What lies in silver irises and pools of black

She is in my soul

In my rapture and captivation of newly sensed life about me I found my unrestricted steps leading me not to the city. Instead I was carried upon songs of joy and excitement of the limbs of the new trees to introduce myself to their beauty once more. I ran and danced in joyous abandon barefoot among the tender grasses and murmuring roots. Time moved from the sun's caressing rays to the night's protective blanket. The darkness soothed my wild motions and left me standing hypnotized by the stars' comforting light dancing in the heaven's behind a curtain of soft leaves.

I remained motionless, lost to the wonders around my elven skin.

Uncertainties whispered shades of grey within my mind. Longings of the heart for my family and companions. Memories of my mother's songs while I sat with my twin attentively by my father's and elder's feet before a warm fire. Their unhindered laughter. Undomiel 's shining features expressing her love while bringing hope and certainty to our hearts.

The sorrow of mother's leaving…the pain in my twin's eyes as we said our final farewells to our Hope's light to the waning branches of Lorien's night.

Grief of the love and loss of a life long gone glittered in blue and silver in my eyes. Was I strong enough to form relationships once more with strangers? Was I prepared to be inevitably hurt with their passing…was it more painful to be alone than to watch them laugh and lose them? My family had been my life, there was no others in my heart save they. Was I prepared for more to enter it?

The trees' soft song seeped into my blood and the stars above bore away my fears with their hopeful beams. Life was never a certain creature…but the comfort and familiarity I found with Arda and her radiant orbs would always carry me.

My head tilted upward and my eyes closed I inhaled the bright youth of the land and exhaled the shadows lingering in my heart. This was my home. This land was my heart's blood and bound to my soul. I would never be lonely with her.

A soft smile touched my lips in the lulling songs of glittering night.

I fell to rest curled in the protective roots of a young tree not far below the new city.

*switch*

in need of rest

Elrohir leans against a building looking lost and tired. Sleep for him has been elusive since his home was lost. It has come to the point where his mind is dulled and he moves as though his joints were not placed together properly. He rubs his face irritably feeling as though his hand and face were wrapped in gauze.

He had tried not to think on it, but the faces of his friends and peers as they found themselves homeless forced him to. Imladris was his refuge. He tried to think of reclaiming his haven. But it did not change the fact someone had stolen it from him. He felt raw and violated within his body. His sanctuary had been raped.

Despite the fact he often wandered, Imladris was always a part of him, having her forcefully taken away from him was devastating. And he knew it was equally so to those around him. He had tried to remain positive and supportive in hopes of helping, but it had caught up to him.
They would get their home back.

Minas Tirith still lived beneath the shadows. They still moved here whispering in the background. He saw things in the negative spaces. He saw blood in his dreams once more. A tension found itself back in his shoulders as he became fearful for his sanity and the lives of those he cared for. Ereinion had asked him to talk about it….

He had said there was nothing to say. He wondered if anyone would find the proper words. Sauron had returned and the shadows were hungry. They did not discriminate upon their prey. Everyone was threatened.

Elrohir shook his head in an effort to bring his thoughts into some semblance of recognition among the sleepy labyrinth. Stepping from the wall he followed his feet wherever they chose to send him.

My return

I have not touched quill to these famished pages in what seems to be a lifetime of men. Perhaps it has been a lifetime to some for how frail and precious a life is. The journey home was revitalizing to me. I found a haven and peace in the canopy of Lothlorien and ease of heart once my eyes beheld the beauty of my elflinghood home beside the comforting roar of the falls.

Tikva seems to have taken to his new home with ease. Though he did develop an odd habit of taking things and hiding them beneath he statue at the end of the hallway to my chambers. One eve he made off with a harp belonging to one known here as Lindir, he seems to be a kind soul.

Once settled into familiarity I found my mind drifting off upon the songs of the forest night. No longer wishing to surround myself with talk and seeking the clarity of solitude, one eve I simply began to walk following its melodious balm, and lost myself in the wonder of our world as I once dreamed of long before.

I confess that as I wandered I paid no heed of the land I was in, only to the texture of each leaf, the sound of each windy whisper and the startling brilliance of every shade of life which surrounded me. Eventually I felt the growing unease within my breast, that ache of being from my family for too long and I returned to my beloved Imladris.

My return was met by the sweetness of Arwen, we spoke quietly in the gardens and she made me realize how much I truly did miss my family whilst I wandered. Her innocence is bathed in sadness now. I can see that in her eyes while she speaks.

News of my new sisters has touched my ears. I must introduce myself to them, Arwen tells me they are beautiful and frail, and that their names are Annalin who resembles Ada and Celebhiril who has more of Naneth's fair features. Pride and concern touch my heart that they be born in such times. I admit to being more than a little hesitant in meeting them, what if they do not like me? What shall this world hold for them, two more who share the rare fate and blood of Celebrian and Elrond's children? And opening my heart to love another sibling let alone two as I do Arwen and Elladan will be both rewarding and draining upon me. Though, even now as I prepare myself to meet them I cannot cease my heart's gladness in their arrival.

Yet this gladness of one tiding is marred by my growing fears. Since I have returned to my home I feel the chill disturbance of unease in the shadows that filter through our ancient greens. I behold blood spatters in the water under the disguise of night from the corner of my eye, as I stand enraptured by the reflecting starlight.

I am frightened. I know not why or of what but I find the restlessness of shadows has punctured the sanctuary of my spirit's haven. My heart clenches with fear that I shall not be able to protect those I cherish even in our own home.

I want no more blood.

I vowed to never take up a weapon again whilst I stood in the aftermath of Pelennor. For I found the killing empty and thought the time of such needless waste was gone. But now I fear I was in err, and I find myself pointlessly sharpening my daggers with whet stone…just in case. I do not wish to fight and spill blood. Yet if my family is in danger I may see no other choice.

Though what baffles me most is there is no reason why I should feel this danger. Why these visions haunt me here. Mayhap it is simply the paranoia of an elf who has seen too much for his age. I should simply relax and enjoy the peace we have found.

I'm trying to come back to RP. Whether or not I'll be able to is hard to know. And just a note here, Elrohir doesn't know about Galadriel losing her baby yet, and I decided that he hasn't heard about the branches either.

