To all my readers, a million times thank you. I truly mean it. The fact that you've devoted so much time to reading my fanfic truly humbles me.

To my amazing reviewers: crazygirlsb88, durinsdaughter2469btw, leelee202, leward1992, starrat, mystarlight, Ruiniel, Cricklewood16, Blue1258, AshleyLeigh, Raider-K, princessnerra, ElvinGuest, leafromlalaland, MidnightReader1, NathanielWynters, SmallLittleCagedBird, and ladyville. Words cannot express how much I value your feedback. When the writing gets tough, your support keeps me going.

Author's note: some lines you might recognize from the book, others from the movie. The rest is from my head, though. This is a mish-mash, folks. Hopefully, it reads okay. *fingers crossed*

If this part of the story had a soundtrack... Wait, what am I saying? It already does! From the movie's original soundtrack: "Lothlórien" by Howard Shore.


CHAPTER LXIV

A GREAT EVIL

The Elves spoke not as they hastened through the forest.

Staying well above the ground, the Galadhrim used the mighty branches to make their way northward, where an encroaching company of eight—a Dwarf among them!—was nearing the stream called Nimrodel.

Hooded and cloaked, Rúmil ran with the others, his footfalls swift but silent against the great tree-limbs. Though certainly alarmed by the arrival of these newcomers, his thoughts were scattered at the moment, the rioting mess in his head caused by a conversation he had overheard earlier that day.

"But she did not wish for this," Haldir had been saying to Orophin. "She wanted to forge a life of her own. She told me that all I could give her was a life of guilt."

Rúmil hadn't meant to eavesdrop. But as he had made his way through the canopy, with a sack of arrows in his arms, he had heard nonetheless, and what he had learned…

"But did she mean it?" Orophin had asked their eldest brother, unaware that Rúmil had slowed to a halt, almost directly above their heads. "What if she was lying to protect you? Have you considered this?"

"I have."

"Then you know what you must do. You must go to her. Annalyn deserves to know the truth."

Rúmil had frowned at that. What truth?

"Leave?" Haldir had countered. "Now of all times. Orophin, we are on the brink of open war."

"And you have a wife out there who does not even know she is wed to you."

At the word "wife", Rúmil's mouth had dropped open. He had nearly dropped his arrows, too—and later did. Shaken by his brother's words, he had blinked a few times. A wife… Wait… What?!

Disbelieving his ears, he had merely stood there, too stunned to move or think.

"May I ask you something?" Orophin had gone on to say. "Ithriel and I were talking the other night. We were wondering if… Your fae… Even before this last dream, Annalyn was your chosen, was she not?"

Rúmil's heart had plummeted, his initial shock turning to dread.

"She is my chosen, yes."

Scarcely had the words left his brother's mouth than Rúmil had started shaking. Nay…

"How long have you known?"

At Orophin's question, Rúmil's gaze had shot to Haldir who'd answered, "Do you remember the night you came to see me in the training yard? I had just spent the evening with her and my heart was in turmoil."

"I remember."

"I learned of our bond earlier that very night. I remember it clearly, how the truth just slammed into me. Quite frankly, it nearly knocked the wind out of my lungs. I was reeling, Orophin. In some ways, I still am."

Up in the boughs, Rúmil had been reeling, too. It cannot be. It should not be. How? Yet the truth had been right there, in the eyes and voice of the brother he loved. A brother he had fretted over, and had wanted to protect above all else.

Indeed, he had willingly damaged his relationship with Haldir in the hopes of saving him from irreparable hurt. But if Haldir's fae had already chosen her, well before Rúmil had interfered… It was all for naught.

"But you never told her," Orophin had questioned.

"I meant to. And I was going to, but nay… I never did."

Rúmil had clenched a fist. You never told anyone! He had nearly shouted at Haldir, and would have, had he not been so utterly broken. If you had told me…

Realisation had dawned on him then, a truth so terrible he had found it hard to breathe. I robbed him. I robbed him of precious time he can never reclaim. She's left. He's lost her. What have I done? Now he ran alongside the brother he had wronged, a brother who had yet to speak to him. Maybe he never will.

