Well here it is, the latest update, and only after a few weeks of absence. If you forgot what happened then i suggest reading the last chapter, I know i had to. Just kidding.
A slight warning in that in the second large paragraph, after the dialouge there is a transition of scene and character. Im sorry but it just came out that way.
There at the small campfire three figures sat with elongated shadows flowing behind them like sable bridal veils moving to the dancing tongues of fire as the fire itself danced with the wind of that great plain. Each sat at first in silence, as though neither spoke the same tongue, judging mind for mind in the ancient ways as the noble lords of the eldar did, yet neither of them possessed such power, such wisdom, though one fell under the wing of one so great in that ability, yet for childish rebellion chose not to learn of his ancient secrets. At last the new face amid their company spoke, his grasp of his own tongue had a larger foundation as though he spoke no other and chose not to in his own wild and proud way. He heard the name of this new being and liked it little for the sound of its lilt and the music of its fluidity, yet he spoke his own name with pride for it indeed was a name of strength, Tal-ano. His eyes were of a fiercer light and the darkness of his skin far greater than his sister's as though he had spent countless eons lying face up in the sands of this sun-kissed valley. He spoke then rashly, wary of strangers though ever wishing to greet them as friends, a dual trait that served his people well in making alliances,
"So, pale face, you say you come from the West, so too does the Eye, are you then his spy dressed in beseeming garb?"
"Do not speak to him as such Talán, he is of the Kadjinai…"
The woman spoke then scolding her brother as though he had insulted his own father and accused her of treachery, yet as quickly as the words left her mouth his reverberated in sibling debate, not meant for prying ears to hear for they spoke in hushed voices and quickly rising and falling with their mood,
"They are only children's tales…"
"He does not fear the shadow-beings"
" Because he is one of them…"
"You used to trust… trust me and my mind…"
With a wary glance the man called Talán frowned and looked to the east where the sun rose over the flat plain of Talath Anorui and its first beams graced their gathered faces though hundreds of miles away the thoughts of a lone elf looked to the East when his eyes were used to looking West in these times of watchful peace. Silently this elf sat in a house abandoned by grief and anger, a house made of ancient design, long forgotten by the forest dwellers with whom he was kin, though for him his chief love was that of the sea. He gazed toward the eastern stars as the hour of midnight passed away and the new morning dawned in the farthest distance as far as elves eyes could see; open before him lay a book of blank pages, large and rather cumbersome covered in a dark blue lining, engraved with silver and bronze designs that encircled it as the waves of the sea. The page that lay open to his eyes bespoke a map of a foreign and long forgotten land, intricate in its detail yet rushed in its making. No words graced the landforms, for no written tongue existed when the pen marked its original and drew the forms of an ever-changing land. The ancient hands graced over its deep pressed engravings as though he were a blind man searching for meaning amid the curves of the valleys and hills and the points of the mountaintops.
"Hir Cirdan…?"
A voice, hushed though quick, filled the silence of the moment and the ancient elf was brought back from the peace of his worried mind as though he was rushed from sleep- disoriented and regaining his consciousness he turned his head to look behind him and found a figure standing before him silhouetted in the light of the open doorway. Quickly closing his book he stood before the figure and spoke in a tone of guarded secret,
"Yes…what is it?"
The dark haired servant came forward into the light of his lamp and bowed, clearly afraid of having startled his master,
"Forgive me Hir Cirdan, but you have a visitor…"
"I shall see no visitors this hour Tinulas…"
"…My lord, you bade me let none disturb you save one of the travelers…one is present, in your vestibule…"
Within moments the ancient elf was dressed in garment befitting the hour of the night, and with a gentle wash of his face the tears and fatigue of the night were kept at bay. Through the dimly lit hallways of his residence he was led to the open coolness of the early morning and the open gardens that were the vestibule of his home and the back entrance also to the grand hall that lay beyond in darkness not yet ready to greet the new day. The fountain of the garden flowed with a musical quality, its silver moonlit water lighting the center of the courtyard and the face of a bent figure, clad in gray and leaning upon a staff of gnarled wood, the wide brim of a newly made hat covering his face from the falling drizzle that so often accompanied the lands by the sea. Upon first sight of the gray figure the gentle lord's eyes were filled with grief, for rather than the comforting presence of this one new friend, he wished for a once seen hue of sea-blue, or the image of white. The traveler's eyes were shown in greeting yet some foreknowledge of the elf's face bade him ask,
"Is all well Lord Cirdan? You seem…disappointed to see me."
