The Evil of The Fourth Age - my first Fanfic...

[Lalaith]

Set in The Fourth Age of Middle Earth, after the departure of the Ringbearers....

Disclaimer: Most of the characters and locations are the property of the wonderful JRR Tolkien and his estate!

Note: Although Haldir is a cental character here, I would just like to reassure the general public that I do NOT mean the movie Haldir... This is from my interpretation of the book, so we're going for a more Legolastic look (if it makes it any easier for you)


PROLOGUE...

Shadowy figures moved in the murky depths of the smooth stone orb.

"The Elven City shall be next," whispered a cruel and ancient voice.

"But what of the Mighty Elf Lord who dwells there?" asked a second voice, deep and gravelly, and no less ancient.

"The Palantir shows that he will be leaving his dwelling on the eve of the next full moon. There will be no one powerful enough to resist an attack."

"So, we will strike at the heart of Elvendom on Middle Earth," said the second voice with awe.

"And why should we not? We are more powerful than the Eldar and their numbers are dwindling. There is little they can do to stop us. We must give the orders for the attack and send word that as many as possible are to be taken alive. I will accept no more failures from the Easterling Captain."

************************************************** ********************


The moon shone delicately through the leaves of the mellyrn of Lothlorien. Nariel walked barefoot through the glade of niphredil and elanor, the hem of her dark blue gown trailing along the grass. She held a small red flower in her hand and softly sang a song to Elbereth. Suddenly, she felt arms encircling her waist from behind. She smiled as a well-known and much loved voice whispered in her ear.

"I though I had strayed backwards through time,melamin."

She turned around to face her beloved, still within the protective circle of his arms. Haldir, Captain of the Galadhrim, stood before her. She kissed him gently and pushed his fair hair back from his face while he traced the outline of the red stone she wore at her throat. "I shall always remember the night I first laid eyes on you, Carnimirie," he said. "You stood in this very glade and captured my heart with your song." She laughed and he pulled her closer,so that her head rested on his chest. "My Lady Lalaith," he murmured into her ear. From the sound of his voice, she could tell that he was smiling at the same happy memories that filled her mind. She pulled free of his embrace and looked into his eyes, which danced with the light of the stars above. Her heart swelled with emotion and love.

"Haldir, a'maelamin," she began before breaking off suddenly. The sound of horns rang shrilly from Caras Galadhon and the two lovers could hear voices crying out in fear and pain. They stood still for a moment, shocked by the abrupt intrusion.

"What evil is this?" muttered Haldir, as he drew his sword. He kissed the top of Nariel's head before turning to the source of the commotion. A shadow of foresight crossed Nariel's mind and she impulsively caught hold of his arm. "Do not go! I fear that some hurt will befall you." Haldir gently disengaged himself and clasped her hand briefly. "My love, I must go, as well you know. In Lord Celeborn's absence, I must protect Lothlorien. Fear not, Nariel vanimelda, I shall return. Now, please keep yourself hidden. I would be much happier to know that you are safe." With one last kiss, he was gone.

Nariel watched him leave the clearing and she longed to cry out with all her heart and soul. As she stood there, a number of Elven maidens ran past, wide-eyed with fear and panic.

"What is happening?" she demanded. One of the frightened maidens stopped to reply, "Men! There are Men in Caras Galadhon. They bring bright steel and searing pain!"

Nariel saw that the Elf maiden's clothes were torn and her lip was bleeding. She spoke urgently. "Flee! Cross the Silverlode and draw across the rope-bridge. You should be safe on the other side!" The maiden made to depart and then looked at Nariel with bemusement. "You are not coming, my Lady?"

"No! I must find Haldir!" Nariel started to follow Haldir's path, first at walking pace and then at a run. She drew her sword as she ran, its golden blade dimly reflecting the moonlight. When she entered Caras Galadhon, her blood ran cold at the sight that lay before her. Easterling men swarmed among the trees. Many Elves and Men lay injured on the ground. The clashing of iron on iron as the Elves defended their home with their swords rang in Nariel's ears. Multitudes of arrows flew through the air, and many Easterlings fell down dead yet more and more appeared, overrunning Caras Galadhon. Nariel herself slew a large Easterling, who grabbed her by the wrist, with one deft sword stroke. She grimaced at the act. She looked around, desperate to find Haldir amidst the chaos. At last she glimpsed him, furiously battling a tall and heavily-built opponent. Haldir had the greater sword skills but the Easterling had him beaten through sheer brute strength. Nariel tried to fight her way towards him and received a nasty blow to the cheek. Too many people involved in their own skirmishes barred the way. She cried out when she saw him stumble to his knees, his fair head dropping out of sight.

"Haldir!" He wearily looked up at the sound of his name and struggled to his feet, driving his sword deep into the stomach of his attacker. Nariel felt a brief moment of elation which was quickly and brutally dispelled. Even as Haldir was pulling his sword out of the Easterling's stomach, a second Man came from behind and struck him in the back of the head with the hilt of his cruel curved sword. Haldir fell senseless to the ground.

"No!" screamed Nariel, as the Easterling lifted Haldir upright, clutched him under the arms and dragged him away. The last thing she remembered was seeing Haldir slumped in the arms of his attacker, a thin trickle of blood seeping from his hairline.

Then everything went black.

[Bess the Bard]

Very exciting start. Looking forward to seeing where this will go.

[Tar-Ancalimë]

oooh, i like it so far. i look forward to the next installment!

[Lalaith]

Thanks for the comments....
Continuation...


