Untold Tales of MiddleEarth Chapter 1, a lord of the rings fanfic

Disclaimer: Sadly I don't own Lord of the Rings, so anything that Tolkien owns I don't. Also the first few chapters, sans the prologue were inspired by the first few chapters of Melika's story, A True Fellowship, so I don't own the basic structure of some parts.

Author's Note: Hi guys. Man, I keep getting side tracked from my other two stories. I was suddenly inspired last night, at midnight, no less, to write this. I've been meaning to write something like this after I read A True Fellowship by Melika (go read it! It's really good, although I am sorry to say I have yet to finish it). The section after the prologue is highly inspired by the first couple of chapters of that story (go read it already, you know you want to!), and then it will branch off into my own, hopefully original plot. Also, elvish translations are at the bottom. There are a few pictures on my profile, and if you see any that match my descriptions please send them to me!

For those of you who haven't read the books, Thorongil is a name that Aragorn used while serving under Thengal, king of Rohan, and Ecthelion II, steward of Gondor, from about 2957-2980 I believe.

I hope you enjoy!

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Prologue:

Two horses were slowed to a walk as they approached the River Hoarwell. Their keen-eyed masters had seen something glinting in the swift water and had planned on discovering the source. The pair of riders agilely leapt from the backs of their steeds before approaching the rushing river with silent steps.

"Tiro!" One of the two exclaimed, pointing into the river, the other muttered an oath in the same tongue, a language too eloquent for such words, before jumping into the shallow water and wading towards the cause of the sparkling reflection of sunlight. His companion waited tersely on the riverbank as he untangled the shimmering mass from the grasp of a willow's roots and hauled the limp body onto the shore. Identical sets of grey eyes stared at the unmoving woman below them before one of the two hastily began removing the shining armor that had attracted their attention in the first place.

"It's mithril," The one said as he laid one of the larger pieces on the ground.

"I've never seen anything like it," The other commented quietly, examining the decorated plating briefly, before kneeling and checking her pulse. "She's alive, but barely, we need to get her to Imladris."

He worriedly moved some of her dark hair off her face. Even in such a state, the mysterious woman was strikingly beautiful. Her skin held a sickly pallor that made her long, waterlogged hair stand out starkly against it. She had high cheekbones, finely arched eyebrows, and slightly full lips that had begun to turn blue from the frigid mountain water. Black, blue, and green bruises marred her flesh where it was visible beneath her garments.

"I agree," The first rider said before pausing in his removal of her stranger armor. "She has a serious abdominal wound, I do not think it was caused by a normal blade."

As he finished removing the last of the armor, the woman suddenly started awake, grabbing his arm in a bruising grip.

"Nanie? Escala rinea manthose? Ave soir!" Her voice was hoarse with misuse and the words sounded like utter nonsense to the two riders who stared at her in astonishment.

"Ú-chenion. Man pennich?" The figure to her left spoke in a tongue foreign to her.

Her feverish blue-grey eyes swept back and fort between the two before she swayed and fell backward; she was caught by the rider to her right as she descended towards the ground.

The first rider picked her up and was surprised by how light she was, even so drenched in water.

"What is she?" the other asked, standing and moving alongside his companion. "She is not Elven-kind, neither is she of man." He moved some of her hair behind her ears, revealing delicate points, similar to elf ears but different.

"She is one of the Fae!"

Year 2969, the Third Age (50 years prior to the journey of the fellowship)

Ecthelion II, Steward of Gondor, along with 30 Gondorian soldiers, and the captain, Thorongil, as well as the grey wizard, Gandalf, rode deep into the Forest of Mysts to have council with the inhabitants. Ecthelion, being a man of wisdom, sought to strengthen his land against the ever-dwelling threat of Mordor by forming an alliance with the powerful creatures of the woods, the Fae, or Faeries.

Thorongil rode beside the Steward, his appearance was relaxed, but a well-trained eye could see the tenseness in his back, and the firm grip he kept on his blade. The aged man beside him looked neither left nor right as he confidently guided his steed through the trees. Behind the two leaders, the Gondorian soldiers were neither as calm nor as adept at hiding their unease. Their frightened whispers reached the men and front, but still they marched on and on through the murky woods.

More than an hour had gone by since the company had first passed into the unnaturally quiet forest. As far back as any one could remember it had been tradition that no man entered the wood on the Northern border of Mordor, yet here they were, walking long unused paths, breaking the thick silence with the stamping of their horses' hooves and the frequent whispers of the frightened men.

"They will be able to hear us long before we are within their borders." Thorongil muttered, refraining from casting a look back at the soldiers.

