Hey, everyone.

I'm sorry I haven't gotten around to replying to all your comments on the last chapter. I've been dealing with a recurring medical issue these past few weeks, and in between the doctor visits and feeling cruddy and all that jazz, I neglected to reply, though I still might.

That being said, I want you all to know that reading your feedback truly brightened my days. I was so captivated by what you all wrote. I'm always fascinated by how others perceive the story that's been simmering in my mind all these years (Yes, I've been working on and planning this story for at least six years lol. Maybe that's sad, I don't know lol. But this plot bunny grabbed hold and has been consuming my creative thoughts ever since).

Anyway, your response to the last chapter was so fascinating to me. From your reviews, I could see that my readers had divided into two camps. Those who sympathize with Rúmil and think he did the right thing. And those who were about ready to throttle him. Personally, I love that there are differing views on this. As a fanfic author, I never know how readers will react to a scene; if they will see things through the same lens that I do, or if their interpretation will differ from mine. For me, this is one of the best and most fascinating aspects of sharing my creative endeavors online. So thank you for the feedback! There were new commenters, too. Thanks for dropping a review! You made this lady very happy.

Hexzhana, crazygirlsb88, Blue1258, Guest, GaaraSandNiN, leward1992, KathrannofQuade, starrat, durinsdaughter2469btw, Cricklewood16, SarahELupin, Auriene, FriendlyNeighborhoodHufflepuff, Tobiramamara, ladyville, leelee202, Ruiniel, HaldirLove (Thanks for re-reading this story, girl!), SmallLittleCagedBird, Doria Nell, and mycarnation. I'm so grateful, guys!

Now on to the chapter...


CHAPTER LVI

PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE

Annalyn ran down the mallorn's staircase, so upset was she.

No sooner had she left Rúmil's home than she had gone looking for his brother. But Haldir hadn't been home. Nor was he on the terrace.

Heartbroken and distressed and oh so angry, Annalyn swallowed her pain, schooling her features as best she could as she peered into the kitchens. Again, no Haldir.

It was almost nightfall, and the sun's dwindling light cast elongated shadows on the green avenues below the mallorn. Only vaguely aware of her surroundings, she prowled on, going all the way to the armoury, where the guard at the entrance informed her that the Marchwarden was no longer there.

"You only just missed him," he said.

With mounting anguish, Annalyn whirled away from the puzzled sentry and pondered the surrounding fortress of trees. Oh but where is he? Perhaps he had been summoned by the Lord and the Lady, or else he had taken an alternate route to his home tree and was now waiting for her at Ithriel's.

Annalyn's head fell forward, her hand rising to pinch the bridge of her nose. So stupid. Why did I not think to look there? After all, Ithriel had invited them both for dinner. Maybe he was already there.

With Rúmil's consolation gift still clutched in her hand—wine that she would surely need later—Annalyn set out across the city once more. Yet even as she retraced her steps, Rúmil's words remained with her.

"Has he told you of elven marriages? If you bind yourself to him, do you know what will happen once you have gone?" She hadn't known—not the full truth anyway—and that was the problem, the reason she was seething, breaking inside.

"He will rage and he will grieve," Rúmil had gone on to say, "but Elves mate for life. There will be no other."

As if that wasn't heartbreaking enough, Rúmil claimed that their souls would never meet, not even if Haldir were to die someday. Not while the world endured. Perhaps not even after that.

Two races. Two separate fates. Sundered forever and always. She understood now, certainly better than before, why mortals and immortals seldom wed. Why they shouldn't.

Her vision swam with tears.

Why? she asked herself for what seemed the thousandth time since leaving Rúmil's dwelling. Why had Haldir not told her any of this? Why had he not told her that Elves mated for life, that he would never recover from her death? Rúmil believed Haldir had meant to spare her. But Annalyn only felt betrayed.

