"Tales from the Keep (The adventures of Aranel ó Lorien)"

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Hi Guys!! Ok so this is my first try at a LoTR fanfic! Yay!! Ok and this is really the ongoing story of my OC Aranel! (yep that's me!!) All will hopfully be explained and I hope that this will be ok.

I just want to explain a few things before I start posting what I have so far.

First, Since I haven't read all the books yet, and I'm still trying to get through FoTR, this is going to be based off of the Movieverse and what I know from the books and friends. So since this is kind of centered around Haldir's "Death" at Helm's Deep, I wanted to make that pretty clear. (PLEASE DON'T KILL ME!!! If you want to kill someone take it out on Sauron!) *EDIT* (I do know that Haldir was not at Helm's Deep in the book!!!!! it's just a main point in my story!!!)

This story can get a bit crazy so please bear with me and I'll try to make it as sensible as possible. So without further ado! I would ask you to keep an open mind and two open ears, while you read my first LoTR fanfic!
"Tales from the Keep (The adventures of Aranel ó Lorien)"

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Prologue
A dream of the Past

All was dark in Helm’s Deep.
Onslaughts of orcs had breached the wall, and were making their way to the keep. “Aragorn, get your men out of there!” Théoden called from his spot atop the fortress. Aragorn nodded and started pushing his men away from the breached wall. “Nan Barad! Nan Barad!”

At the same time, Haldir was atop another wall, slaughtering orcs with his comrades. Aragorn spied him from afar and shouted for him to fall back to the keep. “Haldir, Nan Barad!” With a nod, Haldir killed another Uruk-kai and shouted to his men. “Nan Barad!”

His men ran back to the keep as Haldir covered them from the rear. Suddenly, an Uruk injured his arm. Grimacing, he smote the Uruk and examined his wound, not realizing that there was another Uruk-kai right behind him. With one swing, the Uruk imbedded his sword in Haldir’s back.

As Haldir fell, all went black, and all that was heard was Aragorn’s cry. “HALDIR!!!”



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Elvish Translations
Nan Barad! (To the Keep!)

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Chapter One
Rangers

Aranel woke with a start; she had been having the same dream for weeks. Every night the same thing, Haldir’s death at Helm’s Deep.

It had been over a year since that fateful day when a number of elves and men gave their lives to stop Saruman’s forces. At the time she was worried that Haldir hadn’t returned to Lothlorien with the others, but she had pushed the thought of anything happening to him out of her mind.

He’s probably seeing how Aragorn and Legolas are. She had thought. But when the day came that the other warriors returned to Lorien and Haldir was not with them, she feared for the worst. Lady Galadriel had summoned her the next day and made Aranel’s worst fears a reality.

“He has passed into shadow,” Galadriel said. “I have looked for him in the mirror, but he cannot be found.” The tidings which Lady Galadriel had brought were as if all the evil of Mordor were released into Middle-Earth and the city of Minas Tirith had been torn to the ground.

For days, Aranel had stayed locked in her room. Weeping the days away, and singing herself to sleep with a lament for Haldir at night. She hadn’t eaten for days until Lord Celeborn ordered the healers to do all in their power to help her overcome her grief.

A year later, anyone looking from the outside in would think that she had fully gotten over Haldir’s death. But every elf in Lothlorien, which had not sailed to the west, knew that she would never be the same again.
Right now she was on her way to Gondor; Lady Galadriel had looked in her mirror and saw that trouble was brewing in Minas Morgul. She wanted to be sure so she sent Aranel to find Faramir and discover what the Witch-King might be planning.

Over the past year, while she was healing, Aranel had trained to become a ranger with all the time she had. She knew it was all that she could do since she could not bear to stay in the Golden Wood if Haldir was not there. Once Galadriel had heard about this, she had kept an eye on Aranel, knowing that she might need her skills if something happened.

Aranel had accepted this mission with gratitude, for Galadriel knew that Aranel needed to be away from Lothlorien for awhile. So as soon as she could, Aranel set off for Gondor, taking the river down until she passed Rohan, then setting off by foot. It would take her a few days to reach Gondor but she knew that she would be able to get to the ranger’s encampment in about three days.

Two days had already gone by with excellent results. She had made it passed Rohan on the river the first day (because the currents were swifter than usual) and had started out on foot the morning of the second day. And by mid morning, she had skirted past the boundaries of the dead marshes and passed into North Ithilien. Now all she had to do was find Faramir and his rangers and see what in the name of the Valar was going on.

As she started out in the morning (of the third day) she quickened her pace to a brisk trot. Sensing that it was too quiet, she decided to try to lighten the mood of the forest and her latest nightmare by singing one of the tales of old she had learned as a child. It took her only a moment to decide what to sing, for when she looked to the Southeast she saw the borders of Mordor, where the Last Alliance of men and elves gave their lives so many years ago.

With a sigh, Aranel started to sing in a soft voice, so as not to awaken any evil that might be listening.

“Gil-galad was an elven king.
of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the mountains and the sea

His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven’s field
were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.”

When she had finished, she noticed that the forest wasn’t as quite as it had been and that she wasn’t alone. Sensing that someone was coming, she quickly climbed a nearby tree and waited to see if it was friend or foe. With her elven ears she heard soft footsteps coming towards her and in about a minute she saw four rangers from her spot in the tree.

“I see four but where is the fifth who I heard was coming?” Aranel whispered to herself. Suddenly, as if on cue, she felt a hunting knife slightly poke her right between the shoulder blades. Acting on instinct, she sprung herself from the tree, landing feet first on the ground. Drawing and firing an arrow from her bow so quickly that only elven eyes could have seen the arrow.

The rangers surrounded her immediately, bows drawn ready to fire at any given moment. “Who are you?!” One of the rangers demanded. Fortunately the hood of Aranel’s cloak had not fallen down in the process of jumping out of the tree, so her identity was still a secret. The rangers were only acting as they were trained,

“I’ve got to remember to tell Faramir that his rangers are well trained when I see him. Unfortunately,” Aranel thought to herself. “They are no match for an elf.”

“I need tell you nothing,” she said to the ranger that had shouted at her. One of the rangers brought his bow closer to where he believed her throat to be. “Why are you here?” He asked in a demanding tone.
“I seek Faramir captain of Gondor.” Aranel replied. “I have business with him. I bring with me news from the North.”

