The sounds of hammers against anvils rang like silver bells across the forges of Imlad Gelair. The hidden valley within the hidden valley, a haven within a haven, a dream within a dream; such was Imlad Gelair, and it was here that Earnio had been allowed to set up his workshop during his stay in Rivendell. Much had happened since first he set foot upon the lush, green grass outside the Last Homely House around a year ago, his first visit to Rivendell for many, many years. The sound of gulls and waves breaking against the shore had been his constant company for an age, or more, and the change of scenery had served him well, this weary smith of knives, hammers, axes and other tools.
For a brief moment to most, but in his mind a far longer time; his memory fled back towards the sea as the sudden presence of an elven woman broke his smithing trance by the anvil. Her dark brown hair - now a little sweaty and perhaps a little unkempt as fitting for someone often with a quick and ready bow - laid still across her shoulders, for in this valley there was rarely a rough wind to speak of. The blue tint of her eyes reminded him of someone he had met years ago, when a young huntress and warden of the wild from Celondim had first come to him with a request for new clasps and buckles for her attire as well as a large batch of barbed arrowheads, if his memory did not play tricks.
Young she was then, eager to see the world and learn of all its mysteries and thrills. Innocent of mind but with teeth ready as a wolf on the prowl, and sporting a fearsome shot that could slay a beast on a range farther than any man could ever hope to aim. He remembered her features well, and still the same her face was, every inch of her flawless skin still a blank canvas of all the time and rites of passage she had endured since then. Her eyes glimmered like one still young, but they were not the same as he remembered - there was something more, a sadness perhaps, that he did not recognize or had known before. Another single moment passed, and in the blink of an eye her name came back to him as one of the other smiths nearby slammed his hammer to the anvil.
Yes, he had heard her name been mentioned a time or two amongst the kinsmen of Vanimar - the house he too had joined in recent times - though it had been more of a casual overhearing than actual conversation, and he did not give it much thought until now when once again she stood there, just like she had done so many years before. Turuviel her name was, a huntress young in years, but far advanced in skill than many others. In that instant he knew her again, though he wondered how much she'd remember him, if at all.
"Child!", he cried out to her once his memories had once again been laid to rest, and he stepped forward to welcome her. "It's been some time!"
---------
The story continues here, as written by Turuviel:
Growing stronger claws (prologue)
