As she said her good-byes, Laurelin was somewhat disappointed to see that Elrond was not in any of his usual residences. He was not in the library, nor was he in the gardens, nor had any seen him within the great halls. He had been very kind to her, although it was not uncommon for him to be very irritating. They were, in some ways, complete and utter opposites, he finding her

insufferable and aggravating and she finding him pretentious and arrogant. They had their share of arguments before the end, and Laurelin looked back upon them and smiled.

She and Elrond had countless verbal jousts, usually beginning with her accusations of his blatant ostentatiousness and ending with his observation of her childish irritability. It would begin over the simplest of circumstances, such as her inability to keep things orderly. This was a

particular irritant to Elrond, who kept his libraries in perfect working order. He felt he had been kind enough to allow her to roam throughout, and the only thing he asked of her was to put things back in their place. But there were many things not within her reach, and she resorted to all sorts of inventive techniques to get them down, sometimes knocking several items down at once. It was far more difficult to get them back into place, so she simply left them upon the nearest table or desk, so that he may replace them. Even after apology and explanation, Elrond continued to temper at this, until one day she finally had enough and exclaimed that she had never seen such a display of vanity or conceit until she was acquainted with the elves. Elrond bristled at her proclamation, protesting with vigor, but she was unwavering, even to comparing them to the Valar, who she claimed had no such pretense. He became so agitated that he snapped his quill in half as she left, vowing never to grace him with her presence again.

But she never left, although there was an unwelcome calmness as Laurelin remained behind the locked doors of her chambers. He tried desperately to tell himself that this is what he had wanted

all along, for after once she became well there had been no peace in his life. Endless chatter, endless noise, endless chaos and disorder- as long as she remained hidden he would be rid of it.. But no matter how he tried he could not calm himself, and he was surprised to realize that her absence did nothing to soothe his agitation.

Laurelin had great stamina, and remained hidden for quite some time. Later, she realized she had relented to his arrogant manipulation by locking herself away from him, and insolent blood

rushed into her cheeks. She returned to the gardens and the library, seeing this and doing that, never allowing him to aggravate her. Laurelin did, however, still greatly enjoy irritating him. It was almost as if she took her frustration of all the elves upon him, torturing him with the smallest of irritants.

It was almost humorous to the others there to see the two going after each other so. Their battle of wits never seemed to be at an end, for she would not suffer that dark elf one measure of peace.

But, as time passed, their blood and tempers cooled, occasionally flaring but never as before. It was not long before Laurelin realized that her insolence was part of some strange and twisted

infatuation, and this troubled her deeply. The wounds upon her heart were still fresh, and she reflected that she had nearly lost her life with the madness of love. Her longings for the one who had saved her life troubled her, for she could never allow such carelessness of the heart again. It

was then that she had decided there was no choice but to leave this place, erasing all memory and temptation from her mind.

Before Laurelin said her goodbyes, she tried to console herself, admitting that his mutual attraction would never be possible. She was, to say the least, flawed, and she had long accepted her faults with her strengths, rarely apologizing for either. During the time that she spent there,

she often found that she again compared herself to the perfection of the she-elves around her. Laurelin would become dismayed as she noticed the striking, subtle differences between herself and them. They did not bear scars, nor did they falter with their words, whereas Laurelin had many such blemishes upon her. She was not clumsy, but she was not inherently careful, and as a result she often bumped against this or that, cursing soundly as she did so.

And, what’s more, the deific females there did not curse, they did not run into things, and they did not enjoy the roughness of sport. They were gentle, their voices as soothing as the sound of running water, and they embodied the very ideal of female beauty.

Laurelin knew that she was fair, but her beauty was of no comparison to the others. In her travels she rarely found time to enjoy a lush and inviting gown, nor did she take great measures of vanity as other women do. She felt that she was comely enough within whatever garment covered her, even if she were simply hiding within the confines of her cherished cloak.

It was sufficient for her to believe that she was of no consequence to anyone within that place, no more than a strange and rambling vagrant upon the land. There was no need to speculate or

wonder of anything else, for she knew that any farther entertainment of her longings would only bring her pain. She could never become something that she was not, and she would not allow herself to consider loving anyone who would always long for something more.

So, before she had even realized it herself, she had decided to leave. She wondered silently if this is why she had always been so irritated with him, seemingly angry at being spurned before he ever had a chance to do so.

If only he had known that when he drew near, Laurelin’s blood thickened, and her breathing ceased. There were many nights that she remained in the library until dawn, mulling over books

and maps and all sorts of writings. Laurelin was fascinated by all of this, and while she possessed great knowledge of the world around her, she always yearned for more. Elrond was constantly busy, occupied with far more important things. But, despite her occasional temper, he

was willing to assist her now and again, pointing out a foreign word or phrase she may not understand, or helping her find what she was looking for within the vastness of the various libraries.

As Laurelin reflected on these times, she sighed, having walked the last length of the garden without a trace of the one that she sought. It had been a peaceful time, and she would miss it deeply.

She looked over her shoulder one last time, marveling at the beauty of the hidden realm.

It was not until Elrond returned from a brief excursion that he learned that she had left. He was somewhat dismayed by this, for he had no chance to say farewell. As he walked silently into the

main halls, he passed the library where she had most often visited. A brief feeling of irritation washed over him as he saw many books and scrolls laying about the tables, idle and unused. The feeling soon passed when he entered the library, remembering that she was not here to scold. His irritation was replaced by a strange emptiness as he carried the abandoned books back to their

shelves, wondering why she had chosen to displace so many at once, knowing that she would not be returning.

Then he stopped and stared blankly at the table in front of him. He knew why. She had meant to badger him one last time, and instead of seeing him, what better way than to simply displace the entire library?

Elrond shook his head, smiling to himself, never admitting to himself that he adored the subtle quirks of her personality.

As he replaced her favorite set of books, a small leaf of paper fell upon the floor. As he knelt to pick it up, he noticed the scrawl of her handwriting. She had hidden a small note between the books, knowing he wouldn’t have a moment’s rest until he had replaced them.

Her handwriting was sometimes difficult to read, but he was able to make out that she had to leave, and she thanked him for his patience with her. A final note, almost an afterthought, advised that she had left the library in disarray to that he may have something to occupy himself with in her absence.