Sometime later, perhaps hours, perhaps days, Náriel came to. She was lying on a talan, covered with blankets. She could hear the faint noise of flowing water from far below. She struggled to sit upright but a cool hand pressed on her forehead gently pushed her down. Her handmaiden, Morcotulce, knelt at her side. Rúmil and Orophin, Haldir's brothers stood at the edge of the talan, looking down at the ruins of Caras Galdhon.
"Do not rush to stand up, my Lady. You are still weak."
"Morcotulce? What has happened? Where is Haldir?" A tear trickled down Náriel's face. She winced as it stung an unhealed cut on her cheek. The handmaiden's face was sorrowful and she took Náriel's hand as she spoke.
"We do not know what has become of him, my Lady. He was taken by the Easterling hordes. So were many of our people. They bore off Berendil, Lorindol and Calandil, and many other great warriors. They slew Thôrorn at the foot of Lord Celeborn's seat."
Náriel closed her eyes. The pain that seared through her body almost caused her to black out again. She cast her thought eastwards, seeking Haldir's presence, although the effort put her under great strain. A weak flicker of hope arose in her heart.
"He lives, Morcotulce. Haldir lives," she whispered.
Morcotulce remained silent, unsure whether Náriel truly believed her own words or was just clinging to a faint hope. The Lady's injuries were serious but she was recovering slowly; more slowly than would normally have been expected of an Elf as old and powerful as Náriel. Morcotulce suspected that Náriel bore a great burden of grief which impeded the healing process.
She had seen Náriel fall during the battle. An Easterling with a scarred face and a twisted sneer had punched her in the side of the head. He had leered menacingly and pulled her up by the hair, his large hands hidden in Náriel black mane of hair. Morcotulce had watched his actions with horror from a talan high above the ground. She grabbed a bow from one of the Lothlorien guards, much to his surprise, and rapidly fitted an arrow to the string. She barely paused to take aim before loosing the arrow which flew straight into the Easterling's neck. He released his hold on Náriel and collapsed to the ground on top of her. Morcotulce screamed out to Rúmil, who fought nearby, to pull Náriel out of the fray. He ran forward and kicked the Easterling aside before carefully picking Náriel up off the ground. He slung her over his left shoulder while still fighting off opponents, wielding his sword in his right hand. Morcotulce helped him to pull the injured Lady onto the talan. She had tended her for two nights, never leaving her side. There had been a great deal of concern among the Elves of Lothlorien during that time. A heavy gloom settled in Lothlorien, and the news of Náriel's illness hung over them like a pall. She was much loved in Lorien, being a kinswoman of the Lady Galadriel, who had departed Middle Earth a few years previously. The tidings of her recovery would be welcome among the Elves, who had suffered many losses, through injury, death and the abduction of their friends and family.
After a few moments of quiet breathing, Náriel struggled upright. "No, do not stop me, Morcotulce. I must see what has befallen our land. She limped over to Rúmil and Orophin and peered over the edge. The bodies of the Elves and Easterlings had been removed; the Elves to graves and the Easterlings to a pyre built beyond the bounds of Lorien, but the ground was still black with blood. Náriel shuddered and hid her eyes, clinging on to Rúmil for support.
"Lord Celeborn must be informed," she said.
"But he is on his way to Minas Tirith, my Lady. It will be at least two moons before he returns."
"Then the message must be brought to him," Náriel said decisively.
"Who would you trust with such a task?" asked Orophin. "There are few who are willing to stray outside Lothlorien despite the tragedy that has occurred in our own land."
"I will go."
The three other Elves looked at Náriel with astonishment. "My Lady, you are far too weak to attempt such a journey" cried Morcotulce.
"That is for me to decide, though I thank you for your concern, my friend," responded Náriel, "but I am quite insistent. I shall travel to Minas Tirith. These tidings must be related to the other rulers of Middle Earth, for fear that they might face a similar attack and be ill-prepared."
"I offer myself to you as a travelling companion," said Rúmil. "I will take it on myself to protect you until the return of my brother."
Náriel smiled sadly, "My thanks, dear brother. I accept your offer wholeheartedly."
"You shall not leave Lothlorien without me at your side, my Lady," said Morcotulce emphatically. "I too will accompany you"
Náriel looked at her handmaiden and friend with wonder, for Morcotulce had never been beyond the borders of Lothlorien. She could not refuse such an offer so she took Morcotulce's hand and said, "Your presence shall help me bear this burden."
It was decided that Orophin would also travel with them, to protect and guide them, for he was the most widely travelled among them. Galrillion, of the House of Galathil, was to remain in Lothlorien. He was related to Celeborn and was highly regarded among the Elves. He would see to the healing and purging of Lorien.
As twilight settled over the mellyrn, four shadowy figures departed Lorien on horseback, bound for Gondor, the realm of King Elessar.
Continuation... Continuation

[Tar-Ancalimë]

its well done so far. keep going, i like how you write keeping close to what tolkien made the character of the elves while adding your own part in them

(yeah now if that made any sense i will faint *lol*)

[Bess the Bard]

Good work. You have set up an interesting story, with action and conflict so far. The Fourth Age is an interesting time to set a story about Elves in, the true Twilight of their time in ME, when they must deal far more with the world of Men. I look forward to more from you.

[Nessa the Dancer]

Well done, I love it so far :thumbs:

[Lalaith]

Thanks so much!!
I was so nervous about posting it - so far only my flatmate has read it...

[Pil]

I have posted this into word and will comment once read...so many stories.... :o

I read the prologue, however, and that is extremely gripping...keep going Lalaith! :thumbs:

[Lady Melody]

Wow, it's fast, the adrinaline's (if the elves actually have any) pumping, and I'm certainly looking foward to it!

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

This is an excellent story. I love the action, and the emotion you put into it. Please continue as soon as you can.

[Lalaith]

Ok - part 3 coming right up!

Rúmil stood by his horse, looking towards Minas Tirith which gleamed in the sunlight. He grimaced slightly, for his arm had been injured in the attack on Lorien and it was still hurting. Two days previously, he had finally consented to having it bound by his brother. Morcotulce was tending to Náriel's injuries while Orophin held their horses. Rúmil gasped with surprise, for many miles ahead he could see two small figures sleeping beside a small campfire. It struck him as odd that two young boys should be allowed to travel so far from the city unaccompanied, but the deeds of mortals had always confused him so he thought no more of it.
*****************************

