Lady Galadriel looked down upon her long, pale fingers. Nenya had never moved from her index finger, but its mysterious gleaming had gone forever: its powers were fading and so was Lórien. – "What are you contemplating?" Celeborn was right behind her, he'd always been there. – "We will have to leave soon. I thought we might offer Bilbo Baggins a place on the last ship." – Celeborn frowned. "This is not what I meant." – The Lady almost sighed: he'd come to know her so well. "I never got the chance to speak to Celebrimbor," she finally said, "but I knew Curufin, his father." – "I am aware of that: Curufin was a lot older than us." – "One day when I was resting he told me about the rings his son was forging. I should not remember what he told me, since I was as unconscious as elves can be and even close to sleep. I did not remember he had spoken to me when I awoke. Yet I do remember now." She looked at her husband with those sea-blue eyes. "I think he put a spell on me to have me remember when the time came. I just wish I had known sooner." Her eyes dropped, then she looked at her husband again. "Curufin told me about Náre. His son had explained a ring that controlled fire would not let anyone take its power." – Celeborn nodded. "The ring would rather explode and set all its power free than have it fade away, am I not right?" – "You are. Yet Curufin feared for the ring-bearer; he was wise – wiser than we will ever be, I fear. Curufin always suspected something was not quite right about the rings, even though he never suspected Sauron was planning to forge one to control the others. That night, Curufin – knowing that his death would soon be on him – told me he had convinced his son to try and protect the ring-bearer, if he was indeed innocent." – Celeborn slowly shook his head. "How would Náre know? Whether it was the ring-bearer who wants to take his power, or someone else?" – The Lady's eyes seemed empty. "It was a risk and could easily turn out wrong, but then Celebrimbor never actually expected that someone could forge a ring so powerful it would deprive the others of their powers when being destroyed. Rings of power – although no living beings and incapable of feeling – know when someone else is wearing them. In the split-second when Náre knows its power would be taken, it simply adds up whether the current bearer has used it more for healing or for destroying. The setting free of Náre's power can take two different shapes, just as its power: burning things down with real fire... or fixing them with healing fire. Celebrimbor and his father were arguing a lot about it, but in the end they came to the conclusion that how the ring was used would sketch a sort-of accurate picture of the bearer's personality – or as accurate as it would get. Of course they could be terribly wrong: someone might have used the destructive power for a good purpose, and still not be the one to take the ring's power. But Celebrimbor, not Curufin, was the forger of the rings after all, and he was willing to take the risk."
The good thing was Daëra didn't have time to think. There had been despair at not being able to heal Orophin – and then there had been fire. Since she was wearing the ring, it felt as if she were torn apart: by now she was used to heat, but this exceeded everything she had ever felt. It came all so suddenly that Daëra wasn't even given the chance to be a hero and try to protect Haldir before herself. And even if, protecting him would have been to get away from him, since she was the danger. She and Náre, but they were one now. The flames were her – but that didn't mean it would stop hurting. For some reason, Daëra had flashbacks from when she had first started travelling: she didn't know why, but she saw her father's face in front of her like she used to when he fire-healed her from afar. She hadn't written much, yet he'd always known when she was hurt. The blood was rushing in her ears, drowning out her screaming. And then the flames were gone.
Breathing heavily, Daëra realised she was still standing, her eyes squeezed shut. When she had scraped enough courage together to slowly open them, the first thing she noticed was that her clothes were dangling in singed rags from her and all the grass around her was charred. The fear returned with a vengeance and knocked her to the ground. If they had all died... She should have died too, she couldn't live with everyone gone... Daëra forced her eyes to stay open: there were bodies lying on the ground all over the clearing, the pallets were toppled over without exception, not even Galadriel was anywhere to be seen. Daëra could hardly breathe; it was as if her neck had suddenly become too tight to let in enough air. Why had Náre exploded, Sauron had been defeated, hadn't he, or Nenya would have exploded, too. Perhaps it had and Daëra just hadn't noticed, being engulfed by her own ring's flames... But then where was Galadriel? Why wasn't she alive, too?