Ecthelion glanced over at his favorite captain and smiled a wry grin. "Yes my friend, but it cannot be helped. Are we not already on their lands?"

"Nay, my lord. This forest is a neutral land, a protective border. Their lands lie beyond the shadows of this forest, we will know when we reach them." Gandalf's reply to the Steward caused raised eyebrows amongst those who heard him, but Thorongil merely shook his head, muttering something about old men and riddles under his breath.

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True to Gandalf's words, the men knew when they had reached the lands of the Fae. The heat was the first thing they noticed. It was not the dry heat of the plains, but more like the heat of the coast, muggy and so humid you could almost taste it. The fog that gave the Forest of Mysts its name vanished as soon as they entered the alien realm, instead of receding gradually like it would have normally. On either side of the path the forest had become a lush, tangled jungle. Gigantic leaves reached into the open area, saturated with water. The place appeared to be steaming, the air itself was wet; sweat soon appeared on the bodies of the Gondorians, and they took to frequently wiping their faces to alleviate the dripping liquid.

Strange animal sounds could be heard in the surrounding greenery; unfamiliar bird calls, the occasional growl, followed by a shriek of some unfortunate prey, and the buzzing of large insects. Brightly colored flowers, with heads larger than the soldiers silver helms, perfumed the air with almost sickly sweet scents. The sky could not be seen through the overgrown plant life, towering trees and bushes formed a solid canopy overhead while thick vines hung down into the path.

"Mithrandir!" Ecthelion called out to the wizard. The grey clothed old man whispered a few words to his magnificent bearer, Shadowfax, Lord of all Horses, and the brilliantly white Meara slowed so that the Steward's horse could walk alongside.

"Tell me about the Fae." The Steward requested as they continued through the suffocating jungle.

Gandalf waited until Thorongil had come up on his other side before complying with the Steward's command.

"I suppose, if you were to compare them to the other races of Middle-Earth, the Fae are most like the elves, in both appearance and longetivity, but I would advise against mentioning such a comparison to either party."

"Why would it be so unwise Mithrandir?" Ecthelion asked, looking over at the wizard in confusion.

"The Fae hold no love for elves, and the elves hold no love for faeries. It is as simple as that."

"But Mithrandir," Thorongil cut in, "If the two races are so similar, how could they hate each other?"

"The similarity generally ends with the appearance and the length of life, other than that they are completely different, my young friend. Perhaps it is because of the similarities; perhaps it is because of the vast differences. I have never asked, as it has always seemed a delicate subject.
Faeries, like any other people, find faults in all the other races, and things to respect in other races. Like the elves, they do not have faith in men, seeing their short lives as fragile and seeing the race, as a whole, as weak."

"Because of Isildur?" Thorongil interrupted again, sounding slightly bitter.

"Perhaps, perhaps not. Do not forget that it has been more than an age since Faeries have had contact with men; perhaps you will be able to change their opinion. Now, where was I? Oh, yes! Like the elves, faeries share a natural dislike for dwarves, however, unlike the elves, the faeries have no quarrel with them and have been known to have dealings with them in the past. Though faeries have excellent craftsmen, no one can work with metal and jewels like the dwarves."

"But Gandalf, where would the get ore and uncut gems in a place like this?" The aged Gondorian Steward asked, wiping his brow.

The grey wizard laughed before answering. "Surely you did not think all the Fae lands were like this? No, no, my friend. This is the province of Jakarta (Ja-car-ta). There are 9 provinces, each with their own unique climate and land-type, and all are ruled by a Tenth City, deep in the center of the realm. We will be traveling to Silvana (Sil-von-a), it is much like the woods of Ithilien."

"So where do they do their mining?"

"The mining country is two provinces over, a place called Loew (Lo). The entire land is made up of mountains, rich in gemstones and mithril. Enough to make a dwarf weep"

The three chuckled at that.

"Do the faeries not like any of the other races?"

"I believe they would like hobbits, half-lings, if they ever had the chance to meet one." Gandalf said after a moments thought. "A young hobbit's nature is much like that of most faeries'."

The men kept on for the next few hours, Ecthelion posing more questions about the faeries, and Gandalf answering in turn. They had been discussing the aging process when they reached the border of Jakarta and Silvana.

"Gandalf, explain to me how fairies age."

"As I said before, faeries, like elves, are immortal, so to speak. If nothing dire befalls them, such as an accident, or a fatal wound, they will live for eternity. However, like elves, they can essentially 'fade' from sorrow and heartbreak.
When a faerie is born he or she grows at a much slower rate than a human child, retaining the look and capabilities of a babe for more than twice as long. Also, the carrying of a child is longer, and, like elves, there are very few true faerie children. The growth process is slightly difficult to explain, as all faeries grow at a different rate, but by the time they reach 100 most have the look of a young child."

