Thalion Faer, Doltha Hún

I had almost forgotten the beauty of Elrond’s city. The way the buildings molded into the trees, the mountains, the river. Each curvature of the stone flickered gold when caught in the sunlight. The sunlight that poured in like waterfalls through the many windows and archways set about the city. Each room, hall, courtyard was as beautiful as the landscape that surrounded it. The general atmosphere of Rivendell was one of hope, hope and dreams.

The Elves of Rivendell welcomed us all happily, immediately tending to our needs. We were given a grand feast, which the hobbits took to happily. We were all given a luxurious room to call our own for the next few days, and Feredir was lead to a meadow for himself. It was a magical break from living in the wild.

“Vanya.” Arwen mused, catching sight of me as I emerged from my room.

“Arwen.” I grinned, pulling her into an embrace. “It has been so long.”

“How have you been keeping?” She asked, taking my hand and leading me to a bench that overlooked the city below.

“The nights have been long and cold. But I am here now, and I will enjoy staying here before returning to Gondor.” I said.

“Gondor? You are returning home at last?” She wondered.

“Yes, it is time.”

“Then I shall be sure to give you much food for the long journey.” She smiled, and I laughed.

“Is Frodo okay?” I asked, to which she nodded.

“He was a thread away from death, but my father was able to heal him.” She explained.

“Have you any news of Gandalf the Grey?”

“They are with Frodo, and will remain so until he wakens.” She said. “Would you like to see them?”

“Yes.” I grinned, and she laced our fingers together and led me through the intricate hallways and corridors.

“Do you remember when you were younger, and we would play in the forests and tease the horses?” We laughed in unison at the memory.

“And you used to teach me curse words in Elvish, and your father would catch us.” I added as we came upon a door. She hugged me a final time before knocking, and bidding me farewell. It was good for me to see her; I had missed the sensation of familiarity, the feeling of a family. The door opened and Elrond was before me, a proud smile on his face. He stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind him and opening his arms.

“I’ve been waiting for the day you returned.” He said as I leapt into his grasp, holding him tightly. He was as much of a father as my own. I felt my eyes water, and did my best to keep them behind my lids.

“I’ve missed you terribly, Lord Elrond.” I forced out.

“As have I, my Vanya. How you’ve grown.” He mused, holding me at arm’s length to observe how much fifteen winters had done to me. He held his arm for me to take, and I did gladly as we began to walk. He had an element of grandness to him, as his robes dusted the floor at his feet. He held a confidence and authority that was enviable. “I hear they have a name for you across the plains.”

“Brennil ned Bellas.” I said, laughing lightly.

“Quite the appropriate title.” He remarked. “You practiced as if fighting was your only purpose.”

“I still have the blades you gave to me. They have helped me through many difficult battles.”

“But physical battles are not all you have been facing as of late.” He said seriously. We stopped in a meadow of sorts, a tiny stream running through a patch of grass; the walls encasing it filled with windows and covered in vines. I remembered this room, and what it entailed. Entering this room meant that a serious discussion of important matters would ensue. We sat amongst the chairs placed on the grass, and I folded my hands in my lap.

“I presume that you know of the matters in my mind.” I said, my voice at a comfortable level and tone. This room was specially designed to calm its guests; bring peace to the soul and serenity to the mind.

“You want to know why you see images in your mind that come true.” He stated.

“Only a few have ever actually proven to become accurate.” I protested.

“As far as you know.” He remarked. “When this happened during your time spent in Rivendell, I took notice. I had traced your lineage back as far as I could, and came across a relative of yours. Your great-great aunt was part of something quite extraordinary.”

“What was that?” I asked.

“She was one of the Veelathan, a race of Elandilis that were blessed with the gift of foresight.” He explained.

“Foresight?” I breathed. “But that is impossible…I only have seen minor things, seconds before they occur.” I protested, looking at him in disbelief but feeling calm nonetheless. I did not know if it was because of the room, or because deep in my heart I had suspected something like this.

“You needn’t worry, Vanya. This is not a dangerous gift. But it is one that must be tended to in order to be used properly. As the days pass you will be able to focus on a certain person’s future, or the outcome of a specific event. This will not be overly easy, but it can be accomplished. You are not in this alone.”

“Can I prevent the visions from happening? If I do not wish to know the future?” I asked quietly.

“It will take much effort on your part, but it is possible.” He replied. I nodded once. “Although I do not recommend it. You have a gift, Vanya, which was bestowed upon you for a purpose. Do not easily forget that each occurrence in life has a reason.”

“We shall see what the future brings.” I joked, getting up. “What will become of Frodo?” I asked as we began to walk back to the room the hobbit was sleeping in.

“The ring…it is not safe in Rivendell. Gandalf believes so, but the power of the Elves cannot keep such a thing hidden from the allies of Mordor.” He explained.

“Surely you cannot ask more of Frodo?” I asked; worry creeping back into my heart.

“There is a council being hosted tomorrow, and we shall discuss the matter then. For now, we will speak no more of it.” He said in a final tone, pushing open the door.

“Sam has hardly left your side.” Gandalf the Grey remarked as we entered the room, he looked up at us both, smiling.

“We were that worried about you, weren’t we Mr. Gandalf?” Sam exclaimed, gripping his friend’s hand tightly.

“By the skills of Lord Elrond, you’re beginning to mend.” The wizard said.

“Welcome to Rivendell, Frodo Baggins.” Elrond said warmly. I sat on the edge of the hobbit’s bed.

“I suppose you’re about ready for a meal, am I right?” I teased. He nodded, smiling. Lord Elrond led the hobbits outside and I turned to the wizard.

“Mithrandir.” I said respectfully, bowing my head slightly.

