Ulma walked into the forests of Mirkwood under a setting sun. She smiled softly, singing a song of her parents people, the Moriquendi–the Elves of Darkness. The song was beautiful, but rang in tones of dissonance, hanging in the boughs of the trees about her. If her current path was continued, it would not be long before she bumped into Eradan, son of Gelmir and Thoron. He stood at the edge of a small precipise, watching the setting sun, his arms folded, his back to the forest.
Seeing Eradan in front of her, Ulma stepped behind him silently. “Beautiful sunset…silen!”
Only an elf could approach as nearly soundlessly as whomever it was that had just appeared behind him. Eradan recoginized the voice when she spoke, however. He smiled, unseen, and nodded without turning around.
Ulma stepped next to him, singing softly, knowing he would not object. “O mor henion I dhu; Ely siriar, el sila…” She stopped, tilting her head gently, curious that he had not yet spoken.
Eradan’s smile broadened a bit and he glanced over at her, then back at the sunset. “Interesting, isn’t it?” He paused, waiting for the question which he knew would come.
Ulma smiled, knowing that he know what she would say. This act had been played out before, and it would occur yet again. “And what is so interesting, Eradan?”
“How peaceful Mirkwood seems. How innocuous…at sunset. One would never suspect Sauron’s taint on these woods.”
Ulma sighed, a guilty pang ringing in her chest at his words. She knew Sauron’s hold would not be as strong on the woods if it were not for her. “Aye, but if Mirkwood, or any place for that matter, still holds harmony at any time of day, even if it is just for a moment, then we still can win the fight.”
Eradan nodded slowly, his smile turning wistful as he watched the sun slipping below the horizon. “I hope so. I do not intend to be gone long while on this errand I was given this morning. I will return to aid Mirkwood.”
Ulma hesitated before speaking. “I, I still wish to go with you. The road is unpredictible and what will come to pass is still uncertain. I am the only one who still knows the path. I have wandered it in the past fifty years or so.” She looked down, her green eyes sparkling, clouding over. “I am still sorry for what I have done. No amount of wandering can make up for what I did.”
Eradan placed a hand on her shoulder, quieting her. “My father, my mother died at your hand, at your mistake, Ulma, my friend upon whom the rain always follows. Still, it was not your fault. Your gift of song was meant for harm. ‘Tis the way of the Moriquendi. But you have shown you have overcome that.” He shrugged. “But I cannot allow you to come. If another accident occured like that, then I would be left dead, and you, forever barrred from any life with elves. I would not want to risk that.” He shook his head. “No, I must make the trip to Lothlorien alone.” He turned and smiled at her again. “Ulma, rain drop, just stay here, learn your place again. Forget what you learned in your dark travels, and sing a song of peace for me as I travel. That is what I ask of you.” With that, he turned to eat his evening meal, leaving Ulma to ponder his words in the coming darkness.
Ulma sat down, opening her mouth to sing again. “Si man i yulma nin enquantuva?….”