“Then come back with us to our encampment,” A voice unseen said. “So that you can tell me what your news is, and so I can get my arm fixed.” At that moment, the rangers lowered their bows and Aranel stared in amazement as Faramir stepped out from behind the tree. Her arrow had gone straight through his left vambrace, grazing his arm.

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Yay!! Chapter one's done!!! I hope you guys like it!!

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Chapter Two
Elf

On the way to the camp of the Rangers, Aranel was “escorted” by the same group of rangers that had surrounded her in the forest.

The moment that they had gotten back to the camp, the one ranger that questioned her as to why she was here, bound her hands and put her in the corner of the cave with the other three surrounding her yet again.

“They just never let up do they?” Aranel thought to herself. “No, they never do.” She mentally rolled her eyes. “Stubborn humans.”

No sooner had she thought this, than the gruff ranger which bound her hands came over and told her to stand up. “Lord Faramir will see you now, follow me.” His cloak billowed about him as he pivoted on one foot and stalked away with Aranel in toe.

As they approached another section of the cave, Aranel saw Faramir sitting down at a table. His vambrace was on the table next to him, and a healer was just about finished bandaging his left arm. Faramir rolled his eyes at how much care the healer was giving him, and swatted his hand away when the healer went to fiddle with the bandage.

“Leave it be, it was only a graze, not a war wound.”
“But my Lord—” The healer started to protest, but Faramir cut him off with a glare; the healer bowed and left, leaving Faramir alone for a moment.

With a sigh of frustration he picked at his bandage and tucked the end of the cloth into the last overlap. “Healers, they think they know everything and here they can’t even bandage a grazed arm right.”

At that moment, the gruff ranger leading Aranel came up to the table, he was so big that he (and his cloak) blocked Aranel from Faramir’s view completely. “Sir, you requested to see the prisoner after your wounds were taken care of.”

Faramir looked up at the ranger and nodded. “Yes, did you bring him?”
“Yes sir.”
“Good then, you may leave.” The ranger looked at Faramir with confusion.
“But sir he wounded you!” At this, Faramir became rather perturbed. “It was nothing but a graze on the arm! I’m perfectly fine now get back to your post!”

The silence that lasted for a moment seemed to last forever as the gruff ranger finally gave up the mental battle and returned to his post. As soon as he stepped away, Faramir looked up and flinched.

His slate blue eyes locked with electric hazel ones that pierced his very soul. Aranel was there standing before him, eyes locked to his. “A man am I?!” Aranel seemed to broadcast her furiousness and her “message” through her glare at Faramir.

A minute passed which felt like an hour; finally Faramir was able to break his gaze away and pulled up a chair. “Please, sit….You said you had news from the North.”

“I do, as well as questions that need answering.” Faramir nodded as Aranel sat down, placing her bound hands in her lap. Faramir noticed the bindings as she wriggled her hands subconsciously, as if trying to free herself. Faramir sighed internally and reached for his knife which hung on his belt.

“Here,” he said as he put his hand gently on top of Aranel’s; pulling up her hands so he could cut the bindings. Aranel was grateful, “Lady Galadriel was right when she said he wasn’t like other men.” She thought to herself. As she thought this she looked down at her hands, where the bindings had just been cut.

“Thank you.” She said quietly as she rubbed her wrists with her hands. She looked up at Faramir for a moment, the look on his face seemed to say “Your welcome,” and “I’m sorry,” at the same time. Aranel gently smiled as to reassure him that it was alright.

Once the brief moment between them had passed, Faramir broke the silence. “I am sorry about…my men.” Aranel looked up at Faramir; he was wiggling his knife back and forth while it was stuck in the table, making splinters pop up every now and then.

“They were only doing what they were trained to do.” She said, Faramir nodded. “They are good men; they just seem to be overprotective.” Faramir said as he looked back at Aranel, the mystery of the woman behind the cloak mesmerized him.

“Who are you?” Faramir said, a little too loud, for he was voicing his thoughts. Thinking that he wouldn’t get a reply, Faramir blushed and went back to carving a hole in the table.

“Some call me Rána.” Aranel replied, smiling behind her hood.
“Rána? It sounds like elven tongue.” Faramir had turned back to Aranel, curiosity shining in his eyes.

“It is,” Aranel answered. “They gave me that name after I became a ranger.” She raised her eyes to met Faramir’s and he saw a deep sadness which seemed to always be there and would never go away.

“You are an elf?” He asked, quietly so as not to alert his men.
“I am.” Aranel replied, suddenly taking her hood down and reveling herself. Faramir’s eyes widened as he saw how beautiful she really was.

Her fair skin was almost pale in the light of the cavern, while her almost raven hair cascaded down her shoulders to the swell of her back. Her hair was braided in elven fashion with a fishtail braid connecting the smaller ones in the back. Her eyes were electric hazel which seemed to sparkle like cavern crystals in the dim light. All of which was accented by two lithe, beautiful, short, pointed ears.

Faramir stared at the wonder before him, never had he seen anything so beautiful in all his life. He released a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and blinked several times. Awestruck, he quickly gathered his thoughts but couldn’t seem to put them into words. “I am from Lothlorien, if you wish to know.” Aranel saved him by answering the question he was about to ask.

Faramir nodded and finally managed to say something. “What does it mean? Rána, I mean.” Aranel smiled at his random statement but knew why he couldn’t think straight. “This happened to Haldir the first time he saw me, that day in the clearing.” Aranel thought; but feeling the grief slowly edge it’s way back into her heart made her shake off the thought and she told herself that she would save it for when she was alone.

“It means ‘wanderer.’”
“Oh, is this your real name or did they just start calling you that?” Faramir asked intent on trying to make some kind of conversation. Aranel looked back down at her hands, “They started calling me that after I had gone on my first mission for my Lady.” She quietly sighed and continued. “My true name I will not utter here at this time, for I have let that part of me die as far as I’m concerned.”

Faramir was confused by what she had said, but he remembered well enough that right after word had reached them about the battle of Helm’s Deep there was also word about an elven princess that had put herself in exile. As the story went, the princess’ life was not the greatest tale that was ever told. He did not know all of the details but apparently she was the grandchild and only surviving heir of one of the elven kings that died during the Last Alliance.

