Chapter Forty-Four

Estela stood silent, watching the flame. She could not bear to look at the skies, even though the stars were out.

But she stared unseeing at the candle's flame, as she reflected on her dream.

Swirling clouds of darkness surrounded her, but she knew it was nothing- what it concealed from her and was about to reveal, was more important.

And so it did reveal something. The clouds gave way to…

Someone she knew.

"I have a power greater than death. I will forge these Uruks into an army of my own. As the first Dark Lord tortured and corrupted the Elves, I will redeem them in flame. They will be MINE!"

And the figure stood proud, strong, mighty and tall, clad in armour of the kind of which only her grandfather, father, uncles and cousin could make…. The cousin she believed was dead. His eyes blazed pale blue with such a bright and strong power, and something glowed upon his hand as he spread his arms out wide. But no! He couldn't be alive! He was dead! They saw his body- and those of Silmiel's and Eleniel's- there was no way- he could not be alive!

"You will build a tower in MY name! Erect a monolith for your Bright Lord in defiance of the Shadow!"

What was he saying? What was he doing? What did he just say- the Bright Lord- he called himself?! What was he doing? Who or what was he ordering to build a tower for in his name?!

"Telperinquar, no!" She screamed. "No cousin, not this, anything but this- do not do this!" But he did not hear her. No one and nothing did- she was as mist.

"Silver-Hand!"The voice was booming and deep, so terrifying and truly the most terrible thing there was. It was horrifically-cold and scorching-hot at the same time. The voice of pure evil.

"You dare stay in Mordor. You think to challenge me here, but you will fail. Your spirit will never see the Halls of Mandos."

And there, she could see her beloved cousin- her bond-brother- her otorno- standing on the top of a very high tower. Celebrimbor stood defiantly, calm and more dangerous than he ever had been, more powerful and terrible, somehow. He sheathed his sword. He threw his head back and laughed as he declared with a terrible, defiant might that resembled their grandfather Fëanáro, the Spirit of Fire during his days of madness.

"Without the One Ring, you are nothing! I will tear down Barad-dûr and rebuild Eregion in the ruins. Release my family and I will let you serve me… Bringer of Gifts."

She could have gasped and screamed in her denial and horror of his words. No, no! What had he done? What had he become?

"Telperinquar no!" She screamed. "What have you done? Do not do this, do not play into his shadow!

"You cannot resist my power, Silver-Hand. I can feel your rage. Your hate. Your pride. Your flames feed nothing but evil."

"You know nothing of true power, Sauron. The light will always prevail. All who resist will be burnt by it."

"Do not do this!" She screamed again. "Do not fall into the spell and ruin which engulfed our grandfather and the rest of our family- cousin, do not do this, you are better than this!"

"Do not corrupt yourself," she sobbed. "Cousin, please… Come back to us, come back to the light- my cousin- my otorno."

But she could only watch despairingly as the mists engulfed the strong, tall and proud form of her beloved cousin once more. She screamed for the last time.

Estela sat there, watching the candle flame. She did not see or hear Ereinion enter their bedroom.

Ereinion shut the bedroom door, and stopped when he saw his wife, just sitting there, staring blankly at the single flame.

He walked towards her. He knew better than to ask a question outright, so he just looked down, concerned, until she started and looked up.

"I keep dreaming…" she said blankly. "What?" Ereinion enquired.

She looked at the fire. "That he is still here… somehow. That his spirit is not at peace."

He knelt down to her level. "Your cousin?" He asked gently his voice breaking in pain for her. "Melmenya," he began.

She shook her head. "Foolishness, I know."

"No," he sighed. "I think you love your cousin- and your love is a source of strength for us all- but I would not dwell on these dreams," he warned. "Even if he lives, you know there is nothing we can do, short of defeating Sauron to save him and his family. But Estela…" He hesitated.

