Like a black, velvet blanket, the night sky lay draped over Eriador. Bright stars dotted it, causing patterns in the sky. Within a clearing in the middle of the forests to the North of the Shire, an Eldar maiden lay on her back in the soft grass, peering up at the constellations that guided her on many a journey through Middle Earth. She and her sister would often navigate by them, if travelling by night was the safest of options. This journey, though, felt different from anything she had ever encountered when Tinulos, her sister, was still with her. For starters, her companion was not her beloved sister, no, she had since a few years left for the West. Instead, an ancient male now accompanied her. Telvon his name, he was one of the last remaining Galadhrim – the tree-people of the forests of Lórien. There had, to her knowledge, been no reason to distrust him when he told her how he could no longer sense Arvaryar, and how only an intervention from her could prevent him from certain demise. No, Telvon, as the Galadhrim was called, had been nothing but kind and respectful towards her. He had no reason to lie. Did he…?
No, of course not… She dismissed the thought as she peered momentarily at the male who, a little way away, was offering prayers to the forests, the stars and his loved ones. Her emerald eyes soon sought the constellations overhead anew. The trek would be long, she made herself no illusions on the matter, and there would undoubtedly be obstacles to be overcome. Evil lurked in the shadows, and considering the country they had to cross, there wasn’t a singular doubt in her mind, that it was only a matter of time before they would cross danger. A shiver ran through her entire body, though it wasn’t at all cold.
A sigh escaped her lips – though never having been particularly brave, at least, not like the sister she had always held so dear and looked up to, she knew she had to face any ounce of doubt and fear now, and be as courageous as she could be. There was no choice in the matter, a life precious to her depended on it, and this time, she knew the price of failing even better.
In her mind’s eye, she saw anew that fateful night.
"Gliriel! Get back!" The light-haired female exclaimed, raising her twin swords cross-linked above her head, narrowly escaping the overhead blow dealt by one Orc. More were rushing in though, to assist their companions – two had already fallen to the combined efforts of the two Eldar sister, but they were not prepared for the alarm that would raise. Nor the troops that had set up camp in the caverns close-by.
Reluctantly, Gliriel started backing up, her gaze never leaving Tinulos as she fought off the assault valiantly. A loud, warm voice rang out in song, and for a moment, Gliriel felt as though she wasn’t the occupant of her own body, which appeared to radiate with confidence and good spirits, momentarily warding off the darkness that threatened to overcome her sister. “Tinulos! Run, now!” She shouted.
Gliriel recalled that the events that followed proceeded with such speed, there was no preventing it from happening, yet now, in the calm of her mind’s eye, it seemed to go so slow, she could take time to analyse the smallest of details.
Tinulos turned, and started for Gliriel, who stood as if frozen to the ground – to this day she was unable to explain why. And then it happened. One of the goblins, lounged for her feet, catching her by her right ankle. The young Eldar lost her balance, and fell to the ground. Gliriel heard herself screaming, a shriek of complete and utter terror. In hindsight, that is probably what ultimately drew the attention of her saviour.
Unsheathing her sword, and with her light shield raised, the green-eyed Eldar rushed forward, a foolhardy action with nothing in the sense of forethought. A blade cut through the leather armour she wore, drawing blood, but no pain was felt as the adrenaline surging through her had taken over.
Then, suddenly, just as she thought it would end for the both of them, the limp body of a goblin came sailing through the air, in a neat arc, and lifelessly dropped to the ground with a sickening crunch, breaking bones upon impact.
“Get her out!” A voice called out in Sindarin, coming from an armour-clad figure, the armour itself of Eldar make, yet, the figure suggested the wearer to be a female from the race of Man. There was no time, or even an inclination to wonder why this oddly combined vision was clad the way she was. Gliriel leaned down and assisted her sister to stand. She succeeded, albeit with difficulty, and as she touched her beloved sister, she could sense the weakness. Step by step, she guided her sister to where she hoped it was safe. All the while, the sound of combat taking place became louder, more intense. Cries of pain, the sound of metal meeting metal, subsequently followed by the sickening sound of flesh and sinew being ripped apart, filled the air until suddenly, the world became silent. Deadly silent.
Hardly daring, but nonetheless knowing she should, Gliriel peered back to find the Woman returning in a confident gait. Only now, did the young Eldar maiden notice the vicious axe at the Woman’s side, now dripping with Orc and Goblin blood alike. On her left arm, she wore an elaborate shield, and overall, the equipment worn looked well-tended. Her visor was down as she approached, and only at the very last moment, did she push it up. The Woman knelt down, causing the armour to creak where the leather strapping held the metal together, which was accompanied by the eerie sound of metal scraping against metal.
"How is she...?" Again, the Woman spoke Sindarin. Perhaps not as well as the Eldar would, there was a distinct, guttural accent.
There was no time to question the Woman on her knowledge of her people, so instead, Gliriel turned to her beloved sister, and actually for the first time, she took inventory of the injuries. Instantly, she was shocked by her findings.
"Hirir...?" An alien voice intruded on the Eldar maiden's thoughts, causing her to blink. She had lost track of time, of her surroundings. She shook her head a little as she sat up, once to each side, causing the locks of hair that framed her face into a living portrait of beauty to dance along the sides of her head. "Hirir, we must depart..." The voice insisted, originating from her travelling companion, Telvon.
"Y-yes... of c-course..." Gliriel mumbled as she rose to her feet.
Mutely, she gathered her belongings, and went to saddle her horse, not an easy task in the hour just before the dawn of a new day, the hour in which the night is at its darkest.
Not a word was uttered, even as they set out in their trek East, finding their way through navigation by the stars. Gliriel couldn't help but wonder, if somewhere, Arvaryar was watching the same constellations at that very moment, even as she mouthed, inaudibly: "May the Valar watch over you, wherever you are..."