In need of answers, she hastened along what she thought was her usual path. Alas, the city could be confusing, her heart in such turmoil she soon lost her way. "For pity's sake!" Angered by her inability to think, she turned on the spot. Hoping to find her bearings, Annalyn looked for a familiar landmark. There, up in the trees to her right—the Lord and the Lady's dwelling.

Reoriented at last, she guessed that her usual route would be over in that direction. But the quickest way to reach it would be to leave the path altogether to cut a line through the trees. Needing to find Haldir, Annalyn did exactly that, and quickly found herself in a narrow pathway that was flanked by a hill on one side, and the roots of a giant mallorn on the other. Up ahead, a segment of tree root stretched over the path, high enough and mighty enough that a stone archway had been built directly underneath it.

Her gaze darting about, Annalyn was almost at the archway when she espied what looked to be pedestal in the middle of the space beyond. Hoping she wasn't trespassing into a private courtyard, she snuck forth, promising to be quick about it, only to emerge in a dead-end.

This wasn't a courtyard, but the space was clearly private. Nestled at the bottom of a hill, the grassy circle was wreathed by great tree roots, with ferns growing among them. The sound of trickling water told her there was a small fountain nearby. Looking past the pedestal, Annalyn saw that the water feature had been set within the roots of a tree. A basin made of beautifully carved stone, into which flowed a cascading stream. Next to it was a silver ewer.

Soft and melodious, the water seemed to beckon. As did the mysterious pedestal nearby.

What is this place? She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was a strange feeling in the air. It felt like… like a charge almost. The kind one might feel before a thunderstorm.

Perplexed, Annalyn swept a gaze all around and noted that a stone staircase had been built into the hillside. Partway up the steps stood two statues, one on either side. Identical to one another, they bore a striking resemblance to the Lady Galadriel. Each held a bowl in their hands—braziers, with dancing flames at their centers.

Suddenly feeling like a trespasser, Annalyn was about to double-back when a peculiar thing happened. It was hard to explain. The pedestal seemed to draw her gaze all of a sudden, as if some unseen force desired to grab her attention. If given voice, the feeling that came upon her would have whispered, "Come and see."

Like an invisible hand, the mysterious sensation signaled for her to come forth, and curious fool that she was, Annalyn hearkened to it, wanting—no, needing—to see the pedestal up close, if only to find out what its purpose was.

The pedestal was crowned by a receptacle, circular and flat, like a large plate or a bird bath. But this was no ordinary garden feature. Made of silver, it contained water—newly poured by the looks of it. Indeed, the water was clear as glass, with not even a speck of dirt in it. Leaning forth, Annalyn saw a smooth and reflective surface at the bottom. A mirror, of all things.

Yet even as she gazed, her subconscious warned her against staring into it. "Turn back," it seemed to say. "This object is not meant for your eyes. You are not supposed to be here!"

But the inner warning was not loud enough, it seemed. Inquisitiveness was a positive trait for some, but for Annalyn it was a flaw also. In fact, her mother had often said that her curiosity would land her into trouble one day. Perhaps that day had come.

The early evening skies were clear, yet a drop of rain seemed to fall out of nowhere, for a ripple suddenly appeared on the water.

Annalyn's mouth fell open. It wasn't raining at all. No, this was something else, for another ripple materialised, seemingly out of nothing, and in its wake came a vision, dreamlike yet incredibly real, right there in the water.

In the vision, Annalyn saw herself walking alongside her horse, her wonderfilled gaze sweeping the great mallorn-trees around her.

Her breath caught and she pulled back from the pedestal, amazed. The past. She could see the past in this thing. Unable to help herself, Annalyn hesitated but a moment before peering into the water once more. Another ripple swept across the surface, changing the image.

Haldir was crouched on a large tree limb, his bow bent in readiness to shoot as he beheld Annalyn and her kin who were standing back-to-back, their weapons drawn and at the ready. Seeming to rethink his decision, Haldir lowered his bow, dropped from his perch, and studied her company with a critical brow.