"A hundred!" Ecthelion exclaimed in shock. "They look like a young child at 100?"

"Yes, a rather long childhood isn't it? After that they generally grow 1 human year, in appearance, for every century."

"So you're saying, that if I see a lad of about 10 years of age, he's actually around 1,000?"

"Correct, though remember, Fae years are a different length from the rest of Arda. As I was saying, when a faerie reaches maturity, generally at about 2,000 years old, sometimes younger, sometimes older, they essentially stop growing physically. This is one reason they are called 'Averatos Sinue', 'Forever Young'. Ah! Here we are."

They had reached what was obviously a distinctive border. On their side of a small stream it was still a steamy jungle, on the other side a forest, very similar, as Gandalf had said, to Ithilien.

Gandalf led the way across the brook, followed closely by Ecthelion and Thorongil. As his horse scrambled up the slope on the other side, the Steward threw his head back, relishing the sudden, wafting breeze. The slight wisp of wind was a relief after the humid jungle of Jakarta. Behind the Steward and his companions, the soldiers could be heard expressing their relief.

A sudden noise from a group of trees on the left, something that sounded suspiciously like a giggle, caused the captain to whip his head around, searching for the source.

"Don't worry my friend," Gandalf's slightly amused voice broke his concentration. "They have been following us for quite some time."

Thorongil raised an eyebrow. They must be very stealthy, to have escaped his notice. Then again, this was their territory.

"How much farther till our destination?"

"We will reach the city of Cassilenne (Kas-ill-in) before dark."

They set out again, this time Thorongil would every so often see a flitting shadow amongst the trees on either side of the path.

Their surroundings looked more natural, and yet they were still different than anything any of them had ever seen before. The wood felt old, and though the air was clear and not musty, there was a feel of closeness. The grass was green and lush beneath their feet, cushiony, with a layer of moss underneath. The trees towered far above their heads, filled with tiny blossoms of all different shades of orange, yellow, and red. The leaves also were the color of autumn, yet there were none on the ground. It was almost as if time had been frozen at the peak of the turning foliage.

"I've never seen leaves so vibrant!" The Steward exclaimed as he stared up at the brilliant canopy.

"You could say that Silvana is the land of eternal autumn," The grey wizard mused in response. "The leaves and flowers are always these colors. Once a year, during our spring, all of the trees drop their foliage and blossoms at once, and the ground is covered in a blanket of red, orange, and yellow while new buds burst into bloom in the trees. The petals have been known to fall for days, causing a beautiful, colorful rain. The faeries that live in this province gather during that time for a festival called the Ravinae l'Areon, it has no direct translation, but it essentially means Celebration of the Fireflowers. There is lots of dancing and singing; they also serve a rather interesting drink called Areona, which is made from the nectar of the flowers."

"Interesting in what way Gandalf?" Thorongil asked, a crafty grin on his face.

"Just, interesting, exactly what it sounds like." The old wizard seemed a bit reluctant to answer.

The sun was just beginning to set when suddenly the path before them widened considerably, becoming a road large enough to be comfortably occupied by a wagon or four horses moving alongside of each other.

The sunset was far more spectacular than any the Steward and captain had ever seen before; the colors seemed to flare out across the sky, far richer colors than the same sun had ever cast over Gondor.

Gandalf let them admire the blazing sky a moment before turning to the Steward.

"Would you be kind enough to have your men ride two-by-two?"

"Of course, but is there any particular reason? The road is plenty wide now."

"Yes, but we are not the only ones arriving for the council."

Ecthelion turned to one of his captains who was riding behind them and passed on Gandalf's orders. Not five minutes after the last men were in line, the unmistakable sound of several horses heading towards them from behind could be heard. Gandalf nodded at the Steward to halt the company, and he did so, turning in his saddle to watch for the unidentified riders to come into view.

Three horses suddenly sped around the bend in the path, one in front with two riding behind. The trio slowed to a measured trot as they drew nearer to the Gondorian company, this allowed Ecthelion and Thorongil to get a good look at their first faeries.

