Halrohir and Seregrían walk together beneath the trees, the sunlight building toward noon and bathing the Elven-city in golden light. Their path takes them to Egladil, where Nimrodel joins her waters with Anduin's flow. As they arrive, Halrohir cannot contain his delight as he spies a familiar white horse, and a lithe figure clad in white next to him.
Lonannuniel spies her husband from afar, a presence she can sense whenever he is near, and her heart lightens. "Rana," she says smiling, turning to face him - though taken aback at the perplexing sight of Seregrían near him… and walking with him... a strange combination.
"Suilaid, melima nin,” Halrohir calls gladly. “See who I have found at last! Your far-off sister has been returned to you." He means for his words to be for both Elf-women and not just one, inwardly smiling at the sight of the two reuniting, realizing they've bonded for longer than he has been alive.
The sight of Lonannuniel changes Seregrían's mask of discomfort, dissolving into a genuine smile, one she has not felt since Moria.. "Mara Aure, gwathel nin, hirant na vedui!" (Good morning, my sister, found at last!)
Lonannuniel greets Halrohir with a warm embrace, clinging before letting go; she has learned over the years that he could leave at any moment, and any hug could be their last for a while. Then turning she says, "Seregrían,” and smiling she embraces her in turn, though not as long. Lonannuniel looks long at Seregrían, taking in the sight of her. She is clad in crimson from head to foot, her hair dark against skin that paled from so long under the mountains; but she notices the eyes, once grey, are now silver-bright and make even the slightest smile seem sinister. She chooses not to make mention of it, yet. "To see you two in each other’s company brings my heart joy."
"As it does mine, my wife,” Halrohir says. “Come you two, I imagine you would wish to have a "sister chat" - so Astaldo and I shall see what has become of Morindal, and how much of the stable he has devoured.” And with a short bow, he takes Astaldo’s reins and leaves them by the banks of the River, a plaintive look on Lonannuniel’s fair face. Hardly has he moved out of hearing when Seregrían whispers softly, too soft for Halrohir to hear.
“I thought he'd never leave us alone. He hangs upon you, as much as you upon him, and it is unbecoming. Lonannuniel, what possible reason did you have for traveling with him? Imladris would have been a far better place where to await tidings.”
“Seregrían, do not fret over my choices,” Lonannuniel replies, smiling as she gazes out over the waters, looking east. "Where my husband wanders, I would go, and gladly. But what news of you? What brings you to Lothlorien?" She couldn't help but look at her eyes over and over again.
“A path that runs twisted, like vines in a trellis of fate,” she answers. “Errantry at the bidding of Master Elrond has taken me from the Blue Mountains through Eregion, into Khazad-dûm, then south through Dunland and back into Khazad-dûm, and finally here. And now the Lord and Lady tell me that my path runs further south – to the lands of Men. It is a bitter bite to swallow.”
“Say not so! For all of your scholarship, you have not in my memory ever visited these lands, save for Lothlorien long ago. For you to walk abroad, leaving your studies behind, means that you too are being swept into the great events of our time, as are the rest of our family. Tidings come to me here, even swifter than they would in Imladris. I am aware of Farohir and Eldariel and their travels, and of course my Halrohir – but you? Some cloak of silence has descended between us, and I would have it lifted.”
“Then you are alone in that silence, for everywhere I turn it seems others have had knowledge of my dealings before I ever arrive! The irony! I can trust no one in confidence, yet she who is closest to me is blind to my troubles. But even if I told you all that has happened, there is little or less you can affect.”
“Sister of mine, I can affect more than you admit. I was held in thrall in Mordor, do you forget? I walked these lands not long past in my flight from the Black Land, journeyed many leagues through many lands to finally arrive here, in this very wood. I sense that your own journey may take you that way, or am I mistaken?”
A pause. “You are not. I must pass through the realms of Men to reach my goal, which lies behind the walls of Mordor. There is a difference between us, white Elf: you have run from your past, though you can look back on it safely, for it shall not pursue you. I seek out my past, and I can hear its footsteps closing behind me; it stalks me, no matter which way I turn.”
“And it works a change in you, even as you walk. Seregrían, can you not, or do you not see what has become of you? You are stronger, healthier than last we met; but darker as well, and not just your hair. And your eyes! What is happening to you? There is an unholy light shining from you, some unclean spirit gazing at me through those eyes, and it frightens me!”
Silence, then, “You are not the first to say thus. But I say to you, if such power is now mine, then let it shine forth. Where I shall go, I will use all the powers I command to see my purpose and work my will, and woe unto those who stand against me!”
“Then I insist you make me to understand what is happening, what is changing you! Lift the cloak of silence and tell me everything; what is this power, how did it come to you, and what is this past you flee from – or to? If you trust none other, trust me!”
And Seregrían is overcome by Lonannuniel’s words. She embarks on the entire tale, and the names pour forth like venom from a wound: Dondangol, Az-gazukh, and Khazush-Khazad; Brogur, Bosi, Svanr and Thalfi; and finally, the names Bogrian, Gwathwethil, and Thandwen. And Lonannuniel listens in rapt, horrified silence.