"Nay dear Mithrandir, I…only expected another…"
"Ah…"
The gray traveler said, with certain wisdom in his heart, the wisdom of one who has lived a long and knowledgeable life, though in truth it had been only a short amount of time that he had indeed lived upon the shores of Middle-Earth.
"What do you wish to speak of…new friend?"
"In truth I came to bring you news, some you may find endearing other parts, considering your peace of mind, you may find harrowing."
"And why would I find the whole of it bittersweet Mithrandir?"
"For it concerns one…with whom your mind goes with every hour in your sleep."
"Celebrin? It concerns him?…I pray you, tell me what of it?"
"In the east the word goes forth that one has returned, who set out into the lands that appear not in the maps of the elves or men."
"Who?"
"One of my folk…the name he bears in this land is Saruman or Curunir, the last you saw him he was arrayed in white and spoke with a voice most powerful."
"And what news did he bring?"
The voice of the ancient lord was filled with wonder and earnest intrigue as he came forward toward Mithrandir, who in the short time of his stay had become great friends with the ancient elf, and a confidant entrusted with the mind of the gentle elven lord. Their voices became hushed, for at that hour the servants began to startle and the lighting of the morning drew near.
"He spoke of many things to me, and yet I perceived in our chance encounter amid the ancient wood of Fangorn that he saw much and wished a great part of it to not be heard by my ears. There amid the murmurings of the ancient wood he spoke of the lands of the east and…how he came to return to our own…He says a dark and malevolent force pushed him here, spanning countless miles and sundering him from his companions…I fear the power of the dark one has grown in the east, yet he seemed it to be only one of his minions still holding onto the faint hope of gaining his masters former power…"
"And what do you believe?"
"His knowledge is great, and I do not doubt his words, save only in one fact…he denies vehemently the idea of His return, and some shame resides in his heart, by means of defeat or some other factor I do not know…The good council I bring from this chance encounter is that by all accounts the main bulwark of this influence lies primarily in the farthest corners of the east, far from the lands we now live upon, and that Curunir has returned to us, perhaps by chance and fate, to guide us in preparing for the evil that comes."
"And yet you spoke of ill news…what of Celebrin? What of my so…what of my kinsman?"
"No others returned with Saruman…"
"No, he is not dead Mithrandir, nothing in this Curunir's account bespeaks anything of truth in Celebrin's death and I will not believe such…this is not news but speculation, what you say is nothing…"
"I know not if his words speak true Lord Cirdan, I only know that I tried with all the powers with which I was endowed to seek in thought my own kinsmen who were missing…I found nothing but space and time nothing but the vast abyss before me…you alone upon this world are known to have sight deeper and farther than any that are alive, what does your own thought tell you?"
"I…I know not…I have not sent my sight eastward…"
"I know that you would not wish to see what I am telling you…but I know you have gazed into the East, you wear it upon your face, even now, you look eastward, wishing to know if what I say is truth, but you alone know that answer…"
"Yes…I do…"
And his gaze turned Eastward again, to the lighting of the lanterns that stood atop the gate of Mithlond and a sigh escaped his lungs as his mind began to darken with the thoughts that entered his mind. Yet some hope clung to his chest that the coming of Curunir meant that the others, who left with him, would follow soon enough, and rather than see endless miles of Eriador beyond the gates of Mithlond, he would see a figure riding a white horse, and bearing a scar upon his cheek.