The figure in front was a woman, her skin a startling white that could have rivaled snow. In contrast her waist-long hair was raven-black; part of it was bound in intricate braids while the rest was allowed to flow freely down her back. Entwined within her dark tresses was a tiara of mithril, curving down to rest upon her brow and ending in the middle of her forehead with a dark red gemstone. Her eyes were dark and calculating, sizing up the men as she drew nearer. The clothes she wore seemed more suited for a colder climate; her long cape was made from the pelts of several animals, perhaps wolves or some sort of long haired deer, the clothes that were visible underneath the fur were a deep reddish brown color, embroidered with golden thread, and a thick leather belt, embossed with green, around her slim waist.

The horse she rode looked more like a warhorse than a palfrey*. It was a great black beast, with a gracefully arched neck and feathers** around its fetlocks. A decorative bridle was on its head, but there was no bit, instead the reins were connected to metal rings on the headpiece, and it didn't look as though she was using them. A light saddle, also seeming to be more decoration than useful, was on its broad back, barely visible beneath her thick skirts.

The two faeries behind her, another female and a male, were dressed in similar color and style. Theirs capes were quite a bit shorter and their clothes less embellished. Shockingly, to the Gondorians, both the male and the female were dressed in a cream undershirt, topped with a short russet tunic and wide leather belt, and, completing the outfit, dark brown pants and black riding boots. The female had long dark brown hair, while the male's blond locks had been trimmed short, ending around his pointed ears. Like the lady, both had unnaturally pale skin and astute, dark eyes.

The female's steed was dark bay with a blaze running down its noble face. It was of slighter stature than the lady's, but still put the Gondorian horses to shame. The male's was palomino in coloring, a little larger than his counterpart's. Their horses also had light equipment that seemed to have no purpose other than decoration.

Both carried identical banners, steaming behind them: a white background with a strange red symbol within a black circle, and red and green flowers woven along a crisscross of gold for a border.

"Lady Eirlys***, princess of Gaenor . As this realm is always autumn, hers is always winter."

The lady had nearly reached the head of the company, completely ignoring the blatant stares she was receiving from the men. As she passed Gandalf she met his eyes and gave him a respectful nod, which he returned, ignoring the raised eyebrows of his companions.

The company stood there for a moment as the beats of the three horses faded into the distance. The initial spell that the three figures had woven over the Gondorian expired after they were out of sight.

"Well, that was most, interesting. Do they all look like that?" Ecthelion managed to ask as they set off once more.

"Each province generally has their own specific features, though there are exceptions. Since it is so cold in Gaenor, the people there are almost always completely covered when they venture outside, therefore they are extremely pale."

Once again approaching horses interrupted their conversation. This time the men were a bit more prepared for the small group that preceded towards them, slowing down in the same way as the last three.

Once again a woman led the triad. She had finely chiseled features, and was pale, though not as much as her predecessor. She almost looked as though she had been carved from marble; her blue eyes were cold as stone as she observed the men in front of her. Her long hair was pale blond and was tied into one long braid, with several tendrils framing her face, and wound into it was a tiara identical to Lady Eirlys's in every way, save for the jewel, which was light pink. Instead of clothe raiment; this lady wore a bodice of mithril plating and a matching chain mail skirt with a pair of leather boots to complete the outfit.

The grey horse she rode was far smaller than the large steeds of Gaenor. It was sturdy, though, with strong legs and a well-proportioned body. It looked rather like a larger version of the ponies the dwarves used in the mountains, and was most likely as sure-footed and agile. The trappings that decorated he horse were solid black, with what might have been mithril thread decorating the edges.

The two faeries who followed her were both male this time. They looked as though they were taller than the woman in front of them, but the lady carried herself with higher bearing. Their faces were expressionless as they rode behind their charge, their green eyes never straying from the path ahead. Like the male that had passed before, they too had short hair, one with black, and the other brown. They wore mithril chain mail under their black tunics, and had dark brown leggings and boots.

They rode steeds similar to their lady's, except they were larger to accommodate for their higher stature. The black-haired male rode a chestnut while the other rode a black. While they had the same conceptual design in saddles and headgear, neither of the males' horses had the silver lining that the lady had. It was quite clear who held the higher status.

"Lady Órlaith*, princess of Loew."

She and her small entourage passed by without so much as a glance, urging their horses into a swift canter once more as soon as they had passed.

"Are all of their leaders female?" The Steward asked as they started off again.

"Yes, actually the have a very interesting government structure. Each province is ruled by a princess, and the princesses are in turn ruled by one queen, who resides in the Tenth City. Each ruler is descended through a royal bloodline. When an heir is born, and yes, it is always a girl, the ruling Lady continues to govern until either they are unable to because of something, such as death, or until the heir has reached full maturity, at which time the Lady will be relieved of her duties and her daughter will take them over. This way the same person is not ruling a province for eternity."

"But could they just not have a child?"