The water stirred in a series of ripples, each allowing a brief glimpse of the past.

Golden flowers bathed in starlight. Then the gift of a silver flask. An elven drink to ward off the chill.

When the image changed to that first river crossing, when Haldir had jumped into the water to soothe her panicked horse, Annalyn realised that she was seeing their story—hers and Haldir's. As it unfurled even more, the mirror showed other moments—Haldir bidding her farewell in the pummeling rain; Haldir shooting a Warg and its rider before her startled eyes.

Annalyn would never forget that moment, the night that had marked the beginning of their perilous journey through the wilds.

Another ripple radiated over the water.

The two of them were marching through the forest.

Now they were building her uncle's cairn.

Grief swelled in her being, clogging her throat as the image changed yet again.

It was night. Annalyn's vision-self was sitting, hunched and shivering, in a circle of birch trees when Haldir walked into the field of view. As a chill wind swirled around them, he removed his elven cloak and draped it over her shoulders.

As the vision unfolded, showing how he had lingered for a moment, warming her by rubbing his hands up and down her arms, a faint smile appeared on her mouth, only to fade when the next ripple came.

The two of them were fleeing through the forest, desperate to elude the Orcs and Wargs on their tail. Then they were fighting side by side.

That night had been harrowing, but by the grace of Eru, or that of the Valar, they had made it through somehow. Annalyn had even saved Haldir's life in the end. Even now, she shuddered to think how close it had been. If she hadn't killed that Orc in time… If she had lost Haldir…

The stillness of the water was disturbed by three simultaneous ripples. As they radiated and converged, the vision continued.

They were standing near a campfire, a bed of evergreen branches by their feet. Haldir had just slung his bow upon his back when Annalyn stopped him with a gentle hand to his shoulder. When he looked to her with an unspoken question in his eyes, her vision-self reached for his face on pure impulse, drawing him down to bestow a heartfelt kiss on his cheek. Easing away from her stunned companion, the mirror version of her shocked him even more by kissing him again, on the lips this time.

That moment was etched permanently into her memory, the simple but lingering kiss that had started it all—though each of them had fought their attraction for some time after that. Fought until they couldn't anymore.

In the present, some unseen power seemed to emanate from the receptacle, making her shiver. Another image came into being.

The two of them were sitting in a firelit cave, smiling as they talked and shared a cup of herbal tea.

The image dimmed. They were still in the cave, but their fire had gone out, and now they were lying on their sides, her back against his chest, the two of them sharing body heat beneath her blanket and his cloak.

When the next vision came into being, Annalyn laid a hand over her aching heart.

Haldir was sitting in the saddle with her. As the two rode beneath a vast expanse of stars, the Misty Mountains as their backdrop, his gaze flitted from the side of her face to her hair and back again, as though he wished to absorb every detail. When Annalyn's vision-self tilted her head back, laughing at something he had just said, the mood between them changed, prompting her to turn her face toward him, just a little. He did the same. And in this fashion, they lingered, each wanting a lot more—though by sheer force of will they had restrained themselves that night.

Annalyn hadn't known it at the time, but that ride had been one of the last moments of peace on their return journey, for she had fallen ill less than a day after. As the mirror continued its tale, she saw the anguish on Haldir's face when she had collapsed in his arms. The desperate haste with which he then rode to get her to Lothlórien was even more devastating to behold.

Hand over her heart, Annalyn could scare believe her eyes. How strange it was to witness this particular chapter of their story, for she had been mostly unconscious at the time.

The water undulated again.

Her vision-self was lying on a bed in the white pavilion. Her eyes were closed, but it was not a restful sleep, for the fever gripped her still. At her bedside, Haldir grasped her limp hand. The scene was silent, but his lips formed two words. Even through the mirror, Annalyn could make out what they were. "Fight. Live." Rising, he lingered a moment before bending at the waist to lay a grief-stricken kiss onto her brow.

