustion and misery to take hold of her.

There was no mistaking the cries of a child. It was still faint but recognizable now, carried by the wind. Now they need only to locate the youngling. They continued further west and her sobs increased in volume. Their sensitive ears twitched. The child sounds very young, Glorfindel thought to himself. Only a minute later they were upon the elleth. She was sitting on her knees crying like there was nothing else in the world for her. She sobbed so heavily it made Glorfindel's heart break. Silently they circled around her, making sure there was no danger and that she was not bait for a battle. She remained unaware of them, and the calls of the trees.

Glorfindel gestured for Ornthalas to remain where he was, his bow at the ready just in case. The older warrior intentionally caused a lot of noise emerging from the trees. The child was shaken from her memories at the sound of his approach. She blinked, her crying quieted in her surprise. When she noticed the tall and imposing figure standing at the edge of the clearing it sent a wave of adrenaline through her. She flew from her spot on the ground and whirled behind the nearest tree. Her heart pounded in her chest and her hands shook. The elfling pressed her cheek into the bark of the tree hoping for its voice to soothe her. It was disconcertingly quiet.

Glorfindel crouched in front of the tall oak.

"I will not harm you small one, are you lost?" he could not see much of the girl, only her hands. She wrapped her arms tightly around the tree as though it would protect her. Her knuckles were white with how hard she gripped its rough bark. The trees had been singing to her he knew. Such an occurrence was spoken of only in legends. How had the child gotten here? he wondered, and why was she so distraught? Putting aside his curiosity he reached into the pouch at his hip.

"Are you hungry?" Glorfindel held out a small piece of Lembas bread. For a long moment there was no response. The child remained frozen to the tree. Then, slowly, a small curious eye peeked out from behind it. She stared at him.

She had never seen anything like him before. He was so tall, and his face immaculate. He was strange, so perfectly young yet his eyes held age and wisdom. She found him uncomfortable to look at, so she averted her eyes from his face. Instead absorbing his golden hair. She felt a childlike desire to touch it but held herself back, knowing better. He bore sleek and very elegant silver armor. Her eyes lingered on the sword that hung from his belt and the neat metal leaves that decorated his chestplate before making her way back up to his eyes. They were a bright blue and filled with concern. Glorfindel allowed her to observe him with cleverly hidden impatience. As a whole, elves were a very patient race. They had more of it than most. But in this case, the temptation of an elfling made Glorfindel's fingers twitch.

This being looked nothing like the people in her memories. The face of the man from her dreams flashed in her mind. His face twisted with emotion, there was a mole underneath his left eye, and stubble coating his chin. Soot marred his features, exaggerating the wrinkles in his skin. A drop of spit flew from his mouth as he screamed. His face was flawed. Flawed with signs of figure crouched before her was so perfectly still, like a doll made of porcelain. His face is pristine and untouched by the miles of nature around them. She didn't trust him.

But oh was she hungry. The small pastry he held out to her looked so good. Finally, she tentatively reached out for it. This man, so distinctly opposite of the man she remembered, held the bread out gently. His presence held power and authority, even the trees bowed to his presence. She did not like it.

Glorfindel guessed the child was 20 years old at most. Her eyes were still red from her tears. She had not fully emerged from behind the tree yet. She snatched the Lembas out of his grip and retreated back behind the tree, though not totally out of sight. She watched him closely as she ate the bread. Glorfindel had not seen an elf child for at least two ages, not since Elrond's children had been young. He had forgotten how enchanting they were.

First Born children were valued above all else by the elves. Their laughter was treasured and their song beloved. They were kept deep within the confines of elven cities, protected from the dangers of Middle Earth. How had she come to be here? Elladan and Elrohir had not been allowed outside the outer walls until they were near 200. No first born would bring a child so young out into the wilds this early. The stories of the children born from the trees were just that, stories. Legends from the old days when the Valar had blessed the lands and sent the children were told to every youngling, he knew the stories well.

"Will you tell me why you were crying?" She had finished the bread and now stared at him unblinkly. All at once, taking the experienced warrior off guard, her face crumpled and her sobs started again. She did not tell him of the pain she felt. She could not, not that she wanted to. This stranger scared her.

With no hesitation Glorfindel swept the child into his arms. Fear struck her and she stiffened. Glorefindels heart ached. He remembered holding Arwen when she had been the same age. The bubbly child had laughed and braided his hair. This child had gone rigid at the contact. "What trauma has she sustained?" he wondered. Even so, it was strange for one of their own young to be frightened and not comforted by his presence. Glorfindel kept his palm heavy on her back rubbing in small circles hoping to soothe her as he returned to the patrol.

"A child?" mutters swept through the elves. It had been years since there had been any elven children. Glorfindel knelt on a bedroll and lowered her down. She shook out of his arms quickly and stared around the camp in fear. Her gray eyes bounced from face to face, unsure of what to make of it. It was only when the elves lulled her with song did she finally rest.

In her sleep, it was unmistakable that she was an elfling. Her pale skin emitted a soft light and her soft breathing was pure and gentle, reuniting with the breath of the woods. That night, the elves sang. The song was soft but joyous. The discovery of the child was celebrated.