8. Clear of the Sun
‘Show me my daughter. Show me Maeve, princess of Lorien.’ She thought, closing her eyes. For a moment the mirror shimmered before a picture appeared in her head. It had an air of something that happened long ago, a certain mustiness around it that was slightly familiar to the elven queen.
“Mama!” Two little elf girls ran along together, one looking to be around the human age of seven and the other around the age of ten. The younger one’s hair had come free from the braids that had been painstakingly done only just an hour and a half ago, while the older one still seemed neat and proper. Both seemed to be out of breath, as if they had run a long way.
“Mama, Celebrían has caught a butterfly!” Maeve said, as if announcing some great deed had just been done. It was now seen that Celebrían had her hands loosely clasped around something that was fluttering slightly, casting little shadows on the wall.
“Oh, my little elflings. Let it be free, as all good creatures should.” The Lady Galadriel said, gently guiding both of the young elleths back outside. Once they had passed through the doorway, she reached over and slowly pulled Celebrían’s hands apart, allowing the golden butterfly to fly away…
‘No, that is too old. Show me a newer one, show me my daughter now.’ She concentrated harder and then gasped as the freshness of the second vision almost took her by surprise. It wasn’t quite as clear as she would have liked, but it would have to do.
The rain fell down in huge sheets as a blond elleth ran through the forest, much like the one from the last vision. Only now she was older and wiser, though no stronger than before. It could not be seen if it was rain or tears that clung to her face, due to the fact that she was drenched from top to bottom.
It was also obvious that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going and it didn’t take her long to trip over a tree root that protruded from the ground. Falling, she gasped in pain as her hands were sliced open by the various rocks and twigs that littered the forest floor. Then she tried to use her sleeve to wipe away some of the blood.
This left her rather vulnerable. An orc cautiously and slowly crept up behind her, a dagger in his hand and a malicious grin upon his face. He never even flinched as he plunged the dagger deep inside her side, stabbing again and again until she was left bleeding but not yet unconscious.
With a grunt, he stabbed her once more and then left the dagger inside her. A little whimper of pain escaped her lips and the rainwater lying on the ground mixed with her open wound, proving to be a rather dirty and potentially fatal position. The wound might be something she could survive, but an infection was something else altogether.
Suddenly, a figure that was obviously Haldir burst through the trees. Sword drawn, he chased the orc away from the maiden, yelling and shouting various inaudible curses. A look of peace came over the elf’s face as she saw him, assuming that he would wrap her up in his arms and take her back home. It didn’t take long for the March Warden to kill the orc and soon he was standing over her limp body.
“Fancy meeting you here.” He said to her. “You almost got yourself killed.” She nodded and then scrunched up her face in pain. Reaching down, he pulled the dagger free from her body as she screamed and cried, as more blood flowed out and soaked the already wet earth.
“Yes, I…I know. Take me home…” She gasped. He paused for a moment before responding, twirling the orc dagger in between his fingers as if it were a toy. Her crystal eyes held a sense of desperation in them, a bit of admittance to having done wrong and wanting to repent.
“You broke my heart, Maeve. Can I ever really forgive you for that?” He asked, giving the dagger one final flip and then throwing it into pocket. Meanwhile, she began to cry. It wasn’t just that silent kind of cry that happens when you are angry, but rather a kind of hopeless sobbing with a gasp every once in a while.
“No, I never…never wanted to…I had to…” She said. He chuckled rudely, reaching one hand up to brush a strand of blond hair out of his eyes. He was just as wet as she was, though he didn’t seem to care. The look in his eyes was of anger, but mostly anger out of emotional pain and hurt.
“Did you ever care what anyone said before?” He replied, turning to go. “I don’t want to hear any more excuses. Why don’t you lie here for a while and ponder a few things before I call for a search party?” She shook her head and tried to get up, only succeeding in falling back down to the ground and pulling her side open even further.
“Don’t go…please… I’m so sorry…” She cried. “I don’t want to die… please…” He chuckled again, continuing to leave. She cried even harder, starting to hiccup as the sobs refused to cease and dissipate.
