The Tale of Elrond and Celebrian
All characters in this story are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No infringement is intended upon their use.
Chapter 1: Galadriél
The motion of the horse beneath herself was hypnotic. The elf blinked, and turned slowly, gazing back over her shoulder. The lands of Lórinand were slowly falling away from her grasp. She placed her hand on the cantle of her saddle as she looked down, and shook her head then slowly turned back towards the east.
The west. The phrase moved through her like quick-silver. In the west, there was the sea. Her eyes drifted down to her finger. The ring glistened like a pool of adamant. Nenya's power was alive, living and breathing, slowly becoming a part of herself. After Celebrimbor had made it, and given it to her, her ache for the calls of the gulls had grown increasingly intense
The ring spoke to her, gentle whispers of sweetness and love, and of power, and of a quiet, unplaceable ache. It had told her that the great darkness had passed; that it was safe now, safe to travel westwards again. It wasn't simply the ring though, there had been much talk of the fall of Sauron, and despite residual skirmishes,Galadriél knew that she could now safely leave the haven of Lorinand.
She thought of the north, then. Imladris was nearer now. Imladris, and Celeborn. Lórinand had been a haven, her daughter could not have stayed in Eriador... not with the wars. But still, it had been too long that she had been without her father... she was a grown woman now.
"Mother?"
The voice roused her from her musing. She turned and looked into the face of the young, silver-haired elf that rode beside her. Her daughter.
"Mother, Khazad-Dum draws near."
All characters in this story are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien. No infringement is intended upon their use.
Chapter 1: Galadriél
The motion of the horse beneath herself was hypnotic. The elf blinked, and turned slowly, gazing back over her shoulder. The lands of Lórinand were slowly falling away from her grasp. She placed her hand on the cantle of her saddle as she looked down, and shook her head then slowly turned back towards the east.
The west. The phrase moved through her like quick-silver. In the west, there was the sea. Her eyes drifted down to her finger. The ring glistened like a pool of adamant. Nenya's power was alive, living and breathing, slowly becoming a part of herself. After Celebrimbor had made it, and given it to her, her ache for the calls of the gulls had grown increasingly intense
The ring spoke to her, gentle whispers of sweetness and love, and of power, and of a quiet, unplaceable ache. It had told her that the great darkness had passed; that it was safe now, safe to travel westwards again. It wasn't simply the ring though, there had been much talk of the fall of Sauron, and despite residual skirmishes,Galadriél knew that she could now safely leave the haven of Lorinand.
She thought of the north, then. Imladris was nearer now. Imladris, and Celeborn. Lórinand had been a haven, her daughter could not have stayed in Eriador... not with the wars. But still, it had been too long that she had been without her father... she was a grown woman now.
"Mother?"
The voice roused her from her musing. She turned and looked into the face of the young, silver-haired elf that rode beside her. Her daughter.
"Mother, Khazad-Dum draws near."