"Merry! Look! There it is!" Pippin stood up in the saddle and pointed, shielding his eyes from the sun. In the distance lay the city of Minas Tirith, its domes and turrets barely visible.
"Well, let's get a move on! We may make it before nightfall," replied his companion, spurring his pony on.
"Hopefully in time for a good meal!" added Pippin. "I should like to eat something that hasn't been cooked on a camp fire!" The two riders had the appearance of mere boys, yet they had played a part in the great events that had shaped the kingdoms of Middle Earth a few years previously. They were in fact hobbits whose names were known throughout Middle Earth; Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took
They rode at a leisurely pace, laughing and singing songs of the Shire. Shortly after midday, they stopped for lunch and, as is a favoured pastime of hobbits, found time to indulge in a smoke after their meal, despite their desire to reach Minas Tirith that day. The early afternoon sun shone warmly upon them and they saw no harm in taking a short nap while their ponies grazed nearby. When they awoke two hours later, they hurriedly remounted and guiltily continued on their way, somewhat more urgently than before. Night was closing in when they at last approached the eastern gates of the city.
"Welcome to Minas Tirith, honoured Perrianath!" called out a familiar voice from the shadows ahead of them.
"Beregond! How wonderful!" cried Pippin. " I did not expect to see you here! I thought you were in Ithilien with Faramir."
"Indeed," smiled Beregond. "The Prince Faramir is in the city for he, like you, was summoned by King Elessar."
"Do you know why we have been called here?" asked Merry curiously.
"I do not," replied Beregond gravely. "All I know is that I was sent to bring you before the king, for a great feast is being held tonight."
At that good news, Pippin nudged Merry in the ribs. A servant came forward to take their ponies and Beregond led the hobbits up through the seven levels of the city until they came to the Court of the Fountain. Light streamed out into the square from the great hall and the sound of conversation and laughter could be heard within.
"Here I will leave you," said Beregond, having brought them to the doors.
The hobbits passed through the doors and along a paved passage way until they came to another door. Their arrival was announced by a fanfare of trumpets and somewhat abashed, they passed through the hall towards the dais, where the King and Queen of Gondor sat at the high table. Pippin was afraid to lift his eyes for there seemed to be a great many people in the hall and he felt small and insignificant. He did not realise that he was one of the most honoured and respected beings in all of Gondor. As they drew near to where King Elessar sat, he dared to raise his eyes and look at all the familiar faces sitting at the high table. There sat Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, with his wife Eowyn of Rohan. The hobbits marvelled to see a number of the last High Elves in Middle Earth, most notably, Celeborn of Lorien. Elladan and Elrohir, the twin sons of Elrond were also present. A noble Elf, unknown to Merry and Pippin, sat next to Celeborn. He looked both young and old, as is the way with Elves. His face was unlined and his hair untouched by silver, yet his eyes were deep pools of wisdom and experience. He wore green and brown, the garb of the Woodland Elves. There were two empty seats on his right hand side but the hobbits were led to places at the other end of the table. Their chairs were piled with cushions and they sat down gratefully but had to scramble quickly to their feet again as the entire assembly rose at the request of the King, and faced west for a moment's silence.
"My dear friends, royal subjects and honoured guests of Gondor, I bid you welcome. Now our number is complete, let the feast begin," said King Elessar.
The hobbits began to eat eagerly before a voice on Pippin's left spoke. "Well met, my hobbit friends."
"Gimli!" Pippin spluttered through a mouthful. "I did not see you there!"
"Evidently," growled the dwarf, although there was a twinkle in his eye. "I see you have not grown any taller since we last met. Ent draughts must be in short supply in the Shire."
"Indeed!" laughed Merry. "But we do have a plentiful supply of the finest ale!"
"Excellent. I must visit the Shire soon in that case!" said the Dwarf. "I see that Sam has not accompanied you. Is he well?"
"Oh, Sam is in the best of health and Rose was expecting their second child when we left," replied Merry, before continuing rather sadly. "I think old Sam has had enough of adventures. He is quite content to stay at home; we could not persuade him to come."
"It's a pity, really, because otherwise all of the remaining members of the fellowship would be here," said Pippin before exclaiming suddenly. "But where's Legolas? I didn't see him when we came in."
"He's here, Pip," said Merry, indicating with his fork. "See? At the far end of the table. Next to that strange Elf. He must have slipped in after the feast started."
Gimli laughed. "That's no strange Elf. At least no stranger than the rest of his breed. That is the King Thranduil, Legolas' father." Pippin leaned forward in his seat and looked along the table. He blinked, convinced he was seeing double. He sat shaking his head for a while, before hissing to Merry. "There are two Legolases down there!" Merry looked and gasped. "Gimli! Who is that next to Legolas? I did not notice him before!"
"That, Master Meriadoc, is Legolas' brother, Vanyo Cristhalion," chuckled the Dwarf. "There is a full thousand years separating the two, yet one has to have Elvish eyes to tell them apart. I must admit to being shocked when I first met him. I'm afraid that the only way I can distinguish between them is the fact that Legolas carries a bow while Vanyo prefers the sword."
"I never knew Legolas had a brother," said Pippin rather loudly, before blushing. Evidently his words had carried to Vanyo's keen Elvish ears and he looked along the table directly at the embarrassed hobbit. Vanyo nudged his brother and said something into his ear. Legolas looked up and saw Merry and Pippin. He smiled at them, his fair face lighting up at the sight of the hobbits. He murmured something in reply to his brother. Vanyo's eyes opened wide, and he looked curiously at the hobbits. He soon fell into conversation with his brother and the hobbits turned their attention back to the plates in front of them, gratified to discover that they had been generously piled high with more food. Laughter and snatches of conversation danced across the air and everyone seemed relaxed and cheerful until the doors at the back of the hall flew open without warning. The heralds looked as surprised as all the guests as four cloaked Elves stood in the doorway. A murmur of alarm rose from gathered assembly and the King rose to his feet, along with Celeborn and Thranduil. Consternation crossed Celeborn's face, as all four Elves lowered their hoods to reveal their faces. A tall she-elf stepped forward. The people of Gondor marvelled to see her, for her beauty was beyond compare and she held herself with grace. Her hair fell in black cascades down her back and at her throat was a deep red stone, gleaming in the candlelight. A fading bruise was visible on her right cheek . One of her companions was also injured; his arm was bound tight to his breast and his face was pale and worn. Merry gasped, for he recognised the injured Elf as Rumil of Lothlorien. Standing beside him was his brother Orophin. Merry wondered what had drawn them so far from the shades of Lorien.