Nightmares in the Sun

Elrohir's svelte body sways in gentle tangent with his stallion's walk beneath him. Trojan nickers and snorts in complaint of the saddle and the slow pace with which the company traverses the land. Elrohir's bottom seemed to be echoing that complaint against the hard unworn leather beneath him. The small wolf cub went between trotting happily amid the horses' hooves, tongue lolling, as he would pause to sniff out any interesting scents or gaze at the elves surrounding him. When the excitable creature grew tired he would whimper up at his elf with a watery large eyed expression and be scooped up to lay across Elrohir's lap in the saddle.

The young elf continued to bring up the rear of the traveling party. At times a soft smile would light his gentle features as he watched the interaction of his abundant family. Sometimes he would ride by the side of his siblings taking pleasure in their quiet company.

His heart longed to run through the trees in barefoot abandon, to give up all thoughts and responsibilities and succumb to the songs that filled his blood as they traveled. But, his thoughts would tell him that such an action would remove him from the family he loved. A thing he could not bare to be parted with.

The feeling of oppressing darkness had lessened considerably since Minas Tirith. As Elrohir gazed over the land he saw to his dismay that it still lingered even here, digging in with skeletal fingers to fester in the ground. The darkness sluggishly breathed in the shadows, though it was far less stifling as it had been in the white city. Seeing that it was yet amid them brought both fear and disturbance to his heart. He would find himself glancing back over his shoulder at times, scanning the terrain when his senses were raised in unease. On occasions he could swear that he caught a glimpse of a figure…but…it was gone so quickly it surely must be the remnants of phantoms in his vision.

During a rest of the company by the falls, Elrohir excused himself from the others to privately enjoy bathing in the river to remove the dust the horses' hooves settled upon his skin. His young canine companion was off enjoying a hunting excursion. So Elrohir located a secluded piece of river to divest his clothing and plunged in. The waters were cold and it left him startled for a moment until his body adjusted to the change in temperature.

He washed his ivory skin and ebony hair with quiet care. Once clean he smiled in the peace of the pleasant carefree day. Momentarily forgetting the worries that haunted his thoughts. In this moment he swam languidly in the waters, reveling in the touch of the pure liquid against his skin and the tender caress of the day's sunlight gleaming over him. He closed his pale eyes and floated upon the water's surface, a warm smile lighting his face as he rested here utterly vulnerable.

The young elf remained drifting in this relaxed state blissfully for a time.

A frigid whisper of ice over his exposed skin in the air and a change in the natural noises in the air caused his eyes to open alertly. The land was dim and shadowed as though he were seeing things through a thick grey veil. The air had turned crisp and the creatures that inhabited this region had grown silent and still as though holding their breath.

Elrohir let his body go down below the warmer waters and looked about nervously, treading the liquid towards the bank. Eyes and ears scanning for what was amiss.

As he reached the bank he turned his face upwards to the mass of black clouds rolling and churning ominously above. The high pitched wail of the wraith's winged beast shattered his ears as it swooped low above him. Adunaphel seated on its back clothed in a blood red and black dress, her eyes mirroring the colors she wore. Raising her arm she…

He awoke with a loud cry from his dream floating in the waters. Startled further by his unsteady location he thrashed and nearly ended up drowning himself in his panic. Somehow he reached the river's bank and sputtered up what par of the river he had inhaled. Lungs burning he placed his forehead upon the soil and managed to find his breath and clear his frightened and turbulent thoughts. He gathered himself realized it had been yet another nightmare. Never had he actually dreamed of the wraith before until this, so it was odd. He shrugged it off as being simply the workings of an over used mind. He would meditate and clear his thoughts.

Standing he dressed silently and then sat upon a boulder to comb out his hair. Once finished he packed away his things and returned to the others.

nighttime desires

The young ebony haired elf stands on the outer wall at the first circle looking over the field below. He eventually withdraws and turns his pale face towards the sky, closing grey eyes with the imprint of his beloved stars still winking on the lids. He smiles softly at the peaceful quiet of the cloudless night. Simply wrapping his body in the embrace of the wind and letting his troubled thoughts drift from him.

When he opened his eyes, his pupils contracted in the familiar fright as he saw the depraved, sluggish movement in the cast shadows around him. He quickly calmed himself, the strange and haunting sight becoming a norm in his life. The whispers of cold, emotionless ice moving from one living, churning shade to the next. They moved in the corners and danced, dark mouths agape and twisted, tongues flicking at the white walls, defiling it with their lust to taste the city in solid form.

The elf ignored the mass living in the city as it ignored him. He moved to a place along the walls bathed in moonlight where only the normal shadows fluttered silkily below that which blocked the light. He sat down smoothly and removed a battered book and a quill and stoppered inkbottle from the pouch that was slung over his shoulder. He opened the journal to a fresh untouched page and watched the quill drink in the dark ink once he unstoppered the bottle. Placing the quill to the pure parchment he watched the ink's blood cover it in words.

The brothel is gone from my hands to those of the young women who kept it. It is a respectable inn these days and doing very well for business.

My Naneth has announced that she is with child, a shock to us all, and even greater that Galadriel shall be following in condition near the same time. I am glad for my parents to be having such joy so swiftly in their reunion. Though I still am reeling from the news of having two more siblings in my life as I can barely manage the two I am with already.

There was an evening where our family met and made its celebratory announcements. I was overwhelmed by seeing so many legends and songs, the strength in my bloodlines present. I could not bring myself to interact, as I should. I felt so small and …simply the sheer number I was near dizzy. 'Twas a sweet moment I shared after with my twin and our Arwen. Just the three of us at play together watching the stars above. We spent the night asleep upon the grasses beneath the protection of the trees.

I have gone to Adar with my waking nightmares and he has insisted upon a sleeping draught to help ease my rest. I do not wish to tire or worry him for his energy shall be needed in the days ahead. I do not wish him to spend his energy upon me when I know that in the morning I shall be right back where I began, With these dreams of blood and these waking hours of hungry shadows.

Yet I took the draught he offered, and I can not help but hope my rest shall be less troubled.