The merging waters of Nimrodel and Celebrant flowed noisily in the distance, the sweet music overlaid by voices he did not know.

Rúmil's focus should have been on these trespassers, instead he was trapped by a memory he would rather forget.

"Why did you interfere? What gave you the right?!" Haldir had been furious that night—the night Rúmil had spoken to Annalyn in hopes that she would end things before it was too late. How wrong he had been.

"Have you any idea what you have done?" Haldir had seethed in the aftermath.

"I do," had been Rúmil's answer. He had been so sure of himself then, but the horrible truth was that he hadn't known.

Hoping to save his brother, he had manipulated the situation so that Annalyn would leave. And, selfless woman that she was, she had. Unbeknownst to him, his meddling had been for naught, for Haldir's fate was already sealed.

I have cost him the love of his life. The only love he will ever know. He will grieve her regardless. And now, thanks to his meddling, Haldir would never know happiness, brief though it might have been. Rúmil, you fool.

Unable to forgive himself, he swallowed the bile in his throat, and kept on running. Ordinarily, he would have been near the front of the line, but his regret was such that he was falling behind. His eyes stung, his throat constricting with every burning breath. Still, he kept on going, for Lothlórien had need of its sentinels this night.

They were nearing the old road now, where the mallyrn arched over the faded path and the river that ran alongside it.

With stealth and fluid grace, his brethren leapt from tree to tree. Though Haldir had yet to look in Rúmil's direction, Orophin turned a sympathetic gaze on him. Rejecting the sentiment, Rúmil severed the visual connection. What he had done was unforgiveable. I deserve nothing but scorn.

It was then that a voice reached them from afar. Clear and elven-fair, it echoed between the branches, singing verses that were known to the Elves of Lórien—only instead of Sindarin, the lines were delivered in the Westron Speech.

An Elven-maid there was of old,
A shining star by day:
Her mantle white was hemmed with gold,
Her shoes of silver-grey.

There could be no doubt; the voice belonged to an Elf, one who knew the tragic story of Amroth and Nimrodel.

A star was bound upon her brows,
A light was on her hair
As sun upon the golden boughs
In Lórien the fair.

Her hair was long, her limbs were white,
And fair she was and free;
And in the wind she went as light
As leaf of linden-tree.

The voice was louder now. They were getting close. At the front of the line, the Marchwarden slowed to a cautious walk, and the others did the same. In the branches up ahead was a patrol of two. Tasked with patrolling the outer edges of the woods, they had been keeping a careful watch over the company since the moment they had been spotted.

When Haldir finally saw the outsiders, he stopped altogether, and raised a halting hand. Rúmil and the others heeded his silent command.

Beside the falls of Nimrodel,
By water clear and cool,
Her voice as falling silver fell
Into the shining pool.

Where now she wanders none can tell,
In sunlight or in shade;
For lost of yore was Nimrodel
And in the mountains strayed.

By the sound of his voice, Rúmil recognised him as one of their Northern kindred. Along with his bedraggled company, the Elf sat near the falls of Nimrodel, which flowed over green-hued stone into the wider waters of Celebrant. Softly, he sang of an elven-ship in haven grey, and a wind that arose by night. Of heaving waves and blinding spray and the pull of a streaming tide.

As the song described the breaking dawn, and how the ship had broken away, the mood in the treetops turned sombre. For the Elves had long memories, and even those who understood little of the common tongue had caught the mention of Nimrodel. She had been known to them, to all of them, including Rúmil who was the youngest in the company. To this day, her loss—and that of Amroth—was deeply felt.

The Elf on the ground continued to sing.

Amroth beheld the fading shore
Now low beyond the swell,
And cursed the faithless ship that bore
Him far from Nimrodel.

Of old he was an Elven-king,
A lord of tree and glen,
When golden were the boughs in spring
In fair Lothlórien.

From helm to sea they saw him leap,
As arrow from the string,
And dive into the water deep,
As mew upon the wing.

The wind was in his flowing hair,
The foam about him shone;
Afar they saw him strong and fair
Go riding like a swan.