[Lalaith]

"King Elessar, I beg forgiveness for intruding on you and your noble guests," said the she-elf. Her voice was resonant and clear. "However, I must speak with my Lord on a most urgent matter that cannot be delayed."
Celeborn glanced at Aragorn who immediately indicated his assent. The Elven Lord swept down the hall, passing between the long trestle-tables. All eyes were on the Elves, and no one spoke a word as Celeborn left the hall, closely followed by the mysterious messengers. After a few moments, the gentle hub of conversation rose again, all speculating on what had just passed. Dessert were placed in front of the guests but tension and doubt hung over the high table and even the hobbits only picked at their dessert. Once again, they wondered why they had been summoned to Minas Tirith and the court of King Elessar.
"Gimli," said Pippin. "Have you any idea what this is all about? Why has Strider called us all here?"
The Dwarf's face darkened. "I do not think this is the time to speak of such matters, Master Took." He saw Pippin's face fall so he continued, sighing. "I would tell you all, my friends, but it is not my place. No doubt the King Elessar will explain everything at the Council tomorrow. Suffice to say, that many strange things have been happening across Middle Earth and he has decided to act."
Merry frowned. "Well, that hasn't really answered any of our questions! It has just made us even more curious. There have been no strange occurrences in the Shire, have there Pip?"
"No, life has continued as it always does in the Shire," said Pippin. "Nothing untoward has happened since Sharkey's death."
"Then you lead blessed lives, my hobbit friends. Come, Aragorn is summoning us to remove to the Hall of Fire. They say it greatly resembles Rivendell." Gimli stood up and the hobbits followed as the great company passed through the doors and back along the stone passageway. Turning down another long corridor, they entered a huge hall. A great fire burned in the hearth, and indeed it bore a great resemblance to the hall in the House of Elrond.
"Greetings my Halfling friends," said a familiar voice behind them. The hobbits spun round.
"Legolas!" cried Pippin, delightedly. "How wonderful to see you again!"
"And the same to you, young Pippin. Now, I should like to introduce you to my father, King Thranduil of Mirkwood, and my brother, Vanyo, called Cristhalion for his mighty deeds with a sword." The King of Mirkwood smiled down at them, his brown eyes benevolent and wise. Merry looked at Vanyo, struck by the similarity between the brothers. He did not believe them to be as indistinguishable as Gimli maintained. Legolas was calm and motionless and although he seemed to be alert to all that was going on in the hall, he did not have the youthful energy that emanated from Vanyo. The younger Elf, although almost two thousand years old, looked around him curiously, his eyes dancing. He seemed to always be on the verge of laughter. This was the first time he had strayed beyond the boundaries of Mirkwood and every new thing he saw filled him with delight.
"Mae govannen, Elf-friends," said King Thranduil. It is many years since one of your kindred wandered in our woods, and even then he passed through in secret." He glanced towards the doors and saw that Celeborn had returned. He excused himself from the hobbits' company for he saw that Celeborn looked drawn and shaken. "Forgive me, honoured Perrianath, I must speak with the Lord Celeborn." The hobbits bowed low as the Elven King departed. As he straightened up, Merry looked to the top of the room. There sat King Elessar, in deep conversation with Prince Faramir. Arwen and Eowyn stood slightly apart, and with them was the female Elf who had interrupted the feast. She and Arwen stood close, hands clasped together. Now Merry had a clear view of her as she stood tall and proud; her beauty easily rivalling that of Arwen. She wore a long deep blue robe, and there was a silver circlet on her head. She looked around the room and caught Merry's eye. He blushed and dropped his eyes instantly.
"Who is that Elf, Legolas?" asked Pippin. "She made quite a stir when she came in."
"She is the Lady Náriel, known as Lalaith," replied Legolas, his eyes never leaving the Lady. "She is one of the last of the Noldor in Middle Earth, having dwelled long in Lothlorien. It is many years since I last beheld her, ay, even before the birth of my brother." His face looked troubled however. "I sense that she is in great pain."
"Really?" asked Merry. "She appears composed, although she is rather clinging to the Evenstar's hand."
"She draws strength from the Queen's presence," said Legolas softly. "Her spirit is ever crying out. I know not how she bears such pain."
"I sense it too, brother," said Vanyo. "It is as if her soul is being torn in two. Ah, the hurt she feels almost overwhelms her."
The two Elven brothers stood in silence for a while, their sympathy flowing towards the Lady Náriel. A messenger approached the hobbits and cleared his throat gently in order to gain their attention.
"The King Elessar wishes to speak with Masters Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took," he announced. The hobbits willingly followed him to Aragorn's throne, eager to speak with their friend again. They did not notice Náriel silently departing from the room. Arwen moved back to where her husband sat and took his hand. She smiled at the hobbits.
"Welcome once more to Minas Tirith, dear friends," she said, smiling upon them. They bowed low before the King and Queen.
"It is good to see you, my travelling companions of old," said the King. "We were waiting on you for much of the evening." He smiled, and a hint of old Strider was visible in his face. "I doubt my guests would have been so tolerant of the delay had they known that it was caused by a hobbit's tendency to indulge in an afternoon nap!"
The hobbits coloured and mumbled apologies but Aragorn just laughed. "Fear not, my friends! All of Gondor wished to see the mighty Halfling heroes of the War of the Ring. It mattered not when you arrived as long as you answered our summons."
Merry spoke seriously. "We know that there is something grave happening in Middle Earth but we do not know what. We do not know why we have been summoned here. King Éomer commanded that I travel to Minas Tirith yet I see that he is not here."
"A king has much to see to before he may leave his people, Merry. He will be here late tonight or early tomorrow. There is indeed much to discuss but you will receive all your answers at the council tomorrow," said King Elessar sternly. His face softened, "Come now, enjoy the festivities this evening and put all else out of your mind. Tomorrow is soon enough to deal with what lies ahead."
At that moment, a Gondorian minstrel stood up and began to sing the Lay of Frodo of the Nine Fingers and the Ring of Doom. The hobbits were in little doubt that this was chiefly in their honour. "Sam would have loved to be here for this," Pippin whispered to Merry, as they sat near the King and listened to the song. Legolas and Vanyo stood nearby with their father. Although he tried to focus on the music, Legolas could not remain still. His thoughts were suddenly filled with the sound of the gull's cry and he knew that he would never be free of the sea-longing that had come over him in Pelargir. He excused himself from his father's company and left the hall soundlessly. Following many dark pathways, he passed through stone cloisters until he reached a concealed balcony that overlooked the City. Although it was dark outside he could dimly see distant lights from isolated homesteads. He sighed as he leaned against the stone wall of the balcony.
"Mae Govannen, Son of Thranduil. What ails thee?" A soft voice spoke suddenly at his ear and he started. Standing beside him was the Lady Náriel. Evidently she too had been seeking solitude.
"Nought, my lady, save that it hurts me to see you in such pain," he replied, studying her face in the starlight.
"It is many years since we last met in the shadows of Mirkwood, that was once Greenwood the Great," she said in her melodious tones. She looked out to the east and sighed. Legolas felt a constriction in his very soul; she was indeed in pain.
"Indeed, my lady. I was but a mere Elfling of two hundred years," he continued. "It was in the early days of the Third Age when I first heard your laughter among the trees of Mirkwood; you were the Lady Lalaith. Yet I perceive that the sound of your laughter has not been heard in Middle Earth in recent days."
"Ay, you are perceptive, Son of Thranduil," Lalaith turned to face him, her eyes probing as they swept over his face. "I see you wear the cloak of Lothlorien, though you are a Prince of Mirkwood."
"The Lady Galadriel gave each of the fellowship such a cloak when we departed Lothlorien during the War of the Ring," Legolas explained.
"I know, for I wrought the brooch that is clasped at your throat," she said and turning towards him, she touched the brooch with her fingertip. "It served thee well, I see."
Legolas put his hand to the brooch. "Yes, my lady. It is indeed a treasured keepsake."
The two Elves fell silent and Náriel looked ever east. Earendil shone brightly overhead and she softly sang a tune. She put her hand to her own throat to touch the red stone that lay there.
"Forgive me, son of Thranduil. I must retreat to my chamber. The journey from Lorien has left me weak and I bear a great sorrow."
"Is there nought I can say or do to help you with this burden?" asked Legolas.
"Alas, no," she replied. "All shall be revealed tomorrow at the Council of Elessar and then you shall learn why this burden cannot be shared. Good night, Legolas Greenleaf." With those words she departed, and moved silently back to the castle. Legolas watched her melt into the shadows and quietly murmured: "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo."

