Hey, everyone. Before anything else, I would like to apologize for being so slow in producing this chapter. Being in quarantine, with all this free time on my hands, one would think that I would have gotten a lot of writing done. But truth of the matter is, my anxiety over these unprecedented times tainted and hindered my efforts. I tried to write every day, but for the most part, I could never manage more than a paragraph or two. Much to my disappointment, my creative process was paralyzed by my anxious mind. That being said, my desire to write and my dedication to this story never flagged. I wanted to be productive, and I tried to be, but sadly my efforts amounted to very little on most days.
Because I was yearning to escape into the wonderful fictional world that is Middle-earth, I redoubled my efforts and eventually managed to write this chapter. Ordinarily, when I update my story, I cross my fingers and hope it's a good read. Right now, I'm mostly hoping it doesn't suck. If it does, I am truly sorry. I really tried.
Here I would like to thank all who commented or reached out since I last updated: Ruiniel, leelee202, leward1992, starrat, NathanielWynters, Tobiramamara, durinsdaughter2469btw, Cricklewood16, mystarlight, O'whimsical, Rogue's Queen, WickedGreene13, Raider-K, princessnerra, SmallLittleCagedBird, Milly Kanzaki, Doria Nell, ladyville, and hourhercrevan. (If I haven't replied to you yet, know that I plan on doing so.)
To all who have inquired about my well being and that of my family, thank you so much. Your comments and private messages brightened my troubled days. So far, thankfully, my loved ones and I are doing well. It's nerve-wracking though. In a way, it feels like I woke up one day and found myself in a totally different world.
Anyway, sorry for the long ramble. Since many of us are now living in this new reality, I figure I'm probably not the only one who is struggling with this. To those who are anxious or having a hard time dealing with this situation, know you are not alone.
I hope are all doing well, and that your loved ones are well, too. Love, health, safety, and happiness to you all. We'll get through this.
To close, I will leave you with a LOTR quote. I found it rather fitting.
"'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo. 'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.'"
CHAPTER LXV
A GRAVE DUTY
Her village.
Seeing it after so long sent a wave of melancholy through her. As piercing as her grief was, Annalyn was enveloped by a feeling of fondness and familiarity, and tears soon filled her eyes. Her journey had been long and arduous. She had lost and found much along the way, then lost it all again. And now, after all those leagues, and all those tears, she was finally here. She was home.
At present, the houses with their thatched roofs were tinged with the light of the fading sun. And to the left of the settlement, in a large enclosure set amid a golden field was a herd of horses, their playful whinnies echoing over the breeze.
"Who is that?" Annalyn heard someone say. Swaying in the saddle, she followed the sound and saw two children nearby, a boy and a girl, each with wild flowers clutched in their hands. Shielding her eyes against the setting sun, Annalyn recognized them and managed a smile. The children—aged eight and eleven, if memory served—were neighbours of hers. The son and daughter of Edmund, husband of Hildred, and a good friend to her uncle Feran.
"Annalyn!" The girl, whose name was Gytha, tugged on her brother's sleeve. "Galan, look. It's Annalyn!"
The boy, who was the eldest of the two, smiled and waved at her from afar. When his gaze settled on Ninael, his eyes widened a little, for he had likely never seen an Elf before.
His sister, on the other hand, had paid little heed to Annalyn's companion. Elated, she was now running toward the village, her little feet kicking up dirt as she went. "Mama! Mama! Annalyn is here! She has returned!"
Normally, Annalyn would have laughed and beamed at the sight, at knowing that she was finally home. But her homecoming was tainted by all she had lost, and the unhappy task that was yet before her.
As she and Ninael rode at a slow pace toward the houses, a crowd began to gather along the beaten path. Familiar faces. Curious faces. Farmhands and stable boys. Children. Housewives, young and old. Clad in simple peasant garb, they watched and waited, a few of them speaking amongst themselves.
"Annalyn has returned," she heard one of them say. At first, the villagers waved and wore welcoming smiles, but as Annalyn drew ever closer, their expressions changed. "An Elf," a man whispered upon noticing Ninael. There was a wary sort of curiosity in his eyes.
As murmurs arose, many of the village folk scanned the landscape, doubtless looking for Feran and Aldin. When their visual search proved fruitless, the mood turned to worry, and a hush fell over the crowd.
