The early mornings dew had not yet been dried by the soft breeze, which reminded me faintly of Elanor from Imladris, my home in middle-earth. The sun was peeping over the Pelori Mountains casting long, grey shadows across my face. The wind suddenly picked up and my hair came slapping against my cheek. No one knew what colour it was, Golden or silver. Some said it was both, golden from my mother, silver from my father. As I lay there, the shimmering pool of Ilmare twinkled invitingly back at me as I gazed longingly into it.
I took my cloak from around my shoulders, the shoes off my feet. I walked bare-foot across the fresh green grass, which now had been fully dried by the rising sun over the snow-topped peaks.
I dived. As my head hit the ice-cold water it cleared my mind of all the worry, the heartache. About my husband, my daughter and my mother who all should be coming from the east over the sea very soon.
I kept asking constantly my queen, Varda, if she could see them from afar. Every time she would decline an answer. Sadness would come into her eyes. A mist would settle in front of them like a mask, a wall covering up her feelings. I had gone over this many a time in my head. Why would she not give me an answer? Surely it couldn’t be bad news. They had not died, I was sure of it. Their spirits had not been admitted to Mandos’ hall.
The one thing that I dreaded above all is that they would stay. Out of love for Middle-earth and out of love for my father and sons who were staying. I could not begin to imagine another 1,000 years without them. Living on my own, with all the comforts that I could want, but alone.
I heard someone shouting outside the pearl white gates of the palace. I could only make out one solitary word,
My face quickly resurfaced as a person came running up to the water’s edge.
“My Lady, someone is shouting for you. He’s a tall elf by any standards. Dark hair, dark features. He could mean trouble.”
My heart soared within me. The worry that only a few hours ago had engulfed me had gone. He was here, with my mother and daughter; my love had crossed over the sea.
I scrambled up out of the pool that had now lost all favour in the light that I would soon be seeing my mother, husband and my beautiful daughter who I’d missed so much. I hurriedly shoved my feet in my shoes not bothering to tie the laces and raced over the, now healthily growing, grass.
I could see the two tall, pearl white towers of the guard. They loomed in front of me as I raced on to where my family were. The light of Arien was glinting on the sharp pinnacle of the tallest tower. Eyes for leagues around were drawn to its beauty. The gates were in front of me now. Carved out of purest opal was the moon, ithil, stars and a magnificent eagle made out of mithril from the caves of Moria, Middle-earth. For this was the palace of Nickolay and Anastasiya. The high King and Queen of Aman.
There were two figures at the gate. One stood tall and regal as if he was of great linage, the other baring the entrance trying to dissuade the tall one of entering. I picked up my skirts and, throwing caution to the wind, sped towards the gate.
“Gate-keeper, why won’t you let that elf in?”
“My Lady, with all due respect, I have not seen him before. My orders say not to let anybody in whom I don’t recognise. If you would take…”
I didn’t have time for idle chat. The elf was disappearing over the edge of the horizon where the bright blue sky merged with the grassy hill. I ran full tilt, towards him,
He turned towards me utter amazement shone on his face.
“Celebrian.” He murmured.
I collided with him hugging him, as if I would never let go. I wrapped my arms around him crying my heart out.
“You’ve come, you’ve come. I started to believe you weren’t coming.”
I stayed comforted in his embrace but stood back suddenly remembering something else.
“Where’s my mother?”
I looked around wildly hoping for a glimpse of gold. She had been the Lady of the Golden Wood.
“I’m here my daughter.”
She was there in all her finery. A stern lady in regal robes she looked like the sort of person who could never love. But underneath that mask I knew there was as humble lady who only wanted the best for everyone around her. She loved her family, her husband, her granddaughter, Arwen and me.
“Where’s Arwen. Shouldn’t she be with you?”
I could tell something was wrong. Elrond stepped away, his worst fear realised.
“Your daughter, our daughter, is…”
He couldn’t carry on. I could tell that from his body language. Pain was etched into every crevice of his face. My mother finished his sentence.
“She has given up her immortal life. She is the Queen of Arnor and Gondor. She is Queen of both men and elves.
I stumbled. My knees couldn’t hold my weight. I sank down on my knees. I couldn’t breathe. My chest had become smaller restricting the air. Every breath had become a labour.
My daughter was mortal. My daughter would die. I would never, could never see my daughter again.
We return to the forests again. Our hobbit friend has lost all faith and finds the true meaning of apathy by the end of this chapter. He is taken captive by a band of elves and one human. This chapter suggests that some of his past will be revealed soon.