Previously...

She grinned ear to ear, a slight blush appearing on her cheeks. She opened her mouth to continue but was interrupted when the door to my room was shoved open, revealing a rather worn out looking Aragorn.

"What is it Estel? What has you so flustered?" I gently rose from my bed, Bellethiel lowering her head for respect to my guest.

"It's Gandalf, he has returned!"

I only stood still long enough to listen to what Estel said before I practically flew from my room, my robes flowing behind me. I ran down the steps of the great hall before I came face to face with the old man himself. His gray beard looked a bit longer than I remembered, but his eyes still showed that mischievous, grandfatherly wisdom. He had a cut or two on his wrinkled face, and his clothes looked a little tattered, but he was here. That was all that mattered.

"Gandalf, you look…what in Arda has happened?" I gently embraced him while giving Elrond an uncertain look. His eyes held an unknown emotion in them, but I decided to question it later.

"I had meant to meet the Hobbits in Bree, but I was delayed. We have been betrayed by Saruman. Why are you here, Randiriel? It is unusual to find you here at this time of the year," his gray eyes studied me very carefully, almost as if he were looking for something odd. I stiffened slightly at this, but regardless, I allowed him his curiosity.

"Irmo warned me of what was to come, or at least, a clue to it. I set out to Bree, and outside the village I found Estel. We both found four Hobbits in our path. From there we traveled upon Weathertop," I hesitated with the next part, knowing Gandalf would be worried. "Aragorn and I were searching the area and came upon five of the Ringwraiths. Frodo was the only one harmed, one of the blades stabbed him. I believe Elrond can tell you the rest." At the mention of the four Hobbits instead of only two, Gandalf looked confused. Confusion turned into worry, anguish and guilt at the mention of Frodo's injury. Elrond lay a hand on his shoulder as a gesture of comfort. This would be a long, long evening.

Arwen lay her head on my lap absently as I stared into nothing, my mind reeling with so many thoughts at once. We were both in the garden, the branches of trees covering us from the night sky. Saruman had kept Gandalf as a sort of hostage; it is worrying, but I am not entirely surprised. The White Wizard had always made me uncomfortable with his conflicting thoughts. Arwen was worried for what would happen to Aragorn, if he would stay with her or leave for a possible battle. There was talk among the Elves that a meeting of sorts with the different races of Middle Earth was to take place here, and several of them were busy trying to prepare for the coming of so many people.

"What do you think of all this chaos? It was peaceful, quiet. The world was tranquil for the longest time; why must things begin to turn sour?" Her voice was quiet, flowing softly like the calm breeze. I looked up through the thick branches to catch a glimpse of the bright stars this night. She had a point, why now? Why would the world turn so dark, so cruel after such a long time of peace? I knew not how to answer her, I only nodded in understanding of her question.

"Perhaps we would be better off resting, give our minds time to let the situation sink in. Maybe then we will have a better understanding of what is to come in the future." My voice wavered for a moment, my eyes still on the sky. She raised her head, her eyes slightly glazed. I laughed as I steadied her while she stood and walked her to her chamber. From there her handmaiden helped her and I was left to walk alone. My mind was far too active for rest.

I strolled the empty halls for the longest time, randomly choosing paths to stumble upon. When the time came to lift my hood again as the dawn broke the dark sky, the sound of hooves approaching quickly caught my attention. I quickly sprinted to the entrance to find a few new Elves dismounting their horses. A particularly tall, lean Elf standing next to a tired looking mare drew my attention from the others. His blond hair was held back by an intricate braid, two daggers strapped to his back along with a sheath of arrows and a well-used bow. Part of his figure was hidden behind a slightly gray cloak. When he turned to take in his surroundings, I realized who he was. His milky, pale white skin, his sharp nose and ridged jaw, his intelligent blue eyes, the authority his aura held. No doubt, he was the son of Thranduil, Elven King of Mirkwood. I remember Thranduil from the Battle of Dagorlad, that dark time around the end of the Second Age. The same battle Oropher, Thranduil's father, had been slain in. It was a gruesome sight, the entire battlefield drowning in red and black blood. It was a difficult time for the young Elf, as he struggled to return with only a third of his original army to a kingdom now entitled to him. He was cunning and intelligent, yes, but still so young to rule a kingdom. He eventually would be able to rule his kingdom with the strong conviction a king should possess to protect his people. I had helped Thranduil through the battle numerous times, and again when he was travelling home. He had welcomed me as his gracious guest, Greenwood becoming my second home. I had visited often, staying for decades at a time in the enchanting woods. Only when it was necessary for me to leave did I break away from the incredible forest. Yes, I remembered Greenwood as clear as day, and seeing Thranduil's son now brought back such joyful memories. I knew that Thranduil had married, and shortly after his son was born his wife left to answer the call of the sea, but I had never met the famed prince. It has been years since I visited what is now Mirkwood.