I long to return home. This city is dying and I am suffocated within its body. I feel drained and weak and desperate. I long to run reckless through the trees and to loose myself forever from these hauntings of blood. Though as long as I love my family I shall not part my ties to the troubles that would consume them.

I would that the day of our move comes swiftly.

a toast to a debt paid and things to come

Elrohir sat in a cushioned chair by the hearth in the main tavern room. A glass of red wine in his hand and his little wolf friend curled up by his feet. The women who he had come to be friends with who worked in this establishment surrounded him.

Tonight the brothel and tavern were closed and those gathered here had shared a meal and were now relaxing around the warmth of the hearth with good cheer in celebration. For as of this morning the last of the debt owed by these women had been paid.

They were free to do as they wished with their lives from this night on. It was both a frightening and exciting prospect for them all. Elrohir had asked what they were going to do with the place since they needed him to run it no longer. One of the women had said she was going to take over and continue to run it as an inn and tavern. She planned to call it The Den. Ownership for her had been won and in the morning Elrohir would sign the proper documentation. Her brothel days were past. None of the girls planned to return to that craft. One was going to take up the study of healing in the halls of Minas Tirith, another wished to start as a dressmaker. One girl even planned to marry one of the patrons now that she was free of this life. They had been making plans for a long time as of now and would have their wedding in the Spring.

Tonight they laughed and talked together, each face bright with hope for their future. Elrohir could not help but feel proud of these women. They had survived though many sinister events in their lives. And they had all changed greatly from the worn-down, bleak faces that had greeted him the fateful night he had mistakenly entered this place. These women had worked hard to change their surroundings for the better. They all had hope and freedom this night for the first time in many of their young lives. Their strength and perseverance worn as light in their eyes. This night they raised their glasses high and made a toast to the future.

It mattered not what shadows and turmoil now hovered prepared to descend upon them on the horizon. This night would hold them through. This first glimpse of what plans and dreams they could make their own would keep them strong.

Elrohir drank from his glass as he watched their bright faces radiant with laughter. He reached down to scratch behind the cub's ear affectionately as he wondered of his own path.

He would leave this city soon. There was no longer this responsibility holding him here. He could no longer stand the walls that buried him. He was in need f the forests and open air to keep his sanity, or mayhap to lose it completely in those songs. It mattered not only that he be away from this enclosure. He still remained firm to his promise to not pick up his arms to use in malice. He was no healer, nor poet or minstrel. He knew not what to do with himself to pass the hours and days that would be of any use. Though he was certain there were many things out there, 'twas just a matter of finding one thing in which he could be absorbed.

His solitary ways had been strengthened by his time alone confined to his chambers due to his wounds. Though he was healed and regaining his strength, he cared for company the less. Preferring the moments alone surrounded by greenery upon the roof.

Though, he did enjoy his twin's companionship, and the occasional visit of his Adar was well received. He would stay in this place until the family meeting was called which Elladan had spoken to him of this day. Then he would take his things, his horse and his friend the wolf cub, and be gone from this stone and its haunting dreams, back to his calling trees.

One of Elrohir's dreams

A vision of flawless clarity fills the young elf's pale eyes. He sits amid the grasses among the Pelennor Fields clad in robes of purest ebony. Between the bulking cliffs of Mordor and the White City. He turns his eyes towards the line of trees and his gaze carries far.

Elrond rides amid the towering trees clad in robes of silken white and an armored breastplate bearing the ensign of the white city. He rides at a pace driven by speed and desperation. His dark hair tangles in the wind's violent touch and it sweeps out behind him. His handsome features are lined with determined purpose, as well as darkened by a fear that is not comfortable there. 'Tis a white frenzied fear, which drives the hooves of the horse and billows the robes around the elf's regal form. A fear that causes the blood within the watching young peredhil's veins to freeze as thick as winters ice.

The gallant horse and elven rider breaks from the forest to fly over the fields towards the unsuspecting white city. Each hoof beat that stirs the earth a beat of a frenzied heart. No sound permeates the landscape beneath the heat of the afternoon sun save the beating hooves. The grasses sway golden red over the fields. The white rider sails above them forward to the white city, the white tree upon his elven breast. An elven crown of white gold upon his noble brow.

The pale eyes of the watcher turn upward.

From the cliffs a shadow rises and sweeps down over the golden red plains. In an instant the light of the rider is consumed beneath it and taken to the parched earth below. The horse's proud and weary beat devoured by the silence.

The shadow rises over the fields and settles upon the city of white. Though none that dwell within her seems to notice this mass pushing down and suffocating them. Nor do any watching from the walls seem to notice Lord Elrond's robes. The white stained red and the shattered tree upon the breastplate gleaming dully. The golden red grasses swaying in a wind that can only be sensed. While the elf Lord's eyes once filled with the blue power of water are swallowed by shadow.

Elrohir bolts straight from his sleep ashen faced and voice raised in fright. He flinches and yelps as the motion of his rising causes a sharp pain of protest from his healing ribs. He clutches his side and his mind swirls into focus. He is still in his room and the vision was another disturbing dream that haunts his sleep. He feels dizzy and slightly nauseated. But he forces his breathing to relax as he calms himself hoping he did not disturb his resting twin.

Recent Happenings

It has been some time past since last I touched these pages with the ink of a quill. For I have not much to divulge upon these pages. I have been bed ridden and removed from events beyond these walls. Minowyn, one of the women who works here at the tavern, was being assaulted and I attempted to aid her…but I fear my interference had little hope against my drunken adversary who was armed with a bar. I took some bruising and my legs and ribs were broken. I am in discomfort…but otherwise I am well. The injuries shall heal, though painful, they are not what they could have been in such a situation.

Being confined to my bed and imprisoned within this stagnant room drives me to distraction. There are moments I fear my overwhelming desire to flee from here shall cease to be quelled. 'Tis all I can do to force myself into a calm and strangle the need to cry out and throw my body broken or not from the walls. My muscles twitch with unconscious desire to be active. To bury the fear and restlessness I have turned my mind upon other matters.

I wonder what shadows roam the lands, what decisions have been made in my convalescence. I find with so many intruding worries and memories I find it difficult to sort through the confusion. At times, I am uncertain of events, leaving me doubting whether the past was shadow or concrete…and through it all the need to escape…even Ada's draught and grand-naneth's medicines can not soothe that need away…

Elrohir places his quill down a moment and stares with longing at the light flooding into his window. He rubes his face and calms his nerves. Focusing on the small window for his peace.