After all of the books were replaced and there was no trace that she had been there, Elrond clutched the small, scrawled note and took it with him to his chambers, placing it among the writings and journals that he held most dear. It would be a nothing more than a fleeting memory of her upon the many pages of his mind, but at least there would be some proof that he had met the this strange creation, and that it was not a dream.

He had been utterly fascinated with her from the moment that he saw her, if for no other reason than the curious, reddish-gold tint of her hair. But since he had ventured into her journal he had not felt quite the same, for the pages held haunting stories of her creation, untimely death, and rebirth into flesh.

He had often wondered if she had been mad, for her journals held stories of her creation as a tree of light, and how a dark and evil creature had come over her, draining her of life. According to

her story, she awoke to the sound of tears and she struggled to revive herself. She had been utterly exhausted and found herself, once again, slipping into darkness.

Her next memory had been hearing a voice. It bade her to open her eyes and, when she had, she saw the ocean for the first time. It was also then that she found the gilded cloak that she wore. It, too, lay upon the sand, still warm from the heat of her body.

Elrond had struggled to interpret this, for all knew of the battles fought over the ancient trees and their light. In fact, both of his parents had been consumed by these battles. To speak of them as such bordered sacrilege, and at first he had simply closed her journals and walked from the room in disgust, dismissing the writing as the idle rambling of a woman. But as he cared for her, his curiosity grew, and he found himself reading more about her travels than he had originally planned. It was a guilty pleasure to misuse her condition so, for if she had awakened he was sure that Laurelin would have taken her sword upon him.

Her entries were bold recollections of many things, but what fascinated him most were the recollections before the great war, ages upon ages before he had even been born. She was able to describe, from her perspective, the initial feeling of harmony and of light. She also described the sounds and smells in great detail, her words speaking of her yearning to be able to return to the time before discord and darkness. Laurelin explained that while she did not have the gift of sight at that time, she was still able to recognize light from dark and good from evil. She explained the great fear that came over her when the familiar, melodious voices faded away, replaced by the all-encompassing shuffle of many bristle-like claws upon her. Laurelin told of the first time that she smelled the stench of death and decay, explaining that if she had her voice to scream she would

have done so for an eternity. She was immobilized, unable to defend herself, as the life within her ebbed away, the world around her fading into shadows.

The memories that she wrote of were too real, too descriptive in their despair, to have been a complete trick of the mind. Elrond remembered reading it over and over again, his heart telling him that what she had written was true, his mind telling him that it could not possibly be so. It was only when he had remembered the eerie glow of her eyes that he found peace between the two factions, for there was no creature in heaven nor in earth with eyes of blue flame. And, of course, the writings of her need for revenge were far too compelling to argue, for it seemed that Laurelin intended to chase the Darkness to the very ends of the earth.

It was at that moment that he decided she was what she claimed to be, never having spoken such a thing openly, but having written volumes of the anguish in her soul. He remained in wonder for the rest of his days with her, and even when she insisted on aggravating him, he was intrigued.

So that evening, when he retired into his chambers, he took the little note and meant to put it away. What he had not seen was that upon the back there was a brief, but poignant, secondary note. After he read it, he felt his cheeks grow hot with blood. His eyes stared at it over and over, disbelieving what he read.

Elrond remembered the night he had dismissed her writings as absurdity. He had sat the book down with a start, and little unbound pages tumbled to the floor. He was certain that all of them had been put back in their proper order, but he was mistaken, for when Laurelin packed she found one that remained hidden upon the floor, under her bed. She had been mortified for a moment, but then dizzy at the thought he had taken such an interest in her. Laurelin had knelt for a moment to

pick it up, but when she saw the writing upon it she decided to leave it there. Upon it was a short list of things, most of which were things she wanted to experience or complete before the end. She had laughed at the thought of leaving it there as she left the room, never intending to return.

-

Many years passed, leaving trails of memory upon Laurelin’s mind. She had ventured to the kingdom of this people or of that house, never having been so warmly received as she had in Imladris. Laurelin enjoyed finding new townships, but she was mostly spying, for she was always vigilant when watching for news of her former lover. Her mind would occasionally drift back to the stately, dark elf who had nearly stolen her heart, wondering what would have been if she had remained. But Laurelin did not dwell upon those things, and while she felt she was not fair enough for elves, she felt she was far too fair for men. There was nothing in between, so she had long decided to leave the pursuit of love altogether, finding it far more exhausting than any battle. She learned many things in the years after her departure from Imladris. She learned that there was a great concern upon the lands, and all creatures were anxious, worrying that her former lover would return. Still, there was little else to be heard, for it would seem that Aulendil had disappeared entirely. This troubled her, for she knew that he was not one to give up on any task, no matter how difficult it was, or how long it may be.

One day, as she decided to travel back to the forests where her teacher lived, she heard the distant sound of hooves. They clamored quickly upon the ground, as thunderous as a passing storm. She drew her sword, for she did not know what to expect. What she saw emerging from the woodline shocked and amazed her.

Before her stood her old friend, whom she had sent back to Yávë before she found herself wounded in battle. He stamped his hoof impatiently, bidding her to sit upon his back. This was a welcome surprise, and Laurelin was altogether taken with how large he had grown, and how stoic and strong he had become. His coat was a light, radiant tan, and his mane long and blonde, reflecting flecks of sunlight in it’s strands. She came to meet him, resting her hands upon the bridge of his nose, nuzzling him with her cheeks. He was encouraged by this, and he exhaled sharply in approval. Together, they seemingly flew to the hidden realm of her teacher, as he was bursting to show her his renewed strength and newfound endurance.

On their journey, Laurelin let her mind wander. It seemed to roam back to thoughts of the hidden elven city, and to thoughts of the one she had left behind. He had been, to say the least, intriguing to her mind and heart, and she felt her pulse quicken at the thought of him.

It had been many years, and she wondered if he would even remember her. She decided inwardly that he would not, and by now he had most likely married, forgetting ever even laying eyes upon her. The thought of being forgotten was more hurtful than the thought of being spurned, for if one is forgotten they were not even cared for enough to be spurned. She could not possibly bear that humiliation, and so she decided to move on.

