-General-
They say farewells are rarely easy, but for the Elves, they were almost unnecessary. Their immortal longevity dismissed the idea of a final separation; an absence was merely a whisper in the river of time.
Yet, in the Third Age, their time in Middle-earth was drawing to a close. Whether they wished it or not, they would eventually have to leave. From this truth came their reluctance to let one of their own venture beyond the known borders. Not out of fear of danger, but from the certainty that, this time, the farewell might be final.
"Do you have to go with him?" Thalwen asked, her voice heavy with sorrow. In her pristine eyes was reflected the sadness of a mother, the same eyes that once watched a little girl follow her endlessly, always eager for tales and stories, now saw that girl walking away from her side.
She thought she had prepared herself for this. Since the day the chemistry between Tauriel and Aldril became evident, Thalwen had started to accept that perhaps, one day, her beloved daughter would leave with that half-elf. Oh, how she wished that boy hadn't inherited his mother's adventurous spirit! Perhaps then, he might have stayed in the realm, and so might her daughter.
Perhaps they would have married, had children, and built a peaceful life among the trees of their homeland. But now, all of that was behind them.
"I must go, Mother," Tauriel replied, gently squeezing Thalwen's hands in a comforting gesture.
"I long for adventure... and to discover what lies beyond Mirkwood. Besides… my encounter with the Vala Oromë awakened something in me. The humans and Middle-earth need help, and even if my aid is but a grain, at least I will be offering something to protect this land."
My daughter has grown... in spirit, Thalwen thought. Pride shone in her eyes as she saw her daughter's resolute stance. Long ago, she herself had held that very same conviction, when she set out alongside Finduilas, Galadriel, and Tindómiel to protect the free peoples of Middle-earth. And now… she will do what my younger self once did.
Thalwen embraced her tightly, with the warmth of a mother who knows she cannot hold her daughter back, but offers her the world anyway.
"In that case, I will await your return," she said with a serene voice, though her heart ached. "This place will always be your home. And if one day you and Aldril wish to settle… do not hesitate to come."
Though she had not borne her in her womb, Tauriel was, without a doubt, the daughter she never had.
----
At dusk, beneath the waning light of dawn, Aldril and Tauriel departed from Mirkwood.
But before they could set off on their journey, Thranduil—the ever-stoic and distant Elven king—approached Aldril. In private, with a low but firm voice, he spoke. It wasn't a grand speech, nor ceremonial; it was a veiled plea from a father who knew he had to let go.
"Protect her. Guard her as if she were the most precious thing you own."
Then, after a brief pause, he added with a gaze as sharp as an arrow: "And treat her well… or I'll let your imagination handle the consequences."
Aldril only nodded, understanding far more than the king's words conveyed. He did not feel intimidated. He attributed the warning to the natural reluctance of any father to let his daughter go, even if that daughter had been adopted.
And so, without more words, without fanfare or grand farewells, the two departed from the forest, leaving behind the shadow of Mirkwood's towering trees.
....
-Heading eastward.-
The journey on horseback was soothing.
The gentle wind played with Aldril and Tauriel's hair, and the crunch of leaves beneath the horses' hooves was the only sound breaking the sacred silence of the road. Wild orchids bloomed along the edges of the path, as if nature itself welcomed them, marking their passage with bursts of color and fragrance.
Around them, the vast grasslands stretched like an endless green sea, rippling under the setting sun. It was clear these lands had not yet been touched by Sauron's shadow; the Enemy's corruption had not reached the purity of this place.
The glow of sunset faded with the passing hours, giving way to the brilliance of the moon, bright and silver.
Middle-earth's lack of pollution allowed for a splendid view of the sea of stars above, their radiance dancing high in the sky, gently illuminating the dark canopy of night.
A reddish glow rose from the heart of the campfire, casting dancing shadows that moved with the silhouettes of Aldril and Tauriel.
They were camping in the vast prairie, and the crackling of the fire blended with the aroma of dinner slowly roasting over the embers. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, they shared the warmth of the fire, and of their closeness.
Tauriel rested gently against Aldril's shoulder, while he, in a natural and protective gesture, wrapped an arm around her curving waist, as if anchoring her to that perfect moment beneath the stars.
Such a sight would have driven Finduilas to tears of envy, for she had reluctantly stayed behind to guard the new united stronghold of the Elves of Mirkwood and Lothlórien.
They enjoyed the moment in silence; words were unnecessary. Their presence alone was enough to fill their hearts. The fire's crackling, mingled with the song of the crickets, created a natural melody that made them close their eyes and relish the beauty of the night's music.
