Disclaimer: Refer to Chapter 1.
Chapter 3: Legacy
"Good morning, Mother," Haldir greeted, bending low to kiss Miradhel on the cheek. She smiled at her favorite son before kneeling to gather Taurnan and Halnorel into her arms for a quick hug. She cared for the children while Silraen worked in the orchards or fields and clearly reveled in the chore.
Silraen hung back, watching Miradhel with a weak smile. Haldir's mother was exceptionally beautiful, with fair skin and pale hair that hung past her waist. She was also a tiny creature, leaving the tall Silraen feeling awkward and ungainly beside her. Silraen glanced down at her own plain working clothes and callused hands and back at the glowing she-elf now cradling Danuriel in her arms. Silraen had always wondered how she had been allowed into this family, and what Miradhel thought about the son she adored marrying one so common. But, Miradhel had never once made Silraen feel unwanted, not even with a single displeased glance. This only made Silraen feel more inadequate. Even Miradhel's spirit was pure!
"Why so serious, Little Sister?" Orophin, Haldir's brother asked, sidling up to her. He still lived with Miradhel, while Rumil, the youngest, had recently married and lived at the edge of the city.
Silraen debated whether or not to confide in Orophin. Casting a sidelong glance at the elf, always quiet and dependable, with a laughing glint lurking in his green eyes, she knew that she could trust him.
"It's Halnorel." Silraen dropped her voice to a halting whisper, "She. . . she came to us crying last night. She had a vision about the city burning and such things. . . things too dark for a child's eyes."
Orophin's attention was turned fully on her now, his face troubled.
"Please don't tell your mother," Silraen asked, "It will only worry her."
"Of course," Orophin murmured, looking curiously at the little girl, who seemed perfectly content now, already rummaging through the box of toys kept in the corner.
Halnorel looked up, regarding her uncle with an innocent gaze. "Did it hurt when the horse stepped on you?" Halnorel asked.
Orophin's eyes tightened, a perplexed look crossing his features. "What did you say?"
"The red and white horse with the white mane. You were in a stall with it and it stepped on you."
Orophin had paled noticeably, his jaw clenched in confusion and fear. He kneeled, gently taking the sides of Halnorel's arms in his hands, "How did you know that, Halnorel?" Did you see it in a dream?"
She nodded, but the stuffed rabbit she had fished from the toybox now absorbed her attention.
Orophin looked up, meeting Silraen's anxious eyes over Halnorel's head. He gave the girl a quick hug and rose. Silraen followed him to the balcony, where he leaned back against an upcurving branch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
"I never told anyone. Ever." Orophin's voice came in a haunted monotone. Silraen leaned a hip on the railing, waiting patiently for him to continue.
"When I was a little boy, probably Taurnan's age, I loved to go to the Lady's stables and look at the horses. I was fascinated by them. . . obsessed with them. They were so beautiful and powerful, and I thought that if I could ride one of them, it would mean I was strong, that I was even more powerful. You don't know what it was like," he said with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his straw-colored hair, "being raised with your husband. He was a leader, a commander, right out of the womb. Trying to live up to him and please Father. . .it wasn't easy."
Silraen watched him with concerned eyes. She had always thought the three brothers got along easily and always had. To know that such strife had existed in their youth cast a different light on who they had all become as adults. Orophin's voice grew softer.
"I went to the stables in the night. There was a huge paint stallion, and I knew if I could show everyone that he would obey me, that I would never be seen as too small or too young again. But, when I went into his stall, he spooked and reared up. I got scared and stumbled. I fell in the corner, and when he dropped back on all fours, his hoof came down and clipped my hip."
Orophin lifted the hem of his shirt and hooked his thumb on the side of his pants. Silraen could see the jagged white scar that crossed his hipbone.
"I ran into the woods and cried for half the night. Then, I snuck into the healer's talan and bandaged my wound. I threw away my bloody clothes and crawled into bed. For days, I struggled to hide my limp. And then, it got better. I never told anyone. In hundreds of years, you are the first person I've told."
Silraen tilted her head, a new respect for her brother-in-law taking root in her. It must have truly been a terrible experience for a small boy, but he had been too tough, too independent to turn even to his parents with it. He had resolved to take care of himself. She put such thoughts aside for the moment, concentrating again on the problem of her daughter's baffling proclamation.
"Maybe you mentioned something about this to Halnorel and didn't realize it. Maybe you said something to Haldir or me in front of her. Maybe she's noticed the scar." Silraen knew these arguments were weak. Orophin was shaking his head sadly.