What Laurelin did not know was that since she left, Elrond thought of her often, wondering what mischief she had gotten into or how tangled she was within a new adventure. Once in a while, as he watched the water or the changing autumn trees, he was reminded of the bright, stinging blue of her eyes, or of the soft, vibrant gold in her hair. It seemed as if she embodied a wild and untamed landscape, reminding him that nature was not always serene. When he thought of her thus, he would sigh, hoping that she were well, knowing that by this time she had possibly passed out of coherent thought altogether.

It was late when she reached Yávë’s little cottage. Laurelin dismounted quickly and ran up the little path, throwing open the door. It was dark inside, and there was no fire. This was strange. Laurelin waved her hand over the barren hearth and whispered into the silent room. The fire instantly appeared, as if responding to the hidden flame within her spirit.

Laurelin had never arrived without her teacher being present. Usually, she was waiting for her at the door, arms outstretched. This left a gnawing feeling of unrest inside of her, and despite the weariness of her journey, Laurelin paced to and fro, nibbling at the skin along her thumbnail.

It was nearly dawn when Yávë opened the door. Laurelin had not slept, and her eyes were heavy with exhaustion. She looked at her teacher with wide and curious eyes. She looked differently than she had ever seen her.

Her hair had always been dark, but this morning, as the sun cascaded through the door around her, it seemed to glow. Her eyes, a deep and radiant emerald, shimmered with the same embers that lingered in the blue of her own. She seemed taller, and more stoic, and her skin was dewy, as the grass in the fledgling hours of the morning.

She saw Laurelin and her eyes brightened, and lightened a bit, and she smiled. Her smile was truly beautiful. She came inside and embraced Laurelin without a word, leaving the door open.

"Come," she said, taking no heed of Laurelin’s exhaustion. "It is beautiful this morning."

-

"So," Yávë said, between bites of fruit, "you have become enamored with an elf."

The very thought incensed Laurelin, who had removed her cloak so that the two women may sit upon it. She felt the blood rush into her cheeks as she bit into a strawberry, and she concentrated on it’s flavor in her mouth.

"I would suppose he would like the taste of such a thing as much as you," Yávë muttered, giving Laurelin a sly look as her raven locks fell around her face.

Then, Yávë laughed.

Her laugh was beautiful to hear. It was as melodic as the song of the birds, and as gentle as the lapping of a stream. It calmed Laurelin when nothing else ever would, and even though Laurelin’s pride had now been stung, her teacher’s humor was well worth the price.

Laurelin flung a strawberry at her mentor with playful irritation. It seemed to deflect before it ever hit her flesh. How odd a thing, Laurelin thought quietly to herself, as Yávë continued to chuckle.

"There is only one explanation for this, you know," Yávë said, wiping her hands on her dress. They were long and lean, the fingers delicate and graceful. "He is enamored with you, also."

Laurelin felt her cheeks grow hot. There was no way such a thing could possibly exist. He was an elf. She hated them. Furthermore, she was not their idea of beauty. She furrowed her brows, for it was an evil whim once in her mind. It was not there anymore, for she had stamped any idea out of it.

"Why else would he be so very irritated with you? You have gotten under the elf’s skin, just as easily as the thistle, and such things are difficult to remedy, save for the expanse of time. His frustration only shows that his mind wars with his heart, and he takes that out upon you with inexplicable rage, for he cannot bring himself to admit, much less imagine, the depth of what he could feel for you.

"You know what you should do, Malinalda." Yávë’s voice was nearly giddy with possibilities. "Take Anir and go back. Find the hidden realm. You must see him again."

This time, Laurelin choked on her fruit. Going back was not an option. Anir stamped his hoof in approval, for he greatly desired a new journey. It took Laurelin a moment to realize that her friend now had a name.

"You cannot mean this," Laurelin muttered, turning her attention to the horse. He was truly beautiful, and his muscles rippled under his coat. She stood then, and brought with her an apple, letting Amir take it in his mouth. He loved such tokens from her.

"Why would you think that you are not worthy of such a thing? How can you believe that you, who hold the eternity of life within you, are not worthy for the kiss from an elf, who is only flesh,

and will always only be flesh? They can only dream of the splendor you have been! They can only sing praise to the light that lingers within your body, whatever form it may choose to take. You know better than any what their passion of such light has done to them! It is a maddening liqueur, driving them to deeds that have been, largely, unforgivable."

Laurelin was silent at this, for she had never thought of things this way. Another thought came suddenly into her mind, and she spoke, changing the subject entirely.

"Where were you?"

Yávë cleared her throat and looked toward the sky. Her neck was long and graceful, and the light silhouetted her face with radiance.

"Do you think I would keep myself cooped within the confines of this cottage for eternity, never venturing to see the world around me?"

She laughed again, her voice tinkling and mirthful. When she looked at Laurelin next, she could see the bewildering look in her eyes, and she pursed her lips with amusement.

"I, too, desire to see the world around me. I, too, have a life apart from this place.

"Remember many, many ages ago, when I told you that there were many creatures upon this earth, and many were immortal, but yet, unknown, apart from the world around them?"

Laurelin nodded.

"I am such a creature, just as yourself, and many others. We are things that are undocumented, or unseen, day to day. But we are just as important, and just as meaningful, as an entire league of men, elves, or any other creature that wanders the earth."

Laurelin pondered this. Then, she spoke,

"So, if you are immortal, which I knew already, what are you?"

Yávë became silent for a moment, but her eyes twinkled in the sun.

"I am everything around you. I am the forest, and the trees, and every flower that is in bloom. I am the rain, and the warmth of the sunlight on your face. I am-"

Laurelin interrupted excitedly, trying a new word in her vocabulary.

"A nymphet?"

The utterance was enough to send the stoic woman into fits of laughter. She fell solidly onto the ground, laughing so that it seemed the forest laughed with her, so tremulous it was. The birds began to chirp more loudly, and there was a sudden rush of breeze through the trees. Laurelin did not understand that she had said anything so amusing, and when she implored to understand the joke, it only brought more laughter from her mentor, and great tears welled within her eyes, spilling onto the ground.

Laurelin thought, for the briefest instant, that she saw a flower immediately spring forth there, but then thought better of it. Who could control the growing of flora on the earth?

