Northwest of the Elven King's halls, Eryn Lasgalen

15 Narbeleth Year 28 Fourth Age

"Caeri, you can not stay here alone! That is simply not possible, child." Besoneth was indignant. She had made it clear she was not going to allow her closest friend's daughter do something so foolish.

Lancaeriel lowered her head, but her chin retained a firmness that was lost on Besoneth. "I do not wish to leave my home," she whispered, tears blurring her vision.

Besoneth used a finger to lift Lancaeriel's chin, and she smiled sadly at her. "I know you do not wish to leave, Caeri, but you cannot stay here alone. Everyone is leaving. Everyone! Even that stubborn Elvenking and his kin. You have a choice to make, child, but staying here is unacceptable. Come with us to the Mountains, or go West and find your family, if that is what you wish. But you cannot stay here. I cannot allow it."

Lancaeriel was silent for several minutes. Wetness dampened her lashes, but she did not allow the tears to fall. She swallowed them back, a firm resolve filling her even as she turned and fled from the talan. She moved quickly northwest until she reached a stand of tall birch near a small, flowing stream.

There Lancaeriel lowered herself to the ground and wept as she had not done since her brother had been killed, some thirty years ago. When she had cried all her tears, she slowly sat up, brushed her mahogany hair from her face, and hugged her knees to her chest.

How could so many things in her life have gone so wrong? Lancaeriel had once been a happy, outgoing youth with many friends. Now, she kept mostly to herself, avoiding old friends or emotional attachments. It was easier that way, less painful.

She had barely been of age when her father had been killed by orcs. It had been brutal, and she had not even been permitted to see his body. He, who had been her hero, the one who had taught her about the forest and the animals she loved. He had helped her hear the trees, understand them! She had been his constant shadow, following him as he hunted or gathered, learning the way of the forest.

And then one day he was gone.

He had requested she remain at home with her mother to help with the sewing of new winter cloaks. He had gone alone, deeper into the woods to the south than he usually went. A patrol had found him, at least what was left of him, and brought the sad news along with his body, wrapped in a cloak.

Her mother had not long survived her father's death, grief slowly fading her will to live. She refused to eat or drink and became unresponsive. She just sat and rocked herself and stared at a spot on the wall of the talan. Then one morning, she simply stopped living.

Lancaeriel had been devastated. While she had been her father's shadow, her mother had been her steadfast rock, always encouraging, teaching and admonishing. To watch her mother fade to a husk of what she had been had been worse than receiving the news of her father's death. At least he had died quickly.

Lancaeriel had clung to her older brother, Anthir, and the two had comforted each other through those first few difficult years. He became her rock, the one she could count on to lift her spirits when it felt as if darkness closed in all around her.

Slowly, life had resumed some resemblance of normal. Her mother's closest friend, Besoneth, had taken them under her wing. Lancaeriel began to socialize with her friends once more, though many had bound themselves to their mates during those years after her parents' deaths and were often too busy with new families to have time to entertain her.

She was even pursued by a few males herself, though she never found one that stole her heart. She waited, knowing eventually the right one would come along. Her mother had always told her that was how it happened. But the right one never showed himself, and so she remained unwed as had her brother.

With Anthir and Besoneth's family, she was not alone in the world, and she filled her days by following Anthir into the woods as she once had her father, helping with the hunting and gathering as well as the sewing and cooking. Life was full, and she was content.

Then her world had crashed again.

Only thirty years ago, when the darkness was at its worst, her brother had been taken from her. Many elves had died in the assault upon Dol Guldur, when King Thranduil and Lord Celeborn had combined their strength and defeated the evil there.

But when the horrible battle was over, Anthir was among the dead.

The loss for Lancaeriel had been almost too much. She retreated into herself and the wood, pulling away from lifelong friends and those who cared for her. Even Besoneth could not draw her from the darkness.

The trees had comforted her. This place where she now sat had become a balm to her wounded spirit. It was home. She could not bring herself to leave, yet she had no choice. Besoneth would make certain that she either sailed West with the Sindar or the older woman would pack her up and make her go south to the mountains.

The thought of sailing West held little appeal to her. There would be no joy for her in Valinor, no peace or comfort, no familiar trees to sing to—no family that cared for her.

She did not believe that the dead could be returned to them. Her people had never seen those shores and many said that the spirits of the woodelves never left the wood of their birth. Lancaeriel had heard one of the Belain would call to the dead, but she feared that which she did not understand, and doubted any elf could truly find comfort with a being that collected dead souls.

No, she would find nothing familiar in the West.

Besoneth loved her, but she was not Lancaeriel's mother. No one could replace all that Lancaeriel had lost. Her withdrawal into the wood had cost her the friends she once had. None of them could chase away the darkness or fill the hole left in her heart by Anthir's death.

Only the trees of this forest had brought her any measure of comfort. Her heart was here.

But here Lancaeriel could not stay—and she could not, would not sail. So what other choices did she have?

There was always Imladris. King Thranduil had made it known that the Lords Elladan and Elrohir had opened their realm to any woodelves who wished to live there. That was an option, though an unappealing one.

