Lorien

“Eliriael.” It was the same voice from her dreams, except this time her name was being called with tender warmth instead of desperation or hopelessness. She pulled out of the long embrace and looked up at the elleth. “Welcome home. I was hoping you would return soon.”

Eliriael gave a slight smile as she smoothed down her hair. “In my dreams, you appeared and called to me. I thought something might have been amiss.”

To the Lady Rainith,

I write to you from Lorien to inform you that my path has taken me away from the rest of our kin in the South. Please excuse my haste in leaving without your permission. I feel called to return to Lorien, for a reason I cannot yet tell. Lorien is still my home and those who I call my family reside in these woods. Please allow me to remain with the Galadhrim until I have assured all is well here.

Eliriael stopped mid-run at the edge of the wood, her breath short. Her eyes danced with mirth as she pulled off her traveling shoes and took her first step into the Golden Woods. She let her bare feet sink into the grass and her lips broke into a joyful smile as she reveled in the sensation. In the next moment, she was immediately running again, bounding past trees and weaving between them. As she ran further, a warm air shook the last remnants of frost from the mountains off of her clothes, and the woods filled her with energy.

Dearest Belegos,

I write to you from Mirobel to tell you that I have left the search company for Lorien. By the time you receive this letter, I will be crossing the Redhorn Pass.

Forgive me for departing so suddenly. I fear for the safety of those who are dear to me and Lorien itself. I am unmistakably called to return and I cannot ignore it.

      The spring sunshine beams softly down on parched earth. Eddies of dust, whirled into motion by the light breeze, dance and scatter before my eyes. I take a slow, unsteady breath in. The movement sends fire roaring across my chest. I did not even see the spring come, and now, I will not see it bloom in these woods I have loved so well. The orc takes two measured paces towards me, patient. I can hear him move, see the clouds of dust sent running at his heavy footsteps. He is savouring our fall. I cannot look behind me, cannot face my failure.

We have gone too far. For a moment the struggle seems to hang in the balance – we press forwards, they hurl themselves at us in unending, terrible rage. Then, as inevitably slow as the shifting of scales, the fight turns against us. We have been forced away from the company to our right – as we band tighter together, I realise that I cannot see them at all – the only sign that they fight on are their shouts, carrying in the clear air. There are a company of archers behind us, but I cannot see them, cannot hear them.

As I wait, the sun slips slowly down behind the trees, so that the leaves blush with rosy light. I light the lamps myself, kindling each small flame one by one. In the gathering darkness, the stone maiden stares out into the distance she cannot see, one hand always reaching out, expression lost in shadow. I sit cross-legged on the soft grass, listening to the sound of the waterfall just a few feet away. It doesn't completely mask the approaching footsteps, but I do not turn until I feel the hand drop lightly to my shoulder.

"Well? How did it go?"