Vallairë

Note: this is only a first draft and is poorly written I admit. Please feel free to give any insight or comments so that I can post a revised version using your feedback. Thank you!

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Vallairë shivered as she scurried through the golden woods of Lothlórien towards her hiding place. She had hid there many times before and they had not found her. But now she wondered if they knew her secret for she had not been there in a while. Still she raced on, hoping she would make it before they caught up with her. Even though she was one of the fastest and most nimble of the elves of her kingdom, there was one she knew who rivaled her in speed and he was among the group of her pursuers.
         Finally, she came to the familiar green meadow at the edge of the forest and made her way south until she came to the rapids of the river Celebrant. She started as she heard someone shout her name.
         "Vallairë! Please, I beg you...give up this tiresome chase and come home!" they called. They were close, but she would not back down. Not this time.
         She followed up the rapids that had now begun to ravage the river until she came to a certain small waterfall where the water was calmer. She quickly made her way through the tumbling water into a small cavern. And just in time it seemed. For only a few moments later her pursuers came within sight calling her name along with other luring words.
         "Vallairë, Lord Celeborn, your uncle, bids you return home for he is frightened lest you be taken from him by the scourges of Mordor that scour the land, threatening the peace."
         These words struck a cord in Vallairë's heart for she knew they were true. Her uncle loved her dearly and she loved him as she would a father. But she would not surrender herself to be brought back to her uncle and be put under lock and key; a nightengale trapped in a cage, its' song withered and faded.
         "Vallairë, please! We only wish your safety. We also wish to bring you back with your permission. But we will use force if you insist, it is up to you alone to make that choice!"
         Ha! By the sound of their voices it seemed that they were not coming near her hiding place but travelling in the opposite direction. They also sounded as though they were already across the rapids just as she had hoped.
         Vallairë sighed in relief as she took a loving look around her private little cavern. Its' walls were all stone and covered with a bright green moss that glowed and was a source of light for the dark alcove. She brought a few possessions here to make it more cozy, comfortable, and loving. It was like a second home to her. There were a few of her handmade weapons and sewing projects she had finished while she tucked herself away here on lonely evenings. She also had a pretty cot put away in the corner with plenty of blankets for those especially cold nights. She liked to sneak out once in a while. Especially when she was having one of her odd nightmares. She would leave a note for her maids to find in the morning, explaining that she had left early at dawn to practice her hunting skills in the nearby wood. And that would be partly true. Because she did get up early and practiced. The only difference would be that she would wake up in her secret place and leave with her hunting gear from there. It had always worked and her uncle never complained. She only thought now that she should have been more careful and a little less naive that she would have never been caught.
         Convinced now that she was alone, she climbed into her bed and drifted off into a peaceful sleep, not noticing the whispers and quick movements of the elves creeping through the waterfall and into the cavern.



Vallairë was dreaming. She was having another nightmare again. The one about the mysterious stranger, dressed all in black, half hidden by the shadows. The dream was becoming clearer with each passing night. Soon the dream would no longer confuse her and all the pieces would be put together to reveal the finished puzzle. Vallairë did not like the look of the stranger. He had an icy gaze and a sly grin that gave her chills. Suddenly, there came a knocking in the distance and a voice.
         "Lady Vallairë, may I come in? I have a message for you."
         Vallairë awoke with a start, realizing that she was surprisingly in her bedroom. No doubt she was found and brought back while she had been sleeping. More knocking continued.
         "M'Lady?"
         "Come in Rúmil, if you must." she called groggily after slipping on a robe, wishing she was still hidden away under the waterfall. Why does he even bother? He is only wasting his time. But she did admire his efforts and the patience he had with her. She began to walk over to her vanity desk and brush her hair as Rúmil slowly turned the doorknob.
         Rúmil opened the tall wooden door inscribed with the Lady's beautiful name written gracefully in the elvish lettering, and collecting his wits, walked steadily into the room. As he turned to face Vallairë at her vanity desk he flushed, as he imagined what it would be like if this castle belonged to them and they were man and wife. If he could walk over to her at this very moment and take her into his arms and she were to lovingly receive his warm embrace.
         "Why on Arda are you standing there so, Rúmil? You did not forget the message you had for me, did you?" Vallairë asked. Rúmil, brought back to the present, flushed a more furious red.
         "Why, no, m'Lady. I did not forget. But it would not surprise me what could befall the mind in your bewildering presence." Rúmil answered, silently congratulating himself on his well-chosen words and the fact that he did not choke on them as he was always his unfortunate habit.
         "Really Rúmil, you must not flatter me so. I am not bewildering but I thank you for the compliment." Vallairë declared.
         "Your very welcome m'Lady." answered Rúmil, swelling with pride. "You must remember to call me by my name Rúmil. We have always been friends for the longest time." Vallairë protested. Rúmil smiled in appreciation.
         "So, what was it you came here to tell me. Certainly not that I was bewildering, though I hardly believe that I am after just waking." said Vallairë teasingly.
         "Simply that your uncle, Lord Celeborn, requests an audience with you. Alone." reported Rúmil grimly.
         "Oh, I see." said Vallairë with a look of guilt that betrayed her. There was an akward moment of silence which gave Rúmil a moment's time to admire the beautiful robe she was wearing. It was a dazzling royal blue with an outline of the silver tree Telperion, adorned with small glinting pearls which brought out her pale gray eyes so that they shone like pearls themselves. Vallairë broke the silence.
         "Well, thank you, Rúmil. I can very well guess what it is that my uncle wishes to speak to me about. Thank you again."
         "Anything for you m'- Vallairë. I will return to my duties now. Good day, Vallairë." said Rúmil as he turned for the door.
         "Good day, Rúmil." returned Vallairë. She then hurriedly rang for her maids to help her dress for her meeting with her uncle.



Rúmil breathed in a breath of fresh morning air. The air smelled sweet, with a little hint of niphredil mixed with the faint scent of the Mallorn. He looked down from his flet at all the other elves, coming and going, most of them making ready for the Feast of Autumn Leaves because tonight was the last night of summer. He remembered the last Feast - the Feast of Blossoming Spring. He had worked up enough courage (with the help of Lothlórien's finest red wine) to ask Vallairë to dance. And she had not turned him down! They had danced furiously to the rhythm, her dress twirling and glittering in the firelight, her eyes laughing. His breath caught at the thought of that moment and he sighed.
         He once though that it was only a crush. She was the only Lady that was truly his friend. And she was always kind to him and talked to him as if he were a real person.
         Once, when they were little, she told him one of her secret desires and he had sat atop a big boulder beside her and listened as if it would save his life. She was 452 years old then, just a little elfling, and standing up atop the boulder, she declared that she would escape the noble life and run away to be a ruffian wood elf of Mirkwood. Rúmil, being himself 503 years, had gasped at these words and had almost begun to cry because he thought she surely meant to do this. Little Vallairë, seeing that her friend was in distress, sat back down beside him and said consolingly, "But I would never do such a thing, for I would never leave you, Rúmil, my dearest friend." Rúmil had been so relieved to hear this endearment that he jumped for joy and in his sudden excitement, tumbled over the boulder, bringing Vallairë down with him. They laughed and laughed until their stomachs hurt so much they thought they would surely perish on the spot. And Rúmil was happy.
         He was sure now, more than ever, that his heart was meant for Vallairë. Her smile, her spontaneity, the way she always brought out the best in him. There was no one who could take him away from her. And so, on that happy note, Rúmil ventured out of his flet to offer his help in preparing for the festivities.