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

OH! This is good, this is really good. Thank you for posting more.

I can't wait to see what Strider has called them all for.

[Lalaith]

Thank you Dawn... :thumbs:
I'm afraid it'll be the weekend before I post more but rest assured that the Council of Elessar is written and waiting in the wings...

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Good! Very good! (Not the wait. but that you have more waiting to be posted)

[Lady Melody]

*sings a little tune while waiting*

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

*begins wait with hot chocolate*

[Lalaith]

C'mon kids, give me a little time!!
Can't rush these things, you know!!!

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

We can't? Who says we can't?

*still waiting, now with a root beer float*

[Lalaith]

Continuation

Merry awoke early, with the rising of the sun and stretched lazily before getting out of bed. He walked over to the window, and looked out at the quiet courtyard. Just as he was washing, he heard a knock at the door and Pippin came in, already washed and dressed in the silver and sable of Minas Tirith
"Hurry up, Cousin Brandybuck! The council is about to begin!"
"But I haven't even had breakfast!" cried Merry, ignoring the surprise he felt that Pippin had risen before him. He quickly dressed, putting on the green and white of Rohan, while Pippin stood by the window. "It was awfully nice of Strider to have these ground floor rooms prepared for us! I don't think I would have cared much for sleeping in one of those towers." He pointed out the window at the looming buildings of the Citadel.
"Come on, Pip! I'm ready to go! We can’t have the nobility of Middle Earth waiting on two small hobbits for the second time in less than a day," Merry said as he moved towards the door. They walked down the brightly lit corridor together.
"Good morning, Periannath! Come, we must hasten to the council of the King." Beregond stood before them once more.
"Good morning, Beregond!" said Pippin cheerfully. "It is a beautiful day in Minas Tirith, isn't it?"
"It certainly is, Master Perian, but you have not walked in Ithilien in the spring. It is truly a glorious place now that it is no longer under the Black Shadow."
"How is Bergil?" asked Pippin, referring the Beregond's son, who provided welcome company to the hobbit in the dark days before the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.
"He is well but does not apply himself to his studies as he should. He wishes to enter Prince Faramir's Guard as soon as he may," said Beregond, proud that his son wanted to follow in his footsteps. "indeed I would dearly like to see him become a Guard but his mother is less keen on the idea, especially at this time."
Merry and Pippin exchanged puzzled glances but knew that they would shortly find out exactly why they had been summoned to Minas Tirith. Beregond led them through the Citadel to a covered terrace. Slender pillars, wound with green trailing leaves supported the stone ceiling, on which was depicted the journey of Gandalf the White from Rohan to Gondor. Pippin realised that he too was portrayed in the picture as a small hooded shape seated in front of Gandalf on Shadowfax, the wizard's great steed. He blushed as he was lead to his seat, barely registering that King Éomer had arrived, with five Riders of the Mark. Merry was seated alongside Éomer, who greeted the halfling with distracted joy.
"It is good to see you again, Master Holdwine. I trust all is well in the Shire?"
Pippin took his own seat alongside Aragorn. He felt awkward sitting in such an elevated position. Looking furtively around, he studied those who had also been summoned. Legolas and Vanyo sat either side of their father. Legolas looked thoughtful and Pippin noticed that the Elf's gaze was frequently drawn towards Náriel. She sat at Celeborn's right hand side and behind her stood the fourth Elf who had arrived the previous evening. She was not as tall as the Lady, and had long straight black hair. Pippin took her to be a handmaiden and saw that she too observed all that took place. On Celeborn's left sat a number of noble Elves of his household, as well as the sons of Elrond. Gimli sat with a group of his own kind, including one most venerable-looking Dwarf, with a long silver beard. Next to Pippin sat Faramir and the hobbit was surprised to see Éowyn seated at her husband's far side. Beyond her, was Imrahil, Prince of Dol Amroth and a number of his knights. There were many men Pippin did not recognise; although they were undeniably Men of Gondor. He supposed they represented people from the furthest reaches of the kingdom. Merry was deep in conversation with Éomer, and Pippin wondered why Aragorn did not start the council. He soon understood the delay when Arwen arrived among them, accompanied by her brothers. The Queen took her seat at Aragorn's left hand side and whispered in his ear. Then, King Elessar stood up and addressed the council.

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

NO! YOu cannot leave us there!

[Lalaith]

Sorry kids...more soon I promise!!
I have a good bit written but I need a little more time!
SORRY!!