Once he is resettled he reunites the laden quill to the parchment.

Elladan is here.

He stays with me for which I am grateful. Though looking upon his features I know there are worries upon his heart. Worries he has yet to share with me. He has promised to take me to the gardens and away from these walls this day. Mayhap he shall open his mind to me there.

A tense night

Elrohir walks to his desk littered with supply lists and moves some about trying to establish some sense of order. He takes out his journal and sets the worn item out. Takes up a quill and ink well and opens the book to a new page. He stares at the vacant space for a while before touching the quill to it.

Today has been an eventful experience. I took my little friend to the forest where I found him in hopes of returning him to his family. I did so but we met up again not long after so he remains with me still.

I feel alone and confused. ~~Fingon~~, a stranger whose name I swore not to share said that I was an individual and that I reminded him of his son. I believe I pale in comparison.

Naneth and Adar are having relationship issues. It saddens me to see them so. Naneth came to my business with sorrowed words and I went to find Ada to try to understand. He was angry after a confrontation so I asked him to spar with me. Mayhap it was not a wise decision for we were joined by Naneth and Amras who believed me in trouble for Adar was winning the match.

No one was injured though it was rather tense between the stranger and Amras for a time. I can but hope no more comes of it.

I went for a walk...and I own a brothel?

The young elf wandered the roads of Minas Tirith as often he did. Not paying heed to the direction his feet brought him but simply watching those he encountered and familiarizing his soles to the way. No one approached him nor sent him greeting. Most just turned away or stared from a distance at his elven features washed in blank unawares.

His body informed him that it was time to have a drink. So his steps turned him towards a tavern he had not ventured to as yet in the darker realms of the city. His eyes took in the name upon the sign in curiosity. Never had he heard of such a thing as The Prairie Oyster Cave. He entered a place worn and dusty with a great deal of torn red satin. In all the establishment was in great need of repairs and cleaning. He noted the many women who seemed to be in their underwear with drunken men. He paused by the bar as one approached him with a broad forced smile and it dawned upon him exactly where he had wandered. His face and ear tips turned a rather vivid red of embarrassment and he began to back out of the building mumbling apologies for entering.

Just as he was poised to flee a heavy man was thrown from a door to crash upon the floor. Blood covered his clothing from the slit artery of his throat. His arms and legs where bent at unhealthy angles, covered in rising welts, and glancing at the rounded fingers Elrohir could see naught but blood where the nails should be. All those in the room turned in surprise and fright to the doorway from which he had fallen.

A tall gangly human with a backing of muscular bodyguards walked through with a disturbingly smug expression. "And such is the price for those who disappoint me." A greasy voice purred from his throat. "You, girls, have one month to pay off your master's debts or you shall suffer the same fate." The men behind him leered grimly at those in the room. "Have a lovely day." He strode out followed by his wall of muscle leaving all those in the room staring in shock.

In a rush of crashing furniture the patrons followed not soon after leaving a stunned elf kneeling over the dead body and a huddled group of frightened women. Elrohir closed the man's lightness eyes silently and turned to the group of women and a few men speaking desperately to one another. "I shall get the authorities."

One of the women turned to him and looked at him as though he was the one who had just killed the man upon the floor. "So you will have us imprisoned until our execution?"

Elrohir looked at her in confusion, "imprisoned? Nay, I would report the murder…have them seek out the ones who did this…"

The woman shakes her head. "He'll get away with it, who cares about a group of whores and their pimp compared to an outstanding member of society who contributes his wealth?"

"But…he killed this man, and threatened your lives, 'tis not right for him to walk freely."

The woman smiles palely, "elf, you know very little about the way things are here do you? Trust me, if you call the authorities, you'll sign our death warrant. If we cover up his death we can stay here and maybe get enough to pay that vulture off."

Elrohir looks startled, "Surely you can remain here, his death needs to be reported so that he may be properly buried."

She shakes her head at the silly creature. "No, women aren't permitted to own an establishment of business here elf. If they find out Rigald is dead, we'll be booted."

"You can not leave him unburied!"

"We'll stick him in the cold cellar."

Elrohir looked at her in horror. And she sighed. "Look, if you go bury him, we need a man to take over this place so we can make enough to pay the debt! And no one will take us on because he's out there waiting to kill anyone who does!"

"But…"

"Maybe things are different in the little perfect place you come from. But that's how it works here Elfie."

Elrohir frowned, "My life has hardly been perfect, but this whole situation is…not right. Why can you not take over this place?"

She folds her arms against her chest. "Because it's the law. Now, either go sentence us to our deaths, or let us get to work."

Elrohir looked at the frightened faces and to the body on the floor. "He needs to be put to earth…" his eyes met the worn ones of the woman. Guilt formed in his chest. He could not leave them to be cast out of their only home. This was not their fault and they were now left to sell themselves for their very lives…"how does one take over the ownership…of such a place…?"

By the day's close Elrohir was the new owner of the 'Prairie Oyster Cave' and wondering what to do about it.

OoC: I decided Elrohir needed something else to keep him occupied other than his new wolf cub, and it would be nice to have a set tavern, so…

A Shadow's Weight

The dream was more vivid this past night for the light seemed to burn my skin while the darkness I was pulled to seemed more hopeless. But it could be nothing more than the fact I was tired this past eve of the thoughts now battling for completion within my mind. My mysterious reoccurring vision is but another one to fight for focus within the turmoil.

Of the past week I have been to a gathering at a local tavern where I listened to the Istari speak. They are at an impasse as we all over recent things. And just as concerned it would seem.

I spoke with my Adar and I have met my Naneth once more. My feelings are conflicted. I missed her greatly but I fear I must grow to know her once more. She is unhealed, near a stranger to my eyes. But she has returned to us and that is something to hold onto.

Turin murdered someone in the streets who had ill thoughts upon Haleth. I was caught in the midst of their confrontation and was left standing as a fool there. Out of place as I oft feel in this City. I saw that the body of the man was seen to the morgue much later once it was located. I would rather not have seen a death…but I believe Turin's intentions were well.