She hadn't known that he had kissed her then, was moved and gutted at seeing it now. The depth with which he loved her…

Ripples came in rapid succession, telling their story in a fleeting series of images.

The two of them walking in Caras Galadhon.

Haldir playing the harp.

Their passionate moment on his lounging couch.

That incredible kiss on the mallorn's main staircase.

The two of them dancing the night away at the Midwinter feast.

Her vision-self straddling him as they kissed before a column of fireflies.

"The magic of Elves," Annalyn whispered in wonder. "A mirror that shows the past."

"The mirror shows many things."

Startled by Galadriel's voice, she quickly drew back. But the Lady of Light, by contrast, was a picture of calm, her bearing solemn yet proud as her bare feet carried her down the stone steps. "Things that were. Things that are. And some things that have not yet come to pass."

"I am sorry. I should not be here." Mortified, Annalyn wiped a sweaty hand on the front of her tunic, and stammered. "I meant not to trespass, only… only…" She hung her head in shame. "There is no excuse. Please, forgive me. I will go."

Galadriel, however, did not seem angry. If anything, she seemed mostly concerned. "Your heart is troubled, for the path before you is now muddled and you know not what to do."

Annalyn could not bring herself to deny the Lady's keen observation.

Galadriel came to stand before her. With kind eyes, she said, "The mirror shows many things, it is true. And from it, one can sometimes glean enough truth to choose a path. Still, I feel I should caution you, for there is a warning in my heart…" Now her features turned grave.

"A warning?"

"I know what it is you saw, and I know what it is you seek. Yet if you gaze into the mirror, you should know that what you see is but one path, one outcome among numerous possibilities. Any visions of the future, though they might indeed come to pass, are not set in stone."

"So you are saying I should not look into the mirror."

A moment went by. The Lady seemed uncertain. "If your feet brought you hither, mayhap you were meant to gaze upon it. I do not know. So this I will say…" Now she circled the pedestal, the hem of her dress trailing like a foaming wave in her wake. "Despite the warning in my heart, it is not my place to hinder you. You may gaze upon it, or you may not. This choice belongs to you."

"You know what it is I saw, and even now I know that my soul is laid bare before you." Sorrow besieged her, hindering her voice when she said, "You know that I love him, with every fibre of my being. But Haldir and I are of two kindreds. And while I knew the cost would be high, I did not realise the true extent of the pain he might feel one day, how unending it would be." Her heart cracked along with her words. "I have been told you are counted among the very wise. Please… What should I do?"

"Wise I may be, but all-knowing I am not." Compassion laced every word. "Not all truths are revealed to me, yet there are some things that I can see. Your love is true."

"It is." Warmth surged within her, and she smiled in spite of her heartache. "He is the love of my life."

"He loves you deeply." Pain or worry creased the Lady's brow for a moment, as though she knew what had transpired tonight—her conversation with Rúmil, how upset she was with Haldir.

Unwilling to discuss it, however, Annalyn sidestepped by looking to the mirror again. "Perhaps it is foolish, but I cannot leave here without seeing what might be, even if it is but one path."

Galadriel gave a sigh. Resigned she seemed, and sad. "So be it." With a bow of her head, the Lady clasped her hands, and watched as Annalyn neared the water again.

When the next vision came, it showed not the past but rather the present. At first, Annalyn saw herself as she was now, bent over Galadriel's mirror, with the Lady by her side. With the next ripple came the answer to one mystery.

Presently, Haldir was leaving his dwelling, his feet leading him toward Ithriel's home. Groomed he was, with a small bundle in his left hand. His mouth was curved in happiness, yet he seemed nervous also.

As the image faded, the mirror seemed to tremble. What came next was neither the past nor the present. Her mouth agape, Annalyn beheld a vision of the future. It was not a mere glimpse this time.

Haldir looked absolutely beautiful, his hair even more perfect than it usually was. In the vision, he was clad in a silver tunic, even finer than the garments he had worn at the Midwinter feast. The evening sun was in his hair and a shining rain fell about him. No, not rain. Mallorn leaves. With one arm held behind his back, he bowed and held her eyes even through Galadriel's mirror.