"If the scar were in the shape of a horseshoe, that might explain it all, but it is not. There's something else at work here, Silraen."
At that moment, Haldir joined them. But, his eyes were caught by something below them on the ground. There, on the soft grasses between the mallorn, was Rumil and his wife, Linaya. There were tears shining on her smooth cheeks, and she clutched at Rumil's armor-clad forearms, as if afraid he would be swept away from her if she released him. Rumil was trying in vain to soothe the distraught elf, and leaned in to kiss her over the bulk of her pregnant stomach.
Haldir frowned slightly at the tearful farewell, and said to Silraen, "I'm glad we were never like that."
"You are the least romantic elf I've ever known," Silraen scolded.
"Well," he said defensively, "If you did that every time I went into battle, you would be so busy weeping you would never get anything else done."
"They're young," Orophin said sagely, "She'll get used to watching him go."
In a quiet voice Silraen said, "No. She won't."
When both elves looked quizzically at her, she changed the subject. "Well, I have work to do, so. . . Take care, Brother."
"You too, Silraen."
She stepped closer to Haldir. "I'm not going to embarrass you by crying," she said in mock annoyance, and Haldir grinned. "But, I want you to be careful."
Haldir took her face in his hands, "I will, darling. And, I want you to remember what I said. Don't let the darkness steal your spirit. I won't let anything happen to you."
Silraen smiled, enjoying the warmth of his hands on her cheeks for a long moment. Then, she stood on her toes and kissed him, a quick, chaste kiss compared to the lingering one Rumil and Linaya were sharing a few stories below.
Silraen waved at them again as she skipped quickly down the stairs to the ground. She smiled at Rumil and Linaya, who broke apart just long enough to tell her good morning. Silraen shook her head for a moment as she walked. It was true, she and Haldir had never been so young, so recklessly in love. That might be a relief to Haldir, but it made Silraen a little sad. She wondered what she had missed.
Instead of going to the orchards right away, Silraen lingered for a moment among the mallorn. She peered around the trunks and watched as the three brothers drifted away from the city, the muted gray of their clothing soon hiding them from view. They dissolved into the forest like they had been forged of it, created from the same elements. And, Silraen supposed they had been.
Several hours later, Silraen was perched in the crook of two branches in one of the older apple trees, studying a diseased branch with sharp eyes. She had worked with these trees for years, she knew them nearly as well as her own children. It was obvious to her when one was unwell. She was so engrossed in diagnosing the problem that she did not notice a figure approaching until they stood right below her.
"Silraen," The musical voice sounded in her ears this time, instead of within her head. But, it surprised her no less. Silraen's gaze shifted to the ground, where Lady Galadriel stood, infinitely patient.
Silraen gripped a branch and swung down to the ground with effortless agility. "My Lady," she said in a tone of quiet control, "I apologize that I did not get the weeds pulled here until today," she motioned with her head to where her workers were diligently weeding around each tree, "but I wanted to get the lower fields seeded early. . ."
"It is all right, Silraen. The orchards look beautiful as usual. And, our grain stores are never empty thanks to you."
A soft blush crept over Silraen's cheeks at the compliment. But, she got the impression that the Lady was only warming her up before broaching a more sensitive subject. Her suspicions were soon confirmed.
"Silraen, what did your daughter see?"
Silraen's eyes shot to Galadriel's for the briefest moment, before she cast them meekly back to her toes. This matter was her family's concern, she did not know why she should have to tell Galadriel. But, Silraen was ashamed to admit she felt intimidated by the Lady's mere presence. She gruffly replied, "She saw a flying creature that screamed. She said she saw mallorn burning and dark creatures below them. That is all she could tell us."
"She has had visions before?"
"Yes." Silraen's voice had dropped to a brittle whisper, "How did you know?"
"There is something special about the girl. I had suspected something was different about her for a long time, but when I saw her this morning. . .Have you Noldor blood Silraen?"
"No, milady."
Galadriel's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. "Haldir is not Noldor. It could not come from her father, unless. . ."
"Exactly what are you implying?" Silraen growled, her gaze snapping up to Galadriel's, "Haldir *is* Halnorel's father."
The Lady winced, feeling Silraen's anger and indignation stab into her mind like a blunt needle. "It's you. It is you she inherited it from." Galadriel stated, lifting a hand to her aching brow.
Silraen scowled, "You try to find some source of Noldor lineage in my daughter, but did it ever occur to you that mere Silvans can have talents too? That it is not only the Noldor who can have such powers?"