Annalyn and Ninael had just passed the first row of houses when the girl's voice sounded again. Pointing toward Annalyn, Gytha stood near the corner of a house, and spoke to someone who stood just out of view. "Yes, she is over there."
Hildred, the girl's mother, soon rounded the corner, and was promptly followed by her husband who was smiling in anticipation of reuniting with his neighbour and good friend. When he noted Feran's absence, and the solemn mood in the street, his brows creased in concern. "Where is your uncle? And your cousin?" Edmund asked Annalyn.
Her vision blurred by gathering tears, she licked her lips and tightened her hold on the reins.
"Yes, Erna. Annalyn is here." It was the girl again. Her mood undimmed, she had run on ahead, and was now hidden behind the nearest house. "Come!"
The sound of running feet drew closer. When Gytha finally came into view, Erna was following on her heels, her fair features filled with unrestrained joy. Assuming that Aldin would be riding alongside Annalyn, the young woman ran across the earthen path, her flaxen hair haloed by the light of the setting sun. "You've returned!" She cried and looked for Aldin.
Noting Annalyn's elven companion, Erna slowed her pace and craned her neck to see in the distance. Seeing nothing, her features turned fretful. One long look at Annalyn and she knew.
Erna halted as Annalyn drew rein and dismounted.
"How does one do it?" she had once asked Haldir. "How does one bear giving such horrible news?"
With tears trickling down her cheeks, Annalyn willed her features into the most composed expression she could muster. As she walked toward the young woman—a woman whose world was about to shatter—Annalyn clung to Haldir's calm but saddened words.
"It is no easy thing… I, myself, have never gotten used to it. Not that anyone should. When the time comes, all you can do is gather whatever strength you have, and hold to it."
So she did, or at least tried to. Give me courage. Whether her silent words were directed at Aldin, Haldir, or Eru himself, Annalyn could not say. Give me strength.
Her chest had grown heavy, and a lump was forming in her throat.
"Why are you wearing Aldin's baldric?" Erna demanded warily. When Annalyn silently reached for the buckle that was fastened across her chest, her fingers loosening the leather strap, the young woman's voice hardened with the onset of dread. "Where is he?"
A tug or two and Aldin's baldric fell away from her frame.
With the item now in hand, Annalyn drew nearer to the young woman. Sick at heart, she came to a halt and bowed. "I am sorry." With these solemn words, she hung her head and presented the sword. A memento, an offering, a physical representation of the tragic news she was trying to convey.
But Erna was trembling, refusing to believe the obvious.
Save for a gasp or two, the air in the village had grown silent. As the villagers stood, unmoving, the young woman reached for the baldric with trembling hands. After a moment of hesitation, delicate fingers grasped the leatherwork. A breath rushing out of her lungs, Erna looked to Annalyn again, her tear-filled eyes rounded as if to say, tell me this is a cruel jest. Tell me this isn't real!
But it wasn't a jest. Rather it was a wordless truth, devastating and very real.
"How?" Erna asked at length.
"Orcs." This one word was answer enough. "I am sorry," Annalyn said again, her voice choked by grief.
A haunting gust of wind swept through the village just then, and the dreadful moment hung there. When the young woman finally fell to her knees, her shaking hand rising to cover her face as she began to wail, Annalyn felt the weight of it on her shoulders.
There was nothing she could do, nothing she could say that would make things right. Lives had been lost. And lives had been changed—hers and Erna's.
A shroud of sadness had fallen upon the village.
Once Erna had been led to the privacy of her parents' home, so she might cry and grieve away from prying eyes, much of the focus diverted back to Annalyn.
Feran and Aldin had been well loved by the villagers. Since most wanted to know what had befallen her kin, and when, she relayed the story as best she could. Reliving those memories was incredibly difficult, and by the time she had reached the end of her wretched tale, Annalyn's heart was in tatters. Luckily, for a mercy, she held it together somehow.
Because the people of the Westfold were a decent folk, many offered to lend a helping hand—to bring her a warm meal or help with airing out and cleaning her house. As thoughtful as it was, Annalyn declined their offer for the time being. Thinking that Ninael might appreciate a warm meal, however, she glanced at the soldier. In Sindarin, Annalyn said, "If you wish to go with them—"
But Ninael gave a faint smile, and raised a courteous hand. "I had lembas ere we arrived. Unless you wish to be alone, I shall accompany you this night."