Yávë sat up, and wiped her eyes with her hand. She was still chuckling when she spoke,

"I do think you mean a nymph," she said mirthfully. "And perhaps, that is the best definition for me."

"That’s what I said." Laurelin was defiant.

"That is NOT what you said," Yávë chuckled again, her dark hair falling across her eyes.

"But I think that you would better encompass the former definition, should you decide to venture back to Imladris."

Laurelin did not understand that the joke had been turned back against her, but she smiled warily, naively, as Yávë turned on her back and lay languidly. She seemed to soak the sun into every part of her until she glowed. Laurelin patted Amir’s head and lay beside her. How she loved her teacher’s company!

The two women were silent then, Laurelin because she did not understand, and Yávë also, but for another reason altogether.

-

It was late one such evening, when Elrond watched the land fall into the shadow of night, that he was reminded of her. The fading richness of the autumn sun had cast a glowing radiance upon the trees, their leaves reflecting deep hues of red and gold. It was not long before the sun faded entirely, leaving the gilded leaves there in shadow. He had nearly turned from the terrace when he saw a brief movement within the shadows. Certainly that was not a horse, he thought to himself, knowing that occasionally a wild stallion may find himself staggering into the hidden realm.

Elrond peered into the woods, waiting for another movement. It was not long before he saw the tan flanks of the horse within the outer rim of trees, and then he saw what appeared to be a rider upon it.

This was most unusual, and he hurried from his perch. The realm was heavily guarded, and if a stranger ventured here he would be alerted accordingly. No sooner had he thought this a younger elf rushed to his side, proclaiming that there was, indeed, a rider upon the horse and that he had allowed her admittance.

Elrond was taken by surprise. "Her admittance?"

By this time, the harried horse stumbled forward from the brush, carrying upon his back a small, yet familiar, bundle.

Laurelin’s cloak was easily recognizable. Elrond thought for a moment that perhaps his eyes had failed him, for he had been thinking of her only moments before. As he approached, the rider stirred slightly, tilting her head in his direction. He nearly lost his breath when he caught a glimpse of the unmistakable blue glow of her eyes, watching them as they peered intently, as if watching for something. When the rider saw him, she had to catch her breath, for standing before her was the one who had nearly caused her a moment’s weakness, awakening traces of doubt within her. That was why she had left so many years before.

But, here she was, her mind and her steed having belied her on a fleeting whim, and she dismounted her horse with sudden difficulty. Truly, she had not even realized that she ventured so closely until she saw the familiar line of trees, and by then it was too late, for she had been spotted.

Laurelin had often romanticized the idea of maintaining a home, even if it were a place where she could retire only sporadically. She had often fantasized about having a hidden realm of her own, one that was as beautiful as it was secret. This idea had been given up long ago, for it seemed that she was on an endless quest, and there would be no respite for her.

But Yávë had spurred her on, forcing her to take up her horse and ride again, but this time, for the purpose of a new adventure.

Deep within the wood surrounding her friend’s realm, imbedded in the crevices of the waterfalls, were places where she could comfortably reside without intrusion. It had occurred to her on this day that it would be fitting to seriously consider such a thing, and, before she had made up her mind, she found herself having faltered under Yávë’s spell, deep within the woods of Imladris.

And so now, here she was, standing beside her horse, not knowing how to address the creature that had once nearly stolen her heart. Even after so many years, being near him again was a welcoming discomfort, and she felt her knees grow weak when he spoke at last.

"This is a strange and welcome appearance, ornemalin!" His voice was as shocked as it was mirthful, and she suddenly felt self-conscious as he placed his hands on either side of her, welcoming her with a gentle embrace.

Oh, my graces please let go of me lest I melt into the ground! Laurelin thought to herself, daring not to embrace him so. She did, however, manage a weak but endearing smile as he released her, and she withdrew her cloak with near trembling hands.

"I was coming this way..." her voice trailed as she looked at the stars that were beginning to peek from the black, velvety cloak of impending night. It seemed that she could become distracted very easily, her train of thought derailing with the slightest provocation.

Gathering her thoughts again, she continued,

"I have come to ask something of you, if you would so allow."

Elrond seemed to be paying no attention to her words, for when she removed her cloak, he realized the memories of her fierce beauty did no justice to the tangible form that stood before him. He had forgotten the subtleties that made her so unique and intriguing. For example, when she withdrew her cloak, her long, auburn-gold hair would cascade around her in loose waves, wildly swirling around her in the breeze, as plume of smoke. When she spoke, her tiny, ribbon-like mouth carefully formed every syllable, every vowel, for she tried desperately to impress him with her knowledge of his language. It was a most endearing, childlike trait, and it never ceased to enchant him. And, of course, there was her voice, which was alluring, both gentle and authoritative, never allowing the listener a moment’s peace, for she always had something to say. He had remembered her near deific endurance and strength, although it was always tinged with the insecurity of man, her personality in constant odds with itself.

When she had explained her proposition with great detail, and she realized that he had heard none of it, she folded her arms across her chest in irritation.

"Some things never change," Laurelin said, raising an eyebrow as she challenged his darkened gaze.

It had once been common for him to dismiss her when she spoke, for he had found her quite insufferable and occasionally irritating. When he was frustrated with her, he found his mind wandering, trying to block out the incessant, never ending monologue that escaped her lips. But he was never quite able, for there was something strangely compelling and melodic in her voice, and this had both intrigued and bothered him.

Elrond simply stared back at her, for this was a game they played, as if vying against each other in a test of wills.

But after a moment, his gaze softened, and he surprised her when he replied to her query with an arrogant, yet welcoming, response,

"I see no harm in such a thing, for there is ample land within the wood. But why would you choose to remain apart from us, alone, beyond the immediate and accommodating housing here?"

He waved his hand to make example, for his home was truly spacious and sprawling. Although it was tempting, Laurelin refused, saying with much finiteness,

"I am a private creature, and I prefer my time spent alone, away from the prying eyes of others."

She lowered her eyes from his as she said this, as if remorseful, or even shy. And, because he understood the need for privacy himself, he relented, allowing her to begin making a home within the outer woods of Imladris.