Galadriel looked down with shame, "I am sorry. I did not come here to offend you, Silraen. I wanted to know about the girl, about her abilities. Do you have visions too?"
Silraen shook her head quickly, her eyes once again cast down, their blue depths cautious.
"Did anyone else in your family have visions?" Galadriel asked softly.
Silraen's eyes clouded then, an old pain spilling through her like a bitter poison. "Yes."
Galadriel was waiting, still patient, and Silraen remained stubbornly silent. But, finally, she lifted her eyes. Galadriel's face was sincere, sympathetic. The cold, diamond-hard creature Silraen had known before this moment was replaced with just another elf. Galadriel was a wife, a mother, just as Silraen was, she had lived long and wandered far, and seen many hardships before she came to rule this exquisite haven. Silraen let out a deep sigh.
"My father was. . .perceptive like Halnorel. He could sense and understand things that others could not. But, he had only one vision. He saw his own death many years before it happened. He told me one day, 'Silraen, when I die, it will be under three tall pines next to a big flat rock. There won't be any moon and the stars will be so beautiful. Will you put me up there? Will you put me up on the big rock so that I can look at the stars?' Thirty years later, he died under three tall pines next to a large flat rock on the night of the new moon. I'd never seen the stars so bright. I did exactly as he asked. I left him to watch the stars."
Galadriel reached across what had seemed an expanse that separated them and gripped Silraen's shoulder. The Silvan looked up, a vulnerability in her gaze that Galadriel had never seen before, in all the decades she had known her.
Galadriel could still remember the first time she had met Silraen. Several weeks earlier Silraen had stumbled into the city with her mother and brother, all three heavy with grief at the death of the father. In the early morning, Silraen waited outside the throne room of Galadriel and Celeborn, looking over the city with calculating eyes. When she was summoned before the Lord and Lady, she bowed respectfully before them, completely ignoring the tall soldier who pored over a map in the corner. The soldier, Haldir, was equally careful not to notice her.
"My Lord, my Lady. I have some skill with growing things. I would like to ask for a job in the fields."
She didn't bother with flowery sentiments, even back then.
"Child," Galadriel said, noticing a slight stiffening of Silraen's shoulders at the condescending greeting, "You have recently lost one you loved. You should not feel you have to earn your keep with us. It is far too soon for you to be thinking of such things, you should rest and take care of yourself."
Silraen's voice was carefully flat as she said, "I have been resting for weeks. I do not intend to do so for the rest of my life. I want to work."
Galadriel glanced over Silraen's shoulder, and watched Haldir's eyebrows shoot up in amused surprise. He continued to stare at the map, his face blank, but Galadriel sensed he had not really been looking at it since the maiden had entered the room. She didn't even have to read his mind to know that. A grin twitched at one corner of Galadriel's mouth. Haldir, a fine soldier who had gained a special respect with both her and her husband, had never shown much interest in the women of the city. But, this particular maiden was not like the others, that was immediately clear.
Galadriel had given Silraen what she wanted, a job in the fields. Her incredible talent, not only with the plants, but also with organizing large groups of workers had been a pleasant surprise to the Lady. An even more pleasant surprise to many was the happiness she brought to Haldir.
Now, Galadriel watched a veil drop back over Silraen's eyes as she flatly said, "My father had only that one vision, at least that I knew of. Halnorel. . . I fear for her. It is happening too quickly, it is far too much for a child to comprehend. Was it. . . was it like that for you as a child? How soon was it known you could see things others could not?"
The Lady glanced away, her face taking on a faraway look. She had not thought of her own childhood for a long time. "I suppose I was about Halnorel's age when it began. It did frighten me, but Halnorel is lucky. She has a very supportive mother to help guide her through this difficult experience."
Hesitation and uncertainty clouded Silraen's features, "What good can I be, if I do not understand what is happening to her myself?"
"You are more help than you know, I think. And, never forget, Silraen, your family can always come to me if you ever need anything. Between you keeping us fed and Haldir keeping the orcs off our doorstep, we surely owe you."
Silraen released a breath she did not realize she had been holding and nodded in grateful acknowledgement. "I will surely come to you if I feel the need."
Galadriel nodded, turning a rare, shining smile to Silraen. Then, she left, her small feet seeming to float over the grass of the orchard, whispering an ancient song in a language Silraen did not know.
* * *
Special Thanks to my amazing reviewers Tigerlily and Puxinette!!