Then the perspective changed. She saw the scene from a little farther away, as one who is standing nearby. Her chest swelling with emotion, Annalyn saw herself, clad in a simple but beautiful gown, with tiny flowers woven in her hair. There could be no doubt as to what this was.

Haldir held out his hand to her, and she took it. Then Ithriel and Orophin stepped forth, each of them speaking words she could not hear.

All the while, her vision-self and Haldir stood facing one another, their gazes entwined. Before all those assembled, they proceeded to remove what she now knew to be silver betrothal rings, presenting them to the other. Once that was done, they exchanged golden rings instead. The scene moved forward. A kiss finally sealed their vow.

A ripple erased the image, leaving another in its wake.

Annalyn stood in a bedroom, the one that currently belonged to Haldir. Staring at a full length mirror, she considered her reflection while twirling a loose lock of her hair about her finger. Seemingly offended by what she saw, her vision-self leaned closer and huffed a breath.

A silver hair.

She sighed, and her hand moved to her face, where her fingers traced the faint lines that had begun to form between her brows and at the corners of her eyes.

Next, she smoothed the front of her white sleeping gown, and turned a little to consider her shape. Her curves were still appealing, but gone was the firmness of youth. As she pondered her reflection, her hand lingered over her midsection, and her face grew sad; not out of vanity—though there must have been a small measure of that—but mostly because the years were flitting by one by one, too fast.

When Haldir entered their room by way of the staircase, her vision-self caught his gaze through the mirror, and smiled faintly at him. As he came to stand behind her, he wrapped his arms about her waist, leaned in to press a kiss to the side of her neck.

Her eyes returned to her reflection. He looked up also. But upon seeing her expression, he quickly guessed her thoughts, and seemed troubled.

Haldir turned her then, until she was facing him. With practiced ease, he then reached for her braid, loosening the strands until her locks fell free. The look in his eyes was one of love and unwavering desire. Annalyn saw it and her vision-self did, too, the blush on her cheeks as unmistakable as the quickening rise and fall of her chest.

Haldir's mouth curved then, in gladness and triumph.

Then, in a smooth and confident motion, he circled her waist and drew her firmly against him. Nose to nose, lips nearly touching, he held her gaze until he kissed her mouth, slowly and passionately, as her hands rose to cradle the nape of his neck.

The water rippled once more, and another image formed.

The two of them were dancing, much like they had done at the Midwinter feast. While there was yet beauty in her features, Annalyn gauged her age to be around fifty. Maybe fifty-five. Her hair was now streaked with silver, a stark contrast to the unfading beauty of her husband.

As she allowed the scene to unfold, Annalyn wondered if he saw her as she had once been—as she was now—for there was much love in his gaze. In hers, too.

An invisible drop of rain fell upon the water, bringing with it another vision.

Her braided hair was now fully grey. Clad in a simple gown and a shawl, she walked slowly and with effort, her back bent by her lengthening years.

The older version of her was outside, on a clear morning—or maybe it was dusk. In the vision, she was making for a white staircase, one that was set on the side of a beautiful dwelling set among tall firs and green trees.

Upon reaching the stairs, she grasped the rail with a trembling hand and finally heaved her foot upon the first step. Her aged features looked up then, at the stairs before her. Disheartened she seemed.

But then Haldir moved into the vision, wearing the red cloak she loved so. His kind eyes met hers as his hand moved soothingly along her back. His lips moved, as if he was asking a question.

But her older-self abruptly shook her head, in stubborn pride it seemed. But then, when her aging legs failed to carry her up the steps, defeat washed over her, and she seemed to acquiesce to whatever Haldir had asked or offered.

Clearly wearied and embarrassed, she nodded, her arms reaching for his shoulders as he scooped her into his arms, slowly and carefully.