With a hushed tone in his voice, Faramir leaned closer and asked Aranel the one thing he desperately needed to know.

“You’re her, aren’t you? You’re the elven princess that went into exile.” Aranel’s eyes widened in horror as Faramir guessed at who she was. Quickly responding to her change in emotion, Faramir gently put his hand on her shoulder, trying to calm her.

“It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me; we shall go to a more private place to talk.” He said, as he stood up and sheathed his blade. “Come with me,” he said, politely giving Aranel his hand. Aranel looked at his hand and then up at him, the look in her eyes was a mixed emotion of eternal sadness, confusion, anger, and fear.

After a moment, she took his hand and he led her through the many caverns and out to the forest once more, leading her to a clearing where they could talk. For Aranel was not the only one fearing for her safety. Faramir knew that he would have to protect her; whether or not she was a ranger did not matter. For he had a feeling that she was indeed the one; Aranel, princess of Lothlorien, the only surviving heir and granddaughter of Gil-galad.
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Cliff-hanger!!!
Elvish Translations:
Rána- Wanderer (in Quenya)

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Chapter Three
Past

When they got to the clearing, Faramir looked around to make sure no one was there.
He then started their conversation where he had left off. “Are you really her? The elven princess who put herself into exile?” Aranel looked down at her feet as she thought, after a moment she finally looked Faramir in the eye. “Yes, I am she.”
Releasing a breath he didn’t realize he was holding; Faramir ran a hand over his chin, stunned at the fact that he was indeed standing in front of an elven princess. Aranel noticed that he was still stunned but continued anyway. “I am Aranel ó Lorien, granddaughter of Gil-galad the bearer of Vilya, and heir to the throne of Lothlorien.”
Aranel drew in a ragged breath, she did not mean for all of this to surface so soon. It was too soon indeed for her hands began to tremble as she quickly looked away from Faramir and down to the ground. As soon as she did this, Faramir’s thoughts were cut off. “My lady, are you alright?”
Faramir’s concerned statement through Aranel over the edge as the tears began to fall; aghast by the fact that she was crying in front of someone, she spun around and tried to run away. Faramir, thinking that he’d done something wrong, grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. “What’s wrong?” He asked as she tried to pull away.
When Aranel looked up at him, she saw a type of concern in his eyes that she had not seen since Haldir was alive. As the grief over took her once more, she ultimately gave up and crumpled into Faramir’s grip. Leaning on his chest for support, she began to quietly cry.
In response to her sudden outburst, for whatever reason, Faramir gently put his arms around Aranel and held her close. “Any man, who does nothing when a woman cries, is not a man at all.” Faramir thought to himself, “And though I do not know why she cries, I will do all in my power to ease her pain.”
“Tell me,” said Faramir. “Why do you cry when you speak of your past?” Aranel spoke quietly though a mixture of sobs, but in the end she was able to answer his question.
“My past has not been glorious, Son of Gondor. My whole life has been surrounded by shadow, a shadow that will never leave and never die.” Aranel cringed when Faramir asked about the “shadow.” She knew that he would find out eventually since she had opened her mouth and told him what was wrong, so she gathered her courage and began to tell him the story of her past.
“When I was young, my mother brought me to Lothlorien; there I met the Lady Galadriel, who happens to be my cousin three times removed.” As she spoke of her past, her mind drifted back to the memory of her mother, Anira, bringing her to Lothlorien that fateful day. “My mother knew that she was being hunted, and that she needed to take me somewhere I would be safe. There is no safer place in all of Middle-Earth then the Golden Wood, where the Lady of Light resides.”
“My mother left the next day, leaving me in the care of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn.” Aranel sighed as she pulled away from Faramir’s grip; walking through the clearing with Faramir at her side. “Everyday I would get up and climb the tallest tree in all of Lorien, to see if my mother was coming. Each day I looked, and still each day I saw nothing.”
“A month went by and my mother still had not come. I began to worry but still I looked for her in vain. Then one day news had come to Lord Celeborn, I was summoned, and was told that my mother had been attacked by a band of orcs.” Aranel paused for a moment and took a deep breath.
“When Lord Celeborn first told me that my mother was dead…I didn’t believe him. It was only after he showed me my mother’s necklace, which she never took off, that I believed him.” As she mentioned the necklace, Aranel fingered her necklace which hung right below the brooch on her cloak.
It was sliver and looked like a miniature elven circlet, similar to the one that was on Gil-galad’s head in the paintings of the Last Alliance. In it was set three diamonds encircling a midnight blue sapphire; Aranel held her hand above her necklace for a moment before she went on. “This is that same necklace; it was given to my grandmother by Gil-galad himself, and has been passed down from generation until it reached me.”
Faramir looked from the necklace to Aranel, intently listening to her story. “When I finally realized my mother was dead, I ran. I ran as far away as I could before the grief, and a certain elf, caught up to me.” Suddenly, Aranel’s mind flashed back to that day when she tried to run away from grief.