Chapter 3: Legacy
"Good morning, Mother," Haldir greeted, bending low to kiss Miradhel on the cheek. She smiled at her favorite son before kneeling to gather Taurnan and Halnorel into her arms for a quick hug. She cared for the children while Silraen worked in the orchards or fields and clearly reveled in the chore.
Silraen hung back, watching Miradhel with a weak smile. Haldir's mother was exceptionally beautiful, with fair skin and pale hair that hung past her waist. She was also a tiny creature, leaving the tall Silraen feeling awkward and ungainly beside her. Silraen glanced down at her own plain working clothes and callused hands and back at the glowing she-elf now cradling Danuriel in her arms. Silraen had always wondered how she had been allowed into this family, and what Miradhel thought about the son she adored marrying one so common. But, Miradhel had never once made Silraen feel unwanted, not even with a single displeased glance. This only made Silraen feel more inadequate. Even Miradhel's spirit was pure!
"Why so serious, Little Sister?" Orophin, Haldir's brother asked, sidling up to her. He still lived with Miradhel, while Rumil, the youngest, had recently married and lived at the edge of the city.
Silraen debated whether or not to confide in Orophin. Casting a sidelong glance at the elf, always quiet and dependable, with a laughing glint lurking in his green eyes, she knew that she could trust him.
"It's Halnorel." Silraen dropped her voice to a halting whisper, "She. . . she came to us crying last night. She had a vision about the city burning and such things. . . things too dark for a child's eyes."
Orophin's attention was turned fully on her now, his face troubled.
"Please don't tell your mother," Silraen asked, "It will only worry her."
"Of course," Orophin murmured, looking curiously at the little girl, who seemed perfectly content now, already rummaging through the box of toys kept in the corner.
Halnorel looked up, regarding her uncle with an innocent gaze. "Did it hurt when the horse stepped on you?" Halnorel asked.
Orophin's eyes tightened, a perplexed look crossing his features. "What did you say?"
"The red and white horse with the white mane. You were in a stall with it and it stepped on you."
Orophin had paled noticeably, his jaw clenched in confusion and fear. He kneeled, gently taking the sides of Halnorel's arms in his hands, "How did you know that, Halnorel?" Did you see it in a dream?"
She nodded, but the stuffed rabbit she had fished from the toybox now absorbed her attention.
Orophin looked up, meeting Silraen's anxious eyes over Halnorel's head. He gave the girl a quick hug and rose. Silraen followed him to the balcony, where he leaned back against an upcurving branch, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
"I never told anyone. Ever." Orophin's voice came in a haunted monotone. Silraen leaned a hip on the railing, waiting patiently for him to continue.
"When I was a little boy, probably Taurnan's age, I loved to go to the Lady's stables and look at the horses. I was fascinated by them. . . obsessed with them. They were so beautiful and powerful, and I thought that if I could ride one of them, it would mean I was strong, that I was even more powerful. You don't know what it was like," he said with a nervous chuckle, running a hand through his straw-colored hair, "being raised with your husband. He was a leader, a commander, right out of the womb. Trying to live up to him and please Father. . .it wasn't easy."
Silraen watched him with concerned eyes. She had always thought the three brothers got along easily and always had. To know that such strife had existed in their youth cast a different light on who they had all become as adults. Orophin's voice grew softer.
"I went to the stables in the night. There was a huge paint stallion, and I knew if I could show everyone that he would obey me, that I would never be seen as too small or too young again. But, when I went into his stall, he spooked and reared up. I got scared and stumbled. I fell in the corner, and when he dropped back on all fours, his hoof came down and clipped my hip."
Orophin lifted the hem of his shirt and hooked his thumb on the side of his pants. Silraen could see the jagged white scar that crossed his hipbone.
"I ran into the woods and cried for half the night. Then, I snuck into the healer's talan and bandaged my wound. I threw away my bloody clothes and crawled into bed. For days, I struggled to hide my limp. And then, it got better. I never told anyone. In hundreds of years, you are the first person I've told."
Silraen tilted her head, a new respect for her brother-in-law taking root in her. It must have truly been a terrible experience for a small boy, but he had been too tough, too independent to turn even to his parents with it. He had resolved to take care of himself. She put such thoughts aside for the moment, concentrating again on the problem of her daughter's baffling proclamation.
"Maybe you mentioned something about this to Halnorel and didn't realize it. Maybe you said something to Haldir or me in front of her. Maybe she's noticed the scar." Silraen knew these arguments were weak. Orophin was shaking his head sadly.
"If the scar were in the shape of a horseshoe, that might explain it all, but it is not. There's something else at work here, Silraen."
At that moment, Haldir joined them. But, his eyes were caught by something below them on the ground. There, on the soft grasses between the mallorn, was Rumil and his wife, Linaya. There were tears shining on her smooth cheeks, and she clutched at Rumil's armor-clad forearms, as if afraid he would be swept away from her if she released him. Rumil was trying in vain to soothe the distraught elf, and leaned in to kiss her over the bulk of her pregnant stomach.
Haldir frowned slightly at the tearful farewell, and said to Silraen, "I'm glad we were never like that."
"You are the least romantic elf I've ever known," Silraen scolded.
"Well," he said defensively, "If you did that every time I went into battle, you would be so busy weeping you would never get anything else done."
"They're young," Orophin said sagely, "She'll get used to watching him go."
In a quiet voice Silraen said, "No. She won't."
When both elves looked quizzically at her, she changed the subject. "Well, I have work to do, so. . . Take care, Brother."
"You too, Silraen."
She stepped closer to Haldir. "I'm not going to embarrass you by crying," she said in mock annoyance, and Haldir grinned. "But, I want you to be careful."
Haldir took her face in his hands, "I will, darling. And, I want you to remember what I said. Don't let the darkness steal your spirit. I won't let anything happen to you."
Silraen smiled, enjoying the warmth of his hands on her cheeks for a long moment. Then, she stood on her toes and kissed him, a quick, chaste kiss compared to the lingering one Rumil and Linaya were sharing a few stories below.
Silraen waved at them again as she skipped quickly down the stairs to the ground. She smiled at Rumil and Linaya, who broke apart just long enough to tell her good morning. Silraen shook her head for a moment as she walked. It was true, she and Haldir had never been so young, so recklessly in love. That might be a relief to Haldir, but it made Silraen a little sad. She wondered what she had missed.
Instead of going to the orchards right away, Silraen lingered for a moment among the mallorn. She peered around the trunks and watched as the three brothers drifted away from the city, the muted gray of their clothing soon hiding them from view. They dissolved into the forest like they had been forged of it, created from the same elements. And, Silraen supposed they had been.
Several hours later, Silraen was perched in the crook of two branches in one of the older apple trees, studying a diseased branch with sharp eyes. She had worked with these trees for years, she knew them nearly as well as her own children. It was obvious to her when one was unwell. She was so engrossed in diagnosing the problem that she did not notice a figure approaching until they stood right below her.
"Silraen," The musical voice sounded in her ears this time, instead of within her head. But, it surprised her no less. Silraen's gaze shifted to the ground, where Lady Galadriel stood, infinitely patient.
Silraen gripped a branch and swung down to the ground with effortless agility. "My Lady," she said in a tone of quiet control, "I apologize that I did not get the weeds pulled here until today," she motioned with her head to where her workers were diligently weeding around each tree, "but I wanted to get the lower fields seeded early. . ."
"It is all right, Silraen. The orchards look beautiful as usual. And, our grain stores are never empty thanks to you."
A soft blush crept over Silraen's cheeks at the compliment. But, she got the impression that the Lady was only warming her up before broaching a more sensitive subject. Her suspicions were soon confirmed.
"Silraen, what did your daughter see?"
Silraen's eyes shot to Galadriel's for the briefest moment, before she cast them meekly back to her toes. This matter was her family's concern, she did not know why she should have to tell Galadriel. But, Silraen was ashamed to admit she felt intimidated by the Lady's mere presence. She gruffly replied, "She saw a flying creature that screamed. She said she saw mallorn burning and dark creatures below them. That is all she could tell us."
"She has had visions before?"
"Yes." Silraen's voice had dropped to a brittle whisper, "How did you know?"
"There is something special about the girl. I had suspected something was different about her for a long time, but when I saw her this morning. . .Have you Noldor blood Silraen?"
"No, milady."
Galadriel's eyes narrowed and she tilted her head. "Haldir is not Noldor. It could not come from her father, unless. . ."
"Exactly what are you implying?" Silraen growled, her gaze snapping up to Galadriel's, "Haldir *is* Halnorel's father."
The Lady winced, feeling Silraen's anger and indignation stab into her mind like a blunt needle. "It's you. It is you she inherited it from." Galadriel stated, lifting a hand to her aching brow.
Silraen scowled, "You try to find some source of Noldor lineage in my daughter, but did it ever occur to you that mere Silvans can have talents too? That it is not only the Noldor who can have such powers?"