It was never truly understood how she came to create such a charming living space in such a short time, even with the help of several elves, elves that she had chosen for their ability to remain silent. She wished few to none to know that she even resided there, although she knew it would be difficult within a realm that was not her own. Still, there was a sort of safety in knowing there were numbers nearby, and she would not have to sleep in short, fitful spurts, always with one eye open.

It was a carefully chosen location, for she could either appear within the living range of Imladris if she chose, or disappear entirely from the realm, simply by traveling one way or another. What she did not know at this time was that she was closer, much closer than she thought, to the living space of one in particular, and if she had known this at the time, she would have chosen a piece of land on the other side of Imladris altogether.

Only when it was completed, and she had begun to place her garden as she chose, did she allow Elrond to enter, and it was a strange thing considering that he was the sole leader and founder of his domain.

When he did visit for the first time, he was impressed, despite his aloof demeanor.

One would not imagine that there was a cottage within the depths of the wood, for it was dark and overgrown with dense foliage. But after a time, there was an abrupt clearing to a path, and it was laid with what appeared to be stone from the nearby waterfalls. It was a short path, easily missed, but when taken led to a small garden, and in the center of the garden was one tree that she had allowed to remain. It was small, but perfect in stature, and it rested within a small circle of the same stone that lay along the path.

Behind the little tree was a small cottage. Although it was tiny, it was more than sufficient for her, for she did not expect to remain there for long periods of time. This was simply a place for her to be able to find peace, resting until she would depart again, and it was sparse with furniture or decoration.

He knocked quietly, not wishing to disturb her if she were resting, but after waiting for a time he tried the door. It remained unlocked, and he entered cautiously, not wanting Laurelin to think he was invading her privacy, or worse, taking advantage of his mastery of this domain. When he entered, he was surprised to see that she did not meet him. The room was lit with a dim, waning candlelight that seemed to shower the room in a muted goldish-green. Several etchings were directly imprinted along the walls, and he could tell that she had made them herself. He looked at them with much intensity, for they were strange and intricate, and they displayed a talent that he had no idea she would possess. There was great detail of a beautiful woman, clothed only in the glory of her long, thick hair, and then another of the same woman, this time crying, only her face in view. The artistic skill that Laurelin hid was most surprising, for she captured the depth of anguish and strength of spirit in the woman’s eyes.

Besides her own art, there were several chairs, tables, and shelves which Elrond had commissioned to be made for her, as a gift. And in a hidden room, Laurelin slumbering within, there was a bed, another gift from the one whom she adamantly refused to love.

Elrond spoke quietly, bidding her to come out if she were there. There was no answer, but when he looked into the darker, well- hidden room he saw her there sleeping soundly, curled under the blankets in a way reminiscent of a kitten.

There was something so gentle, so innocent, in her slumber, that Elrond had to stop for a moment and simply watch. It would appear that she had not slept in ages, for it was not yet dark and here she was, taking full advantage of the bed that he had chosen for her. He knew better than to think her innocent, for once she had admitted she always slept with a dagger close at hand, just in case she needed to protect herself. But who would even begin to imagine that this creature, this pale and youthful dreamer, was a marked assassin and warrior, bloodthirsty in her ruthlessness? Certainly, if one would look upon her now, they would see no such thing. If one saw her now, at this very moment, they may think that they simply looked upon a fair and radiant maiden, weary with the trials of womanhood. Little would they know that within her lay a brittle heart of stone, callous and hardened on the outside, but on the inside, markedly tender and irrationally sensitive.

Elrond pulled himself away from her room, now intrigued by the sound of running water. There was another design within this cottage that was all her own, and he was impressed that she would have thought of it by herself. Within the outer walls of the cottage was what appeared to be a pool or bath, the home being built around a small stream that ran into it. She had expertly placed longer grasses around the pool, and along the sides there were little vials and bottles, some very foreign, but evidently for bathing.

The very thought was enough to send a strange, warm shudder through the elf, and he turned abruptly, meaning to leave.

But as he walked away, he noticed that she had made her little nest close, almost too close, to his own inner chambers, and while it was not simply next door, it was close enough to belie her want for privacy.

And so he left the sleeping maiden alone, walking back into the sunlit clearing of his domain, suddenly feeling the familiar, repressed longings for the creature that had left him so many years ago.

They became close friends after many, many years, putting their similarities and differences behind them. They shared their thoughts, concerns, and hopes for the world around them. Laurelin had her secrets, though, and while Elrond had maintained his silence regarding his feelings, so had she about her relationship with Aulendil, or Annatar, as he had evidently introduced himself to Elrond.

One morning, even before the sun rose from slumber, Laurelin was awakened by a vague, but needful, stirring within her spirit. She woke suddenly, with a gasp, her eyes widened with deep, shining reflections of blue.

She hastened to dress and gathered her weapons, her tiny hands trembling as they fitfully tied her parcels together. Her mind raced and her body struggled to keep up, stumbling as she made her way from her cottage to the stables, where her horse still slumbered.

Since Elrond was not asleep, he found his ears assaulted by a loud round of cursing, and he stepped to his window, seeing Laurelin feverishly gathering a host of items that she had evidently dropped. Her golden cloak covered the fallen autumn leaves, dully lit by the waning moonlight. She was not satisfied that she had retrieved everything and spun around, surveying the ground for anything lost or missing. When she was satisfied that she was missing nothing, she drew her cloak around her face and maintained her course to the stables.

Elrond was intrigued, for he knew that she was a creature of adventure, and he went to meet her, wondering where she would be off to next.

He met her as her horse had just begun to trot, and she had to fiercely pull the reigns to keep from trampling over him. She was breathing hard, in short breaths, and her lips were parted slightly, as if in deep thought, or conversation, with herself.

"It is early yet," Elrond began, running a hand along the startled horse’s face, soothing it, bidding it to remain still. "Where is it you are trying to go in such a hurry?"

Laurelin looked at him for a moment with severity, and then softened, although he could still see a trace of agitation within her deep, blue eyes. He knew instantly that he had interrupted something, and felt as if he were an impediment to her.

"There is something urgent that needs my attention," she said vaguely, her voice carrying none of it’s usual teasing, playful arrogance. Instead, he noted the slight tone of firmness, and was concerned. She continued,

"It is several days journey at best, and I cannot tell you when I should return, for it depends on what I should find when I get there."