It was then that Daëra noticed a movement out of the corner of her eye. It was – Orophin. With a small cry, Daëra leapt up and ran to his side. He wasn't charred at all. "Are you... how are you..." – He sat up and rubbed his head. "That hurt. You know when you were healing me before – it was nothing to the pain I have felt over the last few minutes. If I were not alive now, I would have sworn I was burning alive." He blinked. "Why am I alive? Did you protect me from the explosion?" – "No – at least not consciously. It all happened too fast." – Orophin frowned. "And I thought you said the power of Náre was not sufficient anymore to heal me." – She shook her head with sad eyes. "Well, it wasn't, I didn't lie. But I promise we'll find a way, perhaps the Lady and me together..." – Orophin – behaving quite rude for an elf this once – interrupted her. "But you did heal me. Look." He pushed up the sleeve of his tunic and where the cut had been was only smooth, white skin – as if no blade had ever cut it. The black lines that had drawn themselves all over his arm like a cobweb with its centre at the cut had disappeared. Also, Orophin's normal, healthy colour had returned to his face. Daëra shook her head in confusion. "I... I didn't do that. That wasn't me. You were still dying when Náre exploded." She froze. Perhaps...
Before Daëra could finish the thought, more elves around her started moving. They all needed some time to collect their thoughts and understand they were still alive, but once they had got that far they got up, stretched and inspected their bodies. Not because of their many wounds, but because all these wounds had gone.
"I guess it makes sense," Daëra stated. "I mean, I have never used the ring for anything else than healing until the orc-army attacked Lórien, and the attack of the straying band of orcs before that. – Well, I did some practising when I was staying with Lord Elrond, but I do not think this will have made that much of a difference." – The Lady didn't say anything, neither did Haldir or Celeborn. Daëra shook her head. "On the other hand... I burnt the best part of an orc army and at Dol Guldur were many orcs as well. We hardly let anyone get away." – Haldir lifted his shoulders. "Somehow the healing must have overweighed the burning." – "Or the rings of power do know things and Curufin underestimated them." It was Galadriel who had spoken. Celeborn looked at her with a frown. "Do you think that would be possible? – They are merely metal after all." – "Metal that has been forged with an incredible power. You know what they can do, or could, even our rings. Perhaps Náre did notice it was not Daëra who was taking his power from him." – Celeborn took her hand although Haldir and Daëra were still in the same room. His wife was incredible: a believer, no matter how the odds. Strange enough, mostly she turned out to have been right all along.
Haldir broke the silence. "What are we going to do now?" The fire healing had eradicated every scratch from his skin; it had been so strong that it even improved the huge scar on his back. Galadriel smiled slightly. "Our time in Middle-Earth is almost over. There are a few things left to do – when all is done I suppose we shall travel to Mithlond." – Daëra felt her heart jolt. She hadn't seen her father in literally ages. Daëra knew the "things left to do" might take another couple of years to be accomplished, but she didn't fear anymore. Nenya and Elrond's ring still had some power left in them, and they felt they should invest that power in Middle-Earth, since the rings were from this country. The peoples of Middle-Earth were entitled to it. Daëra had taken Náre off her finger and was wearing it around her neck on a chain again, right next to her elven-necklace. When she and Haldir left the highest flet on the highest tree, the sun had set behind the golden leafed trees. It was summer in Lórien.
Daëra was standing at the docks in front of the beautiful, wooden ship that would carry her, Haldir and about twenty other elves towards the Undying Lands. The plank to step aboard was lowered, almost everyone else – all were elves from Lórien – had embarked already. She remembered what Haldir had said about her father: that he was extremely busy at the moment and that he probably wouldn't come to see her off. They'd meet in the Undying Lands. Daëra was sure they would, but she would have liked to see him once more before she set off – one never knew what might happen at sea. No one had ever heard of one of Círdan's ships not reaching Valinor – the Undying Lands – but then one never heard anything of the ships that left Middle-Earth.