[Lalaith]

The Council of Elessar

"Welcome to Minas Tirith, my honoured guests. Most are known here, save Thorin Stonehelm, King Under The Mountain." At this the Dwarf stood up and bowed low. "Also unknown are Vanyo, younger son of Thranduil, the Lady Náriel of Lothlorien and her handmaiden, Morcotulce." Vanyo looked around, delight evident on his fair Elven face. The Lady inclined her head slightly, and Morcotulce stood motionless, though her dark eyes were bright and inquisitive. Pippin was struck by Náriel's composure and wondered at Legolas' words the night before. She did not appear to be in pain; indeed her face seemed utterly passive to all around her. The King continued.
"I have called you all here in order to reach a decision on how to deal with the new threat that faces Middle Earth. I shall begin by explaining in full what has come to pass within the last year, since the passing of the Ringbearers and the Great Company of Eldar into the West.
"On last Midsummer's Eve, two Guards of Ithilien vanished. Prince Faramir sent out search parties and though they hunted for many miles around, they could find no sign of the missing men. Since then, between two and five of the best warriors in Gondor have disappeared every month, on the night of the full moon. We have attempted to trail them but have met with little success. I believe that they have been taken captive for nothing has been found of them, dead or alive. Until winter passed to spring, we thought that this was Gondor's tragedy alone but then I learned from King Éomer that Rohan has also suffered." With that he turned to Éomer and invited him to speak.
"My thanks to you, King Elessar," said Éomer gravely. "I willingly answered the call of Gondor, for we in Rohan have also lost many of our people in similar circumstances. Many young shieldmaidens and riders of the Mark have vanished and we know not why nor how. We reckon the total number of the disappeared to be seventy-three. All of the disappeared were young and valiant and I find it hard to believe that they were taken without a fight. Like the King Elessar, I too believe that they were kidnapped. On a number of occasions we found the traces of blood and torn fabric, and more than once an injured horse has returned to the Golden Hall riderless. We know we must act but we do not know in which direction to strike. We look to Gondor for our lead in this."

[Lalaith]

Aragorn once more stood up. "It seems that these disappearances are not confined to the world of Men. King Thranduil of Mirkwood and King Thorin Stonehelm have confirmed that a small number of their people have also vanished. This threat is widespread, it seems, yet we do not know where it comes from or who may be behind it. The most distressing news of all, however, reached Minas Tirith last night from Lothlorien. Lord Celeborn , please relate to us the sad tidings from the land of Lothlorien." The Elven lord arose, his face sorrowful.
"I will ask the Lady Náriel, who is called Lalaith in Lothlorien, to deliver the grievous news for she witnessed all that passed." He held out his hand, and placing her hand on his, he Lady arose. She wore a long silver-grey robe, and she had a long sword girt at her side. The red stone at her throat glowed dully in the morning sun. Celeborn clasped her hand gently and looked searchingly into her eyes. All he saw was stern resilience. He sat down and everyone looked at Náriel expectantly. After a brief pause during which she seemed to be gazing into the distance above Aragorn's head, she started to speak, her voice laden with sorrows, both ancient and new.
"I am the Lady Náriel, last of the line of Fëanor but I am Lalaith no more. I have seen many terrible deeds in my long life yet none so horrifying as the events that took place in Lothlorien at the last full moon; my laughter shall no longer be heard in the Golden Wood.
"On the eve of the full moon, the Lord Celeborn and some of his household departed Calas Galadhon for Minas Tirith, to answer the summons of the King of Gondor. That very night, the woods of Lorien were attacked. Hundreds of men swarmed through the trees and we were overpowered. The strength of the Elves is fading and we were unable to defend our City. Five of our number were brutally slain in Calas Galadhon, where few mortals have stood. Many more Elves were injured, some so grievously that I fear they shall have to pass West if they are to have any chance of recovery. The cruellest act of this unknown enemy, however, was to carry off one hundred Elves. They took many of our bravest warriors including Lorindol of the House of Galathil and Haldir, Warden of the March, and kinsman to Lord Celeborn."
At this, Náriel glanced at Celeborn and saw the drawn look on his face. She could sense that Middle Earth no longer held any joy for him. The parting of Galadriel had torn at his soul and this latest information was clearly taking its toll on the proud Elf. The Lady continued with her heartbreaking tale.
"We recognised the men to be of Easterling extraction therefore we know that they passed into the East, but we know not where. Even our guards with their Elvish vision could not long keep them in view." Suddenly her voice grew stronger. "Yet I still have hope for I know that Haldir lives and by that reckoning I believe that other captives must also have survived."
"How do you know that Haldir still lives?" asked Aragorn. "Have you looked in the Mirror of Galadriel?"
"I will not deny that I have that ability," said Náriel. To Pippin's surprise, a tear slid down her cheek. "But that is not how I know." She paused and gulped for air. Pippin thought his heart would break, seeing such a noble Elf in such pain. Now he understood Legolas' distress, for one did not need Elvish senses to feel Náriel's grief. When she continued, however, her voice was still strong.
"Haldir is my beloved, and daily his spirit cries out to mine. He is great pain and grows weaker with every passing hour. I feel my own life slipping away, for our spirits are joined as one and should he die, my spirit will not tarry long in Middle Earth. Nay, I will follow him even to the Halls of Mandos."
A stunned silence fell over the Council. At last the hobbits understand what Legolas had been referring to the previous night. Legolas himself sat still with his eyes closed; a fuller comprehension of the Elven Lady's pain dawned on him. Faramir and Aragorn looked at Náriel with looks of compassion. She drew herself up straight.
"I do not stand here to receive your pity," she said with pride. "I need not the sympathy of Men for I have lived many thousands of years, and many lifetimes of Men. I am of the House of Fëanor and my will is strong and my spirit fiery." She suddenly unsheathed her sword and its blade glowed golden, bathing her face in a yellow light as she gazed upon it. "On the sword of my father, I swear that I will not rest until I find my beloved."
A shadow crossed Celeborn's face as Náriel raised the weapon, and a number of the other Elves looked similarly pained. Náriel spoke in a low fierce voice.
"This is Elencrist, the sword of Maedhros. Its blade shed the blood of many Elves at the first kinslaying in Alqualondë. It ever sings with the blood of the slain, and serves to remind me of the horrific deeds of my forefathers. Yet the blood of Fëanor runs in my veins, potent and terrible; I will have my revenge. I cannot simply remain cosseted in Lothlorien while Haldir suffers. " At those last words, Náriel's voice finally wavered and, resheathing Elencrist, she once more took her seat beside Celeborn. Éowyn watched her closely, and when she caught the Elf's eye, a look of understanding passed between the two, though they were strangers to each other. At length, Aragorn stood up and once more addressed the council.
"Now that we have heard the testimony of the Lady Náriel, we need to decide how to act. We know very little about the perpetrator of theses crimes, save that the captives have been carried into the East."