The neighing of Shadow Star and Tauriel's mare (Silivren, as bright as silver thanks to her gleaming, well-kept coat) interrupted them. They gently opened their eyes and turned their heads to see their steeds walking away.
"What are they doing?" murmured Tauriel, puzzled. She was about to stand up and go after the horses, thinking they were fleeing. However, Aldril's hand stopped her.
"Easy," he said. "You must have some idea why they're walking off."
Tauriel tilted her head in confusion, pausing for a few seconds until the pleased neigh of her mare made her glance into the distance. There, in silence, she saw her noble Silivren being mounted by Shadow Star.
A wry smile adorned her beautiful face, lit by the fire's glow. How could she have forgotten? Aldril's horse and her mare often did this. She didn't know why… it was almost as if Shadow Star was determined to sire offspring with her noble mare.
Unconsciously, her gaze drifted to Aldril, who was deliberately ignoring his stallion's behavior. A fleeting thought, like a flash of lightning, crossed her mind: Was the union of their steeds a reflection of what their own relationship would become one day?
She shook her head, trying to clear the thought, and brushed aside what she considered her mare's vulgar behavior. She sat once more beside Aldril, and together they returned to the moment, focused on the shared silence, occasionally turning the meat and vegetables roasting over the fire.
"You know… I learned an amusing spell from your mother," said Aldril suddenly, breaking the silence.
"A spell from my mother?" Tauriel repeated, as she turned a carrot that was cooking.
Aldril smiled and pulled out several musical instruments from his storage ring—a gift from both Dwarves and Elves, and even some offered by enthusiastic Men from the valley.
"Yes. Its main purpose is entertainment," he explained before chanting in Elvish.
It required just a hint of magic, but it was enough: as he finished the chant, the instruments came to life, playing a soft and soothing melody that intertwined with the natural song of the crickets and the birds that had drawn near the meadow.
Naturally, Tauriel stopped what she was doing. With a smile as beautiful as the moon itself, she gave Aldril a luminous glance.
"This brings back memories," she said, watching the instruments play on their own. As a child, her mother had used that same magic to tell stories and tales, always accompanied by enchanted music.
Rising gracefully, Aldril approached her and, with a gallant manner and theatrical flair, extended his hand.
"Would the lady honor me with a dance?" he said playfully, drawing a crystalline laugh from Tauriel.
A laugh the wind seemed to carry along, brushing the Elf's hair and enhancing her beauty even more. It was as if the very breeze were preparing the scene for an artist to immortalize that moment on an eternal canvas.
"It would be an honor," Tauriel replied, matching his theatricality with a mischievous smile.
With a gentle pull, Aldril helped her up, placing one hand on her waist and taking her hand with the other. Tauriel, well-trained in the art of dance by her mother, responded naturally, resting one hand over Aldril's collarbone.
The music, as if understanding the moment, became even more delicate. They surrendered to the dance, moving like the wind in spring. Every twirl exuded elegance, every step was filled with grace, and their smiles intertwined in a deep and sincere connection.
The crackling of vegetables and meat burning over the fire was evident, but both were so immersed in the moment that they ignored the charred food
----
"Retreat! Retreat!" shouted an alarmed soldier—only to be silenced by an arrow that pierced his eye.
A civil war had erupted in Rhûn. Some of the Easterlings, weary of serving the Dark Lords, had risen in rebellion against their rulers, bringing chaos and death to the eastern cities. Countless soldiers gathered, fighting with desperation for their freedom.
Among them, one man stood out: his short, spiky hair emphasized the fierceness in his slanted eyes.
Raizan, the instigator of the revolution, observed the invasion of a coastal city—one of the most important in all of Rhûn, for it controlled the distribution and shipment of weapons from the Easterlings to the Ered Lithui mountains, where they were later sent to Mordor. It was also the primary departure point for troops forced into service under Sauron.
"Are you sure the Dwarves will help us?" Raizan asked the two mages beside him.
"They will," replied one of them.
"After all, the dragon-slayer and friend of Elves and Dwarves is on his way," added the other.
"Good," Raizan sighed. The legends of such an elven man had spread through this part of the world like wildfire. Knowing that this legend was coming filled him with ecstasy, for if this person arrived, perhaps they could rid themselves of the dormant evil that once swept through Zha'Karûn in fire and ruin, the principal city of Rhûn.
"If the legends about him are true… then we may yet reclaim Zha'Karûn—and in doing so, strike a mighty blow to the forces of that Dark Lord."
**
Filty orcs! sorry for the delay, but I have just had internet, the heavy rains have caused my service to fail and left me with 4 days without internet, I had to change companies and once again, sorry for the delay.
"[email protected]/Mrnevercry"