The sword at her hip glinted slightly within it’s helm, and she wore gauntlets, which indicated to him that she would be venturing into some sort of danger. She did not wear one of the beautiful gowns that she now owned, but instead, dressed almost mannish, wearing a dark, shimmery tunic and some sort of legging that was suitable for riding. If not for the entirely feminine curve of her body under the tunic, she would seem androgynous in nature, just as he had found her so very many years ago.

The horse’s coat was whitish cream, and seemed to match her cloak perfectly. He seemed to feel her agitation and whinnied, stamping the ground with an elegant hoof, as if bidding her to ride on.

Laurelin saw the look of concern upon her friend’s face and was heartened. Elrond’s deep, grey eyes darkened with intensity as she looked toward the horizon, seemingly counting the time that she had lost by every star that disappeared into the sunrise.

She tilted her head slightly, looking to her right, and then her left, and exhaled sharply, remembering what he had said to her not long ago. She had told him stories of her past, and they were littered with a tone of estrangement and aloof loneliness. He had placed a hand upon her arm, bidding her to look at him, and told her that if he could be any help to her, he would try, that she did not have to be alone if she chose not to be, for he would be there always.

Such a small thing touched her deeply, but it did nothing for the repressed, hidden adoration that she harbored for him, and she had put it out of her mind, knowing that, in the end, such an admission of the need for help would only bring her pain.

But now, as he stood before her this chilly morning, she faltered, for she truly did not want to make this trip alone. He stepped alongside her, placing a hand on her tense, well-mounted arm. It seemed as if he were trying to remind her of what he had once said, but would not speak again, for such a thing would be unseemly, especially when reiterated to such a proud and noble creature.

His deep grey eyes were almost pleading, for he did not want her to go alone. Laurelin looked up for a moment, knuckles whitening as she grasped the reigns more tightly. But then, her hands relaxed, and she looked at him with a softness that he did not expect.

"You once told me that I did not have to be alone, if I so chose. This morning I choose not to be, and if you can spare any length of time at all, it would be appreciated."

The words were humbling, for it was truly a wondrous thing for her to speak as such, the closest to imploring that she would ever be.

He simply nodded to her and went briskly to the stables, remembering the time so long ago when she had nearly killed herself to fight with him. He had been moved by her display of courage, although her motives had been somewhat selfish in nature. It did not matter to him now, for he could only remember the gilded warrior wandering across the plain, in the dark, plunging her swords into any fallen enemy that still drew breath, and that memory had burned into his mind. She was fierce and powerful, yet fragile and delicate, and the combination of such unlikely traits had intoxicated him, evidently leaving him in her enchantment well after her departure, and then strengthening once again with her return.

It was not long until he returned, having changed into something more suitable, and she nodded to him briskly as she whispered to her horse. In an instant, the hoofed creature took off with a start, breaking into a full, uninhibited run across the bridge of Imladris. He followed close behind, wondering what he had gotten himself into, finding that he was always one step behind the gilded woman upon the shimmering pearl coat of her steed.

They traveled into a strange and darkened wood that he was unfamiliar with. They had long since passed the realm of Amdir, where more of his kin resided, and took as few breaks as possible, stopping only long enough for their hoofed companions to take water and regain their strength. It was not uncommon for her to collapse with near exhaustion on such a brief reprieve, and she would almost fall unconscious the moment that she sat, her hands never moving from the pommel of her sword.

This must have been how she rested when on the run, he thought quietly, imagining her as she tirelessly went from battle to battle, always alone, resting when she could with one eye open.

And then, as if awakened by some internal clock, her eyes would widen suddenly, and she would stand on her still slumbering legs, stumbling toward her horse with cogent mind, but faltering body.

After quite some time, the two reached their destination. They had plunged into a deep, almost uncharted portion of forest, set along a rocky, ill-footed terrain. The land was not mountainous, but was almost along the very edge of an unseen plateau, the lush thickness of foliage hiding the rocky slope underneath. As their horses carefully gained footing on the precarious rocks, Laurelin stopped suddenly, holding a hand to keep Elrond from moving. She had sensed, or perhaps seen, something that she did not like, and she bade her horse to try and turn, attempting to get him safely to a little stony clearing not far from where she sat. Elrond was puzzled, but followed her lead, and found his horse faltering under the ever slipping rocks under their feet.

After Laurelin had guided her own stallion to the clearing, she stood defiantly, looking around for something unseen. She removed her cloak entirely and draped it over the horse’s back as Elrond coaxed his mare to the small, even space of stone.

He dismounted, soothing the frightened creature with hushed words of kindness, and stroked her face for a moment before returning his attention to Laurelin, who by now was scaling the steep incline with much difficulty. She had heard something, or perhaps seen something, that she did not like, and while his senses were far more keen, Laurelin could feel the Darkness with much keener instinct.

It was not long before she disappeared over the ridge of rock and brush entirely, leaving him alone with the two horses. As he spoke soothingly to the two horses, he realized he was also trying to calm himself, for he had a grave and ominous feeling that his companion was in some sort of trouble.

Elrond realized that he was right when he heard the familiar clash of metal against metal, her voice lifted in a sudden cry of attack. He rushed against the steepness of the incline to get to her, by now frenzied with concern. As he drew closer he heard the noise of many others, Laurelin answering their insults with a shout of insolence, impaling any who came too close upon her sword.

When Elrond reached the top of the plateau, he saw her standing alone, breathing with much difficulty. Five lifeless bodies lay at her feet, obvious victims of her bloodlust. They were hideous, deformed creatures, and the fact that they had been slain could only give them solace. Their infantile weapons lay recklessly beside them, never having had the chance to draw their attacker’s blood.