With a nod of thanks at the Elf, Annalyn turned to the village folk once more. As she thanked them for a second time, she noted how Ninael stayed on the periphery. The solemn look in her eyes conveyed that she knew how trying all of this was. She knew how badly Annalyn just wanted to climb into her bed and not think of anything, if only for tonight.
Once Hildred had promised to look in on her in the morning, Annalyn put on a brave and tolerant face, then wished them all a good night. Grateful for the temporary reprieve, she then approached her horse, and climbed in the saddle. When Ninael had done the same, the two made their way across the village, toward the house that had been Annalyn's home for over a decade now.
Set on the outer edge of the settlement, before an imposing backdrop of snow-capped peaks, her uncle's house was a humble dwelling. Humble but welcoming. At least it used to be. At present, the structure looked a bit forlorn. Its windows were shuttered, the door nailed shut. There was no light beneath the door, no smoke billowing from the chimney. What had once been a loving family dwelling was now a blunt reminder of all she had lost.
Dreading the moment she would open the door and face the emptiness beyond, Annalyn dismounted and delayed the inevitable by leading Cobalt to the small stable out back. Once the horses had been stabled, she fetched water from a nearby well, and refilled the water trough, one bucket at a time.
"You should rest," Ninael said as Annalyn set the saddle and bridle aside, and reached for the brush in her saddle-bag. "I can look after the horses." At present, the animals were chewing in relaxed contentment, their heads lowering to grab the oats Ninael had given to them.
"You want to know the truth?" Sighing, Annalyn gazed past the stable doors, where the back of the house could be seen. "Opening that door… entering the house without my kin… I am being quite the craven, if I am honest. I cannot face the emptiness just yet."
"You are no craven, Annalyn. If our places were reversed… well…"
And so Annalyn tended to Cobalt. As she worked, the absence of Abrax and Heremod, her kin's horses, caused another lump to form in her throat. In the stable or in the house, it seemed there was no escaping her grief.
By the time Annalyn exited the stable—her pack and satchel hanging from her shoulder, a metal bar in her right hand—the stars were sparkling in full glory, their distant light lending a cool glow to the night-clad meadows surrounding the village. Walking alongside her, Ninael carried a few more supplies.
Her feet weighed down by sadness, Annalyn approached then rounded the house in silence.
One step. Another. One more.
She was nearly at the door now. Glancing over her shoulder, Annalyn realised that Ninael had come to a halt, and would linger behind. Sensing Annalyn's turmoil, the soldier encouraged her with a solemn nod.
As tears distorted her sight, Annalyn squared her shoulders and faced the house. Because the door was nailed shut, she utilised the grooved metal bar to pry the spikes from the wood.
"Why the nails?" Ninael asked.
Her mouth thinned in a line, Annalyn pulled at a stubborn nail. "The winds can be rather strong on the plains. It is a crude but effective way to keep the latch from opening." A few more yanks and the first nail fell to the ground. She kicked it aside, and set her sights on the next one. "We learned our lesson the hard way," Annalyn went on, recalling the time they had come home from a long journey, only to find that the door had been blown open. Since their house was set apart from the others, no one had noticed. Rain had seeped into the floorboards near the entrance, and mold had begun to set in. It had taken a lot of work to replace the damaged wood, not to mention the mess that small animals had left behind.
Once the last nail had been removed, Annalyn dropped the bar. Slowly, her trembling fingers drew near to the handle. When they finally curled around the cool metal, Annalyn allowed her eyelids to fall. Courage. With this word, she applied pressure to the latch. A click sounded. Then came the low creak of hinges.
Swallowing against her grief, Annalyn reopened her eyes, stepped inside, and dropped her packs by the door.
The air inside the home was stale, so very still. Because it was utterly dark, Annalyn relied on tactile memory to find the candle and tinderbox on the shelf to her right.
Mindful not to catch her knuckles on the flint, she used the firesteel to send a shower of sparks on the charcloth at the bottom of the tinderbox. In all, it took three strikes to get a flame going. Careful to keep it alight, Annalyn transferred the tiny flame to her candle. Only then did she look around.
