I neither created nor own Middle Earth, Greenwood the Great, Imladris, Arda, Valinor, Noldo elves, Sindar elves, or Silvan elves. Tolkien did and I'm very grateful. I did create Tirven, Sarnin, Sarnhael Celuant, and queen of Greenwood Lathwinn the Great.

This story is for entertainment purposes only, so God bless and enjoy. :)

Sarnhael chipped away at one stone with another while facing the lake, which was now always embraced by the vast forest that was Greenwood the Great. Then the older ellon raised his head and glanced over his shoulder with a smile. It was not a Silvan smirk, but it was the best his Noldo lips and scarred cheeks could do. "Are you attempting to practice a warrior's sneak upon me, grand-ionneg?"

Tirven froze in his approach behind his grandfather's back. Then he straightened, folded his hands together behind his back, and replied, "No grand-adar..."

"Come stand beside me then." Sarnhael turned his head back to concentrate on his work.

Tirven, without unfolding his hands, stepped up to stand a pace away from his grandfather's side. The toes of his deer-antler-hide-shed shoes brushed the sand of the lakeshore. Instead of staring at the water or the trees around them, however, he focused on the stone his kin was forming into a blade.

The more ancient ellon interrupted the silence. "Why have you sought me out, Tirven?"

Tirven remained silent a few moments. He dipped his chin in even more. His eyes seemed inward focused as he replied. "Are you angry with me, grand-adar?"

Sarnhael's paused in his chipping, rose out of his crouch slightly, and sighed before bending back over his work. "Not at you, grand-ionneg."

"At who are you angry then? Lord Elrond? His sons?"

Sarnhael raised the half-finished blade before his lips and blew. He placed it back down and began again while answering, "I am angry at those in Imladris who play with your heart and your loyalty."

Tirven grimaced. He looked up just enough to gaze at the back of his grandfather's head. "They are not them, grand-adar."

"I thought the same about all my brothers, especially my eldest when I shouted to him as the orcs dragged me down from the saddle. I had no idea my last command to him would cause him to deny my later plea."

Tirven fell silent. He looked away for a long moment and then back to reply. "But you forgave them later. And all who denied you access to the city then have died."

"Not all ... most, and the last did not exactly deny me. He even spoke up in my favor, but then fell silent at an order from the fort-commander. Besides, I was not the only one nor that the only fort who turned the newly espcaped away in those days."

Tirven remained silent until his grandfather stopped his work to look up at him. "That is what we love about our Silvans, Tirven. Though it has hurt our queen badly, even when their king gives them orders, they will often choose loyalty and love over following orders of other elves and not for the things they made, but for the things the Singer has made and given to them. There is a time to obey, always in fact, but to deny healing, and mercy, and love to offer nothing or death to the needy instead is not often what the Merciful asks of us. I fear what happened to me then one day happening to you. You may go to them in time of need and receive what I received then rather than what they offer you now in what is good times for them."

"I know but ... Lord Elrond is no more Noldo than me. His sons even less-so."

"I know. But those who are live in their valley grand-ionneg, most of those left from my time, from Valinor, live with them there. And I know those elves who sailed here and have yet to sail back. I know them better than thee. In your greatest need, come home Tirven. If our home is no longer here then, go to those who love you, your kin, our people. Do not trust your broken body or heart to the ancient Noldo. They will always take a command from one of their highest-ranking own before they take a chance on you, even the best of them, even your best friend."

A longer silence followed broken by the wavering voice of a young elf. "Am ... 'I' so, grand-adar?"

Sarnhael stopped, put the stones down, and looked up to meet Tirven's gaze. He studied the younger elf a long time.

Despite the golden-brown eyes and darker brown hair, warmer toned-skin and green and tan clothing, he knew these facial-features, their expression, and the character they showed. His own traitorous and too-forgiving heart was warmed by them. "You are Noldo in many ways, granionneg. You remind me of the most loyal among them I knew. When even he fell silent at the commander of our fort's final decision, I was shocked by his betrayal. It came nearer to killing me than that arrow. But your grandmother found me, and loved me, and brought me to her people. She never gave up on me while waiting for centuries until my heart was renewed. Only then did I accept her love and give her my own, promised her before others what I had thought I'd never have to give, which is why you have so few cousins compared to many."

Tirven gave a wavering smile. His grandfather smiled back and nodded. "You remind me of her too. You remind me of Sarnin. You seem a mixture to me of the best Noldo and Silvan I ever knew. So be comforted and proud, son of my son."

Tirven's smile lessened. He swallowed. "So ... you think I would take a chance on love and loyalty by denying my commander's orders? Obey a greater command from the Merciful instead?"

Sarnhael stared at him. "What do 'you' think you would do, grand-ioneg?"

Tirven frowned and stared down this time at the sparse grass meeting sand. He remained glaring so long before finally replying. "I think, I could not risk a whole fort of elves to save one even one dear to me. But none would stop me from going to them by myself. Even if I had to sneak, and thus avoid letting others following me in my folly, I would go alone to one I loved at time their of need."

Sarnhael smiled at his kin. "There is something Silvan in you yet, Tirven, lying under the surface. If your beloved, friend, or kin was crying out to you as I did to mine then, you would indeed only turn away to go to them in silence. Your grandmother's heart would not let you do anything else and neither would your Noldo wisdom. Be as proud of you as I."

Tirven's face flooded with light into the greatest smile he could give. Sarnhael smiled back more gently and tilted his head in the direction of the forest. "Now go and spend time with your beloved."

. . .

Far, far away Manwe watched. His gaze focused upon the elves on the lakeshore before it flashed back to one in Imladris fingering a blade in privacy and silence. Then he looked down into Valinor at the plains the eldest ellon he'd been watching once coaxed the younger Noldo to ride through with him.

Varda grabbed her husband's arm and leaned into him with a soft whisper. "How long? How long until we are allowed to mend this breach, my love?"

Manwe looked up from the land and stared into the sky in silence. Then he smiled softly and took the star-kindler's hand in his to give it a soft squeeze. One of his eagles flew up with a screech, flapping it's great wings near his face in joy, before darting back down to sweep over the bright land. Manwe laughed at his scout's report. "Not long ... not long ... pieces are in place, but the one who gave us them and the board tells us to wait, but not much longer my love, not much longer at all do we or they have to wait. Not long at all ..."

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God Bless

ScribeofHeroes