Chapter Text
The night surrounded you in silence, broken only by the muffled sound of your tread. In the dark sky there hung a waning gibbous. As the towering trees around you shifted in an almost imperceptible current, you caught a glimpse of golden foliage in the moonlight. You were close. You had been sent by your master, Saruman, to track down the nine walkers and to steal the Ring. Your master had for many years desired this strange and powerful treasure and the time was now come for the culmination of his plans.
You wrapped your dark cloak around your form as you crept nearer the borders of Lothloríen, the elven wood. After a few moments you saw a vague movement out of the corner of your eye. You ducked behind a bush, and hoped you would not be seen. Two elven guards made their way through the trees and past your current hiding spot. They seem to almost float across the forest floor, their sure and graceful movements making them hard to distinguish from the shadowy trees around them. This was the third patrol of elves that you had encountered. Lothloríen was supposed to be notoriously hard to enter and your master had hoped to get a hold of the Ring before the group from Rivendell had reached it. It had soon become apparent that the Ring Bearer and his companions would arrive at Lothloríen before Saruman's forces were even close to intercepting them, and he had been forced to make a swift decision.
For almost thirty years, Saruman had cared for you and taught you. He had found you as an abandoned infant, exposed to the elements in hopes that death would find you. You had been born prematurely to poor Rohirrim parents and no one believed you would survive. But you did. At least that was the story Saruman told you. He had raised you to be a living weapon. "Cold as iron, hard as steel" were the words he used to describe you. You knew that for as long as you could remember, Saruman's greatest wish was to acquire the Ring and to end Sauron, the dark lord of Mordor, once and for all. What you did not know was that he also planned to supplant Sauron and subject all of Middle-earth to his will with the help of the Ring.
When he had found you on the plains outside of Isengard's walls, he had seen that your fate was closely entwined with that of the One Ring. So he had taken you up, hoping that you would be his key to finding it. He had instructed you, not in magic, but in stealth and cunning. Over the years you had become one of the greatest thieves in Middle Earth. You were supposed to be a last resort, and Saruman had said your time had come.
A soft noise drew you out of your thoughts. You turned to find yourself staring up the shaft of an arrow at a tall elf.
"Make one more move, and you will die." he said in a cold voice.
He motioned for one of his fellows to bind your hands. Once you were secure, he put up his bow and drew out a long cloth. It was fastened around your head, so as to cover your eyes and obstruct your vision. You were pulled to your feet and made to walk in front of the group of elves. They led you expertly through the forest on a complicated path. Not once did you bump against a root or stumble over a fallen log. The path was steep, but the Elven Folk did tire easily and you were accustomed to strenuous exertion that would have daunted most others. Your master had taught you many languages including Sindarin and Adûnaic, but you only knew a small bit of Quenya. The elves talked among themselves in a tongue which was not Quenya, but was not quite Sindarin either. You could understand fragments of their conversation, but not enough to make sense of it.
The elves fell silent after a moment and soon they began leading you over what felt like paved ground. The noise of activity increased around you and you could hear many different voices, some laughing, some talking and some singing in the sweetest harmonies you had ever heard. You were suddenly halted by a hand on your shoulder. Ahead of you, you heard your elf captor knock gently on a door and murmur a few quick words. Your path led you through many twists and turns and up numerous stairs. When at last the ground leveled out you could hear the sound of falling water in a fountain.
You felt someone fumbling with your bonds and suddenly your hands were freed. An elf took one of your hands and put it on the wrung of a ladder. He commanded you to ascend and you obeyed, climbing arm over arm.
After what seemed like forever, you felt the ladder come to an end as you scrambled blindly up onto the platform. They guided you into an enclosed space, but you could still hear the trees rustling in the south wind and feel its cool fingers against your face. Around you low voices murmured in both the common speech and elvish. Your captors gently, but firmly removed the cover from your eyes and for a brief moment you were blinded by the warm light which illuminated the round hall. You discreetly looked around and noticed that this luxurious room to which you had been led was built into the branches of a great Malorn tree. The silver trunk grew directly out of the floor and in front of it, on a slightly raised dais sat two beautiful figures.
It was the great elven lord and lady.