CHAPTER 5: WATCHING, WAITING, WONDERING

There was the sound of light laughter, which made Aníra smile as she stepped into the clearing.

"'Tis no surprise to find you here, my friend," she whispered.

"Come back, everyone, you all know this dear elleth will do you no harm." Aiwendel's voice was soothing and encouraging. He made gentle whistling and clicking noises.

Aníra dropped slowly to her knees and waited until she could hear the chitter-chatter of the Istar's little friends again.

"Who is here today?" she asked.

"Luna is taking her ease on my lap, Nut and Shell are stocking up for Winter, and little Lord Cranberry is directing operations."

The robin twittered in response to his name. Aníra grinned – she could imagine he was also proudly fluffing up his feathers. Aiwendel twittered in response, and then made a funny crrk! noise. There was an irritable 'squeak!' in response.

"Wait your turn, young sir! Here, Aníra, keep him busy, will you?"

A small shower of nuts bounced off Aníra's knee. She gathered them up and held them out one-by-one. A tugging sensation told her Nut had taken the bait. He'd been first out of the nest and could now be rather domineering over his younger brother Shell.

The morning continued in a like-manner, with Aiwendel also singing a lullaby to Luna in between arguing with Nut over the division of the spoils. Lord Cranberry sometimes twittered round about Aníra's feet, but he mostly stayed up above in the branches.

Aníra enjoyed these times with the Istar and his animal friends immensely. There wasn't much 'proper' conversation, but neither was it missed. If she wanted to do something more intellectual, she could go to Curumo or Olórin, although the former in particular always seemed to be locked away in counsel with Elrond, Celeborn, and Galadriel. She supposed that was only natural, Curumo being head of the Order of the Istari.

The Istari were a group of five Maiar, spirits sent by the Valar to Arda to aid the Free People's fight against the new spread of Sauron's shadow. So Curumo did have a lot of responsibility and he seemed to be the one Istar taking the most amount of personal pride in their mission. He buried himself in history and lore, which made him rather distant at times. Olórin was more open and down-to-Arda, but he had discovered a substance he called black powder and now liked to experiment with it. Glorfindel had tried his best to describe the brilliant flashes of colour that were the result, but Aníra found the accompanying explosions painful and tried to keep as far away as possible. Alatar and Pallandro had 'gone travelling' very soon after the Istari's arrival and had yet to return. Unlike the others, Aiwendel concerned himself most with the local flora and fauna. It had been this that had first brought him into contact with Aníra. Like Elrond, he truly listened to her when she talked about flowers and music. He also encouraged her playing for animals.

Eventually, though, like Alatar and Pallandro before them, Curumo, Olórin, and Aiwendel all began to wander around Arda. Aiwendel became drawn towards Mirkwood, or Greenwood the Great as it had once been known. Olórin seemd to wander most of all and – as is the custom with Elves – was gifted with a new name: Mithrandír, or Grey Pilgrim.

As a consequence of their extensive wanderings, the Istari were able to furnish the Elves with far more detailed reports of the outside world than those which they had hitherto been used to. They heard of the reappearance of the Nazgûl, and then the sacking and abandonment of Annúminas.

The Imladrim, however, felt safe in the Valley; and Elrond stuck proudly to his policy of not turning anyone in need away. This was in direct contrast to the far more insular Elves of Mirkwood, or even Lórien. It was nice to also hear lighter tales from time-to-time. Mithrandír became enchanted by a race of creatures he called 'Hobbits', who had settled in The Shire, a small, verdant land in the West. Aníra never tired of hearing about it or its inhabitants. She longed to meet one.

The Dwarves had also been rather active; those who dwelt in Khazad-dûm, continuing their lustful search for Mithril, disturbed the Nameless Terror. In the ensuing battle, King Náin and many of his people were slaughtered, whilst the rest fled. The Elves of Lórien renamed Khazad-dûm Moria, or Dark Abyss. Náin's son Thráin then founded Erebor, the Kingdom of the Lonely Mountain.

The Kingdom of Gondor, having suffered so much in the Kin-Strife and then the Great Plague, became the unwilling centre of more unrest when King Eärnur – the 33rd King – fatally accepted a challenge by the Witch-King of Angmar, thereby breaking the Line of Anárion. His Steward, Mardil Voronwë, began to rule Gondor in his stead, vowing his line would do so until the throne could be reclaimed by a true heir of Elendil. Elrond, being a Peredhel and thus giving a touch more thought towards the Secondborn than most Elves, hoped the Kingdom would not have to wait too long.

XXX

There now came a time of peace for both Gondor and Mirkwood, evil having receded from Dol Guldur. Nevertheless, the Elves and the Istari remained wary and eventually formed the White Council at Galadriel's behest. The substance of their meetings remained secret, but Aníra – long experienced in such matters – could generally glean one or two juicy morsels from her mate, who was himself a member.