As Haldir carried her up the stairs, his cheek pressed against her grey hair, Annalyn could not miss the sadness—no, the grief—in his eyes. Yet love there was also, and much of it.

Devotion personified, she thought as the scene faded to grey.

Another ripple, another vision.

Annalyn saw herself as an old woman again, but even older than before. White was her hair and gnarled were her hands. She was lying in a bed set in the middle of a room, a few paces from a lit brazier. Firelight danced upon her wrinkled features, yet her eyes did not see the flames. Absent they seemed, and cloudy.

A silent figure moved into the vision. A tall frame with broad shoulders and golden hair. Haldir.

As she gazed into the mirror, watching the scene from above, Annalyn saw him kneel at her bedside, and grasp her limp hand. The old and tired version of herself did not appear to notice.

The image moved, the viewpoint changing as if she was descending from the ceiling. At length, Annalyn saw the vision as one who was sitting on the opposite side of the bed.

The older version of her was staring at the ceiling. An old crone. As for Haldir, his features were timeless. Timeless yet changed by the pain she now saw in his eyes.

He was losing her and he knew it. Though by the state she was in, Annalyn could tell that he had lost her long ago, that he was now gazing at a shell, a brittle mockery of the woman she had once been.

Haldir was silent and still, his grief seeping at the edges of the mask he barely held in place. When the shallow rise and fall of her chest finally ceased, his eyes went wide and she saw him tremble.

He looked up then, at someone who stood just out of view, on the opposite side of the bed. His features set in a horrified plea, Haldir said something, but the scene was altogether silent. It was then that she saw Ithriel, her tear-filled eyes holding his as she merely shook her head.

Haldir's features changed then. His entire body shook, and he grimaced in pain, like a wounded animal in a cage.

When Ithriel moved around the bed to place a comforting hand upon his shoulder, he clenched his eyes and opened his mouth to speak.

Again, all was silent. Silent and drawn-out, as if time had slowed to a crawl.

"Leave me," he seemed to say, and shook anew. When Ithriel made no move, Haldir looked to her, his eyes wild with grief when he recoiled from her touch. "Leave me!" he bellowed this time, the silent words radiating out through the mirror as a tangible wave of loss and unbearable pain.

In Galadriel's private sanctum, Annalyn loosed a quivering breath, her chest caving in at what she had just seen. Her hand flying to her mouth, she glanced at the Lady of Light who had yet to move. A glutton for punishment, Annalyn lowered her eyes again. A final ripple, she decided. A final vision.

Haldir stood near the center of a clearing, his red cloak snapping in the wind. His hand was clutched to his chest, his empty stare lost to the green mound before him.

Unlike the previous vision, he wore the proverbial mask again. Yet his grief was revealed by the unshed tears that now stood in his eyes. His eyelids fell closed, and his hand rose to his mouth. He was clutching something, Annalyn realised.

As he kissed the mystery item, he leaned forward to lay it upon the flowered grass. When he straightened, Annalyn saw a glint of silver upon the side of the mound, but could not see what it was.

Then time moved forward, hastening more and more as clouds raced across the sky. Day turned to night. Night turned to day. Yet even as the pattern repeated itself, over and over again, Haldir stood silent and unmoving, until—at last—she could no longer bear it.

Annalyn staggered back. "Enough." She was shaking now. "I've seen enough."

"What you saw…" Galadriel trailed. She seemed troubled, but the wheels in her mind were clearly turning. "It is incomplete. In what way, I do not know, yet my heart tells me that—"

"It matters not." Annalyn took a backward step, her voice scarce more than a whisper when she said, bitterly, "I cannot choose this. How can I claim to love him if I choose this?"

Galadriel opened her mouth to speak, no doubt to remind her that this was but one path, but Annalyn was deaf to anything the Lady could say at this point.

Her tears flowing freely, she backed away even more. With her wine bottle in hand, Annalyn whirled toward the archway and ran.