Mother and Father.

So weird to think of these elves as such when they were not the ones who raised and nurtured me. I have no memories of them telling me they were proud when I finished translating a document from Feanorian tengwar or when I successfully planted a tree without it dying (which is what happened many, many times). I don't remember Celeborn teaching me how to climb a tree and then wrapping my skinned knees when I fell. Galadriel wasn't there when womanly needs arrived. They weren't there to soothe me or to lecture and redirect me when I went astray. Instead, they gave me away.

No, these regal elves have the titles only. They do not have the right to them.

But nonetheless, I smiled, glad to see them, even though an ember of anger threatened to ignite.

They did what they thought was best, even though it probably wasn't.

I bowed my head in reverence. "Mae l'ovannen, Hir vuin a Hiril vuin."

"Gi nathlam hi'." Lord Celeborn's voice resonated in the air and the trees seemed to react warmly.

Galadriel smiled kindly, the expression softly lighting her lips, as her voice tinkled like bells. "Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn."

I bowed my head once more.

Celeborn advanced and held out his hand. I desperately wanted to refuse, but the inner lady in me told me it'd be... unwise to refuse royalty. So I took his calloused hand in mine as I got down from the horse. More difficult than it would've been with two hands, I might add.

As my feet thudded on thickly grassed ground, Celeborn put a fisted hand to his chest; a sign of respect. Or in this case, affection.

I returned the gesture, albeit rather distractedly.

'Legolas is only a few minutes away, Iell. He is well.' I jumped, my eyes going to Galadriel.

"That, is disturbing," I blurted pointedly, then blushed furiously. Control your tongue, Lumornel! I chastised.

Galadriel chuckled. "I suppose it is unwise to do so without warning, but where's the joy in that?"

I frowned. "I guess you're right."

Then I looked over my shoulder to the waiting forest, expecting to see a tired albeit healthy and worn Legolas emerging from the dawn-lit trees.  Or a Legolas covered in blood and limping.

Celeborn rested a firm hand on my shoulder. "He'll arrive soon, my dear."

I nodded. Although my eyes strayed away from the forest, my mind did not. But Legolas can take care of himself... I hope.

"Where's Braiglach?" I asked to no one in particular. Then winced at the informality of it.

"The captain is leading a patrol party on the north side of the woods," Celeborn informed. Then the elven lord whirled his hand towards his footman. A young ellon—although much older than me—rushed forward, thrusting his hand into the messenger bag hanging from his shoulder. Without a word, he held forth a piece of sealed parchment. No house crest that I could see adorned it.

"Captain Braiglach wished for this letter to be delivered to you. My wife, myself, nor any other soul has read its contents."

The letter, pale yellow with wrinkled edges, shook slightly in the footman's hands. It seemed too much of a prize—a gift—for me to take. Yet I reached out and took it tenderly, relishing the feel of the parchments grain on my fingers.

"Thank you, Hir vuin."

He shook his head with a slight smile and motioned to a place among the trees. "Hên vuin, do not thank me. It was Lady Kaylessa who informed Braiglach of your possible return to Lorien."

I quickly regarded the place where he gestured to. Sure enough, Kaylessa stood attending to her horse, back in position so she could both survey us and her surroundings. It was almost easy to miss her. The mallorns' golden leaves and dark shadows threatened to obscure her. Although Kaylessa had a slight tenseness to her limbs, she really seemed relaxed in the trees' embrace. That's one thing she has in common with Legolas. But with him, it's as if the trees are at home with him.

I thought Kaylessa was also heading towards Rohan at the same time I was... How had she informed Braiglach so easily? And that I'd be returning to Lorien?

Scheming elleth, I thought bitterly. She didn't want Legolas and me to return to Lothlorien because we needed to. She wants us here, so she could be right!

"Careful, Lumornel," Kaylessa said suddenly. "A scowl like that will scare away all the pretty boys."

A sharp retort pursed my lips to cover up my blush, but one quick glance at my biological parents stopped me. Kaylessa raised a sculpted brow knowingly.

I shook my head amusingly, turning to put Braiglach's envelope in my saddle-bag. The scent of soup and meat wafted up my nose. My mouth salivated. Food?

Wide-eyed, I turned towards Galadriel—naneth, letting her read my thoughts. Although, the grumbling of my suddenly rowdy stomach could be heard all the way in Gondor. Against my will, another blush warmed my cheeks.

"Ah," Galadriel chuckled. "Eat as much food as you'd like, iell." She motioned to the two separate fires nearby; one with a cauldron of soup, the other roasting several rabbits and a squirrel.

I almost lurched for the food, but a thought stopped me.

I turned back to Galadriel. "It wasn't just Braiglach that informed you of my coming. You knew, didn't you?"

A light shined in her eyes as she nodded. "I wasn't certain, for the future is ever-changing, but I desired to be here in the chance that you would come."