Galadriel's insistence was soon proved fortuitous, however, when reports of a new species of dark creature running abroad in Arda began to circulate. They became known as Uruk-Hai and invaded Gondor, laying waste to the eastern city of Osgiliath.

Yet through all this, the Elves of Imladris wanted for nothing and felt secure. The evils of Arda seemed incapable of penetrating the protective girdle around their haven. Elrond had indeed been wise when he'd chosen the Valley for his home. But Fate is a cruel mistress and no one is truly safe from her arrows.

XXX

Celebrían had made the journey between Imladris and Lórien alone so often that no one had thought to question it. In the first years of their bond, Elrond had tentatively suggested providing an escort, but he was firmly rebuffed, for his mate was proudly and fiercely independent. Sometimes the family travelled together, or if a Merchant Caravan was going the same way, Celebrían may welcome the company, but mostly she travelled alone.

The first Aníra knew something was wrong was the sudden crash of a goblet on marble, and then a buzz of concerned voices. Glorfindel had immediately left her side so she grabbed Lindir's arm instead.

"What's happening?"

"Elrond looks like he's seen a ghost."

"Elrond?" Glorfindel.

"Adar?" Elladan and Elrohir.

"Cel-Celebrían…" His voice, no longer that of calm authority, was now a strangulated whisper. "She…she's in pain…great pain…and she's terrified."

"We'll find her," said Elrohir resolutely, "Come, Brother."

A ringing silence descended after the Hall doors banged behind them, the Imladrim realising that, yet again, there was little they could do but wait.

When the Twins did return, the prognosis was not good. Celebrían had been taken and tortured by the filthy Yrch. Elrond laboured long and hard and eventually managed to heal her physical injuries, but she had lost all joy in life. The Imladrim did all they could to help, but she was gradually slipping away, wanting only to sail and seek peace in Valinor. At first, Elrond resisted all overtures, and many supported him, knowing the pain such a separation would cause to all the family. Glorfindel was one of his most ardent supporters and spent many hours at Elrond's side.

Aníra was as unhappy as anyone at her Lady's plight, remembering the bright, mirthful elleth who had helped choose flowers for her Binding. Unable to stand the atmosphere in the House any longer, she went out to the gardens, seeking solace amongst Yavanna's Bounty. Following the path into one garden, Aníra stopped suddenly. It felt quiet, cold, and sad. She began edging away as discreetly as possible.

"No, Aníra, don't go." Celebrían's voice held a pleading note in it.

Aníra was unable to resist the unspoken request and carefully found her way over to where Celebrían's voice had come from. They didn't speak and time began to stretch. Aníra took up her lute, but all that she played seemed to have an innate sadness to it.

"You don't have to play; your presence is enough."

Again, they sat in silence. Then, gradually, Aníra stretched out her hand. It was met by Celebrían's coming the other way.

Eventually, it was only Galadriel's pronouncement – in a voice taut with emotion – that her daughter would begin to fade if she was not allowed to sail that made Elrond relent. And if he thought the rest of his family would remain at Imladris, he was to be sorely disappointed. The Twins, now harbouring a deep-seated and lust for revenge against all Dark Creatures, travelled about the Wild killing as many Yrch as they could find, while Arwen chose to spend many long years amongst the golden trees of Lórien.

XXX

In the years after Celebrían's sailing, Arda itself seemed to grow darker. Dragons attacked the Dwarves of the Grey Mountains. Yrch invaded even the lands of the little Hobbits. The seemingly endless days of the Long Winter battered all creatures great and small. A Firedrake known as Smaug captured Erebor along with all its treasure. The Dwarves and the Yrch battled for supremacy. Men, of course, continued to battle each other.

In amongst all this, members of the White Council had been watching Dol Guldur closely, fearing the growth of its darkness. Mithrandír eventually succeeded in entering those cursed lands. When he returned, it was with the confirmation of what everyone had been dreading, but also vainly hoping would not occur: Sauron had returned.

The rains returned to Imladris, although they weren't the usual light, life-giving Spring rains. They pervaded every crevice, making the very atmosphere damp and cold. Usually, Aníra enjoyed the rainy season, revelling in the chance of being able to wander through more than just darkness. Now, however, she spent many hours indoors, trying not to dwell on too many dark thoughts. Even the mere confirmation of Sauron's return was enough to send a chill down the spine. It seemed to sharpen everything. The evil and darkness had always been real, but now battles would have to be fought. Many red suns would rise.

Arda was at the crest of a great wave, about to tumble down into the abyss of the unknown.

TBC