"You've seen their bodies, haven't you?" She asked numbly. When he didn't answer, she looked up at him with blazing eyes. "You are right. I have lost everything. I've lost my father to a deep, fiery chasm within the earth, I've lost my mother, who faded of a shattered heart when she believed we were both dead. I've lost my grandfather to the foul play and manipulations of Morgoth which resulted in madness, I've lost my forefather- whose shattered and bleeding remains were displayed before me- I've lost my grandmother, aunts and cousins, many of which remained in Valinor- separated from me, by an entire world, now and am likely never to see them again. I've lost my uncles, slain in wars they shouldn't have to fight, or vanished off the face of Arda, as was the case with one. I've lost the one I hold in my mind, soul and heart as my brother, his wife and only child, whom I know have suffered greatly whilst he was forced to watch and bear their suffering. I've lost my son, Ereinion- ripped from me, corrupted and poisoned before he had a chance to draw breath- and live. And now here I sit, waiting to lose my beloved husband and my only, priceless daughter." She sprang up.

"How do you expect me to react? Do you worry I would charge blindly into Mordor in pursuit of something which is likely to be only a hopeless, blind dream? You know me better than that!" At her anguished look, Ereinion drew her close to him.

"Hush, my love," he whispered. Like all their private conversations, this was held in Quenya.

But she didn't cry. Really? She asked herself. I was just beginning to steal some happiness in spite of all of this. Now I just had to break apart and spill all to him. He doesn't need this. He needs me to be strong for him. She couldn't have been angry at herself for her weakness, but she chose to push it aside. It was the last thing anyone needed.

She sighed. "Ánin apsenë. Ereinion I am not upset, least of all with you." She said pulling away.

Ereinion sighed, and pulled her to him again, and tighter.

"I know that, Estela," he said gently, but pleadingly. "But can you not keep this to yourself? We are husband and wife, we took a vow to share each other's joys and sorrows, to lighten the burdens of the others and sweeten the joys by being there, if not more. You cannot shut yourself out and away from this world- and from me. I need you, Melmenya, and every time I feel you shutting this from me, and withdrawing yourself, I feel... Isolated… alone… abandoned, even, because you are the only one whom I can truly be myself around- you and our child," he said pleading with her. "Without you, I feel alone. More alone than ever." He sighed and sat on the bed. Estela watched him speechless with pain and guilt at making him thus.

"Please do not leave me be," he pleaded. "I need you." He sounded vulnerable, completely unlike him at all, and what others said of him- of Gil-Galad standing tall and proud, bravely standing up to and facing the evil of this world, a bright star shining out and repelling the darkness. Now he was just her husband.

"I have a tendency to brood on the past, I know that." She said ashamed. "Ánin apsenë," she said again. "I am sorry. I am so ashamed, and more so because I love you so, and I need you just the same. I too was alone- until I found you. Even with my followers, my friends, I was alone, until you came into my world." They smiled at each other and she touched his hand. He grasped it tightly, unwilling to let go.

"I worry about the same things too," he admitted. "I fear more than anything I would lose you and Melda. But perhaps we can share and ease each other's burdens, as well as our joys? You don't need to be a pillar of strength like that for me- just yourself, and with me, not alone."

She nodded, and lay her head on his strong shoulder. He pulled her closer and the two just sat there for a very long time.

"I will," she said quietly. "I will not leave you, not in this." He smiled. As if their love could not be increased further.

"Melin, Ereinion," she murmured. "I always have, and I always will- it will never end, even if Eä does."

"Melin, Estela." He murmured. "I always have and I always will, no matter what comes for either of us."

The days were spent agreeing on and planning tactics and strategies, overseeing and supervising on the forging and compiling of weapons and supplies such as food, medicine and bandages and so forth, teaching, playing and in general spending time with Melda, meeting and negotiating new alliances if they were available, or strengthening the ones already made, meeting and getting to know everyone and overseeing the affairs of Lindon while still in Imladris, and always on the alert for Sauron, his minions and whatever schemes they had.

Needless to say, both Ereinion and Estela were kept highly busy. Ereinion even more than her, but the two of them still found time for Melda and each other.

Peace returned for a short while. Even if they knew dark days were ahead. So they savoured and enjoyed it as much as they could.

"I still believe we should take that approach." Artaner argued.

"Well, it is the wrong way," snapped Calassion. Artaner was getting on his nerves.