"They could, but they would be risking the end to their bloodline, and I can assure you they would not want that."

"I see, please continue."

"Well, the duties of the Lady fall into two positions; one, as a politician, she must govern her people and go to councils, such as this one, and the second position is commander of the army." At Ecthelion's speculative look Gandalf paused in his monologue. "You must not forget, more than half of the Fae soldiers are female. The princess is technically in charge of the army, she leads them into battle and fights along with them, but for situations such as this, and in case she is unable to lead, there is another, a Commander who takes charge for her. The Commanders will be governing each individual province at the moment, in the absence of the true rulers. It is quite a bit more complicated than that, but we would be talking all night if I were to explain it thoroughly."

Yet again approaching hoof beats tore through the comfortable silence that they had settled into.

This time, however, it was only one horse and rider, and they were coming much faster than the others. Unlike the other six, this rider didn't slow down until she had reached the front of the column, where she pulled her horse up so quickly it slid several feet before coming to a standstill.

"Gandalf!" She called out, sounding pleased, as she turned her horse and headed back to where the company was once again halted.

This girl was far different from the others. Her skin was golden brown instead of pale, and her long hair looked like molted gold as it flowed down her back. There were turquoise decorations spread throughout her wild mane of hair, and the same tiara as before dipped down to her forehead, holding a yellow gem in its frame. Her eyes were bright blue and lively, they seemed to be dancing as she gazed fondly at the old wizard.

Her clothing could only be described as scandalous by the Gondorians; she was wearing a sleeveless blue top that was held up by cords winding around her neck, and it got more and more translucent the further down her abdomen it went, finally ending just above her midriff, exposing a few inches of her stomach. Her matching blue skirt hugged her hips, and only went down to right above her knees, showing an unseemly amount of golden skin. Soft leather boots adorned her feet, and matching vambraces protected her arms.

Her horse, also was different than the other previously seen varieties. It was smaller than the Gaenorian horses, but larger in stature than the equines of Loew. It was also sleeker and more delicately built than the others. Its neck was gracefully arched, ending in a dish-shaped face with widespread intelligent eyes. This horse was built for speed and endurance.** It was black in color, which set off the striking turquoise and gold tack and tassels it wore.

"Kilana (Kee-la-na)! My dear child, it warms my heart to see you again!"

"And mine to see you my friend." He smiled at her as she stopped her horse next to Shadowfax.

"Was there something you wanted, or were you just stopping to greet me?"

"Well, actually…"

The wizard sighed.

"What do you want this time Kilana?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any of your fireworks with you?"

As Gandalf began to say 'no', the golden faerie hastily interrupted him.

"I just need a small one! To use for a starter signal!"

"A starter signal for what?" The grey wizard asked, staring at her suspiciously.

"Well, Adraestia and Aerawyn wanted to have a race."

"Again?" Gandalf sighed as he reached into his voluminous pockets.

"Oh you know, sibling rivalry and all." She said good-naturally as she waited for him to retrieve the desired explosive.

"I'm more surprised that you're not back there with them."

She shrugged before replying, her eyes lighting up again when she saw a long, thin rocket in his hand. "Well, they needed a starter, plus I felt no desire to embarrass them in front of the gigans. (Gee-jins)"

"I would think that Cadoc and Grwn would be better suited to these conditions than Agrona."

The faerie didn't reply that time, merely shrugging in response and reaching for the firework. Gandalf however pulled it away from her grasp.

"I will be the one to set it off." He told her firmly as she pouted.

The wizard looked to the Steward, as if waiting for permission, and when he met no resistance he lifted his staff towards the rocket, and with a few well-chosen words sent the missile soaring into the sky, where it exploded minutes later, lighting up the darkening sky with a brilliant display of colored sparks.

Kilana clapped her hands in delight as she stared up the fading lights.

The distant pounding of hooves brought the group's attention back to the two mysterious racers. Suddenly a pair of identical horses swerved around the bend, sharp hooves digging into the soft turf as each rider fought for the lead. They seemed to be flying towards them, running at speeds that were in no way safe with the terrain and lack of light.

As the two horses neared and were passing them, Kilana suddenly shouted at the riders. "Change of rules! First one to Gandalf wins!"

One of the riders exclaimed what was more than likely an oath in the Fae tongue before trying to stop her horse and turn. Thorongil and Ecthelion tensed, their eyes wide as the other horse and rider lost their balance at the sudden turning stop and nearly went crashing into the ground, saved at the last moment by the rider throwing all her weight to the other side. The rider who had cursed was already turned by that time and was charging back towards the wizard and the other faerie. The other recovered and was immediately on the tail of her opponent. Both horses slid to a stop beside Gandalf at almost the same moment, kicking up a spray of dirt as they did so.