It spoke volumes to me that she, Lady of Light, had thought it worth her time to come all the way here, to a remote part of the forest, to greet me—

Bodies erupted from the foliage. Green and brown and gray. Their forest-colored uniforms made it seem as if the trees and bushes were coming alive. Almost like baby ents. Very very small baby ents.

And with the squad of elite galadhrim, was a certain blonde elf, covered in more blood than usual. A gash marred the spot just over his brow. The dark blood tainted his silver-gold hairline a garish red. His green tunic was shredded in two places from claw marks, crimson seeping through. The strap for his quiver had been sliced, the object nowhere to be seen. An unfair amount of relief flooded me as I saw that beautiful bow of his in the white-knuckled grip of Legolas.

Food vanishing in my mind like the steam from a cooling soup, I swept forward but stopped wide-eyed, not knowing what to do.

"I'm alright, Lumornel. Really, it's not much blood." Legolas stepped up to me and touched my shoulder reassuringly. But turned away towards Kaylessa and gave her a General's nod and moved to greet the Lord and Lady.

But at his easy dismissal, I snapped out of my shock. "Not that much blood! Legolas, you need stitches!"

Legolas, knowing I was right, nodded. "Do not worry about me, mellon. Go. Eat and rest."

"But—"

"As much as I love seeing the elf grow frustrated, I must agree with him." Kaylessa pulled me towards food.

With apprehension, I decided to listen.

"Here," the blonde elleth thrust a bowl of hot rabbit meat into my hands. Most of the warriors that had arrived with Legolas settled around the fire with Kaylessa and I. They all greeted me warmly and most threw suspicious glances at my companion, but they kept to themselves. The other warriors, there was about four of them, headed to a makeshift tent. Two healers greeted them enthusiastically, bandages and ointments at the ready.

Anxiously, I watched as Legolas conversed quietly with Celeborn and Galadriel. The prince motioned to me discreetly, lowering his voice further. My parents' expressions grew grave.

It wasn't hard to imagine what consisted of the topic.

Soon though, they dismissed him to the healers, where they ordered him to take off his tunic so they could clean the wound. The injury wasn't nearly as bad as I had imagined, yet, after washing and applying a salve, they sewed the cuts closed.

"Ah, yes, the famed shirtless ellon. Ensnaring young females everywhere they go," Kaylessa quipped, earning a few chuckles from nearby galadhrim.

A deep blush reached all the way down my neck, probably burning off my skin. Turning away from Legolas, I stuff my face with rabbit, obscuring my perpetually red face with my white hair.

"Phraan..." I murmured, which the elf's enhanced ears heard, "remind me to replace her comb for a pinecone sometime."

"Ha!" Kaylessa sat back with a grin. "I'm afraid my eyesight enables me to see the very slight difference between the two objects."

I glared at her.

"Sarcasm, child."

"Why yes, Kaylessa, I'm aware."

She smiled smugly, tucking rabbit meat away in her mouth.

"Hiril vuin?" Phraan began. "May I suggest filling her pillow with my mother's pudding? It had worked many times on my brother."

"Only because I let you!" Gantar yelled from where he stood among a group of ellyn.

"I highly suggest that you follow Phraan's suggestion, Lumornel. I myself love a good pudding."

Phraan frowned. "Her pudding is disgusting."

I laughed, shaking off a feeling of foreboding.

Gantar bellowed out another response. "I swear she makes it out of worms!"

I shook my head at their brotherly antics. "Hannon le, Phraan, but I'll make sure I come up... with... someth..."

"Huril vuin?"

A familiar icy cold numbness inched into my mind and with it came a filmy darkness.

I staggered to unwieldy feet, struggling to yell in warning. But the adamant feeling forced away all sounds from my vocal cords—

Inky wisps whispered.

"No." I stared down at my hands in horror. Starless shadows wafted off my skin, shifting to weave silkily around my fingers and become wispy chains around my wrists.

"Elbereth," Phraan breathed.

The abhorrent presence pushed into my mind like an adamant sword, forcing its way through my walls. The darkness's whispers became roars and screams and the lacy dark film obscured my vision. And with a final push, Sauron forced his way into my mind.

*

Death whirled around me. More than that: shadows of every size and shape hugged against my curves, roving, whispering. The darkness didn't need to clear for me to know that I wasn't mentally in Lothlorien anymore. My feet—once floating in a sea of obscurities—touched down on a hard, smooth floor.

And then the void-like beings and whispers retreated...

To a formidable figure, a halo of soft fire dripping from his head and down his shoulders. He drew in the shadows. Breathed them in.

"Sauron." The word barely made any noise, as if the air didn't want to hear it.

The dark lord loomed ahead, staring me down with embers in his eyes. He began to circle around me, coming closer with every. Foot. Fall.

Until he was right next to me.

I shivered at the touch of his chest on my shoulder, his breath on my head. But I didn't dare look at him. More like I couldn't. The floor. How interesting it is—

"My, my. The darkness writhes around you... as if..." The frown carried through his voice. But, he chuckled, his breath warming my ear.