Except for a thin layer of dust, the home was exactly as they had left it, all those months ago. The space, which had seemed rather small at one time, now seemed entirely too vast for her. Alone, she realised. I am alone.
The darkened hearth. The vacant table. All served to remind her of those times she and her kin had gathered for the evening meal. Once the dishes had been cleared away, it had been their wont to listen to Aldin's many tales. Oft were the times when her uncle's friends had dropped by, their presence adding an extra layer of warmth and laughter to their evenings.
For a moment, she blinked an extended blink, and imagined they were here now. Her uncle would be in his favourite chair, his ankle resting over his knee as he watched the fire in the hearth, while her cousin would be at the table, digging into a second helping of stew.
Bracing herself against the emptiness before her, she stepped further into the home.
With the candle lighting her way, Annalyn swept her gaze all around. This was too much. Standing here made it all seem too real somehow. Her kin were truly gone. They were never coming back.
As Annalyn neared the modest but sturdy table, she plopped down on the simple bench that lined one side of it. When emotions threatened to engulf her, she set the candle atop the wooden surface, and found herself staring into nothingness. How long she sat there, blinking back tears, Annalyn hadn't the faintest. It was a while, though.
When her vision had cleared, and her tremulous breathing had evened out, the clattering of wood drifted in from the outside. Moments later, Ninael walked in, her arms laden with some of the firewood Aldin had stacked behind the house.
"Apologies for the intrusion," the Elf said in hushed tones. "Only I figured you would prefer an actual fire to the light of a mere candle."
Grateful for the gesture, Annalyn was reminded of a similar moment, in another time, when Haldir had crafted a bed of boughs so she could sleep following a grief-induced breakdown by the Great River late one night. As her thoughts diverted to him, Annalyn remained all too aware of the mysterious strain in her being, like an invisible tether of sorts, one that had grown increasingly taut over these past few days. A pull, ever-present and powerful. If she hearkened to it, Annalyn would be back in the saddle before she could blink, racing with all haste toward Lothlórien, toward the Elf she loved. But it was because of that love that she resisted, fighting temptation every moment of every day.
Why is this happening? Why am I feeling this way? Ever since that dream… Gracious, that dream…
Needing to shift her focus, Annalyn gained her feet, and went to the hearth, where her companion was now arranging the logs. "You need not trouble yourself, Ninael. You are my guest. Please, sit and rest your feet. I will kindle the fire."
Setting herself to purpose, Annalyn wasted no time in lighting the flames. As they took root and grew, she remained where she knelt, and stared at the fire without really seeing it.
In truth, she was thinking of the following day, and how it would likely unfold. If the past was any indication, her neighbours would rally around, wanting to help in any way they could, whether by bringing food or helping her around the house. For though Annalyn was oft misunderstood by those who frowned upon her non-traditional way of life, by and large the people in the village were a decent folk.
Though the greater part of her wanted nothing more than to shut everyone out, and deal with her painful homecoming in her own way, it was simply the way of her people, that need to gather around a person who had recently lost a loved-one.
Because she had already had time to grieve, Annalyn would swallow her discomfort, and would allow them these rituals. After all, these people were her neighbours, many of whom had been friends with Feran and Aldin. They were grieving, too.
With blink and a rapid shake of her head, Annalyn returned to herself. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw that Ninael was standing by the table, her bow peeking over her cloaked shoulder. "You know, I have been remiss in thanking you," Annalyn said. "Your people are readying for war as we speak, and yet here you stand, leagues away, in a land that is not your own."
Pushing off from her kneeling position, Annalyn stood and faced her friend. "I realise that you cannot stay here long, that soon you must return to your people. But I was thinking, hoping… Tomorrow night, the village folk will likely gather in the mead hall, to raise their glasses to honour my kin." To honour the dead, her mind supplied somberly. "It would mean a great deal to me if you could stay until then,"—now she lowered her eyes, and breathed a timid and cheerless laugh—"though I understand if you cannot."
Ninael arched a brow at that. "What manner of friend would I be if I abandoned you in a time of need? Nay, I will not leave just yet. I will stand by you, mellon nîn."
Her eyes burned, and she smiled. Remembering her manners, Annalyn pointed to her uncle's room, which was situated next to her own, then to the small loft upstairs, where Aldin used to sleep. "This house is a far cry from an elven home, but there are beds aplenty. You are welcome to a room if you wish."