The forest flew by her as she ran as fast as her legs would carry her, out of Caras Galadhon, and away from everything that ever reminded her of her mother. As she ran, she closed her eyes and tried to forget; but try as she may, she could not forget who she was, who her mother was, and all of those times when her mother told her that she had to be strong.
Aranel was to busy trying to forget that she didn’t see the tree root in front of her, and in one step her foot was caught and she fell flat on her face. With a cry, Aranel sat up to examine her ankle which had been twisted around the tree root. Giving up all hope, and succumbing to grief, she let herself fall back to the ground and began to weep. Little did she know that she was not alone.
Silent footsteps quickly approached her as she wept, and soon she felt something loosen her ankle from its prison in the root. A soothing voice reached her ears as a hand was placed gently on her back. “An mana casta ceri le nini aranel?” Aranel froze; she recognized the voice as one of the guards that patrolled the wood. “He was probably sent after me,” she thought.
Thinking that he was, Aranel tried to get up and run. But try as she may, her ankle gave out as soon as she put too much weight on it. Falling once again, she scraped her arm on a nearby rock. With a cry of frustration, she gave up once more and let herself lay face down in the dirt, crying her heart out.
After a moment of choking on tears and sobs, Aranel felt a gentle hand on her back once more; and before she knew it, she was pulled up to a sitting position. When she looked at who had pulled her up, she saw before her the Marchwarden of Lorien. “Haldir!” She said in astonishment. She had always heard stories of the Marchwarden, and how he and his men always protected the Golden Wood but she had never met him.
“Nalyë hyan.” He said as he examined her arm. Aranel looked away from him and down at the ground. “Ha na eressë ráw haru.” Haldir pulled a piece of cloth from his satchel and tied it around Aranel’s arm as a makeshift bandage. “‘Ha na eressë ráw haru’ na ha?” Haldir swiftly put his hand on top of Aranel’s ankle as he said this, causing Aranel to cry out in pain. “That’s what I thought.” He said.
Aranel was angered by his mockery, so much that she slapped him in the face. Haldir, who was stunned by her actions, turned around swiftly to see that the tears had welded up in her eyes again. “Do not mock me Haldir, for I am grieving for the loss of one dear to me.” Haldir looked at her intensely, disbelief in his eyes, he had not known that she was grieving or that anything had happened. All he knew was that she was here, on the ground because of a sprained ankle, and that he had heard something running through the forest like a pack of Balrogs.
“Man?” he asked quietly, concern spreading through every inch of his voice. Aranel looked him straight in the eye and answered him as calm as possible. “Naneth nin. Naneth nin na gwand.” As she said this, her voice began to falter and immediately after she finished speaking, she burst into tears. As she cried, Haldir pulled her close to him and held her in his arms, afraid that if he let her go, she would fall and break into a thousand pieces.
“Im uva col le mar.” he said, and with that, he swept her up in his strong arms and started to walk back to Caras Galadhon. “Le tur idh, nalyë varna hi Aranel.” Haldir looked down at Aranel when he spoke her name. She had laid her head on his shoulder, and closed her eyes, her bandaged arm cradled on her chest.

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Loooonnngg Chapter!! (continued in next post)
Elvish Translations
An mana casta ceri le nini aranel?-For what reason do you cry princess?
Nalyë hyan-You are injured
Ha na eressë ráw haru.-It is only a flesh wound.
Man?-Who?
Naneth nin. Naneth nin na gwand.-My mother. My mother is dead.
Im uva col le mar.-I will carry you home.
Le tur idh, nalyë varna hi Aranel.-You can rest, you are safe now Aranel.

[Aranel ó Lorien]

*Chapter Three continued from last post*
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The flashback faded as Faramir called her, “Aranel?” Aranel looked up at Faramir; he seemed to be worried that she had slipped away from the conversation for a moment and thought that she might have started to cry again. But he was relieved to see that she was alright when she responded to him. “Yes?” She replied, her voice seemed to waver only a little, but it went unnoticed by Faramir.
Faramir, glad that she was alright, and wanting to start the conversation up again tried to get her to start where she left off. “You were saying that you ran away from grief.” Aranel nodded as she remembered that they had been talking about her past before she had a flashback from all those years ago. “Yes I did, but I was found by another elf who then became my best friend and eventually…my love.” Aranel’s voice became quite, and by the time she had finished her sentence, the last part of it was a whisper.
“Who was he?” Faramir asked, cautious not to pry too far. “He was Haldir, the Marchwarden of Lothlorien. He was one of the best warriors the Golden Wood had ever seen.” Faramir could hear a quiver in Aranel’s voice, and took it as a sign to stop talking about this warrior for now. “When did you become a ranger?” He asked eager to continue the conversation. “When I was still recovering, Lord Celeborn would not have me grieving all my life. When Haldir died, the princess died with him, all that is left is the shell of a ranger that I am. And no one can change that, not even Lord Celeborn.”
Aranel closed her eyes and mentally winced. She wanted to stop talking of her past and find out what was going on in Minas Morgul. But she knew that it may take time and trust before any information was given at all. “I may not get back to Lothlorien as soon as I’d hoped.” Faramir, catching onto her reluctance to speak, silently moved towards her; stopping in front of her, he gently reached back and pulled up the hood of her cloak.
“I believe it is getting colder,” he said as she looked at him, confusion in her eyes. “We should probably be getting back to camp ourselves; would you do me the honor of accompanying me?” Aranel eyed him for a while, thinking about things when she finally decided that she would accompany him for she was not planning on spending the night in the woods or as their prisoner. “Yes, you are most gracious, son of Gondor.”
And with that, they walked through the clearing back towards the camp. Further away, much further, a lady was looking in a mirror. She was soon accompanied by another person, silently walking in the shadows. “How is she?” the voice unseen asked. “She is well…she has met the young Faramir, captain of Gondor. Aranel does her duty well.” The silence was so thick at that moment that it could be cut with a knife. Finally the one in the shadows spoke. “Does she still….” “Grieve?” The lady answered. “Yes, she will never fully recover, but her heart is strong. Come see how she fairs.”
At that moment the figure in the shadows came forth and walked towards the mirror. His blonde hair shimmering in the moonlight, his blue eyes ever searching until he found the one thing he was looking for; her. As he saw her, he tried to reach out and touch her, until he remembered that he was just looking into a mirror. With a sigh, he pulled away from the image and hung his head. “Do not fear for her, she is in good company.” Lady Galadriel said.
The figure walked away from the mirror, “I do not fear for her my lady.” He said. “I fear for what she will do when she finds out I am still alive.” For the first time that evening, he looked directly into the eyes of Galadriel; for there before her was not merely an elf, he was Haldir Marchwarden of Lothlorien.
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Super looonng chapter
took me a while to write.
Hope ya like it!!!

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Chapter Four
The Hunt

A few days had gone by since Faramir had discovered Aranel’s true identity.
At first Aranel was afraid that Faramir might let slip her identity to one of his men and then all of the rangers would know; but to her surprise, she found that her secret was kept close as the days went on. One day, something happened that she did not expect; Faramir had approached her and asked her if she would accompany him on a hunt that afternoon.

“Who is going with you?” She asked him. “Myself and you if you would like to come; I thought you could use a break from patrols.” Aranel had accepted his offer because it was true, she had been spending most of her time toiling over maps and scouting the land with the other rangers. Faramir, of course, had seen this. So, using as much charm and personality as possible, he decided to see if he could get to know more about her than just her history.