A large hand on my shoulder startled me, instantaneously breaking me from my long memories. Lindir looked at me with a smirk and raised eyebrow decorating his face. I drew my gaze away from him and back to the new Elves, Elrond now greeting them and throwing a sly glance in my direction. I shook my head to rid me of any lingering thoughts about the newcomers, bumping into Lindir good naturedly while doing so. He gave a soft laugh before walking over to accompany Elrond. Like bells stirred by the wind, I heard a graceful, hearty laugh. Briefly, I turned back to see what was happening and caught the prince's eyes. They held a certain mirth, their deep blue gaze never wavering contact. I only looked for a second more before I hastily turned away and glided down the stairs, my thoughts on the solitude of the garden. Bright light from the morning sun now streaked across the sky, though a shadow passed over the ground. It seemed the black hawk followed me. He had a single white feather and piercing black eyes. A friend of old had given the bird to me on one of my birthdays, though I have forgotten what his name means. "Dracon," I called out to him, raising my arm to allow him to perch. In doing so, the sleeve of my tunic fell to my elbow, exposing my skin to the light.

Pain. My skin burned, flesh melted. Blisters bubbled as muscle and bone became exposed to the cool morning air. I clutched my forearm as I crumpled to the ground, dragging myself to the shadows of a thick tree, hissing from the pain. Dracon perched on a low branch next to me, cooing softly. I looked down at my arm and watched the flesh mend together, covering what had been exposed from the light. I gritted my teeth as the last of the blood soaked back into my skin. I slowly stood, lightheaded from the encounter with the damn sunlight. Dracon softly glided to my shoulder, nuzzling my cheek for comfort. Stumbling away from the gardens, my head throbbing with every step I took. Reaching the entrance to the main hallway, I leaned on a close pillar for support, throwing Dracon off. Elves from across the hall approached me slowly, as to not cause me any more distress.

"Hiril vuin, prestad?" A younger elf maiden called out lowly. Heat swelled up inside of me, a rather uncomfortable feeling. I needed the cool, the dark, the quiet. My back slid down the marble pillar until I was sitting on the floor. My breathing was coming out in rapid, uneven breaths. I needed to cool down, I needed someplace with little sunlight, but I was weak, vulnerable. My skin was still burning from the earlier contact. Jaw locked, I stiffly nodded and extended my arm, hoping someone would help me stand.

"Randiriel, man cerig?" Elrond's voice echoed in the hall. All the other Elves made way for the Lord of Imladris, along with a specific prince whom I had been enthralled with earlier. Elrond knelt next to me, gently slinging my arm around his neck to support me. Standing up was slow, dizzy and tiring. My legs were shaky and my head rolled around lazily. My hood fell from its position and the sunlight hit the back of my head. I bit my lip hard and whimpered loudly, trying hard and failing to show any strength. My vision went blurry. Pain erupted throughout my skull, the bone throbbing, cracking, making me groan. I heard someone hurriedly yell to cover my head, but the voice was considerably muffled.

"Prestad?" An unfamiliar voice was clear amongst the chaos, its sound so calm. I relished in the feeling of it, almost like a cool, deep calm casting over me. I found it to be utterly soothing; I opened my tightly shut eyes and I was focused on the lone prince himself. His forehead was wrinkled with confusion and worry, his stance stiff. Elrond's voice was still muffled, but I could tell he was telling him a simple version of what my condition was. We began moving at a slow pace towards my rooms, Elrond speaking softly trying to reassure me that I would be fine. I could only groan in response, my pain slowly fading, but all the same still burning. I heard the rustle of fabric being shed from my body, being torn and thrown carelessly to the floor. I felt the cool, silky sheets underneath my aching body, and then nothing.

Dracon. His cooing softly woke me, his beak gently rubbing against my cheek. My eyes immediately locked on Aragorn sitting quietly at my table, his eyes drawn to the lit hearth. My cloak hung absently on the back of the ornate chair across from him. I gave a deep sigh, my head still aching. Aragorn's gaze was drawn to me in an instant, his rising figure quickly approaching me and soon right next to my bedside.

"Randiriel are you alright? I heard from Elrond that you…" his voice trailed off, his eyes looking tired. "What were you thinking? You knew the sun would be rising not long after you left the garden. Why did you not have your hood secured?"

"Estel," my voice cracked, but I continued nonetheless. "I did have my hood up thank you very much. I just was not expecting Dracon to arrive today. My sleeve slid down when I raised my arm for him to perch. The action was the first exposure to my hell. I was too weak to secure it after collapsing by the pillar. I still need to know why Dracon is here so early, I was not expecting him to arrive for another few days. As for my wandering, I could not rest. My mind had too many things to absorb in such a short amount of time. Surely you understand that more than anyone Estel?" My voice wavered as my head throbbed, but the pain was significantly less, thankfully.

"Well…rest for now. There is a meeting with the other races, as you have probably heard about. It should take place either tomorrow or the following day. I have a feeling you will want to be a part of it." He sighed slightly before standing to take his leave. I thought about his interpretation about my situation and it made me rethink my actions. Perhaps I should have been more careful with my ambling. It seems for too long I have wandered in the shadows; long have I forgotten the effects of my condition. Looking to my left, I notice a bouquet of flowers, a single peony among many irises and magnolias. Glorfindel must have heard of my incident then. My thoughts were interrupted with the sound of a knock on the door.

"Enter," I mumbled. I did not have to wonder who it was. What energy I still had I mustered for my guest. He obliged, quietly slipping into my room and securing the lock on the door. "What can I do for you Glorfindel?"

Hiril vuin, prestad? - My lady, is there trouble? (Literal: Beloved lady, trouble?)

Randiriel, man cerig? - Randiriel, what are you doing? (Literal: what are [familiar] you doing?)