"Your home is welcoming, and I thank you for the hospitality. But even in Caras Galadhon, I sleep best beneath the stars."
Annalyn understood, and took no offense. With a small but genuine smile, she said, "I shall see you in the morning, then."
Nodding in reply, the soldier exited the house, and closed the door behind her.
As the fire crackled in the stillness, Annalyn grabbed the candle from the table, and wearily went to fetch her things. Packs in hand, she then crossed the space and entered her bedroom. It, too, was exactly as she had left it. The floorboards creaking with each of her steps, she placed the candle atop her dresser before setting the rest of her belongings on her straw-filled bed. Like most of her belongings, the sheets and woolen blanket were worn with age. Annalyn didn't mind, though. Such things had never much mattered to her. A bed was a bed, and blankets were blankets. Just having a roof over her head was blessing enough.
In the light of the flickering candle, Annalyn opened her packs to retrieve some of her essentials. But as she rummaged through her belongings, her fingers closed about the handkerchief in which Haldir had wrapped her gift—a silver hair comb shaped like a mallorn leaf. Uncovering the item, she beheld it with a sorrowful smile.
When her gaze settled on Taerion's sketchbook, Annalyn set the hair comb aside. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she grabbed the book, and started flipping through its pages.
The renderings were so accurate, so vivid… A masterful artist indeed. Taerion had captured everything from elven dwellings, to animals and trees—mostly mallyrn. As she absorbed every detail, her eyes lingering on the drawing of Cerin Amroth, Annalyn imagined that she was back there, where she and Haldir had debated the wisdom of pursuing a courtship. "I would have you nonetheless, meleth nîn." Those had been his words to her.
Grateful for the vivid drawing before her, she turned the page, and flipped through the images until she reached the very last one. When her eyes settled on the page, she sucked in a breath, then her lips parted. This drawing… this drawing was new to her eyes.
Stunned and breathless, Annalyn brought her fingertips to her mouth. The image was of her and Haldir, clad in their finest as they danced in the Halls of Starlight. The Midwinter Feast, she realised. Taerion must have rendered it shortly before he had gifted his book to her.
Once she had studied the entire image, memorizing every stroke and every line, her vision narrowed to Haldir's noble features. The rendering looked exactly like him, right down to the way he had looked at her that night, his emotions laid out for all to see.
It hurt honestly, how badly she missed him.
Though the how or why eluded her still, the bond they had formed had solidified somehow. She felt it in her heart, in her gut, in her very bones. Can he feel it? Her emotions. The growing distance that now separated them.
A part of her was desperate to know. If only she could see him again. Regrettably, the last time she had dreamt of him had been the night she had slept in that Rohirric camp. The night they had made love in their minds.
The memory nearly robbed her of the ability to breathe. As delightful shivers raced across her skin, Annalyn relived some of those moments. If only the dream had reached its end. They had been in the throes of it when she had awakened.
Closing the book, Annalyn clutched it to her chest for a good long while. In the stillness of her room, she searched her mind in hopes that she would feel him again, sensing his emotions from afar.
Indeed, she had felt many things over these past few days. Emotions that were not her own. Chief among these was a grave sort of fretfulness, even fear. In addition to this, Annalyn had sensed a sharpness of wit. Whatever was happening in Lothlórien, alertness and caution seemed to be at the fore of his mind. She couldn't help but worry. Be mindful. Be safe.
Later, when Annalyn finally fell asleep, she dreamed not of Haldir but of Orcs and Wargs. Her heart drumming loudly in her chest, she awakened in the dead of night, wide-eyed and panting.
Having extinguished her bedside candle, the only source of illumination was that of the dwindling hearth fire in the adjoining room.
Staring at the wooden beams in the ceiling, Annalyn dragged her fingers through her sweat-dampened hair. Too small. This room was too small. And too dark.
Having grown accustomed to sleeping in the wilds, or in the open-air dwellings of the Elves, Annalyn felt trapped all of a sudden, as though her room was now a foreign and suffocating thing.
It wasn't about luxury—Annalyn could easily do without the finer things in life. But her house, which had once been a haven of calm and warmth, now felt like a box, hot and stifling.
Flinging her blanket aside, she hastened across the room and opened the shutters in a panic. Gulping and gasping for breath, she then braced herself against the windowsill, and willed her hammering heart to slow. Breathe. You're alright.