Laurelin staggered for a moment and peered around, her sword still outstretched before her. Her eyes were intently aware of her surroundings, and when he approached, he found himself at the end of her blade. Upon seeing him, she lowered her weapon, but not her guard, and said nothing as she walked along the edge of the raised plateau. Her hair was not so tightly tied behind her now, and was hanging loose around her face, clinging to the newly moistened skin there. The deep blue pits of her eyes darted this way and that, still surveying the land for other enemies. Her tiny lips were parted, and scant, harried breaths escaped over them. Elrond realized that, in the short time it took to hear her cry and scale the hill, she had slain almost a half dozen heavily armed enemies. This puzzled him somewhat, for he only heard a brief clatter of metal against metal before her cry, and then, almost in an instant, there was silence- they had fallen dead before her. What was more, after he briefly examined the corpses, he found that three of them had no evidence of injury upon them. Then, he thought back again. Laurelin had cried out loudly, in a tongue that he did not understand. He was silent as he pondered all of this, and watched the strange woman before him as she wandered this way and that, as a caged animal who wants desperately to be set free, if for no other reason than to kill those who have imprisoned her.

Although he had no idea on the matter, Laurelin knew what had happened.

The vile creatures had come upon her suddenly, and while she knew that she could easily take the ones before her, it was the other three that had left her concerned. No matter how swift her companion may be, she would not take it to chance, and had summoned one of her ancient gifts in desperation upon seeing that she was about to be impaled upon enemy blades. In that instant, the three remaining had found themselves unable to breathe, and before seconds had passed they had choked upon the wrath of Laurelin. It was a quick, unsettling death, for in those remaining moments it was as if all their insides had simply constricted, as a boa would seize it’s prey. It was as if she had stifled their iniquity with nothing but the vengeance in her heart, speaking hateful words of bitterness and death. It was then that she felt a fleeting rush of vindication, but, as always, it did not last long.

Apparently, Laurelin reflected, her inborn, unspoken language was still useful, although it brought great distress upon her fleshly body. It had not been a speech suitable for a creature who was made as such, for within it were intricacies too great to teach, to subtle to be fully understood. She stood for a moment, suddenly overcome with weariness. Without another thought, Laurelin collapsed entirely, the power of her incantation having drained her of strength.

Elrond rushed to her. For an instant, the warrior was still as death, and her eyes did not stir. Then, moments later, the deepening eyes opened. She tried to rise, staggering as she did so. He helped her to her feet, her legs still trembling with weakness. Laurelin lifted her hand to her head for a moment, feeling dizzy and nauseous. She nearly collapsed against him entirely and she felt her legs faltering under her weight. Elrond placed a hand against her waist, still not entirely sure of what had happened.

And then suddenly, as if injected with some miracle elixir, Laurelin’s eyes became wide, and she broke away from his touch. Elrond now wondered if she had been stricken with some sort of madness, for she ran haphazardly upon the ground, coming dangerously close to the other edge of the plateau.

Before he could reach her she had fallen, or rather slid, down the steep incline, feeling the jagged rocks catching the fabric of her clothing, leaving painful, reddened scratches on her skin. She was evidently trying to get somewhere, but to what he did not know.

He had scarcely made it to the edge of the incline when he saw her stumbling to her feet, starting off into a run again. He carefully, but swiftly, stepped onto the tiny, shifting rocks, following her footsteps with both curiosity and concern. What was this sudden lunacy? In all of the years he had known her she had always exhibited a trace of eccentricity, her emotions and actions often defying the creature he thought that he knew. But now there was a new oddity within her, and it left her in the shackles of insanity, for he had not known why they should venture here, or what had happened when they arrived.

He watched her as she disappeared into a small wooded area, hearing the twigs and leaves snapping with every hastened step.

When he reached the solid, grassy ground below, she emerged again, a look of horror upon her face. Elrond ran to meet her, but nothing, not even the firmness of his grasp, could break her from this strange enchantment, for she simply allowed her sleeve to rip as she walked past him, eyes blank and staring. Her face was pale, and she walked without aim, her tiny hands now dirty, clutching something within their grasp.

He turned to watch her, mouth gaping with utter confusion. His eyes were wide and darkened as he looked over his shoulder in the direction of the woods, from where she had just emerged.

He could see that there had been a small dwelling there, but it had long since been consumed with fire. Ashes littered the grass and leaves, creating an eerie grey cast over the greenery. Away from the ashes there was a large stone, and it was turned upward, revealing rich, brown earth underneath. It seemed that there had been a small hole there, for the soil was disturbed. He then remembered her hands, and recalled they were quite filthy, clutching something precious within their grasp.

Elrond looked up and saw Laurelin sitting quietly under a tree not far away. He had not seen that she collapsed, her heart torn with a silent, bitter mournfulness. He had not known that a dream many, many years before had forewarned her of this day. Her head hung low against her knees, her tiny hand against the earth, holding their parcel with severity and despair. She slowly raised her head, forgetting all of her pride, remembering all of her humility.

When Elrond next looked upon her face, her hands were trembling and her eyes were wide with disbelief. She held several small papers in her hands, and these she apparently held more valuable than any stone in all the world.

After a moment, she held the letters before him, bidding him to take them. Elrond looked at them quizzically, but took them from her hands, and heard her voice breaking as she spoke,

"you must read these, for I cannot, and am afraid of what I would discover."

He was surprised to see that the letters were written in an older, almost elvish tongue, and he read them quickly, feeling uncomfortable because they were written solely to Laurelin. But the letters called her by another name, Malinalda, and they reflected much tenderness and adoration.

From what he gathered, this had been the realm of some strange creature, and she was one with whom Laurelin had made a close and loving acquaintance. The woman wrote to Laurelin as if Laurelin were her child, and the words were haunting, but filled with affection. The last that he read was a letter of good-bye, for her home had been discovered by those that hunted her ethereal daughter, and it would appear that she had taken her own life so that Laurelin’s secrets, her treasures, would remain well kept and well hidden.

Although he did not know what or who this creature was, his heart broke as he read the letters, for they spoke of both women’s heartbreaks and dreams. Laurelin could tell by her friend’s furrowed brow that her fears were affirmed, and she lowered her head again, this time, feeling the sting of impending tears. The feeling made her crinkle her nose slightly, as if physically burdened by the need to show her emotional pain. Laurelin was cold, so very cold, and numb with the fledgling palpitations of denial and anguish. She had felt grief before, and had mourned many along her way, but this...this was something unknown, that she had not experienced. Her mind fleetingly reflected to the little cottage of Tharamir’s daughter, and how she had grieved when he died. While Laurelin had felt great pain, and discomfort, she had not imagined the torment lurking within his daughter’s heart. She thought she had a better idea now, and squeezed her eyes shut, as if trying to put the image out of her mind.