[Lalaith]

"We need to act soon," cried King Éomer, rising to his feet. "The longer we delay, the more hurt will be caused to our people. We must coordinate an attack on the Easterlings!"
"Yet we cannot strike without thorough knowledge of who or what our target is," said Faramir thoughtfully. "We need more information. To merely state that the Easterlings are responsible is not reason enough to declare war on their nation. It is composed of many tribes who are in constant strife with one another but if we target one tribe as being responsible, they will all rally around in support. Although the combined might of Gondor and Rohan would easily defeat them, it is not sound leadership to strike out in anger and discover the truth later."
"That is sensible reasoning, Prince Faramir," said Aragorn thoughtfully. "We cannot simply march openly into the East and demand the return of the captives. We must investigate the circumstances more thoroughly."
"Indeed," said King Thranduil. "In all my long years I have not known an Easterling army to attack a settlement of Men or Elves, for no reason. They are a mercenary people, selling their skills to whomever can reward them most highly. I would not be surprised to learn that there is a greater power behind this than a nation of squabbling and fragmented tribes."
Aragorn bowed his head in acknowledgement of the Elven King's contribution. "I fear that we cannot act until we have more solid information. We shall have to send out scouts."
"But that could take a month at least!" cried Éomer. "The next full moon will be upon us and what is to say that Rohan or Gondor won't bear the brunt of an attack?"
Pippin was overawed by all that was taking place. He felt awkward sitting among such powerful Men and began to get a little restless. He stretched out his toes and put his head back, staring at the ornate ceiling. Suddenly a thought struck him as he gazed upon the picture of Gandalf. Why had Pippin accompanied the Istar? Because he had looked into the Palantír. Nervously, he stood up and cleared his throat. Silence fell on the room and all eyes were on the unfortunate hobbit. Merry looked at him curiously for his mind too had been wandering. Aragorn looked at the hobbit.
"Master Took?"
"Perhaps it is not my place to say such things in such exalted company but I could not help wondering… that is to say… why not use the Palantír, King Elessar? Then you wouldn't have to waste time and men on searching for clues."
Aragorn looked at the hobbit with wonder in his eyes. Arwen took hold of her husband's hand and said, "You do have the power to use the Seeing Stone. As the King of Gondor, you can bend it to your will."
"But it is such a dangerous tool," said Faramir, the memory of his father filling his mind. He was for ever grateful that he had been unconscious while his father had burned on his funeral pyre with a Palantír clutched in his hand.
"It is indeed dangerous," said Aragorn. "But Pippin is right, it would save time. We do not want what happened in Lorien to be repeated."
"You do have the strength to use it, King Elessar," said Celeborn. "Do as your heart guides you but be wary of what you see in the depths of the Palantír. It can be treacherous."
"If the Council agrees, then I will look into the stone this very evening. Perhaps then we will have a clearer idea of how to proceed," said the King. Éomer stood up.
"Whatever knowledge is imparted to you, I only ask that you accept my offer of Rohan's support in the action the Council agrees on."
The Dwarf King made a similar oath, as did the sons of Thranduil and the sons of Elrond. Náriel also stood up.
"I know that in the eyes of many here, I cannot offer much for I am a woman, not a renowned soldier or warrior. However, I pledge myself to aiding in this deed. Indeed if you will not accept my sword, I shall have to make my own way to the East for I shall not return to Lothlorien while there is still hope in my heart."
Hearing the Lady's words stirred something inside Merry. Perhaps it was the memory of the Council of Elrond in Rivendell and Pippin's insistence that he be allowed join the fellowship or be sent home in a sack, but Merry found himself standing in front of the mighty of Middle Earth to pledge his support.
"I fear that there is little that a hobbit can do, but I wish to be part of this great feat though I do not know what lies ahead. I swore an oath to King Éomer's uncle, and I swear it again here: My sword is at the disposal of the King of the Mark, and if he pledges support to Gondor, then so do I."
"And me!" Pippin jumped up awkwardly and Aragorn allowed himself a small smile. "I am ever in the service of the King of Gondor!"
"My thanks to you all," said the King. "I suggest that we all meet here again tomorrow at this time. I will have looked into the Palantír and we shall make our plans."

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

OH, thank you for posting that much. I'm glad you did.

*continues to wait for more*

[Lalaith]

A Guard of Gondor hurried across the Court of the Fountain to take up his post. It was nearing midnight and a heavy darkness, unpierced by starlight , lay over Minas Tirith. He glanced up at the Citadel, and noticed flashing lights in a window, far above the ground. He frowned; the sight jogged some faint memory of the dark days of Denethor but he knew not what.

In the depths of the Palantir, a shadowy landscape was taking shape. An enormous castle, wrought of stone and iron stood in a huge and barren wasteland. It was square in shape, with large towers at its four corners. In the central courtyard stood a tall round tower, looming over all the other structures. On the battlements stood two faint figures, both in dark cloaks. They stood surveying all around them. In the courtyard, there seemed to be a great deal of activity. Poor bedraggled prisoners were being driven into the depths of the castle with whips and chains.

The King struggled with the Seeing Stone, bending it to his will. He focused on the two figures atop the round tower. Their faces became clearer and when he saw who it was, he gasped and his trance was broken.

"What have you seen my love?"

"The impossible."

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Ack! It's not fair for you to leave us there!

[Bess the Bard]

Very well written and exciting. Hope you will continue the story soon.

[Pil]

Will we see any more of this story? :p

It's really good...please keep it up hon! :thumbs:

[Bess the Bard]

Yes, Lalaith. This story has a tantalizing beginning that I know you can do justice to. Take your time, but this is one worth continuing.

Fare thee well.

[Lalaith]

:blush: Just to say I am so sorry for not putting this up sooner - it's actually been written for quite some time... I've just been distracted by other stories involving elven kings and half-elves! Sorry!!! :blush:


*******

Pippin stirred in his sleep and cried out. He shocked himself into wakefulness and saw that that his room was filled with the cold light of dawn. He tried in vain to cling to the threads of his dream but had to concede defeat. Try as he might, however, he could not shake off the uneasy feeling that settled on him. Sighing, he pulled on his clothes and washed his face. He gasped at the coldness of the water. As it was nearing sunrise, he decided to make his way to the council room. Softly closing the bedroom door behind himself, he walked quietly along the stone passageway.

