Eleanor, daughter of the Great Warrior Maethor, is a High Elf entrusted when she was but an infant to Finarfin, Galadriel's father. The youngling is then raised alongside Galadriel and her brothers as a member of their family.
Centuries pass in Val...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Eregion, Realm of the Noldorin Elves, Middle-Earth
The sun was setting when the High King dismissed Elrond. The Half-Elf, tired but pleased, had been asked to leave Lindon as soon as possible to follow Celebrimbor to the realm of the Elven-Smiths, Eregion. However, he had demanded a few days before their departure, asserting that he would like to bring Elanor with him but that he needed to discuss the matter with her first. The King, wanting to ensure Elanor's recovery, quickly accepted, and Elrond had been able to leave with his mind at peace. However, now that he was faced with the task of asking the She-Elf whether or not she would like to accompany him to Eregion, he wavered. He waited for one day and one night, pacing in his private chamber, pondering how he would articulate his demand, afraid she might refuse him or, worse, accept. His heart trembled at the thought alone, balancing between fearing that his attachment and longing would grow until he could not hide it but even more terrified by the idea of leaving her behind.
Then, at the dawn of the second day, Elrond decided to ignore his apprehensions and went in search of Elanor. He walked first through the many hallways of his house, looking for the She-Elf, and as he passed by the West entrance, he heard in the distance the loud clatter of steel hitting steel. Frowning slightly, he directed his steps in the direction of the sounds, halting when he reached a clearing. There, at its centre, was Elanor wearing a short burgundy tunic showing the curves of her legs — and her long scar — as she lifted her sword, the blade cutting through the air swiftly, hitting the other She-Elf who seemed to struggle to parry her powerful blow. However, as Elrond approached discreetly, he noticed that if Elanor's sword fight skills were as excellent as he had heard, she seemed to be struggling as well. A thin layer of sweat was covering her forehead as her movements, albeit fast and efficient, stayed limited, her feet barely moving. She seemed to be trudging in order to maintain the frantic pace the other Elf forced Elanor to follow.
He watched them for a long moment, admiring the way Elanor's muscles shifted under her skin, tensing and relaxing as she moved, rebuking each of the other Elf's blows. There was a wild beauty to the She-Elf, something in the fineness of her motions and the mastery behind each strike, making it seem as if she was dancing an intricate choreography. Throughout her movements, her hair followed along, shifting and flying as she turned and parried before riposting as if it had a life of its own. Elanor's charm had something dangerous edging under her elvish grace and allure, something that yet called for him.
All to his contemplation, his eyes following with attention Elanor, Elrond did not immediately notice that the other She-Elf had seen him and was quickly backing away from Elanor, putting her sword down. She bowed then as Elanor turned around curiously. When her midnight eyes finally encountered his, Elrond stepped toward her, leaving his hiding.
"Mára rë*, Elanor," Elrond greeted the noble She-Elf in his native language, and his words were greeted with a kind smile. Her prior fighting seemed to have appeased her, and the storm that had inhabited her eyes for the past few days appeared to be soothed.