But from the West has come no word,
And on the Hither Shore
No tidings Elven-folk have heard
Of Amroth evermore.

The singer faltered, and the song came to an end. "I cannot sing anymore," the Elf said. "That is but a part, for I have forgotten much. It is long and sad, for it tells how sorrow came upon Lothórien, Lórien of the Blossom, when Dwarves awakened evil in the mountains."

"But the Dwarves did not make the evil," the Dwarf said, and seemed offended.

"I said not so, yet evil came," the Elf answered sadly.

On a neighbouring tree-limb, Haldir's features had hardened. His resentful gaze was now fixed on the Dwarf. Indeed, Rúmil understood his mood, and shared it. Were it not for the greed of the Dwarves, the Dwarrowdelf might not be the tomb it was now. But because the miners had unearthed and awoken that Balrog, evil had moved into the mines. The very same evil that had taken elven lives, including that of his parents.

The loss of so many had sparked a deep fear among the Elves, and that fear had led to an exodus. The same exodus that had cost the lives of Amroth and Nimrodel. Whichever way one looked at it, Lothlórien had paid a steep price because of the Dwarves.

And now, much to Rúmil's irritation, one was sitting beneath the silver boughs, oblivious or untroubled by the pain his people had caused.

As the Elf on the ground went on, speaking of Lothlórien and the Galadhrim, the hooded sentinels encircled the company quietly, most of them sinking into a crouch as they watched from above.

Down by the waterfall, the company had risen. With the Elf in the lead, they left the old road, and moved into deeper and denser woods.

As the sentinels stalked forward, they reached one of their outposts. Here were many flets, with cleverly concealed lamps and supplies.

On the forest floor, the intruders came to a halt. The Elf was inspecting a mallorn. Turning to the company, he expressed his desire to climb up. "I am at home among trees, by root or bough, though these trees are of a kind strange to me, save as a name in song. Mallyrn they are called."

One of the halflings spoke up just then. He did not seem pleased. "They will be marvelous trees indeed if they can offer any rest at night, except to birds. I cannot sleep on a perch!"

"Then dig a hole in the ground," the Elf countered, "if that is more after the fashion of your kind. But you must dig swift and deep, if you wish to hide from Orcs." With that, he sprang up and grasped a branch.

Up in the trees, the sentinels stiffened. As the Elf dangled there a moment, Haldir rose from his crouch, and spoke in a strong and commanding voice. "Daro!"

The Elf dropped from his perch at once, then shrank against the trunk. "Stand still! Do not move or speak," he warned the others. Looking to the boughs once more, he addressed the Galadhrim in the Silvan tongue. "Mae Govannen." Receiving no reply, the Elf went on. "We are friends of Lórien."

Now the Marchwarden looked to the stoutest and hairiest in the ragtag group. In the elven-tongue, he addressed the Elf. "The Dwarf breathes so loud we could have shot him in the dark."

Despite his lingering guilt and inner turmoil, Rúmil breathed a small laugh at that. And he wasn't the only one.

"Who are they, and what do they say?" another halfling asked.

As the Elf translated, the Dwarf scowled at the treetops, a displeased growl rising in his throat.

"But you need have no fear," Haldir continued in Sindarin, his words directed at the Elf. "We heard your voice across the Nimrodel, and knew you were one of our Northern Kindred. I was told you fled from Moria."

"It is so, though our journey through the long dark came at a great cost." A look of grief passed over his features. "There is evil in that mountain. Orcs and fouler things."

"Indeed." Haldir's tone was distant and cool. Doubtless, he was reliving his own harrowing experience in the tunnels of Khazad-dûm. Snapping out of it, he said, "The Orcs will often pursue for many leagues into the plains. For your safety, we will allow you to join us. Then we shall speak face to face."

As Orophin and Rúmil joined their brother on the talan, a few more sentinels followed in their wake. As the remaining soldiers gathered on neighboring flets, Haldir threw down a ladder. All around, over two dozen Elves now stood at attention, the end of their bows resting by their feet. As a sickle moon rose in the east, they watched the climbing company in silence, their curious expressions holding a fair amount of concern.