My little friend's paw improves daily. He shall soon be ready to return to his own family. An event I admit that shall sadden my heart for I have grown to be attached to the little one. But to deny him a chance to return to his home would be unjust. So I shall do all I can for him.

Many injured were brought into the city after an attack upon their home. My twin and Adar have been busy tending to their needs and injuries. Both are wary to exhaustion, but we are all needed to do as we can for these people. I have heard rumor it was an attack of Orcs and Easterlings. Such tidings bear further worry and confirmation of the shadow's lingering presence.

He sets aside the journal and quill. He rises to his bare feet in the dim morning light and stares with shadowed eyes to the clouded sky beyond his window.

forboding thoughts and reunions

Elrohir lounges in one of the trees which stands near the outer walls as he writes his thoughts within his journal.

As I wander the streets of this city I can not help but wonder at the growing number of faces returned of old which pass. It is a little unnerving to walk among those whose histories I have learned from my Master's lectures. To know that they have been granted the choice to walk once more among us is what unsettles me. Is there something to happen to us which the Valar know? That these heroes and legends and souls given to rest have arisen once more?

The growing number of frightful circumstances confounds this uncertainty. Just the other day as I spoke with Legolas we were set upon by Orcs. Not far from the city itself and within the outer wall. The Easterling who introduced himself to me as Diatre met us upon our return and we fell into a discussion. I can only hope that light can continue to reach us all in the days ahead.

Mayhap I overreacted. But I fear that our peace shall not last…and I wonder why so many are lost when it results in a moment of breath to but lose more? And yet I remind myself that peace tends to be cherished by those races whose lives are more fleeting only when they know that it can be lost.

I have met an ancestor of mine, none other than the Lady Aredhel in a rather unhappy circumstance. She was up a tree bare and being harassed by a number of drunken humans. A kind rider drove these off.

I have been assisting her as well as I am able. Though I know it would be better suited for her to have aide from a female as some of the things she needs assisting in I am rather at a loss. I found it hard to speak of her home for I know the pain it would cause her to learn of its fall. But, I do know some of her family has returned as she, so at least she shall have them to turn once they are found. I must seek her out and see how she is adjusting to this city.

Other than those thoughts I have little to write within these pages. Except the dream which haunts my sleep still chases me in wakefulness.

Thoughts in a field

A soft chill breeze caused the long browned grasses to sway in waves over the darkened fields. Somewhere in the living sea of brown and gold lay a young peredhil. His black and silver robes blending with dark hair and the night coloured landscape. His slender hands clasped over his stomach. A dark cloak pulled about him form to ward off the chill airs. While his grey eyes surrounded by a pale face were gazing to the star splattered ceiling above.

He sighed in confusion sending a puff of air into the crisp atmosphere.

So much had happened over the last number of hours. He wished for his Adar's wise presence to talk things through with, but he knew that Elrond needed some time away to work on his own thoughts. It would be wrong to wish him here now.

His thoughts swarmed and churned in his mind as stormy waters would in the ocean. Much had been added to his doubts and uncertainties. He currently wondered at his own level of sanity.

First he had been lost in thought and feeling trapped in the city. He had placed his hand upon the glass of a window and had been gazing outward with thoughts turned towards his missing family, the dreams that haunted him, and that ranger. When without warning the glass had shattered as if struck yet on its own accord. He had started away and received but a fragment in his palm. Which he had removed and apologized to the tower staff despite it not being his fault. They had looked at him as though it were.

Giving up he had taken refuge in a garden tree to behold a rather startling sight. A warg in Minas Tirith? At once he had gone to Lord Boromir and they had gone in search of the creature. They had come across a small child rendered lifeless in the gardens…a sorrowful and revolting sight. Even now his stomach churned unpleasantly at the feeling the sight provoked. Yet he had gone on in hops of finding the creature before more damage was wrought. One named Eothain joined them and as the two men debated he had gone on in tracking the foul beast. Finding it at last in an alleyway wounded by a group of men. When approached the men scattered leaving him with the dying warg. He had tripped clumsily and received a swipe from the frightened and dying thing's paw. Nothing substantial, it stung and bled but failed to penetrate deeply into his shoulder. As the men approached to end the creature's pain a disturbing thing occurred. The beast's neck snapped back and broke.

In that instant, and for the second time this evening, he could have sworn he saw the shade of a man standing in the darkness. But a blink later and the figure was gone.

Though it concerned the elf that there was a phantom moving among them unseen with strength enough to snap a Warg's neck. The main concern was how that animal had managed to arrive in the city undetected and unseen by so many! A warg does not just lumber into the gardens of Minas Tirith with no assistance or witness. And who were those men? Where they the same as he had seen cloaked on the other side of the river that rainy night? If so more concerns grow in the young elf's chest.

He retired to the healing houses and after a strong debate with the staff retained his clothing upon his body as they bandaged and salved his wounds. He managed to escape to his own chambers and collapse into bed much later.

The day following was today.

He had been walking and unexpectedly came face to face with none other than Luthien, Maglor and Amrod. He had felt rather out of place and estranged in their presence. How could those who had long been past now walk as full of life as he? He had seen many unusual things though of late. This was not so uncommon. After all, if Mithrandir and master Glorfindel could return, why not others?

The three had been in an argument. He had stood back and watched awkwardly feeling with a deep foreboding that more was to come of the Noldorian oath of old. And that no peace would come of it.

The pale grey eyes closed against the darkened sky. A shiver of more than cold shook his body.

The night that does not exist

I awoke in a comforting tavern leaning against my twin. My mind was rather confused as to how exactly we arrived there. As I thought upon it slivers of darting visions and feeling stirred my thoughts. A manor and a feast…blood wine…something pressing about my throat and losing Rieka…running blindly through the suffocating dark.

I know not if it was a dream of the vestiges of an odd reality. Perhaps it is best left to fleeting memory and not to be recalled.

Elrohir closes his journal softly after the short entry. Pale grey eyes look upon this evening's gleaming moon in wonder and confusion.