The afternoon had finally arrived, and Faramir was getting anxious, he didn’t know why but for some reason, he was looking forward to the hunt. “Who knows,” he said to himself while he packed. “Maybe she will hunt me….” Smiling, he shook his head at the thought, but sensing that he was not alone; he turned around to find Aranel walking towards him, fully prepared and a confused look on her face.

Faramir, thinking that what he just said was the reason of the confusing look on Aranel’s face, blushed heavily and turn swiftly around and continued to pack. “Is something the matter my lord?” Faramir looked back at Aranel, “No, no, nothing’s the matter. I just was finishing packing, that’s all.” Aranel nodded but secretly knew that there was something bothering him.

“It may be the fact that I am an elf,” She thought to herself. Aranel mentally frowned, she did not want there to be any awkwardness or trouble between them; in fact, she was becoming very fond of Faramir. “Are you ready?” Aranel was snapped out of her thoughts by Faramir’s question. “Yes, I am, I was actually waiting for you.”

She eyed him questioningly, wondering why he had so many things packed into his satchel when they were only going hunting. Faramir smiled back at her, thinking that this was going to be one heck of a day. So they set off, out into the wild, not planning to come back until nightfall.

The day had gone on quite smoothly; they had seen a few does and small game but decided to wait for the stag. The deeper they went into the forest, the quieter it got, until Faramir couldn’t take it anymore. “Why is the forest so quiet? It seems like the moment we walked through the last clearing, the whole forest has just shut down.” Aranel just smirked at him. “This forest is older than you think, Son of Gondor. Long has it stood here in Ithilien,” She walked over to the tallest tree. “This tree has been here for almost a thousand years.” Aranel turned back to Faramir as she said this. “This tree’s forefathers would have been standing in this forest during the last alliance.”

Faramir walked over to Aranel, “This tree is a lot like you, isn’t it.” Aranel looked to the ground and shook her head. “Yes, it is; I never knew my grandfather or my father for that matter.” Faramir’s eyes widened as he suddenly realized that she was utterly alone in this world. Her mother had been her only family until she met Galadriel, and when her mother was taken away from her, Aranel was the only member of her family left.

“I’m so sorry,” Faramir whispered. Aranel faced him and looked at him thankfully. “Why are you apologizing? You didn’t do anything.” Faramir blushed for the second time that day, “I haven’t done anything, yet….” Aranel raised her eyebrow; but suddenly, the forest came alive again, birds were flying away squawking in fear as small rabbits hopped away as fast as they could. Faramir and Aranel looked to where the commotion was coming from, there before them crashing through the forest very fast, was a wild boar.

The boar was huge, its tusks were longer than any had seen before, the boar’s beady red eyes seemed like they were on fire, angry and ready to strike. At first glance of Faramir and Aranel it charged. Swinging its tusks violently through the air it almost took Faramir’s right arm off. But Aranel was faster. She had seen this coming and with perfect timing; she pushed Faramir to the ground, leaped into the nearest tree and had drawn her bow.

The boar, now being angered, decided to leave Faramir alone and try to “shake” the she-elf out of the tree. (Of course, he was strong enough to almost bring the tree down.) After the second hit on the tree, Aranel decided what she would do, “Herio!” She cried as she leapt from the branch of the tree; sword drawn, she landed on the back of the beast and fought the boar until at last; he flung her off his back, throwing her into another tree.

With a grunt and a squeal the beast fell, Aranel’s sword still imbedded in the back of its neck. Faramir rushed over to Aranel’s side to see if she was alright. Gently pulling her up, he leaned her against the tree to see if she had broken anything. “Aranel, are you alright?” Aranel nodded her head slightly, “Yes, Im tríw; although my leg might be broken.” Faramir, not knowing what she had said in Elvish, thought that she was probably saying that she was ok.

Faramir, as quickly as he could, moved over so he could get a better look at her leg. His worst fears came true when he saw her leg; it was indeed broken, as well as twisted underneath her. Slowly, he tried to free her leg out from under her. But before he even touched her leg he was assaulted by the command of “Daro i!” Faramir sharply looked at Aranel, wondering why she had stopped him. “Do not touch my leg! You could damage it even more if you move it.” Faramir’s expression became stern at her statement, even though he knew she was right, he couldn’t stand to see her in this much pain.

“And what then, are you going to sit here with your leg underneath you all day?!” Aranel ground her teeth, “Yes.” At this, Faramir almost growled. “Why is she being so stubborn? Doesn’t she realize if I don’t get her back to the encampment her leg is going to stay like this?” He sighed as he thought to himself, hanging his head he finally managed to speak. “I cannot just sit here and do nothing knowing that you are in pain.”

“Why?” Aranel asked, still grimacing from the pain. “You could just get up and leave; I would not hold anything against you. It is not your responsibility to take care of me.”

“Yes it is.” Faramir whispered. Aranel’s expression softened as she caught on to something deeper in Faramir’s tone; gently, she reached out and tilted his chin up, locking eyes with him she searched his expression and finally his mind. When she read his mind for the first real time, she gasped at what she saw. Not only was there a strong bond and love for his brother that had passed on, but there was an even stronger pull for her.

As she read on she ran into what he was thinking a few moments ago. “Why is she being so stubborn? Why won’t she let me help her? This is all my fault, what kind of a man am I if I can’t even protect the one I love?!” Aranel gasped as she saw his thoughts, “How can this be?” she thought. “He barely knows me! Well…he knows enough of me, but does he really love me?” She was so confused that she didn’t even realize that she was still holding Faramir’s face in her hands; until she felt him put his hands over top of hers.

“Aranel, I feel that I need to tell you something.” Faramir said softly, locking his eyes with hers. “Yes?” Aranel asked; she secretly had a feeling that he was going to tell her something that she already knew. “I…” Faramir stuttered. “I have feelings for you, Aranel.” As he said this, he looked back up at her, concern and feeling in his eyes.

