Awareness returned slowly. A cold breeze caressed his cheek. Leaves rustled dolefully. A cricket chirped. An owl hooted.
But it was dark? Naneth thought him too young yet to be out in the forest at night.
He was lying upon his back. Had he fallen asleep? Yes, that would explain it. But where were the stars? It was winter. There were no leaves upon the trees to veil the sky.
Yet there had been no clouds in sky that day. Adar had said that was why it was so cold -- because the earth did not have a blanket to warm it.
That was the reason for the darkness. But why were eyes closed? Something warm trickled down the side of his face. It tickled. When he lifted his right hand to wipe away the wetness, the left moved with it.
He opened his eyes. His hands were bound. The ropes were tight. They cut into his wrist. It hurt.
Ah, his head was bleeding. Yes, it hurt, too. He struggled to sit up. The world spun. He closed his eyes.
But where were mother and father? It was dark and cold. He was hurt and scared. Why were they not here?
A sob escaped him. He remembered now. The strange elves had come, with fell swords and malice in their eyes. Father was slain, and Mother beside him.
Despair seized his heart. He opened his eyes to escape it. The world did not spin this time. Nor was it as dark as he had thought. The moon shone brightly, revealing a still form not far away. A sigh escaped him.
His brother’s wrists were also bound. His eyes were closed. He did not move. Elurin scooted closer and shook Eluréd. He did not stir.
Hair had fallen across his brother’s face. As Elurin reached to brush it back, another hand appeared. He recoiled. As it caressed Eluréd’s head, he stirred. Elurin’s gaze darted up. A woman looked back. His breath quickened. Her face shown with the light of the Silmaril!
But had not she departed from Endor? Could this be some other? Nay. He did not know her face, but not even Galadriel shone with such radiance.
Her hands cupped his cheeks, thumbs brushing away his tears. He smiled.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.