A temperate breeze swept against her heated skin, ruffling her hair and the thin fabric of her shift. From where she stood, Annalyn could see the sparkling northern skies, with the White Mountains stretching in a long line, as far as the eye could see. Of Ninael there was no sign, however. A fact for which she was glad.
As the surrounding grass hissed in the wind, her awareness centered around the incessant tug in her being, the invisible line that connected her to him.
"Haldir…" Breathing his name both soothed and devastated her. How she ached for him.
Retreating into her own thoughts, into the very essence of her being, Annalyn reached out to him in the only way she knew how. Please hear me, feel me. Do you? Can you?
Oh, who was she kidding? This was absurd. She was imagining things; she was deluding herself with wishful thinking. There was no way he could sense this, no way he could sense her. Clearly, she had gone mad, her mind splintered by trauma and loss.
And yet those dreams… the ones they had shared. They had felt real. No, they were real. Deep inside, she knew it to be true.
And so she searched for him with her heart and mind. Envisioning a road, she reached out in hopes that his thoughts and feelings would be revealed to her. When her efforts proved unsuccessful, Annalyn pushed away from the window, and started for her bed. She had barely taken a step when melodious words seeped into her thoughts, making her stop dead in her tracks.
Man amenn toltha
i dann hen morn
Words to a song, sung by a multitude of fair voices. A song she had never heard before. A song only she could hear.
The bond. That's where the song came from.
Si dannatha
nauva
Melmemma nóren sina
nur ala ëaro nur…
Her breath catching in her lungs, Annalyn faced the open window once more. Her hand pressed against her heart, she closed her eyes, and listened. The words, she soon realised, were not Sindarin, but old Quenya. And much like the time Galadriel had sung at the Midwinter feast, the words settled deep into her being, where their meaning was somehow revealed.
Who brings to us
this token of Doom?
The darkness will now fall
Our love for this land
is deeper than the deeps of the sea
Behold the light!
Nenya is this
Ring, unbreakable
that I possess
Now the multitude of voices yielded to a single voice. That of an elven woman, singing.
The bonds cut
The spirit is broken
The Flame of Anor has left this world
Mithrandir, O Pilgrim Grey!
No more you will wander the world green
A lament. For one named Mithrandir. The name being unknown to her, Annalyn wondered who he had been. Instinctively, she knew the song existed; it was not a figment of her imagination. This song was being sung by the Elves of Lórien, in this very moment perhaps. And though it seemed impossible, the words and melody now floated down the invisible bond that kept her tethered to the one she loved.
I am hearing what he is hearing, she realised with a start. Not only that, but she could feel his quiet pain.
As the elven woman sang of the Grey Pilgrim, a choir of Elves answered in the pause between each line, their fair voices laden with sorrow.
Undying is our regret
What should be shall be
Undying is our regret
Yet we will cast all away
What should be shall be
And then, just like that, the song faded into silence.
Except for the tug in her being, the mysterious link had dissipated. Gone was the song, and gone were Haldir's emotions.
Truly alone with her thoughts, Annalyn leaned against the windowsill, and gazed northward. As the stars glided across the inky sky, she stared long into the night, and wondered.
Haldir. Ever since their imaginary joining, something had changed. Annalyn felt different. She was different. Their bond had gotten stronger somehow. Without knowing exactly how or why, Annalyn knew they had connected just now. A glimpse, she realised. She had been granted a glimpse into his life, and the music of Lórien had somehow reached her heart and mind from afar.
What is happening to us? What does it mean?
If only Ithriel was here. Maybe she would know. But the reality was, her friend was not here. And as fond as she was of Ninael, Annalyn was not as close to her as she had been with Orophin's wife.
As badly as she needed to talk, as badly as she needed to confide in someone, Annalyn would keep silent for the time being.
Haldir. Haldir was the one she needed to talk to. Maybe he would know. Alas, she hadn't dreamed of him in many days.
Recalling the mysterious song, Annalyn wondered what was going on in Lothlórien. What was this token of Doom the lyrics spoke of? What exactly was this unbreakable ring? And who was Mithrandir, that the Elves were clearly mourning?
The answers eluded her. And until she dreamed of Haldir, all she could do was wonder and wait.