Silence descended upon them so thick you could cut it with a knife. Then, Faramir did something he’d only dreamed about. Faramir leaned forward slowly, getting ever closer to Aranel. Finally, when his face was a mere inch away from hers; he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around her. Holding her close, and kissing her ever so gently. As he kissed her, Aranel wrapped her arms tightly around his neck. When he pulled away, she didn’t let go; she held him there, his face still inches from hers, and breathed his name for the first time. “Faramir,” as she said this, he closed his eyes and smiled, kissing her once more.

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Oh my!!! Faz!!! Ok, yeah my characters have officially taken over....*headdesk* (Yeah!!! Let's have Faramir make out with an elf!!! Ok!!!)

Elvish Translations:
Herio!- Charge!
Im tríw- I'm fine
Daro i!- Stop that!

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Chapter Five
Thoughts

Faramir had carried Aranel back to the encampment after she had finally given up and let him move her leg slightly.
When they had finally gotten back, Faramir called for the healers immediately. There were two healers within the group of rangers, one had been a healer for many years, and the other was his apprentice. “A broken leg like this cannot be treated out in the wild. We must get her to the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith.” The older healer said. Faramir nodded grimly, he had thought that it might come to this, that she might have to leave him. A solemn mood started to creep over him, but before it consumed him entirely, he was brought out of it by a gentle hand placed over his.

Faramir looked up, only to have his eyes meet the eyes of hers. Aranel’s eyes seemed to calm him and tell him not to worry, and that she would be alright. After a moment, Faramir nodded in agreement and let them take her back to the healer’s part of the encampment so that they could see how bad the break really was.

It wasn’t until later that night that Faramir saw Aranel again; of course he didn’t really see her at all. It was late, and everyone was either asleep or on watch, Faramir on the other hand couldn’t sleep at all. Sighing once again, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep once more; only to be awoken by a very familiar voice. “Faramir, why can’t you sleep?”

Faramir almost jumped out of his skin, “Who just called me?!” He thought. “I did.” Said the same voice, “Who are you?” He asked suspiciously. “You need not speak Son of Gondor; all you need to do is think.” The voice said. It was at that moment that Faramir realized that he was the only one that could hear this mysterious person; he then thought to himself that who ever it is must be speaking with their mind.

“Very good, you do have some wit about you Faramir.”

“Who are you?” Faramir thought.

“You above all should know who I am Faramir, was it not just this morning that you did this?” At that moment, a mental image came to Faramir’s mind. The picture was of the clearing in the forest while Faramir was kissing Aranel. As he saw the image play in his mind, his face burned from the blush that crossed his face.

“Aranel,” he breathed.

“Not so loud dear one. My name should not be spoken during the night.” Aranel gently reminded him, “There are many spies about in the night, for that is the time when the Dark Lord’s servants can easily move about.”

“I’m sorry Aranel, I didn’t mean to.”

“You didn’t remember, it’s alright, besides my name isn’t as powerful as my grandfather's.” Faramir sighed, Aranel was right it wasn’t as dangerous to speak her name as it was Gil-galad’s; but he didn’t want to put her into anymore danger than she already was.

“Do not blame yourself for what happened! It wasn’t your fault.”

“Yes it was,” Faramir replied, “If I hadn’t of asked you to come hunting with me this never would have happened.” “If you wouldn’t have asked me to come with you, we wouldn’t be as close as we are now.” Aranel put emphasis on the “we” and calmed Faramir down by humming a lullaby in her head. “Do not worry for me meleth nîn. I am fine, and I will be fine once I go to the Houses of Healing. You will see, I will greet you when you come home, running to you with open arms.” Faramir rolled onto his side and curled up protectively closing his eyes; he wished that it were that simple, that he would see her, standing on the peak of the citadel waiting for him.

“And you will,” Aranel reassured him. “Rest now Faramir, everything will work out alright.” Although Aranel’s words were reassuring, Faramir still couldn’t help but worry. At this, Aranel sighed. “When is he going to stop worrying so much?” She thought to herself.

“Faramir,” she called.

“I’m alright Aranel; I just can’t help but worry about you.” He answered her, trying to sound reassuring. “Ever since I first met you I knew you were special, and now…you’re everything to me.” Aranel sighed; she knew exactly how he felt, for she knew that he was something special as well, and after the first day that she met him, her heart had betrayed her and began to feel for him.

“As are you to me my love,” she thought. “Try to rest now Faramir, you have another long day ahead of you here, and I must leave on the morrow for the Houses of Healing.” Faramir nodded sadly as his thoughts stayed on his love. The more he thought the sadder he was and eventually he curled himself tighter and squeezed his eyes shut as one of the tears that had been threatening to fall fell. But just at that moment, he felt a sense of relief in his mind and realized that it was Aranel trying to calm him.

“Hush my love, it’s alright; Im si meleth nîn.” As she calmed Faramir, she began to softly sing in her mind. “Tinuviel elvanui
Elleth alfirin edhelhael O hon ring finnil fuinui A renc gelebrin thiliol....” As she softly sang, Faramir drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

† † †

The next morning, Aranel set out for the Houses of healing, accompanied by the Healer’s apprentice and two rangers. They kept as fast a pace as Aranel could handle, (and as fast as the healer would allow) so they were able to reach Minas Tirith in about three days. When they first reached the city, the apprentice healer had taken Aranel straight to the sixth level.

When arriving at the Houses of Healing, the apprentice healer called over the master healer to examine her leg. The master healer had said that it was a clean break and wouldn’t take long to heal but that the best thing that they did was to bring her here. After getting her settled, the rangers left and the apprentice healer went off to help others. And with a sigh, Aranel nestled herself into her bed, only to fall asleep within a minute.

As soon as she was asleep though, the citadel guard announced the presence of a messenger to the Steward in the great hall. The double doors opened, entering them was a tall slender but muscular figure hooded and cloaked. As he approached the Steward he bowed respectfully and when asked who he was, where he was from, and what his message was. He replied, “I am Haldir ó Lorien, Marchwarden to Galadriel Lady of light and protector of the Golden Wood. I bring word from my lady upon hearing that the ambassador she sent before me has been injured and taken to the Houses of Healing.”