"It's safer and easier," Artaner argued. "And Sauron will be expecting us to take that approach!" Was the response.

"And how would you suggest managing to keep our supplies together?" Snarled Artaner.

"If we weren't carrying the excess weight of silks and cushions and other luxuries, we wouldn't be having this problem!" Snapped Calassion.

"I second that!" Another councillor said happily. A little too cheerfully.

"Why you-" Artaner's face went hilariously red. "Do you call me…a…a"

"Hedonist?" The councillor, whose name was Ráeru, laughed. "Glutton? Unashamed epicure? Or perhaps-"

"Why you-" Artaner shrieked and threw himself half-flat across the table whilst his hand reached futilely to Ráeru's neck and shoulders, grasping it and screaming words and insults.

The two simultaneously began trading insults such as "Sevig thû úan!", "Pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniathog!", "Eca, a mitta lambetya cendelessë orcova!" and "Súrë túla cendeletyallo!"

At this point, several of the more sensible councillors and advisers all jumped, starting to pull them back. But the others who were all getting tired, started to snicker at the rather amusing show.

Some even decided to join in, just for fun.

Ereinion groaned, and glared at them, shouting, "Enough!" They froze and stared at him.

One councillor froze in the act, with his hand in a fist going down to a downwards swing, an advisor had his fist pressed against another's cheek while said person was pulling his hair in one hand, was also in the process of sticking his fingers up the former's nostrils. Yet another councillor had another's hand in his mouth about to bite, and said vulnerable person had his foot on the table, shoving towards the former's groin. They were all displayed about the table, frozen in shock in front of the High King, all looking as undignified and horrified as could be, whilst managing to also look embarrassed.

"For the sake of Arda!" The High King shouted. "Behave yourselves! If anyone wanted to kill themselves, all they have to do is climb up your egos and jump to your brain levels! What are you, a group of learned councillors and advisors, or a pack of Sauron's orcs who don't have a single nut-brain of their own?" He bellowed.

Erestor, councillor and trusted advisor of Elrond was the first of those who came to their senses and pulled those involved in the scuffle back onto their feet.

Estela resisted the impulse to groan and roll her eyes. The patience of everyone had run thin and tempers had flared a great deal in knowing failing or coming short of such matters and arrangements could mean death and widespread destruction. Not pleasant.

This wasn't the first 'amusing' scene that took place, nor would it be the last. Even Ereinion knew better than to command them never to do it again- they would never manage it, and he knew better than to waste his breath. He could only remind them they needed to work together, or fall, and they would stop whatever they were doing and carry on as normal.

Idiots.

There was nothing Estela could do.

After they continued their discussion as if nothing had happened, they departed ways.

Ereinion groaned. "Valar, save me from such…" He could not even finish.

Estela soothingly stroked his arm. "Hush my love," she soothed. "They will work together, be certain of that." She would make certain of it.

If they don't like it, they can get through her, before the rest.

It was winter, now. A blanket of snow covered the ground. The stream had frozen to ice. Arwen and Vanimelda busied themselves by building a figure made of snow, and various other sculptures, before Arwen tugged Vanimelda's hand and urged her to go ice-skating.

Their minders kept a watchful gaze upon the two young girls. Estela herself sighed letting steam blow into the air as she watched them giggle and laugh.

Estela felt a clutch of pain threaten to cripple and shatter her from within, but she held herself like the queen she was. Eleniel.

She would be maturing rapidly- for an elf. Her mind would have already raced ahead. How she used to guide and teach Vanimelda how to build a snowman. How they used to toss snowballs at each other, and she had been the one to teach Melda how to ice-skate.

How she mourned her passing and the loss of a future- though hopefully it was not permanent. Estela hastily put aside such thoughts, however, and smiled at the girls as they waved. The two giggled.

Estela smiled again. She was truly glad to see them at play, radiant, with colour blooming fresh on their pale cheeks, black hair whipping about. The two of them….

Estela was snapped out of her thoughts as someone came. She turned as Melda and Arwen began a game of cat's cradle as to decide which of them they determine will choose what to play next. This newcomer was- just Glorfindel.

He bowed to the queen, and Estela gave a slight smile and a nod before turning back to watch the girls.