The new day arose to find the weary travelers conversing with their newest addition, the brother of their guide into the eastern realm of Sauron's enemies; though in his eyes he bore an ill-trust of these new beings, his mind spoke of other things, for one among the elderly men had with him the gift to see the silent thoughts that men do not say with their mouths and eyes, similar to how the birds of the air and the creatures of the earth speak to those who cannot understand their speech. Ever did the man called Tal-ano, keep his watchful gaze upon the elf before him, not truly knowing what to think of this strange creature's ears, or the seeming-fair face he bore upon his countenance. Nor could he erase from his mind the sight of his own sister protecting the stranger from his own sword, as though she were…bound to him. The travelers found- to their amazement that in their slow and methodical journey through the unchanging landscape, beneath the blazing sun, who in this land was called "he"- they had traveled far away from the net of the malevolence that drove them there and stood now in the new morning closer to the mountains of red that gleamed like unpolished ruby or like the summit of Amon Rudh in the time of flowering. Yet to the eyes of the elf there grew no seregon upon the slopes of those red mountains, nor did the mountain seem to bleed with the blood of warfare. There stood before him the Orocarni, the red mountains of his parents' fond memories; now they seemed smaller than he imagined them in his young mind when his father would describe the birthplace of the elves.
"We have entered the land of my people…"
Spoke Cidhrali as she surveyed the land she was born in, she seemed different at this time, for though during the journey she was closer to mortal in appearance and action something lay hidden behind her eyes, a wisdom beyond her years, an ageless soul behind a youthful form- as though she was indeed an ancient spirit that was reborn with every new generation. There at the borders of her people's land she grew in stature among them, riding the horse of her brother, and in truth revealed herself in voice and manner to take a certain pride in claiming the lands that now stood barren before them, as though she were a king of old regaining the land that was taken from him. The horse of her brother was a sight to the travelers as well, for it was black as nightshade, a breed that only the minions of the dark lord dare ride, yet this steed was different than the mockeries raised in the caverns of Mordor, under the guidance of Sauron's hand. This beast was noble, and like his rider, bore the night sky in it's coat and mane, and the sun shined off of her as though she were black marble surrounded by crystal glass and lined with silver. Smaller she was beside the horses of the elves the other three rode upon, yet her strength was hidden amid her beseeming eyes. The land too was coy to the eye and unrevealing of its nature, for though it seemed immediately that it was barren there rose, as they entered, varied herbs, bushes and small gnarled trees of different breeds that no elf west of Rhun had ever seen before. Hidden from view lay beasts of many shapes, colors and sizes that upon the setting of the sun and the travelers' arrival began to appear. As night drew over them and the sky became filled with countless lanterns and the sickle moon hung facing away from them, a bow pointed toward the sky; with the fading of the sun beneath the western sky came varied and wondrous fragrances from the herbs that lay at their feet; some smelled bitter, others sweet, and others ancient, remnants of the sea floor that was Talath Anorui.
Silent these travelers were, as they passed through the rocks that lay at the roots of the mountains, an easterly breeze came toward them and in it the ancient smell of cedar, oak, pine and cypress entered their noses, from a forest far away and unknown to any, even the eldest of the lands inhabitants. Celebrin himself went to Cidhrali's side and asked of her,
"Where lies this wood that is present in the eastern wind?"
To which she replied,
"There lies no wood to the east, or at least as far as our scouts can say, beyond our lands it is forbidden to go, for none return that journey there."
In the distance of their path rose a gathering of gnarled trees, thick of trunk and of light wistful leaves; from their branches hung a strange sight to those who knew only the acorns of the oak and the cones of the pine, for similar in form and seeming function what hung from the branches were long and hard as though they were seeds, pods bearing the seeds of the tree. Meskidar, Cidhrali called it as they passed under its branches and stood before a hill that led into a valley aflame with red campfires and from which the sound of strange, tribal, rhythmic music floated toward the starlit sky.
Tal-ano (Talan)- new character, not part of Tolkien's originals obviously but he is worth mentioning as Cidhrali was. Though his name does not bear any resemblance to any Indian word it does have a root. Thalion, the elvish word for strength, used under the presumption that all languages formed from the same tongue, as was the language of Beor when he met Finrod.
Meskidar- from the word Mesquite, I realize that mesquite is a "New World" plant, but so were tomatoes and potatoes and they made it to middle earth somehow
Thank you all who have read my other works and written reviews, they help greatly. And this is an apology to all as well, In earlier chapters I mention the Orocarni, but i spelled them Orcani, huge mistake, terribly sorry.