A dream and uncertain feelings

Elrohir seats himself upon the windowsill in his chambers. His back leaning upon one frame, his knees bent with feet pressed against the other. His worn journal perched against his knee. As he sits motionless there pale grey eyes search the landscape beyond and the city below for a time. Scanning but not really seeing the activities of those around the tower. Above the sun's rays fall against stone and skin, the lights reflecting and shimmering off the architecture and leaving a hazy glow around the city.

He dips his quill from the ink well upon a table beside him and brings the nib to the hungry parchment. Feeling the need this day to confide his thoughts with his most loyal sounding board.

I look out upon this glittering city, scintillatingly white and seemingly untainted at a cursory glance. Yet, beneath her manicured and sterile beauty I detect the subtle darkened unsavory scent of decay. I know not what causes this…but it is here.

This decay of which I speak is not the normal shady business of a city. For as long as a culture prides itself upon wealth and station based upon what wealth can bring, there shall always be those who rebel against the rules, and those who are left to fend for their own means by any way necessary. What I sense is a far more sinister thing. I can feel it encroaching upon the white walls of this place. As clearly as a dark stain of molten tar seeping and searing into a maiden's bridal gown.

There is a sense of being regarded by unkind eyes from the darkness of a room or corridor. Yet, my own eyes and ears detect no presence there. An unsettled churning has formed within the pit of my stomach as I look out to the forests beyond the protective walls. There are shadows there moving among the malcontented trees. Even from such a distance as this I can feel their anger upon the winds. I smell also the odor of which I am far too familiar…

Orcs.

Perhaps the last of them have been driven here to final slaughter. I wish no part in it. I am too weary to lift my bow and daggers against orcish skin any longer…though there is always an anger deep in my breast. Much of that white rage has been dulled grey by years of the hunt and innumerable deaths. I know that their blood upon the ground and mangled bodies leaves me with no satisfaction or relief to the pain and rage I harbored. There are other ways to which that must be dealt with.

Though this decay and those watching eyes…orcs gathered as though under leadership…that ranger…it all causes my mouth to dry in apprehension.

His hand pauses as his eyes glaze in thought. He refills the unappeasably starved quill as his thoughts turn inward.

I have at last seen my grandmother in this place. My heart warmed to see her familiar features after so long a time in absence. We spoke briefly of things as she wished to hold private council with my Adar, and she seemed rather intrigued upon a dream I have been having of late. I know not what to make of it either. It is more vivid than most I have had…save that one other. And rather peculiar in nature.

It starts with me running from Minas Tirith through fields of long golden grasses taller than I, and into a familiar wood. I run through this forest with no concern or knowledge of anything round me, my only awareness the path below my feet and the voices of the trees guiding my steps onward. I never pause or falter but run a steady pace throughout the dream. While, for some reason, I recall there being stars in the night sky for the duration of the journey and never a dawn or daylight. Around me the scenery changes and the forest is covered in snow and ice. My pace moves on through this space aware yet unaffected of the cold.

I travel next into a cavern that should be dark. Instead it is lit by what appears to be crystal in a maze of tunnels and passages, through the dark earthen walls roots of ancient trees cross and intertwine. Their voices remain steady in my mind as my bare feet carry me with certainty through the maze. Never once stopping to wonder which direction to travel.

I burst from the ground into sweltering, humid warmth and a forest of which I have never seen. The vegetation is lush and large. Trees here whose songs I have never known grow higher than my vision can discern. I find what once had been a road that leads my through ruins. Architecture I did not recognize fills my sight while these mammoth trees grow from the building's crumbling skeletons. My pace does not slow long enough to study or learn more.

I continue through a waterfall and a narrow pass beyond it. I emerge within a hollow mountain it seems to bursts through more of these spectacular trees, feeling as though my run is near finished. I come upon a thick cluster of these ancient trunks, intertwined in growth and impenetrable but for a golden gate. I stop here and know that I must enter and I know without doubt that what lies beyond is what I am searching for, what calls to me in silence, the answer to my restlessness. I reach up and touch the gate, aware of the intricate designs upon it, symbols, a pair of wings perched upon its crest. It is warm as though it was a living thing and it swings open at my touch. My feet take me beneath the canopy to the cluster's center and here dwells a breathtaking sight.

At first it seems to be a pale tree larger and greater than I have ever seen. Yet, I walk around it and the more I look upon it the more it seems to alter. I am left regarding what is not a tree but what appears to be water swirling in one's shape. In the very center of this tree lies an object upon a pedestal, the light from it causing the ripples in the water to reflect as though set afire. In the darkness it is surely the brightest thing in all of Arda.

I know it is for this that I have come all this way. I step into the water and all senses are lost to bitterly cold numb. There is no light, sound, scent or felling in the void of this liquid. It only lasts a moment as I step into the center of the tree and walk into a deep rhythmic drumming and blinding light. I stretch out my hand and step towards that object which I know is what I am missing…what is needed…yet just before I make contact, I am grabbed from behind by an iron hand and cast into the void.

What does this mean?

He sets down his quill and closes his journal. His eyes gazing out upon nothing.

Questions in the dark

Two piles of clothing, a pair of thigh high dark boots and a towel are set in an alcove of rock above the water. Not far below this dry sanctuary the river Anduin's strong currents are broken by a small horseshoe shaped rock wall. Within this sanctuary the waters are calmed and still warm enough to find comfortable after a sunny day. A shelf of smooth rock beneath the wall means that the waters at this time of year do not go above a man's chest while he is standing upon it.

As the light of late afternoon wanes and prepares for the vibrant climax of sunset in the western sky, a lone fair elven figure uses this secluded pool to bathe. Sinking down amid the relaxing waters with closed eyes he rinses his ebony tresses. Ghostly limber fingers comb through it beneath the water. Ensuring the tangles are washed away with the dust and smell of riding. He lifts his feet from the rocky bottom and floats amid the darkening waters. Face tranquil and relaxed as it turns to the evening sky. Momentarily relieved of worry over strange men, his Ada's happiness, his sister and Naneth, and that vivid dream that still haunted his heart. He remains there for a time at peace until the soft brush of raindrops passes like a chill tap of a clammy fingertip over his skin.

There is a flash of light across his closed eyelids and a thunderous clap close at hand.