"Prince Legolas has offered refuge for those not ready to sail…"

The words were spoken in a small voice, startling Lancaeriel, causing her to jump. She turned and discovered a little girl standing not far away. The child was clothed in a simple white dress and had light golden hair that framed her pixie face.

As there were no elflings in her settlement, Lancaeriel reckoned the child belonged to one of the families passing through. Whole villages had packed up and headed south, like a migration of birds fleeing the coldness of winter. Lancaeriel found herself smiling at the adorable child.

The girl smiled back at her shyly before asking, "Will you be my friend?"

Lancaeriel found herself enthralled by this innocent soul. Her heart was touched by the question, and she found herself wanting very much to know this little girl. "I would like very much to be your friend!" she told the child. "What is your name, little one?"

The girl hesitated, looking down at the ground and her toe that was making circles in the grass. She looked back up and answered, "I cannot tell you my real name. I still would like to be your friend, though."

What a strange thing to say. Lancaeriel looked searchingly into the girl's blue eyes. There was a flash of something ominous there that gave her pause, but the next moment it was gone, leaving a dejected elfling standing before her.

"I am very sorry, little one, but I cannot be your friend." The girl's eyes snapped up in surprise, but Lancaeriel continued, "You see, friends need to know how to address each other, so I cannot be your friend if I do not know your name."

The child peered up at her from under her lashes, and smiled softly. "I cannot tell you my real name," she repeated in a mysterious tone, then switched to an impish, "but you may call me Rani. Will that work? Will you be my friend now?"

"Is that your name?" Lancaeriel asked.

The girl shook her head but added, "No, but many call me that before they learn my real name." She looked up at Lancaeriel with wide pleading eyes.

Lancaeriel laughed at the hopeful look on Rani's face, despite the odd words. "Well, I know what to call you now, but you do not know what to call me! It does not seem fair for me to tell you my real name when you will not tell me yours." She watched as the child's eyes began to fall in sorrow. "But," Lancaeriel added, "I will tell you what my close friends call me, and then we can be friends!"

Rani looked up and smiled brightly. "I bet it is pretty! Just like you!"

Once again, Lancaeriel laughed at the look on the child's face. "Thank you! You may call me Caeri, and I think you are pretty, too."

Rani nodded and sat down close beside Lancaeriel and began telling her all about Prine Legolas's offer for any elves to move to Ithilien if they did not wish to live in the mountains or sail West. Lancaeriel listened patiently as the girl told her she should move there, where she could be happy.

"I am sure many elves will be happy living in Ithilien with Prince Legolas," Lancaeriel told her. "But I do not know the prince or any other elves living in Ithilien. I do not think I would be very happy there," she finished, sadness filling her heart once more.

Lancaeriel closed her eyes, knowing neither Ithilien nor Imladris was the answer to her dilemma. She made a decision, deep in her heart knowing it was the only way she would have peace.

When she opened her eyes, Rani was gone.

~ —

The following day, Lancaeriel went to see Besoneth and apologized for her behavior from the day before. The older lady pulled her into an embrace, stroking her long hair before releasing her.

"Well at least you did not disappear for days as you are wont to!" Besoneth admonished.

"It is alright, child. I know this is a hard thing for you. Have you decided what to do?"

"I have decided that if I cannot stay here in my home, then I will go with those heading West. At least as far as Imladris. I have no desire to sail. This world is my home."

"I wish you would come with us," Besoneth sounded sad but accepting. "But I understand your need for a fresh start. How can I help you prepare for the journey?"

Lancaeriel gratefully accepted her friend's help. Together they packed all the belongings Lancaeriel would take with her, and Besoneth even saw to it that she have two horses to carry the load on her journey, first to the Elvenking's Halls, and then on across the Misty Mountains to Imladris.

"I feel somehow I am failing you," Besoneth said as Lancaeriel prepared to head southeast. No one else in her village would be going West, but rather south, before the snows completely covered the landscape in a deep blanket.

"You have never failed me. You have cared for me as well as Naneth ever would." Lancaeriel smiled, though it wavered. How hard it was to keep the truth from the one who had loved her as a daughter!

But she was determined and so she took up the lead rope to her pack horse and mounted her own. With a final wave, Lancaeriel took the path out of the village that led towards the Elvenking's Halls, where those heading West were gathering. They would leave for the trip over the Misty Mountains on the first of Gwirith.

Lancaeriel would not be joining them.

She rode for an hour, assuring she was out of sight of the settlement where she had lived her entire life. Then she circled back to the northwest, well away from the settlements in the area. She headed for a secret place of hers, further northwest. It was a place her father had taken her when out hunting for their winter store of food. There she could remain through the winter. Come spring she could move back into her talon and resume her solitary life.

  To be continued...

  Pronunciation guide

Lancaeriel (Lahn kire' ee ell)

Caeri (Kire' ee)

Besoneth (Behs-ohn-eth)

Anthir (Ahn' theer)

Author's Note: It should be noted that elves did not use nicknames as I have used them. Please consider this AU if it so pleases you.

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