“Yes, Vanya, is it not?” He asked. I nodded once, thrilled he remembered who I was. “Lord Elrond tells me you have the blood of the Veelathan in your veins. And your skill has made you much renowned across the realm of Arnor, and farther.”

“So it is said.” I replied.

“And you are the one who brought these hobbits safely to Rivendell. Which I thank you for.” He said warmly, smiling. The gesture caused the wrinkles in his face to deepen momentarily, as if the context of the smile was being etched further into his skin, burying itself along with the others.

“I did not do it alone.” I protested lightly.

“You always were such a polite woman.” He smiled. “Now have you any idea how to steer this power of yours?” He asked, getting up and stretching slightly before calmly pacing.

“Not at all.” I replied.

“Good. Then let’s we begin.” He said happily. “Bring forth from your memory the last vision you had.” He instructed.

I recollected the foresight of Frodo’s attack from the Nazgûl. Tracing the memory in my mind, I focused on every detail I could. When I had it prepared in my mind, I returned my gaze to the wizard.

“Now focus every bit of your mind onto Frodo. Allow your opinions and his character to seep in. What you are doing is building him in your mind. Let him take over.”

“Okay.” I replied after a moment.

“That is all for now. You must first master this, and then we can move forward.” He smiled. “Lord Elrond and I have matters to discuss, so I should hope you remember how to navigate through this city. Farewell.”



I wandered in and out of the halls, searching. Every now and again I would pass an Elf that I remembered from my younger years. We would smile, a sign of recognition, and push onward. Nobody ever stayed very long here, especially not in Elf terms. Their unit of time was so significantly different from that of man’s. Our year was their month, a shrunken and short thing that was easily tossed away or bypassed.

The city was just as I’d remembered it, if not more beautiful. Every surface seemed laced with magic, gleaming with wonder in the sunlight. Every window looked out upon one scene of beauty or another, and I wondered how I had ever found the heart to leave. As I passed a balcony of sorts, I found who I was looking for.

“Would you like to practice with me?” I asked the ranger, Strider. He looked up from his book, surveying the blades in my hands. His eyebrows furrowed slightly.

“We will not be under siege any time soon.” He remarked lightly.

“It is merely to pass the time.” I replied. “Unless of course you don’t believe you can keep up.” I challenged. He raised his eyebrow, and rose. I smirked, my feet light as I lead the way to my favourite practicing spot. He followed me, and I almost danced down the corridors. This city brought back such memories for me. I recalled when not a single Elf in the entire city would practice fighting with me.

I reached the meadow, walking to the centre and placing my swords on the ground before me for a moment. Strider wandered in after me, looking around at the place I’d chosen. The trees were tall and a waterfall could be heard in the distance. It had a glow about it, almost misty. Like the trees would harbour any secrets formed in this place. It was what I loved most, the peace.

“I had not the chance to ask what your name was.” I said while tying back my hair.

“Aragorn.” He replied after a moment.

“Aragorn.” I said, evoking the name from my own throat. I repeated it again quieter to myself before nodding. I bent down, picked up my swords and inhaled. “Show me no mercy. As far as you are concerned, I am a filthy orc from Mordor.”

“As you wish.” He replied, smiling lightly at my statement. I exhaled, chanting again my battle phrase to prepare myself. Sinte ú achas, óre ú achas. Sinte ú achas, óre ú achas. I closed my eyes, and with my hand beckoned him forth. I liked to challenge myself, see how I could fight with some senses masked. I sensed something to my left, and swung my arm through the air. There was a clang as my sword collided with Aragorn’s, and I sprung my eyes open.

I twisted around my right arm to strike him but he was swift enough to block me. Pushing away, I waited a moment before lunging again. If I let everything go, it became much easier to win. If began to block off the rest of the world slowly, until it was just us. I then proceeded to analyze him, the way he moved, his techniques.

“Lady of Strength indeed.” He remarked in an approving tone.

“Shh.” I said. “I prefer quiet.”

“Then I shall continue speaking.” He said. I met his eyes while trying to block his incoming attacks. He was able to keep eye contact whilst choosing tactics to fight. “For you should now need practice with distractions. War is no quiet affair.” He grunted, now blocking my attacks. When it was his voice I heard, I worked it into the analysis. Once again the trees and grass and sky disappeared, and he was the only thing that existed.

Aragorn, in a white mist of nothingness. I wondered if perhaps this was part of what Gandalf had wanted me to do. But that thought was quickly replaced with my self discipline to focus. I pretended to tire, heaving out breaths and watching as his demeanor slowly faded. Then swiftly, I clamped his sword in between mine and flung it out of his grasp. Pushing him backwards, I crossed my weapons over his neck and smirked.

“That was quite productive.” I said in an approving tone, transferring one blade to my left hand and offering my right to help him onto his feet. He laughed lightly, grasping my hand and taking the help. The moment our skin touched, however, he was gone. In a sense, though. I was having a…vision.

Aragorn is kneeling on a pillow before a man in white. It is Gandalf, but he is no longer Gandalf the Grey. They stand in a crowd of people, who look on in admiration. Gandalf lowers the sacred crown of kings onto Aragorn, who stands to look at the people that have gathered. They begin to clap wildly, euphoria filling their souls.

“Vanya?” Aragorn called.

“I apologize for these frequent spells.” I said, releasing his hand and sheathing my weapons. “Lord Elrond is to help me gain better control soon enough.”

“So it is true then?” He asked as we began to leave the meadow.

“Yes.” I replied. “I can, in a sense, glance into the future.”

“And what did you see?” He wondered aloud after a moment. His voice had a hint of despair in it. I did not know whether or not these visions always came true, so I did not wish to recount in detail all I had seen. He was, after all, a ranger; not a king.

“Happiness.”