Elrond stood there for a moment, silent with uncertainty, clutching the letters in his hand. The wind had risen slightly and the sun disappeared, leaving a chill within the air.

Laurelin looked mournfully toward the forgotten home of the woman she had loved. She remembered all the times she had spent here, never staying long, always wanting to pull away and be free. Laurelin always knew that she had loved her, but it was only now, in the wake of her eternal absence, that she truly realized how deeply she would be missed.

The warmth of her friend’s near maternal love had shielded her from the storm of life many times, and when she had needed protection, Laurelin had not been there. She heard her voice laughing languidly, as she had many times before upon these very lands, within the corners of her mind. But now, the forest would be silent, and no bird would sing, and no breeze would blow, to reflect the mirth within her teacher’s spirit.

Laurelin had promised she would be there, to whatever end. But she had failed. In the end, all of her promises, all of her good intentions, had been meaningless, and she had nothing but these precious letters to remind her of the unconditional love that she had known. In the end, she had failed the one that had loved her more than her own life, the one who had sheltered her and taught her all that she had learned, and at that very moment, Laurelin wished that she had never been made as flesh. Laurelin felt that she had been a blight on the land and a curse on the lives that lived upon it, and, for a brief instant, pondered taking her own sword and driving it through her heart.

Elrond was concerned, for she was deeper in thought than he had ever seen, and her long hair, although pulled away from her face, allowed looser strands to fall freely over her eyes. Seeing her distress, he knelt, speaking to her softly,

"Ornemalin, you should read this..."

His voice was low and grave, and as she looked into his eyes, he knew that she already understood. She took the letters and began to read, but did not finish the first page before he saw her eyes glistening with tears. Try as she may to maintain composure, Laurelin lowered her head mournfully, weeping with a bitterness that he had never seen from her before. She clutched the letters to her chest, letting her tears fall onto them as she read. He watched her brows knit together as she tilted her head this way and that, obviously moved by the words from her teacher’s heart. It was too much for her, and the grief was far too new, but Laurelin silently read them page by page, her tears falling as great drops of rain.

After she had finished, and had long since given up on the pretense of composure, Laurelin felt a hand upon her head, stroking her hair with soft, soothing caresses. It gently trailed to her face,

wiping the tears from one cheek, and then the other. She had not realized he that he still knelt beside her, but felt a new wave of sadness under the gentleness of his touch. When he brought his shoulder to meet her cheek, she collapsed against him openly, desperately wanting to feel comfort and consolation. But it was not his comfort that she longed for. She could feel her teacher’s touch as one hand stroked the back of her head and her neck, while the other rested firmly against her back. Laurelin felt weak with guilt and disbelief, for while she had known that he would find her, she had always vowed to be there when the time came, so that she would not have been alone.

"I could have saved her...I could have done so much more...but I-" Laurelin stammered, her eyes staring blankly into the sky. "I should have been here, and I could have been here..." she trailed off, not knowing what else to say, for her voice was heavy with shame.

"Do not say these things," Elrond said, silencing her with the firmness in his voice. "We all have a path to follow, and if we find one that we love, that loves us, we have been blessed, regardless of the length of time we have with them."

He paused for a moment, feeling her sobbing subside. "They also have a separate, distinct path, one that is all their own. You cannot alter that, ornemalin. You know this."

Laurelin weakly looked at him and sat back, pulling away.

"I know this. But I feel it was her path that was altered, for if she had not found me, perhaps her journey would continue, yet."

She exhaled sharply and then began again, looking at him through teary eyes,

"I once said I have no kin. And, I suppose that is true now, but it was not when she drew breath. She loved me, and I will never find such acceptance again. I will never find someone who knows all my faults, all my transgressions, and love me, despite of that."

She turned her head away, shamed that she had spoken so openly of her feelings. It was then that she felt his hand again upon her cheek, this time turning her face to look at him. Then he spoke lowly, almost enchantingly, in disbelief,

"How can you say this? Have I not waited for you to return, even after all these years? Did I not openly embrace you into my domain, so that you could feel the security that I know your heart desires?"

Her breathing stopped entirely as he spoke, for it seemed that he were on the verge of saying something else entirely, but his voice ceased to speak and, instead of words, he pulled her to him once again, placing a kiss upon her forehead. His lips lingered there for what seemed an eternity, and Laurelin felt dizzy as she leaned against him, intoxicated by the gentleness of his embrace.

Her weeping had lulled her into an exhaustion beyond anything she had known before, but Elrond did not move as she leaned against him, falling into the depths of her nightmarish stupor.

She stayed motionless throughout the night, and Elrond did not close his eyes, for he kept watch over her, even when the stars began to trail across the sky.

When morning came, Laurelin was horrified to see that she had fallen against him so. The clouds were heavy, and threatened rain, and she shamefully wiped her face with the back of her hand. As she pulled away from him, and he found she was awake, he said nothing, only letting his fingertips brush the length of her arm as she stood on trembling legs.

Once she had gathered herself and the things that she came for, Laurelin wished to leave. It was only then that he noticed she also had retrieved a small bag, it’s leather browned with time and cold earth. As they walked to their horses, she opened it slightly, feeling her eyes well up with tears. He could see that the bag held some small, precious gems, and was again left stricken with wonder.

The journey that he had taken with her left him exhausted and dazed, for his mind raced to make sense of everything that had happened in so short a time. The boundlessness of Laurelin’s courage and the timelessness of her wisdom enchanted him, just as she had used her enchantment against the intruders that had attacked her. She was privy to all sorts of secret and forbidden knowledge, using it sparingly, as a miser may use his fortune. Yet, despite this ancient, inborn power, she remained insecure and shy, like a child. Laurelin was a walking conundrum, forever taunting him with the endless puzzle that was her spirit, imploring him to solve, but never giving all of the needed pieces.

He pondered the little bag that sat at her hip, now safely hidden in the confines of her newly donned cloak. They must have great worth, for even he had seen little of them in all his days.

As if reading his mind, Laurelin said suddenly, mounting her horse with great finality,

"Such things mean nothing to me, for I have lost the most precious thing that rested in this place."

He understood the meaning of her words and mounted his own horse, following her closely, as they ventured back to Imladris.