After the Departure of the Elves.....
Luthia dismounted her horse, Reglin, and tethered his reigns to a low branch. She had had a long journey from Minas Tirith, and had finally reached her long sought destination. The place looked almost exactly as she had imagined , based off of her grandmother's stories of this ancient, but now deserted place.
Luthia looked a long while at just the exterior, marveling at it's beauty before deciding to venture inside. Grass had grown tall, mixed in with what used to be well kept gardens. A stone fountain, depicting King Finrod Felagund had long ceased to flow, and birds had made a refuge in his mighty crown. In the distance, she could hear the sounds of the waterfalls, which surrounded the place.
Luthia started up the stone steps, and ran her hand up the moss covered banister.
** He walked down the steps, and into the courtyard, where the rest of the party was waiting.
"Good, he is ready," said a man in Gondorian armour.
"Then let us leave," said a grey bearded man, with staff in hand. He felt a hand on his back, and he turned.
"We have a long journey ahead of us, you are sure you are well?" asked a dwarf.
"Yes," he said, as they left the place.**
Luthia shook her head. She was puzzled by the vision, but continued on into the large hall. She looked in awe at the large oaken tables that filled the room, their shiny luster hidden under years of dust. Frescos covered the walls, showing the making of Middle-earth and the Two Trees in Valinor.
She continued on into a open roofed room, that looked almost like a Council room. Intricate wooden chairs almost encircled the room, and a great throne stood between the ends of the chairs. A marble pedestal sat in the middle of the council ring. Luthia walked up to it and ran her hand over it.
** Everyone was fighting. They each thought that they were the ones to be worthy of the burden placed before them.
And when it seemed as though no end would come of the arguement, a small, but firm voice said, "I will take it!" **
Luthia shook her head once again. She walked from this place into a great library, that was almost like a museum. Books lined the walls, with the occasional painting between the shelves. In the center of the room were many tables with candlabras, and statues scattered among them.
She walked around the room, and stopped in front of a bookshelf. She ran her finger along the leather bindings until she found a title that she recognized. Luthia pulled out the Lay of Lethian, and opened it. The elvish on the title page was very faded, and when she turned it, the paper crumbled at her touch.
Luthia closed the book, placed it back on the shelf, and continued to explore the room. She came across a statue that looked as though at one time it had displayed something of importance. Obviously, the elves had taken it with them, whatever it was.
She placed her hand on the statue and examined it closely.
** He watched the Gondorian approach. He had just learned that the Gondorian was from Minas Tirith, but there was something about this man that bothered him.
The man approached the statue where Narsil was displayed. The man cautiously eyed him, and then focused his attention onto the broken sword. He reached out, and picked up the hilt.
"So, this is the sword that was broken by Sauron," he muttered. He ran his fingers across the blade.
"Ow! Still sharp!" he exclaimed, as he was pricked. He looked over and saw the other man watching him. He quickly replaced the hilt, and walked away. As he was leaving, the hilt fell off the statue, and hit the floor.
He watched the Gondorian leave, and then got up, and reverently replaced the sword hilt.**
Luthia shook her head once more. There were so many memories in this place.
She found another door that led outside. This one brought her to a beautiful water garden. The flower beds had been obviously untended for a very long time, and weeds and grasses were finally beginning to choke out the lovely flowers.
Luthia walked along the walkways, which were partialy covered with moss. She came across a small stone bridge, which traversed a small stream, which in turn led to a small pond. Luthia started across it, and stopped in the middle, looking around her.
**The moon was shining brightly that night. It seemed to get caught in her hair, and her eyes seemed like they were perfect reflections of the moon. She looked eagerly into his eyes, which were in turn of a dark color.
He looked down at her, the picture of all beauty, raimented in a flowing blue dress. She placed her hands in his and spoke.
"You know what you must do, but why do you run from it?" He looked away, and did not answer. She searched his face, with an earnest look in her eyes.
"You are afraid. Why?"
"Because I do not want to fall into the same mistake that my forfathers all did!" His face flushed, and she put her hand on his breast.
"You are not your forefathers. You are pure of heart, and I know that you will not fall like they did." He sighed, and looked into her eyes for a moment.
"Yes, maybe so, but the same blood flows through my veins. I do not wish to bring more suffering upon this land and its people. My family has done enough." He looked away once more.
"And then what will you do? Spend your days rotting away ruling what is left of a diminishing people? Or will you take the path that was chosen for you, and bring your people back to its former glory?"
"I chose my path a long time ago. It was not the one of which you speak. There is no hope for that left." Suddenly, she took his hand and placed something in it. He opened his hand and looked in awe.
"You should not give this to me. It is not mine to take."
"But it is mine to give. Keep it. Where the Evenstar shines, there is always hope, Aragorn son of Arathorn. Take it, and you shall not fail."**
Luthia stood still for a moment, and caught her breath. She had seen her grandparents! It was too good to be true, but she knew that it was. She had found Imladris, home of her grandmother Arwen, the house of Elrond, also known as ...