Elrohir's pale grey eyes open to the scent, chill and feel of a viscous storm coming through the river. He swims hastily to the rock ledge and scrambles from the water. Only moments before where calmness ruled the abrupt frigid wind was stirring to frenzied rage.

He takes cover in the alcove where his clothing is stowed. He dries himself with the towel and shivers at the change of air. Pulling on his clean underclothing, leggings, tunic and boots. He then places his other clothing, and soap in the towel and bundles it up.

His pale eyes gaze over the churning waters below. The darkened sky flows over head as it spews out flashes of brilliant lightning. These momentarily cast the dark landscape in a spotlight. Dazzling the eyes and causing the ears to buzz.

Elrohir stood in the alcove watching the cold rain drench the land. Not willing to risk climbing up the rocks and making a dash over the flat landscape into the city. So instead he stood silently, protected by the rock from the rain but not from the cold wind. The haunting sound of the wind as it moved between the rocks akin to a mournful cry.

A flash illuminated the landscape and several cloaked figures moving along the opposite riverbank.

Elrohir blinked and strained forward. Staring out to the area where he had just seen the figures moving in the storm. When the next flash came there was no sign of them upon the bank. He stared out perplexed and with a growing unease within his stomach.

Perhaps it had merely been a trick of shadow in the cold rain?

thoughts in the early morning

The young peredhil sat wrapped in his blankets in the day's groggy first light. His worn journal and quill already positioned above it. His expression thoughtful.

Two nights previous I endured an unusual and suspicious experience.

I went for a walk in attempts to ease my restlessness and came through the less hospitable section of Minas Tirith. I went to a tavern there for what reason I am not sure. Just to it and watch those faces around me.

Here I observed a human male whose very walk raised my uncertainty. 'twas not so much the look of him, for there were many tall figures of strength among men. Nor was it the cloak he wore that covered his features, for in this establishment revealing one's identity openly would be an exception from the norm. What caught my attention was the way in which he moved, the confident stealth of his stride. I recognized one who had been trained in the art of survival. Judging from the gear he carried, and his accent, he could only be a Ranger.

This human gathered with a group of others and disappeared into a room in the back of the tavern. They remained there for quite some time before emerging and leaving upon their separate paths.

I was intrigued as to why a ranger, an ally of Estel, would be meeting in such a place while his own leader was upon the throne. The simple nature of the meeting felt uneasy to my thoughts. But, there were stranger things to occur within this world, so I departed the tavern curious, but not overly concerned.

I walked the dark streets upon my way to my rooms in the Tower. I became momentarily distracted of my surroundings when I saw a man and woman engaged in an argument that I feared would turn violent. I turned my steps towards them…but before I could offer assistance I was incapacitated and dragged into an alleyway. My breath was knocked from my lungs when I was thrown against the cold wall. To discover myself eye to eye with that man who had raised my concerns.

Our discussion was defensive. Neither of us certain of the other's intent. We exchanged names but he chose to keep his reasons for such a meeting to himself. One comment spurred another and our tensions resulted in a scuffle upon the ground. It ended with him throwing off my balance when he leaned forward and captured my mouth in a kiss and mentioned we should meet again. I was so stunned by the action I did not think to follow him. Which I curse myself for now. What would Master Glorfindel think of my slips in defense this night?

Looking into his eyes and hearing his sly tongue I can not help but be more wary of his intentions. Not to me, the kiss was simply a tactic to stun me, and it worked. If he had wanted more he would have shown such desires. He never reached for a weapon in our skirmish either despite the fact he was well armed with dagger and sword. I do not believe him a violent human that would force his way. He seems more to be one to seduce. Though it is becoming more and more frustrating to me that I do not know his business in that tavern. My instincts scream that it is of no good intent and he is causing trouble.

But perhaps my restlessness has made me think more of a situation than was there…and he was acting upon something of importance that truly is none of my concern. I shall ask Estel of this. I believe he shall be able to rid me of my apprehension. When I spoke with Elladan later he thought to speak to Estel as well. We shall get to the bottom of this Huradir's intents.

I have no knowledge of what happened between the man and woman who distracted me to begin with. I can only hope their altercation did not end poorly and that both are well.

I returned to the tower consumed by thought. Suspicion of this human as well as the sensation upon my lips. None had touched me in such a manner before. It was not unpleasant but highly inappropriate.

Adar startled my thoughts at my room's entrance. I ended up telling him about the events of the night and now I wish I had kept them to myself. For he has taken it as a personal affront and it has upset him greatly. Something I loathe to see.

I have been greatly concerned over my Ada of late. He has not been eating or resting, as he should. He seems lost and prone to bouts of depression that frighten me. I know not if it is the change that comes with the end of this age, the loss of the ring's power, or Arwen's decision that creates this feeling the most. Naneth has returned to us unharmed, and they have freed one another. Which seems to have brought doubt of his own worth and appeal to my Ada. He thinks often of his twin. Something I have never seen him do…

He feels unneeded and lost. I have attempted to let him see that he is still needed by his people and by the new Rule of Men. That we must remain a bit longer to remind man they are not alone, and that they should not forget Arda in their haste for change and growth. The land is still wounded and bruised from her battles. She needs his healing touch to mend.

I am glad to see my twin returned. For I believe it shall take both of us to bring back the light in Ada's face. He needs to see that he is still needed and adored.

I need also to speak with my Naneth. I have not had the courage to do so yet. What if the memory I have help to has been a lie? What if she never cared for us? What if we can not be close once again?

I hope my sister is adjusting well.

Looking for purpose

I grow restless surrounded by these walls. I long to move through the forests, mountains and plains of this middle-earth once more. Though I know not why I have this unsettled feeling within me. Peace has come and I have put away my weapons…for which I am glad. I do miss my brother's company, yet it is also good to have some time apart.

Yet, something aches to travel within me. To grow wings and fly about this land. I feel as though I am missing something and I long to set out and find it. Unfortunately, I have no knowledge of what it could be.

I am speaking much with Ada of late. He suggested that it was a mate that I sought. But I am not certain it is love that I desire…well, of course I desire love and affection as all do. But it is not that thing that I feel I must find. He wanted to help me in my search. But I know in my heart that this is something I need to find upon my own. I feel a calling deep inside to roam and I must answer it soon. I know not if what I search for is inside me, or out there. I hear it whispering to me in the night's still breath. I can feel its seductive fingers tugging upon my limbs in earnest to follow. It is a strange sensation and I have not felt its beckons so strongly before.