"It never snowed in Aman," Glorfindel mused. "At least not in the parts where I lived."

"No," Estela agreed. "When I was a child, my parents would take me to the Pelóri Mountains just so I could play in the snow every year. Often than not, the whole family would come."

Glorfindel fell silent as he reflected on this. She had been happy in Valinor- and by the sounds of it, they all had, before Morgoth's release. She never wanted to come here, he realised. She was happier there- before Morgoth's release.

Was it Fëanáro who ordered her to be brought with them to Endórë? He wondered. Olwë, king of the Teleri, and Arcalimar, his eldest son, spoke of her with great grief and pain, he remembered.

He had not been entirely honest with her. It wasn't just Idril who spoke of her.

They had not spoken it, but he wondered, was the Kinslaying at Alqualondë…. Because of the disagreement about her and the ships? Was that why Fëanáro attacked them in a rage?

He opened his mouth, but found that he could not say it. She had suffered enough in her lifetime.

Estela laughed as she saw Melda and Arwen attacking Elladan and Elrohir- who decided to join in- with snowballs.

"Ah, the fun we had as children," she said fondly. "I just hope they don't tire and wear themselves out too soon," she said before Elrohir threw a snowball at Melda, who promptly ducked, causing it instead to land on Elladan's surprised face.

"I heard about the briefing about the supplies," Glorfindel admitted sheepishly. "It appears Artaner does not agree with any proposed route."

She scoffed. "Is there complete convenience and safety anywhere? Danger lies along every path. Even in the safest of places such as this, there is a chance anyone can be harmed- no matter how small."

"True," Glorfindel sighed. "How very true, my Queen."

Estela said quietly. "Apart from the supply routes and the things they want and need to take, what are the other disagreements? The direction to take to Mordor. The tactics and strategies we need to get close to the Black Gate- how to break it down, and how to get through the arid plains of Gorgoroth to Barad-dûr and Mount Doom. And when we face Sauron, what next? How do we separate the Ring from him?"

Glorfindel's face grew grim. "We shall persist- and we shall prevail. Sauron will have made himself vulnerable, as you have said. And he stays in Barad-dur just like his master Morgoth stayed in Angband for the whole of the War- letting his minions do his filthy work."

"Save when he killed my grand-uncle," Estela said quietly. Glorfindel's face grew heavy with sorrow and regret. "Yes," he said quietly.

Estela sighed. "True. Sauron will not risk himself, no matter how invincible he thinks he might be."

"But we will need to face him, if we are to destroy the Ring," Glorfindel said. "And to destroy it, we must go to Mount Doom, to cast it into the fiery chasm to destroy his soul."

"Yes," Estela said softly. She observed the girls giggle and shriek with laughter while they played about. "Yes, we must. Or else there is no future for Middle-Earth."

And Glorfindel was amazed- one would think, he thought, that being born on Valinor, Estela would not be too uneasy about the fate of Middle-Earth. But she was.

"This is the wrong way!"

Estela now understood why so many hated these meetings. Normally she loved dealing with anything to do with tactics and strategy, but this! These people made her want to charge head-first out of the room and throw herself into the icy Bruinen!

She gritted her teeth and tapped her fingers loudly against the table. They all stopped and stared at her.

"If you are done arguing," she said through gritted teeth. "I suggest we all hear some more proposals before we decide on one or waste precious time." She gave an icy glare.

That shut them up.

Estela breathed out. Ereinion looked like he was about to snap harder than before. He relaxed at her single touch.

A pity they had to spend such lengthy amounts of time in such meetings. But both knew that the smallest mistake and the most obscure unplanned detail could mean their end. Sauron was certainly cunning enough.

"Now let Lord Elrond speak." She declared. "He has a proposal that we should all hear."

"Let Elrond, Lord of Imladris have the floor," Ereinion declared. Secretly he could not have been happier, though outwardly he remained regal, commanding and neutral.

Honestly, did anyone ever came across the idea to solder Artaner's mouth shut? Ereinion thought irritably.

"My proposal is that we go over the Misty Mountains," Elrond said. He pointed and ran his fingers across the map, to the ink sketches of the Misty Mountains." Everyone started and stared at him.

"Then from there, we shall go down the Anduin." Elrond continued as if no one had reacted. "There, we shall join with the Dwarves of Khazad-dûm, the Elves of Greenwood the Great, led by King Oropher, and those of Lothlórien, led by King Amdír. From there, we shall march south, through Eryn Galen, and then south-east, to the Gardens of the Entwives. Then to Mordor. There outside the gates of Mordor, we shall meet with Prince Anárion, son of King Elendil and his host."

Nearly everyone gaped at him.

Ereinion mused, "It's a good plan."

"My King!" Spluttered Awaldon, one of the councillors. "This is- this is-"

He took a deep breath before blurting, "A path through the Misty Mountains would be difficult, if not impossible! Anything could strike us down- storms- lightning and winds- and the trail is difficult to navigate through, if there is one."

At this Estela snapped. "The Dwarves have gone over these mountains just to come to Imladris to meet us. Are you saying that you, an elf, have less strength durability and capability than the Dwarves of Aulë? Our forefathers crossed the Misty Mountains on the Great Journey, are you telling me that as their descendant you are less than capable? For shame!"

Awaldon reddened spluttered some more. "What I meant was- was… There are orcs and goblins! What if the Enemy chooses to attack us there? Of all places, the Misty Mountains would be an impossible place to defend ourselves, unless we have the climbing capabilities of an insect, or the wings of a Great Eagle."

"On that I would agree with you, Awaldon," the High King said. "But I would point out it is not likely that Sauron will choose to attack us while we cross the Misty Mountains."

"These mountains are under the control of the Dwarves," Elrond pointed out. "And if orcs choose to attack us there, they will have to go through not only Men and Elves, but Dwarves. If Sauron's forces do attack us there, then it is likely they will be beaten. Not only will we outnumber them, but this is dwarven territory- they will know best how to navigate the terrain and use it to their own advantage."

Awaldon and Artaner, among others bristled and still looked disgruntled, but the warning glare from Estela prevented them from saying anything. Estela and Ereinion knew that Sauron was much too cunning to attack them there, even though they could never rule out that possibility completely.

"I shall consider this proposal, and I ask that you do the same," Ereinion said. He stood. "Until then, this meeting is adjourned. I shall ask your opinions tomorrow." He gave the gesture, and they all stood, bowed and departed the room, mumbling amongst themselves.

"Thank the Valar," Ereinion said wearily when he was certain they had all left and were out of ear-shot. He had told Elrond to stay and Estela stayed as well.

"Why must they make things more difficult than it should?" He grumbled. Estela tried not to smile.

"You know many of them do not know the realities of wartime and struggle to adjust to it- they have never seen battle before." He grunted. She poured him a goblet of wine and generously poured another for Elrond.

Ereinion took it gratefully and drank deeply.

"I think it is a good proposal," Estela said quietly. "One that might save all our lives in the coming months,"

Ereinion sighed and nodded. "We have no other choice. All other decisions are either too difficult to reach Mordor in one piece and the shortest amount of time, or too easy as to lure Sauron with a quick and easy victory."

"And we have yet to face the real challenge yet," Estela murmured. But she smiled at Elrond. "And yet, this was the best idea we have had put up in front of us."

Elrond bowed his head, but she could see the smile flickering around the edges of his mouth.

Estela sighed. "I shall leave you all to think about this then." She moved to leave. "Our daughter needs me."

Ereinion smiled, and his eyes brightened. "Tell her I will be with her soon." She smiled and nodded, leaving.

This was not a bad idea by far.

The Queen paused when she saw the two girls outside. Playing in the snow again, trying to catch the flakes as they fell. Suddenly the snowflakes falling from a grey-cloud blanketed sky, reminded her of what they might face when crossing the Misty Mountains. No, it would certainly not be easy.

The smile fell from Estela's face. Wrapping her pale blue and white-trimmed winter cloak tightly around her, she stepped out into the cold. Breathing out a mist, she observed the girl's playing. She clapped her hands to get their attention.

"Girls," she called out. "You should not stay overlong out here in this weather. Arwen where is your mother?"

"She is overseeing the banquet, my lady," Arwen said sweetly. Estela smiled and nodded.

"Well, then, perhaps you should come inside, there are things that need doing," she said, ushering them indoors.

Inside was warm and well-lit. "Where are your brothers?" She asked Arwen.

"Sparring, my queen," Arwen answered. "Well, let's go find them, shall we?" She asked the little girls gently. They nodded eagerly and chased each other through the hallways.

In the training yard Elladan and Elrohir were sparring, watched over by Glorfindel, who occasionally gave advice. The two young elves looked proud and joyful that one of the greatest warriors in history would give them advice.

Estela smiled, as the two little girls watched wide-eyed at the twins and Glorfindel.

She stepped out into the courtyard. They froze and immediately bowed. Glorfindel stood. "My apologies, I did not mean to interrupt." Estela said.

"Not at all, my lady," Elrohir murmured. "We have been learning of the guidance of Lord Glorfindel, present," Elladan said. "And we have learnt a great deal."

"I see," Estela said. "May I join you?" The twins gaped in awe. She looked at them in surprise. "If the Lord Glorfindel, the Balrog-Slayer, would be present, I would do anything to join." Her eyes danced.

Glorfindel laughed. "My lady, you flatter me."

"No, Glorfindel, I despise flattery. I only speak the truth."

"Now, which of you would like to spar?"

Later, Estela found herself in the study. She was writing reports among many things. The other things she was working on were designs for weaponry, saddles and bridles, and numerous other things.

In truth there is so much I would like to do, she thought. But here I am, relegated to the role of warrior and queen.

She liked to do other things, besides fighting, healing, and even weaving and making swans' figureheads. She could paint- her grandfather had taught her that, and speak, read and write in numerous other languages. She even designed and created her own gardens in Lindon. It was she who rearranged the landscape, and enriched the soil, preparing it for planting, and placed the seeds and bulbs in, watering and tending them, pruning and harvesting any fruit. The maze which Vanimelda loved to play in, and earlier, Fëanuldon (No, she would not think of that!), was designed and grown by her. She could sculpt, because she was taught by her grandmother, she could sing, play instruments and dance, her mother taught her that- and her uncle often helped. She studied everything around her. She even spent a great deal of time working and reforming the gardens in Lindon. She wondered if Elrond would allow her to do so, but she didn't have much time. She could paint, she thought, glumly.

Estela sighed, and asked for canvas, paints, palette and brushes with water to be brought.

A few hours later, Ereinion was surprised to see his wife working on quite a project- a large canvas painting.

In fact, shockingly, by this time, numerous canvases lay about propped on frames to dry. Estela had done several at a time. And they were breathtaking- as beautiful and spectacular as her tapestries. It was truly heartbreaking to behold such beauty.

A painting of Tirion upon Túna, lit by the light of the Two Trees. Valmar, City of the Maiar and Vanyar elves. Alqualondë, Haven of the Swans. Avallónë, the port city of Tol Eressëa. And Imladris, Lothlorien, the great cities of Doriath and Gondolin. The Two Trees. Taniquetil. The Pelóri Mountains.

And Lindon.

There were people there as well, but she painted them in happy times. Festivals, smiles and laughter, sparkling clothes and glittering jewels. Springs and cool, calm pools, the sea. It was like her tapestry, she was painting everything she had seen. Something for her daughter to remember her by.

In fact, she was so engrossed in her work, that she did not seem to realise her husband was there. Small blame, he smiled, and slowly left the room.

Here, she was at peace.

"The plan has been proposed. What say you?" He demanded.

They all looked apprehensive. Estela watched them warily.

Some of them exchanged wary glances, but one of them stood up.

"I support Lord Elrond's proposal."
"As do I," Another said. "And I," "And I," and so it went on.

"Very well, then." Ereinion nodded. "As soon as all is in order, we will march- and march south we will."

Estela did not look forward to leaving behind the peace of Imladris. The beauty, the quiet. For some reason she began painting, sculpting, weaving and writing much more than she normally would, as well as spending time with Vanimelda.

No one looked forward to this. But they knew they had no other choice.

Estela meanwhile, was sewing something- a gift for Vanimelda. Among other gifts.

She had told Vorondo what to do. And she did not doubt him.

She wrote in books, poetry and songs she composed. Some were laments. Others were war-marches but some were full of hope and joy stolen.

And there were letters she needed to write. Letters to those she had known. Farewells.

Estela wiped tears from her eyes, as she knew it was time. She was fighting for her precious daughter's future, and that of Middle-Earth but she missed Vanimelda, already, so much, she could not bear it. She had already lost one child. She thanked the Valar that he was in a better place. But she swore not to be weak.

"Just this once," she whispered.

On the eve of the march, Estela agreed, that Vanimelda was to go back to Lindon. Sauron's eye would likely be on their host, but she was taking no chances with Melda, so there was a strong guard about her.

She knelt in front of Melda. This could be the last time she saw her daughter.

She never feared going into battle, until now. How strange and different it was to her. But now, she had a daughter, and she feared she would never see her again. She hoped with all her heart that Vorondo would be able to protect Melda.

She stroked the girl's hair, and brushed it gently. Her fingers went to the pendant at her throat.

"Remember," she whispered in Quenya. "You are the daughter of Ereinion Gil-Galad, High King of the Noldor and the Elves of Middle-Earth, and of a shieldmaiden. You are the scion of a proud warrior line that has fought against evil, despite overwhelming odds, and we have triumphed in the end. Never have we backed down. Never have we allowed evil to overwhelm and win against us. And we never will."

"Yes, Amil," she whispered.

"Your father and I go to fight for the future of all Middle-Earth- and that includes you, our daughter, of which the future is yours to inherit and share with others. We could stay, but this means we will have to wait until Sauron destroys you- along with all the hopes and dreams of the future everyone has. We can never allow this to happen- no one must allow this to happen. So we will go. Many of our kin are dead- but we go not to avenge the past and sacrifice the future- we go to save the future of those who have always flourished and lived in the light. Remember Melda, we have thought about this carefully, and we do not make such decisions in haste, anger, grief, or over-confident pride, or even exuberance. We go because we must- but even a small bump of good may yet topple a great evil, like Sauron."

"Yes, Ammë," she whispered. Estela pulled her into an embrace and held her tightly, memorising her scent, although she knew it by now, she wanted it to stay with her, to fill the empty crevices and hollows of her heart. To feel the warmth of that diminutive body, and feel her mane of hair, smoother than silk. She exhaled, tears misting in her eyes.

"Melin, Vanimelda," she whispered. "Always remember- you are not alone. And your father and I love you more than anything or anyone in Eä. And we always will, no matter what happens to us and no matter where we go. We love you. You are never alone.

"Yes, Ammë," she whispered, choking on tears. "I love you too." And this, at least, was a goodbye, compared to the ones she never received- not with her father, or mother- not with her forefather, grandparents, uncles, aunts or cousins.

She was grateful for this.

"Namárië" she whispered, kissing her daughter for what could be the last time in a very long time- or forever.

They rode out early in the morning. And they went south, through the Misty Mountains, where Durin King of the Longbeards, would meet them with his forces. Then, at the eaves of Eryn Galen, they would go south-east.

To Mordor.

Quenya words:

Melin…- "I love you…"

Ánin apsenë- Quenya for "Forgive me."

"Eca, a mitta lambetya cendelessë orcova!" – "Go French-Kiss an orc!" (Literal: "Begone! Insert your tongue in an orc's mouth!")

"Súrë túla cendeletyallo!"- "Wind pours from your mouth!" (Literal: "Wind is coming from your face")

Sindarin words:

"Sevig thû úan!"- "You smell like a monster!" (Literal: "You have the stench of a monster!")

"Pedin i phith in aníron, a nin ú-cheniathog!"- "I can say all that I want, and you won't understand me!" (Literal: "I say the words I want, and you can't understand me")

There, I hope it wasn't TOO dramatic, just as you requested! Not unless you count the briefing fight, or the goodbyes.

I am still conflicted as to saving Gil-Galad. But remember- no matter what happens- the end is not the end!