"Kilana!" One of the two shouted, whipping her hood off her head as she did so. "Don't do that! You can't change the rules like that when we're about to finish!"

"Why not, in a battle do you think the orcs will play by the rules? We have to always be ready for split second actions and decisions."

"I guess your right." The girl laughed, her smile washing away the angry expression.

"It was rather brilliant of you, Dreya would have beaten me had you not." The other said.

"What are you talking about Wyn, I did beat you."

"I beg to differ." The still hooded girl contradicted as she reached up and pulled the cover from her head.

Thorongil's eyes widened once again. They were exactly alike, mirror images of one another, perhaps even more alike than Elladan and Elrohir, and that was saying something.

Their hair was long and dark, though it was difficult to tell in the lack of light, if it was black or brown. They were not as tan as Kilana, but they were darker than the other faeries. Their eyes were an interesting combination of blue and grey, sometimes more of one, and then suddenly more of the other when you saw them in a different light. The same tiara as the other Ladies graced both their brows, ending in identical dark blue stones.

The twin faeries were dressed far more conservatively than their friend, in fact their garments was considerably similar to the clothing of wood-elves. They were wearing a pale, long-sleeved undershirt with a long, darker-colored tunic over top. In the fading light the colors were a bit difficult to see, but it looked like a smoky-blue color with silver embellishments. Covering their legs were leggings a bit darker than the undershirts, and leather boots that ended a few inches below their knees. Leather vambraces protected their lower arms, and they wore long cloaks on their backs.

The two horses were nearly as identical as their owners, both were golden buckskins with black points on all four legs. They were larger than Kilana's horse, and looked similar to Elvish horses, and Mearas. Unlike Kilana's horse, they were not completely covered in decorative trappings and tassles, rather they bore only simple leather tack.

The three faeires were conversing with Gandalf in hushed tones, using their native tongue either out of preference or to prevent eavesdropping. After a moment the wizard nodded and the three faeries smiled, looking pleased. The immediatly spun their horses around and galloped away, one of the twins raising her hand in farewell as they headed around another turn in the path.

Gandalf watched them fondly as they dissapeared beyond the trees.

"Those were three of my closest friends," He began as they set off once more. "Kilana, the lesser dressed, is the Lady of Ciel (Si-el). It is a desert, which is why she wears such clothing. It is unbearably hot except for a few months out of the year when it rains everyday, if she and her people wore garments like the ones you are used to, the heat would kill them.
The other two, if you hadn't noticed, are twins. Adraestia and Aerawyn of Illyon (Ill-ee-on). They both command their province, one taking solely the diplomatic route, the other the Commander of the army. When Illyon was first established, in the first age, there were also twin ladies, so the second tiara was already crafted for this generation. This is only the second time that there have been twins in a royal bloodline, as it is as rare for faeries to have twins as it is for elves."

As Gandalf finished speaking the rounded the last bend in the path, and were met by a stunning visage.

"Behold! Cassilenne, capital city of Silvana!"

The city was surrounded by a high wall that seemed to be made from intertwined trees. Large orange flowers decorated the grey branches at intervals, and green ivy had crawled up the wall over the years. The gates to the city curved at the top until the reached a bit higher than the walls. These elegant entrances opened slowly, seemingly of their own accord, as the Gondorian company approached.

A lone figure was standing beyond the opening gates. As they neared they saw it was yet another fae woman. She was tall and graceful, with honeyed skin and soft eyes the color of hazel. Her light brown hair fell below her waist, and two strands, one on either side of her face, had been braided and pulled back. Little orange and red flowers were entweined in the braids, and a mithril tiara with an orange stone was wound into the tresses.

She was wearing a orange dress that flowed down to the floor in elegant folds, and trailed behind her several feet. The dress was held up by straps of cloth, several inches wide, which then became a translucent orange material that covered her arms like sleeves, draping past her hands.

"Lady Cerridwyn (Sare-id-win)***, princess of Silvana."

The lady curtsied gracefully when they were within speaking range.

"Greeting and welcome to Cassilenne."

Gandalf smiled at her as he dismounted, signaling for the rest of the men to do the same.

"It is an honor to be here milady."

She nodded her head to him before turning and walking into the city. Gandalf and Shadowfax led the way for the others, passing through the gates and following the princess to the steps of the palace at the center.