I expected his hand to be cold, cold like a dead body. Or cold like the dead of winter. But when his hand touched mine, his flesh felt normal. Like anybody else's. The fact... it proved that evil didn't have to live in cold darkness, it lived in the warm and alive. I felt my blood chill.

"The creatures, they do wreath you rather well. No?" His fingers trailed along with the inky wisps, going further and further up my arm.

"Where oh where are you?"

He... didn't know? I thought he would've kept tabs on me, all things considered. How could he not...?

"Not answering? Very well." His hands snapped my arm.

Screaming, I fell to my knees, instantly feeling my arm. Bone. White bloody bone protruded from my upper arm.

Sauron knelt beside me and didn't seem to mind the blood dripping on his well-tailored knee. His lips touched my ear in a whisper. "Where are you?"

I whimpered as his darkness entered my mind, scouring every corner, learning everything about me again. Until the darkness stopped against something. A shield of some sort. And it couldn't get through.

"Lothlorien, hum? Retreating? Or perhaps... oh ho ho. The princeling is returning. What a surprise he'll find at home."

He was silent, thinking, pondering. Oh, please, assume Aragorn is with us. Assume he's—

"Where is Isildur's heir?"

I won't answer I won't answer I won't answer.

His fingers pushed into my wound.

I screamed.

His fingers went deeper.

"I don't know!!" I shrieked.

He grasped my arm again and started bending, pushing the bone out more. Every muscle in my body gave out as I fell to the bloody floor, weeping as I screamed.

"Tell me," he purred, torturing me all the more.

"I DON'T KNOW," I wept, "I don't know I don't know I don't know!" I threw away all my mental shields and threw my open and vulnerable mind to him, proving I knew nothing.

He tsked, pulling his fingers out of my flesh, letting his fingernails scrape my bone as he did.

"Now, now. What a waste." He stood, frowning at the marble ground. "You got blood on my floor."

He sighed and began to walk away. Shadows began to sing and dance around me, obscuring my vision except for his bright hair.

"Time's running out, Lumornel. The Uur Rauko are getting restless."

*

I came to with hands upon hands forcing me still. Hands on my shoulders, hands on my arms, my legs, my feet.

Saruman, he's here. Saruman's orcs! They're holding me down!

Bucking, I struggled to remove the hands of the orcs—

Galadriel's calm and serene face came into focus, her determined blue eyes framing her creased brow. A bead of sweat had formed on her brow. It was only then did I realize it was her hands that held down the arm that was injured. Except it wasn't broken.

I wriggled uselessly under the warriors' grips and only with a wave from Galadriel did they release me. I scrambled forward and away, grasping my upper arm. No bone protruded. No blood. But the pain of it still ghosted. I'm safe, not with Sauron or with Saruman. Never again would I go back to them. Not while I still control my feet. Never again would Saruman take me.

Frighteningly, I realized that I couldn't do that with Sauron. With Saruman I have a choice—to run away or confront. But with Sauron... he can force his way into my head. How am I supposed to stop him when he can do that? How do I defeat him? But it isn't my destiny to stop him.

It's Aragorn's.

I wondered what I was supposed to do, what thing awaited me, if it wasn't my fate to go up against Sauron.

A hand gently touched my shoulder, causing me to spin around. Galadriel slowly knelt.

I threw myself into her arms, throwing away my earlier anger. I grasped her tightly and only when I felt her arms embrace me did I realize I was shaking.

"It was him, naneth. It was him."

I knew it was due time for a visit from Sauron—it seemed like ages since he last invaded my mind. Yet... I hadn't seen it coming.

I stared over Galadriel's shoulder, mouth pressed to the cloth. Grass. Green grass lay beneath us, not a bloody black floor. And those who wanted to protect me stood around, expression varying from grim to concerned to confused. Legolas was among the worried, the stitches on his chest pulled open. You should really be more careful, you know.

"What did the Dark Lord want, henig?" Celeborn knelt next to us.

I pulled away from Galadriel and felt the grass beneath me. Back straight. Shoulders back. Hands in lap—not trembling.

"He..." I began, "he wanted to know where I was. And he knows. He knows." Breathing became difficult, my heart a racing horse.

"You're safe, iellig," Celeborn touched my shoulder. I strengthened, I wouldn't let someone of his station see me weak. "What else."

I breathed in deeply. "He wanted to know the location of Aragorn. I don't know the information—so he doesn't. But..." another deep breath, "he's coming for me."

"Then you must outrun him." Celeborn stood and outstretched his hand for me to take. "You leave now."

*********

"The King's grace is greater than you know"

—J.R.R. Tolkien

ThOuGhtS???

SoOoOoOooo... I have been corrupted. With the Asian tunes. More specifically NCT 127. Oops.

Translations:

Mae l'ovannen: Well met (reverential)

Gi nathlam hi: You are welcome here (familiar)

Êl síla erin lû e-govaned vîn: a star shines on the hour of our meeting

Iell: daughter

Hen vuin: my child

*forgive me, mellyn, if some of the elvish is wrong*

Novaer, mellyn
~awatin~