"Pippin! So you didn’t sleep well either?" Merry's voice rang out from behind him. Pippin paused so that Merry could catch up. He saw that Merry's face was drawn and tired.

"No. I had an odd dream but I cannot remember the details of it. All I know is that it disturbed me deeply."

"That's strange," murmured Merry. "I had a most peculiar dream too. It seems very distant now. I saw a huge desolate wasteland that seemed to be overrun with Orcs or some such creatures."

"Very odd," agreed Pippin, although he felt a stirring of familiarity at Merry's words. "I mean, Aragorn saw off the last of the Orcs in his first year on the throne, didn't he?"

"True. It is probably just old memories being jogged by the council yesterday. We don't know what we are committing ourselves to, Pip, but I think it is big."

"As big as the Ring?"

Merry looked stony-faced. "Let's hope not."

The hobbits made their way to the council room. Even though they were early, they were surprised to discover that they were some of the last to arrive. Only Aragorn was absent. Náriel and Celeborn were deep in conversation with King Thranduil, while Legolas and Vanyo were talking to Gimli. The atmosphere was strained, for none knew what manner of tidings the King of Gondor would bring. King Éomer sat down thoughtfully beside Merry, and the hobbit did not disturb his reverie. At last a bell rang, and Aragorn came among them. His face was pale and he looked weary, as though he had been through many sleepless nights. The haggard expression of Strider the Ranger was evident on his face. After a few moments of suffocating silence, he at last began to speak, in tones so quiet that all those not blessed with Elvish hearing had to lean forward to catch every word.

"My friends, I have looked into the Palantír as was agreed at yesterday's council. I barely had the strength to bend it to my will but I forced it to show me what lies to the east." He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts.

"I saw an immense castle, vying even with Barad-dur for sheer oppressive size. It was square in shape, with a large tower at each corner. In the very centre, in a huge courtyard, was a fifth tower, rising up and dwarfing every other structure. The whole building was wrought of iron and rock and looked as though it had spewed out of the foulest pits of the earth.

"At length, I could make out two figures standing at the top of that central tower. They were cloaked and seemed shrouded in impenetrable mysteries but, with a great deal of effort, I forced them to show their faces. At this point my strength failed me and I could scarce believe what I had seen.

"The faces I saw were the very images of Curunír and Mithrandir."

At this revelation, the council came alive with clamorous voices, all sounding out together.

"Gandalf? Impossible!"

"He passed West with the other Ringbearers!"

"We saw Saruman die, Strider! It can't have been him!"

Aragorn held up his hand and silence instantly fell. "Believe me, my friends, I was plagued with much the same doubts. I have spent the whole night studying ancient scrolls, and just as I was on the verge of conceding defeat, I found an explanation buried deep in the lore of Middle Earth.

"When Gandalf, and Radagast, and Saruman came to Middle Earth, two others of the same order accompanied them. It is said that they passed out of knowledge and the scrollwriter believed that they had fallen into the darkness of Mordor. It seems that they simply passed east, out of Middle Earth, and now-"

"They have returned," whispered Celeborn as he finally understood the mystery. He stood up. "I remember Círdan speaking of their arrival one thousand years into the Third Age. Their names were Alatar and Pallando, and although they were of lesser might than Olórin, together they radiated a strange sense of power. I think that it rather disturbed Círdan, but as they had left Middle Earth, he said nothing further of it."

"So we must again face the might of the Maiar," said Faramir, thoughtfully. Pippin sat as if stunned, as he numbly looked at the grave faces around him. Celeborn was rubbing his temples and his anguish was clearly audible, as he continued in whispered tones.

"But why would they seize so many of our people? What is their purpose in Middle Earth?"

Náriel, who had remained silent throughout Aragorn's speech and the subsequent outcry, now spoke quietly and carefully.

"Their purpose? The purpose of Sauron, and Melkor before him: power and dominion over others. Perhaps they see themselves in the role of overlords. There is a desolate void where Mordor once stood; maybe they seek to fill it."

"But they never showed any interest in Middle Earth before," said Thranduil, "why should they wish to dominate it?"

"They never showed interest, admittedly, but what is to say that they were not simply biding their time, until the Dark Lord was defeated? They would not have wished to engage in power struggle with Melkor's strongest servant. It seems that they are more shrewd even than Saruman for they did not share in his folly."

Aragorn rubbed his chin thoughtfully at the wisdom in the Elf-lady's words. "Ay, they knew they could not overthrow him, so they remained in the shadows while others brought about his destruction."

"And now their path is clear," said Celeborn. He stood up, and began to count on his fingers. "Mithrandir has passed into the West, Radagast cares not for the deeds of Men or Elves, Saruman has been destroyed, leaving only two, Allatar and Pallando, of whom no tales exist. Yet still the question remains: why have they not attacked us openly with a great show of strength? Why have they been seizing our people if they do not mean to destroy us?"

"How can we hope to oppose them?" asked Éomer weakly as, for the first time, he doubted the strength of weaponry. When Easterlings had seemed the likeliest enemy, a resolution had seemed simple, if violent. He clutched the hilt of his sword in desperation; courage had not failed the proud King of Rohan, but his hope was shattered.

"We united to bring down Sauron; we will unite again to rid Middle Earth of this evil," said Aragorn

[Bess the Bard]

VERY exciting. Alatar and Pallando are characters that leave lots of questions unanswered. And now you are going to answer them!! Great work. Looking forward to more.

[Lalaith]

Glad you're enjoying it! Now..the thing is...while I know EXACTLY how this is all gonna end, I'm having difficulties getting to that point so this may take a while! I'll update when I can...
Just be prepared for some emotional drainage!

[Dawnnamira Nerwen]

Emotional Drainage? What's that supposed to mean?

[Lalaith]

Erm, basically this story won't be the most cheerful!! It'll be a bit depressive, but I'll try to lighten it up a bit! ;)

[Pil]

Great update there Lalaith! Thanks for posting! :hooray:

Emotional stories, depressing or light hearted, are always great to read so i really look forward to the next part! :thumbs:

Keep it up! :)

[Elleth]

Great job!! :hooray: