Star-Crossed *Tauriel Love Story*

Lothlórien

Falander and Bellator had been happily travelling for weeks, exploring the forests and valleys on their way to Lothlórien. They had a few close calls with an orc pack which made Falander slightly suspicious however he and his companion stopped at a stream up ahead. Kneeling down to taste the sweet water, they felt refreshed as they watched the stream leaping down to the trough of the valley, and then running on and away into the lower lands, until it was lost in a golden haze.

"There lie the woods of Lothlórien!" Falander smiled knowing they were almost there. He could happily get used to the life on the road but there was always a small desire for a feeling of home and comfort. He remembered how he was told about the trees and how there are no trees like the trees of Lothlórien. For in the autumn their leaves fall not, but turn to gold. Not till the spring comes and the new green opens do they fall, and then the boughs are laden with yellow flowers; and the floor of the wood is golden, and golden is the roof, and its pillars are of silver, for the bark of the trees is smooth and grey. His heart would be glad if he was beneath the eaves of that wood, and it was springtime, though he wondered how long he would be able to stay in Lothlórien before his life in Mirkwood would catch up to him. Or if it already had.

Soon afterwards they came upon another stream that ran down from the west, and joined its bubbling water with the hurrying Silverlode. Together they plunged over a fall of green-hued stone, and foamed down into a dell. About it stood fir-trees, short and bent, and its sides were steep and clothed with harts-tongue and shrubs of whortle-berry. At the bottom there was a level space through which the stream flowed noisily over shining pebbles. Here they rested. It was now nearly three hours after noon, and they had come only a few miles from the Gates. Already the sun was westering.

Falander decided to keep on going ignoring his aching feet. It was dark. Deep night had fallen. There were many clear stars, hut the fast-waning moon would not be seen till late. As soon as the shadows had fallen about them and the road behind was dim, he had heard again the quick patter of feet. Even now he heard it. He turned swiftly. There were two tiny gleams of light behind, or for a moment he thought he saw them, but at once they slipped aside and vanished. The night-wind blew chill up the valley to meet them. Before them a wide grey shadow loomed, and they heard an endless rustle of leaves like poplars in the breeze. Bellator beside him started growling protectively as Falander stroked his head and behind his ears as if to say 'it's alright but stay on guard'.

Under the night the trees stood tall before them, arched over the road and stream that ran suddenly beneath their spreading boughs. In the dim light of the stars their stems were grey, and their quivering leaves a hint of fallow gold. Falander and Bellator had gone little more than a mile into the forest when they came upon another stream flowing down swiftly from the tree-clad slopes that climbed back westward towards the mountains. They could hear it splashing over a fall away among the shadows on their right. Its dark hurrying waters ran across the path before them, and joined the Silverlode in a swirl of dim pools among the roots of trees. Falander squinted his eyes slightly harder before he let out a massive smile and sigh of relief.

"Nimrodel" His soft whisper made Bellator glance up at him. Nimrodel is the stream that the Silvan Elves made many songs long ago, and still sing in the North, remembering the rainbow on its falls, and the golden flowers that floated in its foam. All is dark now and the Bridge of Nimrodel is broken down. Falander and Bellator drew closer to the bank before he rested, his legs aching as he removed his boots and let his feet bathe in the water as it was said to be healing to the weary. It was cold but its touch was clean, he felt that the stain of travel and all weariness was washed from his limbs.

Bellator licked up some of the stream before lying beside his master who rested his back against a tree and slowly stroked Bellator's fur. Glancing up to the fluorescent moon he let night and sleep take him knowing tomorrow they would reach Lothlórien. The sound of the falling water brought them both sleep and made Falander forget his grief and gave him a peaceful sleep he hadn't had in months. When they woke the next morning they ate before crossing the stream and continuing on their journey as Bellator would playfully shaking his wet fur causing Falander to chuckle.