Silence filled the room as Haldir waited for the Steward to respond. All he got for an answer was an angry façade to cover up the fear within. In return, Haldir kept a straight face, but inside he was grinning ear to ear.
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....another long one, sorry for the long wait.
Elvish Translations:
Meleth nîn- My Love

Im si, Meleth nîn- I'm here, my love

Tinuviel elvanui
Elleth alfirin edhelhael
O hon ring finnil fuinui A renc gelebrin thiliol....-

Tinuviel [the] elven-fair,
Immortal maiden elven-wise,
About him cast [her] night-dark hair,
And arms [like] silver glimmering...

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Sorry for the long time without an update!!
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Chapter Six
Dress

Three weeks had gone by before Aranel had finally been able to start walking around without having to hobble.
During those three weeks, Aranel had slept most of the time. Hoping that because she was an elf (for elves heal faster than humans) and because she was safe in Minas Tirith; that she might be able to rest and not have to worry about anything or anyone. Faramir was on her mind most of the time, thinking about him and wondering if he might be worried about her as he always was.

But today was a very special day; today the master healer had said that her leg was now strong enough that she could start to walk on it. Helping her to her feet, Aranel thanked him and took a step, gently placing the foot of her recovering leg onto the floor. After a moment of adjusting, she figured out how gently she needed to walk and started to walk across the room.

Observing her as she walked, the master healer decided with satisfaction that it was alright for her to go to the seventh level and introduce herself to the Steward. When Aranel asked why she should introduce herself to Denethor right away, the healer simply replied, “He has been most interested in you speedy recovery the moment you arrived. And he has ordered me to submit daily reports to him about your condition.” The healer chuckled. “It’s as if the king himself were under my care!”

“I don’t know why he’s been so interested in your case, but if you ask me,” the healer now spoke in a quiet voice, looking around him to see if anyone might be listening. “I think that someone or something made him afraid that if he didn’t make sure you healed as fast as possible, he and this kingdom would be in great danger.” The healer gave a grave nod as Aranel’s eyes widened in surprise. “Who would be coming here to check up on me?” Aranel thought to herself. “My mission is a secret that only my Lord and Lady know.”

† † †

Later that afternoon, after walking about the sixth level, the Master Healer, Jarith, had helped Aranel up to the seventh level. Once atop the citadel, Jarith had escorted her towards the throne room. Passing the white tree, Aranel stopped and looked at it, saying a short prayer in memory of the kings of old. As they approached the huge doors that lead to the throne room, the citadel guards opened the huge doors; mentally ushering them in.

Once inside they began the long walk down the extravagant hall. At the end of the hall on a much smaller throne at the bottom of the stairs to the throne of the king sat Denethor. Stroking his brow while reading a letter he had in his hands, he mumbled something incoherent to himself. Looking up to the sound of the giant doors being closed, the look on Denethor’s face turned from solemn to a façade of relief at the sight of Aranel.

When Jarith and Aranel were only a few feet away from the Steward’s throne, Denethor pleasantly greeted them. “Hello Jarith.” Turning to Aranel he smiled and greeted her with all the formalities. “Greetings Lady Aranel, it is a pleasure to see you walking about again.” Bowing at the mention, Aranel smiled. “Thank you Lord Denethor, you and your healers are most kind.”

Bowing his head in acknowledgement, Denethor sat back down on his throne and looked at the letter in his hands once more. “I am afraid that I cannot give you a proper welcome, Lady Aranel. Things have come to my attention that are not as pleasant as celebrating your quick recovery.” “It is quite alright Lord Denethor, although quick recoveries are always something to celebrate. I believe that my broken leg is not as important as matters of the kingdom.”

Nodding in understanding, Denethor turned back to his letter with a grave stare. “It comes to my understanding, Lady Aranel, that you have been sent here as an ambassador from Lothlorien. And on your way to the citadel you encountered my son, Faramir. Is this true?”

“It is my lord. We did encounter each other in Ithilien not yet a day past four weeks ago.”

“Four weeks ago!” Denethor exclaimed, “He should have escorted you to the citadel right away. I will have to speak with him about this. Ambassador’s are not to be kept waiting, especially when they are of urgent business.” Denethor waved to two servants standing next to the door that lead to the rest of the king’s house. “Most of the day has left us already, the servants have prepared a room for your ladyship and you have been invited to dinner this evening with the rest of the lords of the house. We shall discuss matters of the kingdom tomorrow, I hope you have a wonderful evening Lady Aranel.”

And with that, the servants escorted Aranel out of the throne room and down the many halls to her room. After asking if she needed anything, they bowed and left, closing the door behind them.

Sitting on her bed, Aranel put her face in her hands and sighed. “What have I gotten into?” She said to herself. “Why did Denethor call me an ambassador? And how does he know that I am even here?” Pacing around the room, Aranel decided that worrying about things was only going to make them worse. So while looking around the room, she noticed in the mirror that her ranger garb had been mangled and torn from the fight with the boar; and that it hadn’t been replaced.

As curiosity, and the need for fresh clothes took over, Aranel walked over to the closet; and pulling open the door, noticed that there in the middle of the closet, was a dress. The surrounding clothes had been pulled away so that the dress had stood out from the others. Though the way this dress was, the clothes never needed to be pulled away from it for it to be noticed.

As Aranel took the dress out of the closet and held it up she could see that it was indeed the most beautiful dress she had ever seen. Never had she seen the likes of it since she left Lothlorien. In fact, she distinctly remembered this dress from years ago; the dress was a deep green, with silver embroidered leaves on the sleeves and either side of the bodice. The dress was tightened by cords running down the back, and upon the waist was a silver sash to accent the dress.

Quickly putting it on, Aranel found that it was a perfect fit, and while looking at herself in the mirror she found that something was missing. Her hair was tangled and needed to be fixed. So using all the skill she had, she brushed, pulled back, and braided her hair in traditional elven fashion. Pulling two main locks back she braided them herringbone style like Haldir always did.

Seeing that she needed a headpiece, Aranel started rooting through the dresser. And when she opened the top drawer she found the most simple but elegant headpiece. It was silver and was crafted so that the silver looked like fragile lace. The front of the head piece came together in a single, but strong, strand which held a crystal pendant above her forehead. Looking in the mirror once more, she smiled, and with a satisfying nod decided that this was the perfect attire for dinner with the Steward and his court.