So here was chapter 65. I know many of you are anxious for the story to pick up the pace, so that Haldir and Annalyn can reunite again. I promise, I am currently working on that. In fact, I've already begun working on an outline for the upcoming chapters. I have a few angles I want to tackle. Angles that will move the story along. Anyway, thank you for returning to this story. Once again, I apologize for taking so long.
***Update, May 3rd, 2020: Hey, everyone. I hope you are all doing well. I'm doing alright. My anxiety is better, and I've been busy with home and yard projects. That said, I'm sorry I'm taking longer with the next chapter. Because I'm working various angles, I really want to make sure I get it right. I figure it's best to take my time than to rush and produce a crap chapter. In the meantime, if you're looking for stories to read, I thought I could recommend a few of my favourites.
- The Tale of Marian by Rana1: If you're in the mood for a Haldir/OC, this one is well worth the time. When I first read it, I wasn't sure what to make of it because there are no Elves in the earlier chapters. But once they make their appearance and I realised what the story would be about, the plot and the amazing setting totally sucked me in. I just couldn't stop reading. And I've read it multiple times since. I felt such a wide range of emotions reading this. There were times when I laughed, times when I ached and cried. Other times had me fanning myself. I absolutely loved the way the author wrote Haldir. So yeah, if you haven't read it, it's worth checking out.
- Paths Afire by Ruiniel: This one is a Glorfindel/OC that begins in modern times, then lands in Middle-earth. For me, this was such a fun read, with sass, mystery, and suspense. Glorfindel is such a heartthrob in this. And I really enjoyed the plot. It's one of those stories where things are revealed over time. Also, there is lemony goodness in this. Well worth the read.
So anyway, thanks for being so patient with me. I just want to take my time with the next chapter and get it right. In the meantime, I wish you health, safety, and happiness. And I look forward to updating again.
PS: I know I've been crap at replying to comments. I'm so sorry. With home projects on the go, I've fallen behind with internet stuff. I will try to rectify that soon.
***Update: June 3rd, 2020: Hey, everyone! I just thought I'd let you all know that I haven't forgotten about you. I'm doing rather well. More good days than bad days. And I'm happy to say that I'm enjoying a renewed surge of writing energy. I'm not sure when I'll finish the next chapter, but it's in the works. If you notice one or two updates on my other story in the coming days, it's because I had to break up the chapter I had been working on. I find it's a bit too long. But fear not, I have not forgotten ODAES. In fact, once I edit and post those two chapters I mentioned, I will devote my energy to Haldir and Annalyn, and I WILL finish the next chapter. For those who haven't given up on this, thanks for hanging in there. I hope you are all doing well.
***Update: June 22nd, 2020: Oh, that happy feeling you get when you've been trying to organize your ideas and everything seems to fall into place. I've spent the past few hours immersed in Middle-earth. Happy with my progress.
***Update: June 25th, 2020: It's 5:20 am. Because I couldn't fall back asleep, I've been sitting in my living-room, listening to songbirds and the LOTR soundtrack, while writing more of this story. I love quiet mornings like this. I hope you are all doing well. I should get back to writing now.
***Update: June 27th, 2020: So far today, I've added 321 words to my chapter. Hoping to at least double that before the day is over. Have a good day, everyone. I hope you are all doing well.
***Update: June 29th, 2020: The word count is rising. I'm quite pleased with my progress. I hope you are all doing well. I suppose I'll get back to writing now. Happy Monday, everyone.
***Update: July 17th, 2020: Still working on my chapter, guys. I scrapped a few scenes, and started anew a few times. But rest assured, I'm devoting a lot of time to this story. As things now stand, I'm pretty happy with the first section of the chapter, and I have a portion of the end part written. It's middle part that I'm struggling with. But I'll get there. For those who haven't given up on this fic, thank you for your patience. I'm hoping to update soon.
***Update: July 19th, 2020: Finally! I think I figured out how to handle the middle part of my chapter. It suddenly occurred to me yesterday as I was writing. Because it relates to Annalyn's personality, and how I imagine she would behave/cope at this juncture, I'm glad I hadn't rushed to finish my chapter before the idea came to me. I'm super excited to write it now. Anyway, I hope you're all doing well. I suppose I'll get back to writing. :-)
Sincerely,
CygnusRift xox