Haldir had gone to talk to Galadriel and Celeborn one last time before the sails were being set: the Lord and Lady were in Mithlond already, although they wouldn't sail with the same boat as Haldir, Orophin and Daëra. They would be taking the very last boat together with Círdan, Gandalf, Frodo and Bilbo. Rumil and the elves of Mirkwood had already departed: they had done a great deal to heal their forest, but in the end the longing for the sea had become too strong – it was now almost half a year that they had left.
The sea breeze was ruffling Daëra's braids when she saw Haldir returning, together with a cloaked figure. Haldir was pointing towards their ship; Daëra could understand what he said even though the wind was blowing. "This is the boat. A masterpiece, if I may say so. And here is..." He looked up and pointed at Daëra. It didn't take any more for her to recognise whom he had brought along. "Father!" Daëra quickly, but gracefully – as was due for elves – crossed the remaining distance between them and hugged him. He seemed slightly surprised, but he hugged her back – a bit of Daëra would always stay human, and if it was only on the inside. Círdan was glad for that – it wasn't for no reason he had fallen in love with her mother.
When she released the hug, Círdan held her at arm's length to look at her. A slight smile had crept onto his lips. "You look changed..." he stated, adding: "...but somehow you are the same." He sighed, letting his hands fall to his sides. "I do not know whether I ever apologised for never being there when you were small. Perhaps I should have let you know sooner what you were and that one day, you would have to decide. Yet I could not risk losing my immortality – I had a task to fulfil." – Daëra smiled. Now that everything had turned out alright, she couldn't be angry with him anymore. And who knew – perhaps how it turned out was just the way it had been meant to be.
"You said he wasn't going to come," Daëra said, her eyes sparkling and turning to Haldir. Haldir just lifted his shoulders. "I wanted to make this a surprise for you." He tried to wave it off, but Daëra had been living among elves for too long to not notice the mistake. "You said you knew he would not be coming," she repeated with emphasis. Haldir just looked at her and his eyes seemed like deep oceans. "I guess I lied." – "You lied!" Daëra exclaimed. "But you are an elf. You do not lie." – He smiled ever so slightly. "Perhaps I made an exception this time. Or perhaps a certain elf, former half-elf, infected me with her humanness – and I mean it in the positive sense of the word."
Just then the wind blew the sails, and without help of any mortal or immortal being it seemed, the ship below them softly started to move towards the opening of the bay. The sun was about to set and everyone who happened to be out on the docks stood and watched in awe for a few moments. The last rays of the day painted the sea red and gold and all of a sudden, all doubts as to a safe journey vanished. If this ship didn't reach its safe haven, none would: because this ship was not only floating on water, it was carried by elf-magic the passengers didn't even know they were doing. Their songs, their longing to return home, their love chased every cloud from the sky and had the sun shine above them when there was rain and hail-storms in the rest of the world. Their memories of the Golden Wood they took with them, their histories seeped into the wood and protected it. The Lord and Lady watched the ship depart from the highest room in the highest tower of Mithlond. Celeborn took his wife's hand, knowing her thoughts. "It was you who helped doing this," he stated. "All three are alive and will be in Valinor soon. Diniel would not be disappointed." – Galadriel smiled. After all it almost seemed as if there had indeed been a kind of plan in which even she had been a mere puppet. No matter how many doubts she might have had at the time, now she knew she couldn't have acted any different than she had. Galadriel watched the sun set and the thought entered her mind that – in some cases – things might indeed be set in stone: a pre-written plan with all the players in place and just waiting for them to act out their parts. Galadriel looked at the golden sea and she could feel the Valar watching her. The time had come: all elves would be home soon – just as they had been meant to be.
The End
*Dear readers!! Thank you for staying with me all this time, I hope you enjoyed the story! - Haldir never getting a happy ending was the only thing that I never liked about the lotr-movies... But now he's got it, hasn't he, and it's not even contradictory to what we see in the movies (or read in the books).
Please check out my NEW STORY, it's called "SOME OLD VOLKSWAGEN" and it's a Fast&Furious fanfiction. =) Hope to see you there!
Lots of love, Jazzlin xxx*