“Never fear, little princess. I’ll return to save you.” He called back to her. Slowly the rain began to stop as he faded into the distance, leaving the young elleth lying face-up in the muddy earth. She gave a few final cries and then began to watch the sun fade over the horizon, giving way to darkness.
A moan escaped from Galadriel as she crumpled over the mirror, thinking of nothing but her little elfling dying all alone. It was all that she could think of as she picked herself up and slowly walked back to the flet, thinking of nothing but ordering Haldir to return from the border as quickly as he could. It was apparent that he hadn’t told the whole story of that night.
“Finally finished.” Celeborn said as he leaned back in his chair one more time and held the piece of parchment in his hands. Just to be sure, he read over it once more to be sure that he had said everything that had to be addressed. It would be at least three days before he received a response, so he had better say all that was needed.
‘To the Lord Elrond, ruler of the elven realm of Rivendell,
There is no need to feel ashamed of being unable to come to visit with my wife and I. I do understand how trying it can be to run any sort of land, let alone one of your size and stature. Yet I do thank you for the note that you have sent me. Though it might not seem like much, any bit of hope that I may someday live to see my daughter alive again is a good thing.
I wish to see you again. It has been many years and I wish to follow up on the bit of information that Maeve may be with a ranger. Though I do think that she would be ill suited to it, it is certainly worth a try. It is all I have left. I also shall not mention the real reason of our visit to Galadriel, seeing as I do not wish to get her hopes up.
I shall see you in seven days. Look for me then.
See you soon, mellon-nin,
“Perfect.” He muttered and then turned to face one of the servants who had just entered his office to drop off a snack of lembas bread. “Penrha, please fetch the ranger who brought me the note from Rivendell. I have a response for him.”
“I’m sorry for snapping at you.” I said to Telir as we sat in the flet. All of our stuff had been carefully organized into piles to guarantee that as soon as we got the word, we would be back on our way. I could hardly wait. Every moment that we spent in this flet made me want to scream, to run and spend the rest of my life living a lonely existence in some faraway forest.
“It’s fine.” He murmured. I didn’t feel convinced, so I flashed him a quick glance. He smiled. “Really. I swear.” Feeling a little better, I leaned back into a blanket that I had rolled up to use as a cushion. It had only just begun to get dark as the sun set over Lorien and the other flets began to come alive with candlelight.
Suddenly, the blond head of an elf popped up over the rope ladder that led to our flet. His face was serious and strict and my blood froze again, worried that I had been discovered. Every bone in my body was anxious and on edge. Telir even leapt to his feet, a look of anger on his face that soon faded to relief.
“You are the ranger, correct?” Telir nodded, and the elf went on. “The Lord is done with his response. He requests that you come to his chambers to receive it and then take it to Rivendell as fast as your horses will go.”
“Take this to the border.” Galadriel said as she handed yet another piece of parchment to a mounted elf warrior. “It is a request that Haldir return to the city as quickly as he can. I must speak with him again.” The rider nodded and then sped off into the night, still clutching the letter in his hand. She sighed once again and then turned to return to her own bedchambers.
“How are you this night, my lady?” Celeborn questioned, sneaking up behind her and placing his arm around her waist. He had just come from handing his own note over to the ranger Telir, who had promised to leave the woods the very next morning and ride to Rivendell with great haste.
She could not help but laugh. He could be so sweet to her sometimes, when he was not holed up in his study working hard on some matter of great importance. Gazing up at the stars, she tried to decide how to respond and if to tell him of the latest vision her mirror had shown her. ‘It’s really better that I don’t get his hopes up. The mirror might be wrong and Haldir might have not been involved at all.’ She thought as she leaned up to place a hand upon his face.
“I fare well, my lord.” Her voice was smooth and content and she leaned in and shared a kiss with him, smiling. He smiled back as they both secretly reveled in the fact that they might get Maeve returned to them soon. No more words passed between them as they acceded up the stone stairs and back into the little room that led up to the rope ladder to the flet that they both shared.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.