The Vision Chapter 2 – A Tale of Forgotten Love

by Feb 27, 2003Stories

Remembering the Past Part 1

The Ford of Rivendell

Anya awoke suddenly and found that she was lying in a bed. She stared at the ceiling, it was flat and had dark beams richly carved. She sat up and looked around the room, the walls were glistening and sunlight danced upon them. In one of the corners of the room stood a wardrobe, its dark mahogany door was partly opened, its contents spilling out. There was a carved oaken door on one side of the room; on the other side there was a glass door that was open. A cool breeze swept through the open door, whispering adventures from far off lands. Anya swung back the cream silken sheets and climbed out of the bed. She went to the wardrobe and opened the door completely. Dresses of magnificent colors spilled out. She reached inside and took out a dress the color of a cloudless summer sky. She quickly changed into it and walked through the glass door onto a porch. The view took her breath away; she saw endless rows of waterfalls and many luxurious houses that lay a strewn upon the banks of the river. Anya turned and walked back into her room, she cautiously opened the oaken door and walked through.

She found herself in a long, dark passageway. Her room was at the end of this passage and she walked towards the other end. Anya slipped through the maze of passages, noticing that there were many doors, like hers, along the walls. She suddenly stumbled upon a flight of stairs that was placed at the end of the last passage. She treaded quickly down the steps, her hands tracing along the smooth walls on either side of her. Her bare feet fell upon the last few steps that were engulfed in light. Anya’s eyes shone at the beauty that was outside of this doorway. She walked through and a garden stretched out before her, full in bloom. Her eyes drifted along the garden and they stopped upon her mother, Armaelia. She was tending to the honeysuckle that was quickly growing along the west wall of their house. Anya walked towards her, Armaelia lifted her head up and smiled at her approaching daughter.

“Ai na vedui Anyaelia! Mae Govannen!”

“Ai na vedui Mother.”

“It is a beautiful day today, is it not?”

“Aye, you are right, the garden is in bloom as well.”

“Yes, but it could never be as beautiful as Lord Elrond’s Garden, no matter how I try.”

Anyaelia smiled at her mother, she loved her garden as much as she loved her daughter, and tended to it often. Anyaelia looked around, her father was missing.

“Mother where is father?”

“He has been summoned to a Council with Lord Elrond and Gandalf.”

Anyaelia’s father, Cereduil, was Elrond’s advisor. Lately Cereduil had been summoned many times to attend meetings with Elrond. Anyaelia turned from her mother and walked through the garden, deep in thought. Gandalf had arrived a few days before and Anyaelia had greeted him upon his arrival. They had talked about many things, her father, her mother and Rivendell. She had then taken his noble horse, Shadowfax, to the stables to be rested. Anyaelia suddenly realised she was at the edge of the garden. They were housed high above the banks of the Bruinen River. In the distance she could see the Ford of Rivendell, surrounded by the Trollshaws.

Suddenly a small figure upon a white horse came into view, the horse quickly crossed the Ford. It struggled up the steep, stony bank, and there it stopped. Anyaelia recognised the horse, it was Asfaloth who belonged to Glorfindell. She watched as nine more riders cloaked in Black rode to the banks of the Ford, opposite of the lone rider. The rider unsheathed his sword and shouted at the Black Riders, Anyaelia could not make out what he was saying for her hearing was not as good as her sight. Three of the Black Riders retaliated and they urged their horses forward into the Ford. The lone rider lifted his sword high above his head and cried out again. The leader of the three riders in the Ford stood up in his stirrups and raised his hand. The sword in the hand of the rider fell to pieces and Asfaloth reared up, knocking the rider off his back. The ground began to shake and Anyaelia had to hold on to the fence to steady herself. The shaking had come from a powerful surge of water that was quickly heading in the direction of the Ford. It engulfed the three Black Riders, and the other six seemed to have been forced into the river as the water crashed upon them.

Anyaelia quickly turned from the scene; she had to find Lord Elrond. She ran through the garden and came upon a path that led to more houses. She ran down this path and turned at a corner, nearly running into Elrond. He was surrounded by a group of elves; they looked as though they were ready to set out. Elrond turned to Anyaelia, noting the fear that covered her face.

“My child, what is wrong?”

“Lord Elrond, I saw at the Ford of Rivendell, something terrible.”

She explained to him what she had seen, and she watched and waited impatiently for an answer.

“Anyaelia, I want you to go with this group to meet this…rider. I hope it will then put your mind to rest. I will tell your father of your departure.”

Anyaelia thanked him and she departed with the group. As they entered through the threshold that led to the city, she turned around. She took one last look at the city and followed her companions as they quickly made their way down to the Ford of Rivendell.


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