When all had reached the platform, the Elf introduced himself as Legolas of the Woodland realm.

Once Haldir had introduced himself in turn, he bowed in Elf-fashion. The Elf's name must have been known to him for he said, "Welcome Legolas, son of Thranduil."

Rúmil recognized the father's name at once. Thranduil. The king of the Silvan Elves of Mirkwood.

"Our Fellowship stands in your debt, Haldir of Lórien," Legolas continued in Sindarin, then motioned to one of the Men in their group—he looked familiar. "This is Aragorn, son of Arathorn. He is an Elf-friend of the folk of Westernesse."

Recognition had already dawned on Haldir's features. And on many others, including Rúmil.

"The name of Aragorn is known in Lórien," Haldir said, "and he has the favour of the Lady." And that of Lady Arwen, too. For this mortal man was well known indeed, for he had gained the love of none other than the Evenstar herself. Another ill-fated pair, Rúmil mused with growing sadness, his stare going to his older brother.

As Haldir and Aragorn exchanged greetings in Sindarin, the Dwarf grew impatient. "So much for the legendary courtesy of the Elves. Speak words we can all understand!"

His outburst netted the Marchwarden's attention. Coldly, he said, "We have not had dealings with the Dwarves since the dark days."

"You know what this Dwarf says to that?" His rumbling voice had risen. "Ishkhaqwi ai durugnul."

A chorus of gasps sounded from the nearby flets. Then murmurs arose.

Because Rúmil hoped to become a scout, he had been studying languages for some time now. Westron he was learning from Ithriel, Dwarvish from books. While he was far from fluent, he'd understood the vile words. The Dwarf had said, "I spit on your grave."

Haldir now stood to full height, his nostrils flaring in justified anger.

Before aught else could be said, however, Aragorn laid a heavy hand upon the Dwarf's shoulder. "That was not so courteous," he admonished him.

Moving on from the Dwarf, Haldir paced before the company. When his troubled gaze landed on one particular halfling, Rúmil felt a sudden surge of alarm, for there was something deeply troubling about the small creature. Nay, not the halfling himself, but something he carried.

His eyes flitting to the chain around the Hobbit's neck, the one partly hidden by his tunic, Rúmil felt a darkness, the likes of which he had never encountered before. The chain—or whatever hung at the end of it—oozed with malice. Dominant and oppressive, it had a seductive side. Even now, it called to those who stood nearby. Claim me, it seemed to say. You need but seize me and my power shall be yours to wield.

Tempting words. Lying words. Rúmil felt sick. A glance at Orophin told him he sensed and felt the same. When the other sentinels turned their collective stares toward the halfling, a most troubling possibility entered his mind.

Could it be? Rúmil wondered with growing dread. Is it the Ring of Power? Here, in fair Lóthlorien?!

A few paces away, Haldir came to an alarming conclusion, or so it appeared. His haunted features filled with fear and grave knowing, he addressed the Hobbit. "You bring great evil with you." Breaking from his momentary trance, he whirled away from the halfling, and declared, "You can go no further!"

The relief was immediate. Rúmil loosed the breath he had been holding. For such was their vow, was it not? That so long as the Galadhrim stood guard, evil would not enter here.

But the battle-worn company was desperate, and Aragorn beseeched Haldir, his whispered pleas adding even more tension to the air. "Haldir of Lórien, we come here for your help. We need your protection. The road is very dangerous. We need your support. Please."

And so it went. As Haldir listened in silence, Aragorn entreated him not to turn them away. "As you have said, the Orcs of Moria will surely follow this night. Doubtless, they are on their way now." At that very moment, a sentinel ran in from where she had been stationed, on the very eaves of the woods. Her features grave, she stopped some distance away, and looked to Haldir. With subtle motions of her hand, she gave the wordless signal that Orcs had descended from the mountains, and would reach the woods within the hour.

Eyes still fixed on the Marchwarden, Aragorn continued his impassioned plea. "The halfling carries a heavy burden." Now he clasped his hands before his chest. "The fate of many hangs in the balance. We need your help."