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Continued from the last post....
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† † †

As the hour passed, Aranel found herself sitting on her bed once more, staring out at the sky through the window. Feeling extremely bored, since dinner was at least another half hour away, she decided to explore the hall near her room. Quietly slipping out her door and down the hall she soon came across one of the two servants that had escorted her to her room that afternoon.

“Good evening my lady!” The servant woman exclaimed. “Good evening,” Aranel replied with a smile. The woman smiled back and blushed as Aranel caught her staring at her dress. “I be beggin your pardon ma'm. I can’t help but stare at such a beautiful dress, and I can’t help but wonder why you’re out here in the hall when it’s dinner in less than half an hour.” Aranel let out a small laugh and gave an understanding nod.

“It’s alright I understand, I couldn’t help but stare at myself in the mirror when I first put it on. As for why I’m here…well I was a bit distracted and wanted to find out what else was down this hall.” When the servant woman heard this she smiled a big smile and took a step closer to Aranel. “Well,” she said. “If you’d be wantin to find something interestin down near this hall here, the best thing on this level of the house is the garden.” The servant woman gave a small wink when she said this and started to walk down the hall, motioning for Aranel to follow.

Leading her to a small balcony with stairs leading down, the servant woman nodded in satisfaction and said that she would be going about her business and left. Aranel walked over to the railing of the balcony after the servant woman had gone, and closing her eyes, she listened to the sounds of the garden.

Little did she realize that she was not alone. After a moment of silence and hearing the birds sing, she suddenly heard a soft, beautiful voice singing in Elvish.

“A Bereth thar Ennui Aeair!
Calad ammen i reniar
Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
i chin a thul lin miriel...”

At the sound of the voice, Aranel’s eyes snapped open and she immediately scoured the garden to see if she could see who was singing such a beautiful and gracious song to Elbereth. Finally finding a glint of something in the corner of the garden, she raced down the steps off the balcony and down to the garden level. Seeing the singing figure move towards the fountain in the middle of the garden, she gasped at what she saw when he stopped right in front of the fountain, eyes transfixed on her.

For there before her was none other than her one true love, the elf she had desired since the day he left for Helm’s Deep. The one person that she had mourned for when it was said that he was dead. There, standing not ten feet in front of her was Haldir, Marchwarden of Lothlorien, and the love of her life.

“Haldir,” she breathed.

“Mae govannen, Meleth nîn.” He said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Elvish translations:
“A Bereth thar Ennui Aeair!
Calad ammen i reniar
Mi 'aladhremmin ennorath.
A Elbereth Gilthoniel
i chin a thul lin miriel...”

'O Queen beyond the Western Seas!
O light to us that wander
Amid the tree-woven middle-lands.
O Elbereth Star-kindler
the eyes and breath your [are] shining-like-jewels...'

“Mae govannen, Meleth nîn.”- Well met, My love.

[Aranel ó Lorien]

Chapter Seven

Aranel stared at the elf before her. “It cannot be!” She thought to herself.
Taking a step backwards in shock, Aranel began to shake her head in disbelief. “It cannot be...you were dead; how can you be here?!” Hearing this, Haldir’s greatest fear was finally realized. And as he reached out to her, Aranel stumbled, almost falling against the fountain. Turning, with tears in her eyes, she ran. Running as fast as she could, she ran back up the stairs that led out of the garden and down the hall, eventually coming to her room. Knowing that Haldir was coming after her, she quickly dashed into her room and locked the door. Sitting on her bed, she pulled her knees to her chest.

As Aranel started to run, Haldir chased after her; up the stairs, into the hall and down, only to see her run into her room and lock the door. Trying the knob as he pressed himself against the door, he found that he could not break the lock, nor open it with brute strength. As he gave up he sighed in dismay and ran his hand down the door.

“Aranel, laden en fen.” He said as he pressed his ear against the door. “Law!” He heard her say; shaking his head he tried again. “Please, Aranel. Laden en fen.” He said as he slid down and sat beside the door. “Im meleth le.” He whispered as he pressed his hand to the door once more. Hearing Haldir’s plea, Aranel couldn’t help but start to cry, feeling a tug on her heart as he said every word.

It had been so long since she had heard his voice but Aranel remembered while he spoke, and she knew in her heart that it was indeed him. “How can you be alive?” She thought to herself as Haldir pleaded with her on the other side of the door. “Please meleth,” he begged. As he spoke, all the emotions that had been quelled up inside of Aranel since the moment she saw him burst outward as she snapped back at Haldir.

“The Haldir that I love would not sit there on the floor begging to be let in the door like a dog! The Haldir that I love is strong and brave and does not beg for anything!” Hearing this, Haldir’s eyes widened, for she spoke the truth. Right at this moment he was acting like a coward and that was something that Haldir the Marchwarden of Lothlorien was certainly not.

Rising from his spot on the floor, his face set in a hard expression; he backed up and kicked the door in with all his might. When he did this, the chair which Aranel had propped underneath the handle broke and flew across the room in pieces. As he burst in the room, Aranel gasped and backed herself up against the wall next to her bed.

But soon she found herself trapped between the wall and Haldir, who had drawn himself up to full height, and had a mixed expression of hurt, love, and anger on his face. Putting one arm on either side of her against the wall, Haldir leaned close to Aranel and found himself mere inches from her face.
“Don’t you ever say that to me again Aranel. You may be the princess of Lothlorien, but you are still mine.” And with that he quickly closed the distance between them and kissed her.

Aranel struggled against him for a moment before she realized that he was kissing her passionately but softly, holding her tightly but gently against his chest. As they broke apart, they looked into each other’s eyes and Aranel whispered quietly, “Haldir.” Smiling, he kissed her once again.

† † †

Elsewhere, the silver trumpets sounded as Faramir rode into the streets of Minas Tirith with his men, waiting for the moment that he would be reunited with his beloved elf. Little did he know that at this moment, she was in the arms of another falling onto her bed, locked in a warm embrace.

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Wow! It's finally here!
Ok so after alot of persuasion from Thurin I've finished this chapter!
Sorry though if it's a bit risque at the end.

Elvish Translations:
“Aranel, laden en fen.” - Aranel, open the door.
“Law!” - No!
“Im meleth le.” - I love you.
meleth- love