Galadriel looked down with shame, "I am sorry. I did not come here to offend you, Silraen. I wanted to know about the girl, about her abilities. Do you have visions too?"
Silraen shook her head quickly, her eyes once again cast down, their blue depths cautious.
"Did anyone else in your family have visions?" Galadriel asked softly.
Silraen's eyes clouded then, an old pain spilling through her like a bitter poison. "Yes."
Galadriel was waiting, still patient, and Silraen remained stubbornly silent. But, finally, she lifted her eyes. Galadriel's face was sincere, sympathetic. The cold, diamond-hard creature Silraen had known before this moment was replaced with just another elf. Galadriel was a wife, a mother, just as Silraen was, she had lived long and wandered far, and seen many hardships before she came to rule this exquisite haven. Silraen let out a deep sigh.
"My father was. . .perceptive like Halnorel. He could sense and understand things that others could not. But, he had only one vision. He saw his own death many years before it happened. He told me one day, 'Silraen, when I die, it will be under three tall pines next to a big flat rock. There won't be any moon and the stars will be so beautiful. Will you put me up there? Will you put me up on the big rock so that I can look at the stars?' Thirty years later, he died under three tall pines next to a large flat rock on the night of the new moon. I'd never seen the stars so bright. I did exactly as he asked. I left him to watch the stars."
Galadriel reached across what had seemed an expanse that separated them and gripped Silraen's shoulder. The Silvan looked up, a vulnerability in her gaze that Galadriel had never seen before, in all the decades she had known her.
Galadriel could still remember the first time she had met Silraen. Several weeks earlier Silraen had stumbled into the city with her mother and brother, all three heavy with grief at the death of the father. In the early morning, Silraen waited outside the throne room of Galadriel and Celeborn, looking over the city with calculating eyes. When she was summoned before the Lord and Lady, she bowed respectfully before them, completely ignoring the tall soldier who pored over a map in the corner. The soldier, Haldir, was equally careful not to notice her.
"My Lord, my Lady. I have some skill with growing things. I would like to ask for a job in the fields."
She didn't bother with flowery sentiments, even back then.
"Child," Galadriel said, noticing a slight stiffening of Silraen's shoulders at the condescending greeting, "You have recently lost one you loved. You should not feel you have to earn your keep with us. It is far too soon for you to be thinking of such things, you should rest and take care of yourself."
Silraen's voice was carefully flat as she said, "I have been resting for weeks. I do not intend to do so for the rest of my life. I want to work."
Galadriel glanced over Silraen's shoulder, and watched Haldir's eyebrows shoot up in amused surprise. He continued to stare at the map, his face blank, but Galadriel sensed he had not really been looking at it since the maiden had entered the room. She didn't even have to read his mind to know that. A grin twitched at one corner of Galadriel's mouth. Haldir, a fine soldier who had gained a special respect with both her and her husband, had never shown much interest in the women of the city. But, this particular maiden was not like the others, that was immediately clear.
Galadriel had given Silraen what she wanted, a job in the fields. Her incredible talent, not only with the plants, but also with organizing large groups of workers had been a pleasant surprise to the Lady. An even more pleasant surprise to many was the happiness she brought to Haldir.
Now, Galadriel watched a veil drop back over Silraen's eyes as she flatly said, "My father had only that one vision, at least that I knew of. Halnorel. . . I fear for her. It is happening too quickly, it is far too much for a child to comprehend. Was it. . . was it like that for you as a child? How soon was it known you could see things others could not?"
The Lady glanced away, her face taking on a faraway look. She had not thought of her own childhood for a long time. "I suppose I was about Halnorel's age when it began. It did frighten me, but Halnorel is lucky. She has a very supportive mother to help guide her through this difficult experience."
Hesitation and uncertainty clouded Silraen's features, "What good can I be, if I do not understand what is happening to her myself?"
"You are more help than you know, I think. And, never forget, Silraen, your family can always come to me if you ever need anything. Between you keeping us fed and Haldir keeping the orcs off our doorstep, we surely owe you."
Silraen released a breath she did not realize she had been holding and nodded in grateful acknowledgement. "I will surely come to you if I feel the need."
Galadriel nodded, turning a rare, shining smile to Silraen. Then, she left, her small feet seeming to float over the grass of the orchard, whispering an ancient song in a language Silraen did not know.
* * *
Special Thanks to my amazing reviewers Tigerlily and Puxinette!!