A swirl of gentle wind roused the surrounding leaves, but it was no ordinary wind. Laced with sentient wisdom, it carried the silent words of their beloved Lady. Galadriel, ruler of Lothlórien.

They may pass

Of course, the Elves would do as their Lady commanded. But disquiet lingered in their hearts.

Left with no other choice, the Marchwarden cast a stern look at the Dwarf before looking to Aragorn again. "Very good. We will do this,"—though it is against my liking, his cool gaze seemed to say.

To address the approaching threat, Haldir sent a full company of soldiers to intercept and destroy the Orcs. Recognising the heavy charge that was now under their protection, he then ordered that a watch be stationed in the immediate vicinity, for the company was too weary to fight or travel this night. Here, on the hidden flets, they would rest.


So here was chapter 64. I know that many of you were wondering how Annalyn is faring amid all this, if she will figure out that she is wed, and how she will ultimately react to the news. All will be answered in due time. That being said, I've already started on the next part. Chapter 65 will open in Rohan.

Until next time, I hope you are all doing well. For those who wish to follow my writing progress, feel free to check the bottom of this page from time to time. I'll let you know how things are going.


***Update, March 15th, 2020: Hey everyone. I just wanted to say that I hope you are all doing well. And I hope your loved ones are doing well, too. There is much going on in the world right now. For me, it feels like the world changed overnight. Where I live, we've only just begun to see cases of COVID-19, and I'm deeply worried. We know there's a figurative wave coming, and all we can do is try to flatten the curve. Because of a medical condition, I'm considered high risk. My child, my sister, and my dad as well. Also, my brother will be working directly on the front lines of this. It worries me deeply. Heck, I worry for everyone. Tomorrow, in order to keep my mind off of things, I plan on writing a bit more of chapter 65. But with my thoughts being so scattered, it might take a bit longer to write. To all who have been affected by this pandemic, know that I am thinking of you. Until next time, take care of yourselves and each other. Much love.

***Update, March 23rd, 2020: Hey everyone. I just received a really heartwarming message from one of my readers who asked how I was doing (thank you cricklewood16. Words cannot express how much I needed that). So here's a little update on how things are going over here. My family, thankfully, is doing well so far. But there's so much uncertainty. Presently, my family (my siblings, my dad and his fiance, my in-laws, etc...) are all bunkered down in their respective homes. My husband is considered an essential worker, so right now, I'm just hoping he doesn't get infected. We have this whole disinfecting ritual whenever he comes home from work. It's nerve-wracking. Despite all this, I haven't forgotten about you guys. Your comments and private messages have meant so much to me, now even more than before. Although my anxiety-riddled brain makes it hard to find a writing flow, I haven't given up on my stories. In fact, writing helps to take my mind off things. I write every day, sometimes on Of Dust and Everlasting Stars, sometimes on my Twilight fic. But because I've been struggling with anxiety, my progress has been really slow. Despite my difficulties, writing is therapeutic, and I will keep at it. Wherever you are in the world, I often think of you all. I wonder how you all are, and I hope that you are doing well. I realise that we don't really know each other, but reading your comments or private messages has been a bright spot in these trying times. To those who have reached out or kept in touch, thank you. On this note, I suppose I should catch up on some reading now, then I'll try to write a bit more. I can't promise anything, but I would love to update one of my stories sometime within the next week. Hopefully, my brain will cooperate *fingers crossed*. So until next time, I wish you health, love, safety, and happiness. Take care of yourselves and each other.

***Update, April 3rd, 2020: My family and I are still healthy. I feel a bit better today, too. I'm hard at work on my chapter. For the first time in a good while, I can say I made decent progress. Yesterday, I was finally able to get a good writing pace going. Today, I plan on writing some more. In fact, I already wrote a few paragraphs since waking up this morning. I'm not sure how this day will go, but I'm hoping to get much writing done. Wish me luck! I hope you are all doing well.

***Update, April 7th, 2020: The first scene in my upcoming chapter is finished, and I have notes and a partial draft for the second and final scene. I basically have the elements I need, now I just need to find a cohesive way to put it all into words. Progress... it feels good.

CygnusRift xox