Thorongil and Ecthelion stared about them with awe. The city gave off an almost ethereal feeling. Glass lanterns, blown in the shape of flowers, hung from the trees and buildings, creating a purple glow as the light from the orange flames combined with the the blue reflections from the colored glass. The buildings, like the walls, appeared to have been grown from the trees themselves. No one was in sight, but the captain could feel the heat of many eyes gazing at them from the trees. The ground was completely carpeted by a thick growth of moss. The sound of running water could be heard as they approached the palace, and the men were surprised to see a clear, trickle of water running down from a group of trees and into a small pool at their base. It was utterly peaceful, and it brought a sense of calmness to the nervous Gondorians.

The lady paused and turned around as they reached a grand building, far larger and more decorated than any of the others. She looked to Gandalf and began speaking quickly in the Fae tongue, with which he responded.

Gandalf turned to Ecthelion. "The Lady says that your men will be shown to their quarters and the horses wil be taken care of accordingly. You, Thorongil, and myself will be given time to freshen up, and then we shall be joining the esteemed guests at a banquet."

"Very well," the Steward said, passing on the information to one of his captains. "We would be delighted to join you for dinner."

The lady smiled and nodded her head before waving some other faeries over. They seemed to melt out of the trees as they silently approached. They were garbed similarly to the lady, the females in flowing dresses of different colors, though orange was more frequent, and the males were either in long robes or the occasional tunic and leggings. A few of them gestured for the Gondorians to follow them while the others attended to the horses, taking them in another direction.

Gandalf, Ecthelion, and Thorongil followed the lady as she turned and proceeded up the steps. They reached the top after a moment and were guided into the massive building. The palace was open and airy, the winding branches, trunks, and roots that made up the walls allowed a constant breeze to flow through the bulding. More little streams occasionally ran from the roots of one of the trees, pooling into small, carved basins, where some faeries could be seen gathering water.

"Cassillene is filled with underground springs." The Lady stated as she saw what they were looking at. "We have found ways to channel the water to certain areas, such as the guestrooms so that there is always a supply of freshwater at hand."

She led them through countless hallways before stopping in front of a series of doors. "Yours," she waved her hand towards Ecthelion. "is on the right. And yours on the left." This time she gestured towards Thorogil. "You will find that your packs have already been brought in. A servant will come for you when it is time for the banquet to begin. Your usual chamber has been prepared Mithrandir." She curtsied to them once more, and left with Gandalf at her side.

"Well, I suppose we should prepare."

"Yes my lord." So saying, Thorongil entered his room.

The chambers design was the same as the rest of the building, open and airy with a crystalline stream bubbling up from the ground. The bed was a spacey nook in the wall, filled with cushions and pillows as well as a light blanket. There were a few chairs and a table with a bowl of what looked to be fruit sitting by one of the windows, both of which had a roomy window seat. His packs had been placed by an open archway leading to what he assumed were the bath chambers.

Thorongil explored his room a bit more before discarding his cloak and sitting down upon one of the window seats. It reminded him of Rivendell, with its openness, agelessness and simplistic beauty. Orange was apparently Silvana's color as it seemed to be a recurring theme.

He shrugged out of his light armor and decided to put off the inevitable, walking over to one of his packs and rifling through it in search of his finer clothing.

Half an hour later a faint knock was heard at the door.

"Just a moment!" Thorongil called as he quickly surveyed himself in the provided mirror.

His shoulder length dark brown hair was neatly groomed, and his facial hair freshly trimmed. He was wearing a black tunic with the white tree of Gondor on his breast. A light chain mail shirt rested under that, and he wore a fresh pair of leggings and black boots.

Opening the door, he found himself face to face with a faerie woman, and beside her was his Steward. They walked the way to the banquet hall in silence, admiring the Fae palace.

They were joined by Gandalf just as they made it to a large set of doors, and were asked to wait as the faerie woman entered the hall through a side door. Suddenly the doors were opened, and they were once again met by Cerridwyn who waved them forward before addressing the occupants of the banquet hall.

"My honored guests, it is my privilege to introduce our last three arrivals, though one of them is known already. I present to you Lord Ecthelion, Steward of Gondor, and his captain, Lord Thorongil, as well as our dear friend, Mithrandir!"

The faeries who were seated at the tables looked up in interest at the new comers. Cerridwyn gracefully showed them to their places at the nearest table before returning to her own place at the table across from them. The tables had been arranged in a square so that talking between them would be easier, and so that everyone could see everyone else. Lady Eirlys and Lady Órlaith were seated at the table to their left. Between them was another lady. She had dark olive skin, even darker than Kilana's. Her hair was dark and cut short, falling to her shoulder blades. It had been pulled back into twin braids and was bound with leather and beads, and was decorated with feathers. A mithril crown with a purple gem stood out starkly against her dark coloring.

