A/N - WARNING - Some parts of this chapter may be triggering for some people.
Second Age of Middle Earth – 1575
Anatho nín, iest nín an le, sen dû min buig.
Celyndailiel missed the ocean, and the ocean breeze.
Even the moist wind blowing across the hills from rivers did nothing to satisfy her craving, and a deep sense of homesickness gripped her. She shifted the reins in her hand, and sighed as the mount danced beneath her as though he could feel her restlessness.
She looked over to where her companion rode, then looking skyward for a moment called over to her.
"Celebrían," she said, "The hour is growing late. We should return before we stray too far from Ost-in-Edhil."
Celebrían reined in, her fair face creased into an expression of disappointment.
"But Celyn—"
"No buts," she said, and shook her head, "I promised Celebrimbor I would watch out for you if he allowed us to ride out of the city and I do not intend to fail in that responsibility."
"I'm not a child," Celebrían insisted, and Celyndailiel could not help but feel sympathy for the younger Elf, certain that she felt just as confined as she did within the Elven stronghold where the traders and artisans worked tirelessly, and two young Elf maidens sent under the auspices of learning from a Master remained at the mercy of their own ability to occupy their own curiosities.
"I know you are not," Celyndailiel said, "but you are subject to Celebrimbor's word, as am I to his and to the King's, and to both I have pledged that I will let no harm come to you. They'd have my head Celebrían, not to mention your mother and father would—"
"What if we were to pay a visit to King Durin, and sent word from Moria that we were safe and—"
"No."
"But we are not so far from the Redhorn Pass now, and the Gates of Moria stand—"
Celyndailiel reached across to catch hold of Celebrían's hand, a smile upon her face, knowing that her friend merely gave sport in an effort to delay their inevitable return. The moment her fingertips met Celebrían's skin, the present faded and a distant thunder rumbled, and in the sudden and cold dread of fear that had come from nowhere and taken up purpose in her heart she heard voices.
Hateful and harsh, in the corrupt speech of the Morgoth's servants the ancient fears rekindle in her again at simply hearing it spoken, but the words... "Take what you want then... and be quick about it. Where there's one, there's more."
...and the emotions, and the feeling, as if of a run of blood, all proved too much – too real.
"There's no more coming – and there's plenty here for everyone. You—"
The touch of a cold talon at her ankle startled Celyndailiel, and with a cry she pulled away from Celebrían, and pulled so suddenly and so hard on her mount's rein that the animal shied, reared, and as unbalanced as she already was, Celyndailiel tumbled suddenly backwards, slipping from the horse to land winded again a bolder in the rocky hillside. The horse, startled, bolted away.
For long moments she sat dazed, fighting for breath, fighting for the present and not whenever it was she had seen; to shake the impressions which, even now, were settling into her memory as if they had already and always been.
"Take what you want then..."
Fear and anger bubbled together, akin to the elements in Celebrimbor's laboratory and she could not contain them – would not, not if she could change what she had seen. She pushed herself to her feet, hurried to her friend's side and without warning, reached up to pull her down, almost shaking her the moment her feet touched the ground.
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Laer o Faen
FanfictionA near fatal encounter with the Serpents of the North leaves Greenwood the Great's queen with but one choice, one that cost her own life, but she makes a promise to her beloved King, born of a love that has already lasted through more than an age of...
