The new resolve gave her a rush of strength. She rejoiced at the idea of companionship, of hope in this bleak coldness, though the thought of venturing forth into the open put terror in her heart. She swallowed, finding her mouth suddenly dry.

Mouth set with determination, she took a deep breath and braced her feet against the floor, preparing to push against the wall and onto her feet. She tried to ignore the way her head spun and her stomach roiled.

Rise, she told herself. Go to him.

She counted in her mind. Min… tâd… neled!

Nothing happened. Her eyes, squeezed tightly shut, opened slightly. Each breath came fast and shallow, and looking at her hands, she saw that they were shaking. Why couldn’t she move?

I am afraid, she admitted to herself. A lowly coward. The pain of defeat was physical.

“I am not afraid.” She spoke the denial out loud, and the hoarseness of her voice startled her. One hand rose to touch her throat. A memory of dark hands closing around her neck rose swiftly in her mind.

If I go out there, they will see me, she thought wildly. Tears sprung into her eyes.

I could not live through them again!

“They are gone. I am not afraid. I am not afraid,” she told herself, repeating this mantra in her mind. “I dreamed of them. They cannot hurt me.”

Her stomach heaved. These conflicting thoughts were making her panic. Bile rose in her throat. Celebrían leaned her head down between her upraised knees, trying to catch her breath. She stared avidly at her hands, locked together under her legs. There was dried blood on her knuckles.

Slowly the sickness passed, and she exhaled heavily. Muscles that had been tightly wound relaxed, and her heartbeat slowed. Moving sluggishly, trying to keep the panic in check, she drew one hand across her mouth, trying to banish the chalky taste there.

“What is wrong with me? Am I such a weakling?” she asked herself. A dark, gloating voice of memory answered.

‘Where is the fight in you, She-Elf?’

“I have strength yet. I am not through fighting.”

‘Crawl! Beg for mercy.’

“I do not beg.”

‘I could kill you here.’

“I am not dead.”

The voices that had haunted her dreams had come back in full force. Her demons were determined to take advantage of this sudden weakness. But somewhere, deep inside her, at the center of her soul, the will to fight back and survive still burned.

‘You are weak. Ugly. Tame.’

“I am noble, fair and as free as the great eagles.”

She panted, vision blurring and sharpening. Tilting her head back, she stared vaguely at the ceiling of the tiny cavern. How strange that it had seemed high before…

With a start, Celebrían realized that she was standing. Unawares, she had managed to push herself to her feet. She was weak and shaking, but she stood. Both of her shoulders were resting heavily against rough rock wall, aggravating her wound.

Listening to the sound of her unsteady breathing, she realized how still and quiet it was. The northern wind had died—the trees were silent. She could still hear the discordant sound of her song, though it had faded to an elusive feeling at the edge of her perception, like a fleeting shadow at the corner of her vision.

Outside, in the light of day, the air was crisp and clean. The bitter smell of death had been washed away with the rain and covered by the snow. The trees were still and submissive beneath the snow that blanketed their branches. An eagle wheeled overhead, circling round and round, and coming low with each pass. The peace would have been soothing once, but now her heart was troubled and she feared what the quiet might mean.

She looked around, taking a careful step onto the snow. Her brows drew together in distress. All sense of direction had been lost the night before. She did not know where the battle had occurred or how far she had stumbled the previous night. They had been moving towards the setting sun when they were attacked. Which way had she turned, towards the steeper mountains to the south, or down the ravine in the east?

The sun was directly overhead, glowing with pale cheerless light. Overcome with defeat once more, she stared up at the sky, watching a wisp of white cloud scuttle across the sky. Quietly she began to hum a tune. It was a melancholy song, filled with the yearning and the loss of a millennium lived. Such a song had rarely been heard beneath the skies of Arda-Marred. The words came easily, a perfectly matched blend of Quenya and Sindarin. As she sang she was comforted. In the verses she prayed and cursed, lived and died. The haunting melody echoed in her heart, replacing the fragments of her inner song.

She lowered her head and was immediately transfixed by the sight before her. A light, brilliantly bright, was hovering above the ground. It shimmered and moved with an ethereal grace. She almost faltered in her song but held onto the tune. Before her eyes, the light transformed into a woman, robed in white and more beautiful than any Celebrían had ever laid eyes. Her eyes held the well for all light, and Celebrían was humbled.

The woman did not speak. She smiled, and raised one hand. Her form remained solid for a few more moments, before it faded back into the light and blinked out. Soon, Celebrían became aware that someone else was singing, in a voice that was rich and deep. The harmony of his voice and hers took her back to the warmth of a great Hall. The Hall of Fire.

It was him! She caught her breath, abruptly ending her song. His voice faded into nothing, but her heart was filled with joy. By some blessing, their prayers had blended into one. She could find Lindir.

Ennor and Valandor – Middle-earth and Valinor