At first I believed it was the walls which surrounded the city. I have never thought clearly while caged and the sky is blocked from view. But it is not the normal panic that rises in me in such times. Not a desire to escape…a longing to go to.

I see many surrounding me in confusion. Times have changed and the purpose they devoted their existences to no longer stand. They look about for new goals and reason. I worry of my Adar. His sleep is broken and his uncertain thoughts whisper in his mind. He feels himself undeserving of love. Despite my truthful assurances otherwise. I also wonder of Fingon and the way loss has embittered him…of his need to find familiarity and kinship. I hope he can.

Looking out from Minas Tirith

The young elf sat beneath a tree in the kept gardens of the White City. His lithe form was clothed in a pair of dark leggings and a dark tunic while soft, worn boots reached up to his thighs. They were of a hide whose soles had been treated to harden without having an extra layer for it on the bottom. The boots were smooth and waterproofed, molded by wear to his legs. The soft hide used to make no sound as he moved in the forests. A cloak of grey was fastened around his shoulders and hid his pale elven features from view.

Pale eyes gaze sadly out of the manicured greenery towards the garden walls for a time. Then slender fingers lifted a worn journal stained with the dust of travel and sweat of a horse. Some of the pages were torn, others wrinkled or swollen from soaking. The occasional splatter of blood upon the linen parchment making a more graphic story than the neatly inked lines of text ever could.

The ebony haired elf rummaged in the small sac he carried with him. There was not much here. A money pouch and some bindings to fasten the fletching upon the shafts of arrows. There was a rag, a numbing salve, and a roll of bandages. The journal he had removed, as well as an unhealthy looking quill and a stoppled bottle of ink.

He lay the book upon his lap, flipping through to a new page untouched by ink. He smoothed out the fresh, pure page with his hand. He opened the inkbottle with some difficulty and placed it by his side. Dipped the haggard quill to it and brought it to the page.

Much has occurred since last I visited these pages. A war that claimed many fragile lives swept the land. But due to the determination of a few instead of bleak destruction left in its wake, this war passed away into the dawn of a hopeful new age. Perhaps as remarkable a feat as the sun's full rays scattering away the shadows upon the earth below. Though, mayhap that is not the best analogy, for I would like to think that those hungry shadows have fled for good…and are not merely hiding beneath us.

I rode with my twin from the fields to meet up with my Ada and little sister leaving Lorien. We wished to ensure their safe arrival back amid the last bedraggled clusters of orcs fleeing for shelter. I admit, they are not much of a threat anymore. They are simply desperate to survive…and I suppose even they deserve such a right. As I rode to meet my family I thought much upon my anger and sorrow. How unsatisfied I was with killing these any longer.

I have decided to lay down my bow and sword and draw no more blood of any kind. For what need shall I have of weapons with our foe gone? I believe it time for me to find another path.

I reached Lorien with this in mind to be dealt a shocking blow. I still do not know if my eyes have deceived me or it is a hallucination of the light and my weariness. For ridding amid my Ada, sister and household was my Naneth.

I was told she had returned to us. She is alive and seemingly well. I have not had a chance to speak with her for all I can do is stare at her face and wonder if she is truly there. I fear greatly to touch her lest my anxiety prove true and she vanishes from our lives once more…it has been so long…I had nearly forgotten her face…but her eyes are still true to my memory.

I am now within Minas Tirith for the coronation of my foster-brother and marriage of my sister. I find myself uncomfortable here. There are too many people moving about and too many walls blocking away the light and green. This garden is becoming my sanctuary, but I fear not even it brings me the comfort I had hoped, for it is planned and cut back, lacking the freedom and song of the woods. A wall surrounds it.

I feel very alone and trapped here. So I have taken to wandering. And I see that I am not the only one who feels this confusion and urge to find a new way, a new familiarity in life. I even spoke to one who has long been dead. Fingon, gone for many a year from this world, returned to begin anew in this one.

My confusion and isolation would be far less than his. For I have my family. They are all that is important to my heart.

A new life to start

Elrohir rode from the Pelennor fields once the battle had been wagged and won. Many lives had been lost upon that expanse where golden wheat, once fresh and bright as untainted metal, now tinged and soaked in blazing red with that which gives them life. Many lives had been lost that day. But many more would be able to live due to their loss.

The young Peredhil sat tall upon his elven steed, intricate armor splashed with dark blood, ebony hair loosened from its braids. While pale eyes clouded with thought gazed over the landscape of fallen towards the green beyond. A piece of his mind regarded the lifeless faces of orc and man. These bitter enemies joined forever in death's peaceful touch. How indistinguishable their bodies were from a distance. How their dark mass was drowned in the sea of blazing grains, blowing gently in an early morning wind. Away from the scene of this battle towards the green of the distant woods and pure untainted innocence of the blue sky. A single star bound to his brow, in remembrance of an unforgiven act, glittered gently reflecting the morning sun.

Middle-Earth was free at last from the threat of Sauron. He inhaled the free air and closed his eyes in quiet thanks to the powers that made this possible. Those powers of heart and determination that lived in the breasts of those who inhabited this land.

When he opened his eyes he sighed. The moment faded as a puff of breath upon a chill winter's morn. There was yet much to do. Homes and lives to rebuild. Orcs to be killed.

A hand absent-mindedly drifted to the star upon his brow. He and his brother had made a vow to rid the land of those creatures so they would never cause such harm again. It was a vow to be kept in his mother's gentle memory. But looking upon the battlefield of mingled blood…he wondered if it was so important any longer. Killing these creatures brought him no satisfaction or joy. In a way he nearly pitied them…but them the image of that day would play before his memory's eye. And he would ride out in anger with his twin in hopes of undoing what could never be undone.

His father's sorrowful eyes and his sister's loss.

Riding stride for stride with Elladan he moved away from the battlefield towards Imraldis. For Arwen would be headed this way now to meet with her future husband. And Elrohir would be there to support his father and sister when they arrived.

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