Her clothes seemed to be made of animal skins; a cape from the hide of some sort of spotted animal, and a short top was visible, similar to Kilana's except that it was made from skin and had short sleeves at the top. Underneath the table her pants were visible. They were made from the same material as her top and fell to mid-calf. Her shoes were moccasins and were decorated by beading and more feathers.

"Lady Akeisha (A-kee-sha), princess of Jakarta." Gandalf told them as he saw where they were looking.

On the other side of Lady Órlaith sat another. She had long flaming red hair that fell like waves down her back. It was unbound, saving for a few locks that were wound into her tiara, which held a blue-green jewel. Her skin was pale, but not overly so, and she had a dusting a freckles across her face, giving her a youthful look. Her eyes were clear blue, they danced in the light as she talked animately to Órlaith, who amazingly was showing signs of light.

She was wearing a short sleeved blue-green dress that was light and flowy, falling only to her knees where it spread out in a wide skirt. Unlike the others she wore no shoes, but went around bare footed.

"That is Lady Taliesin, princess of Muireann. Her land borders an inland sea, and her people are famous for their sailing skills and seafood.*

At the table to their right sat Kilana, Adraestia, and Aerawyn, their heads bent together in deep discussion. Also at that table, excluding the other dignataries, was another Lady.

She had long strawberry blond hair that was halfway pulled back, and entwined about her tiara, which held a green stone. Her skin was fair, but dark enough to suggest that she spent a lot of time outdoors. Her eyes were bright green and lively, though astute.

Her clothes were similar to what the royalty of Rohan would wear, a long, dark green dress with draping sleaves and gold emellishments. She most likely wore leather boots, but her feet were hidden by her long dress.

She had been sitting, merely watching the rest of the room, but she had been drawn into conversation by the twins, and they were now all four talking quietly amongst themselves.

"Lady Róisín, princess of Rhydderch. It is a land very similar to Rohan, they also are famed for their horses."

Lady Cerridwyn sat at the table across from them on one side of an empty chair, another lady sat on the other side.

"That is Lady Nerys, princess of Glyndwr. The entire province is made up of river valleys, with towering waterfalls and cities built over the water.

She had dark chestnut hair, styled much like the elleths of Rivendell, with part of it pulled away from her face and twisted into braids, while the rest hung loose down her back. Her tiara ended with a light blue gemstone that rested in the middle of her pale brow, above her blue eyes.

Her long robes were rich in color, dark hues of blue, green and brown, the colors of a river. The material appeared heavy, but was of unmatched quality.

Thorongil's observations were cut short as the room suddenly fell silent. Lady Cerridyn had stood once more.

"Lady Rhiannon, defender of the Tenth City!"

The nine seated princesses rose to their feet, their right hands over their hearts and heads bowed. Then she entered the hall.

Thorongil could not help but stare. As Arwen Undomiel was said to be Luthien Tinuviel reborn, surely this were Elbereth herself!

Her skin was as pale as Lady Eirlys', and her long, wavy hair was midnight black. She appeared absolutely flawless, words could not do her justice. Her grey eyes were lively and ageless. The mithril crown upon her head shown as a star within her dark tresses.

As the Lady Galadriel shown with the golden light of the sun, the Faerie queen shown with the brilliance of the stars.

She wore a shimmering gown of deep violet that faded to a lighter purple as it descended to the floor and trailed behind her. She wore no jewels, but she did not need them, she was radiant without any.

"Be seated." Her voice was soft and deep, a melodious sound that Thorongil had never heard before, and doubted he would ever hear again.

And with that the food was served and they spent the rest of the evening eating and drinking till they could touch no more before retiring to their chambers to sleep and prepare for the next day's council.

Author's Note: Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you thought! I'm not sure when the next update will be out, as I'm now working on three stories, so I tried to make this one long. It was about 15 pages when I uploaded it, and now it's even longer!

*A palfrey was traditionally a lady's mount back when women weren't allowed to ride stallions and spirited horses, its pretty much an everyday riding horse that is reliable and calm.
**Not real feathers! Think of a Clydesdale or Friesian, the big workhorses, all that hair around their feet is referred to as feathers
*** Welsh name. It means snowflake, I thought it appropriate. Gaenor is also Welsh it means white.
* Irish name. It means gold-princess
**Think Arabian horse
***Welsh name, means fair-poetess
*Irish name that means sea-fair

Translations:

Tiro = Look

Ú-chenion = I don't understand.

Man pennich = What did you say?