Dresed in green silks and satins, fresh flowers and jade ribbons wound among the dark golden tresses of her hair, Linglorel walked around Duillond, River Haven, under the light of the stars. Across the road she walked, nightingales calling as evening fell. She stepped among the shadowy trees, treading on a yielding carpet of fallen leaves, the trees around her silent but for the soft susurration of slow-moving air in the crowns above, or the occasional scritching of a small animal scurrying away in the darkness. Too, in the tree branches now and then a bird would sound a gentle chirp, as if murmuring one last thing to itself while settling down to sleep.
As she walked, elf maiden became aware of the faint echo of lutes and voices singing in the distance. A glimmer afar shone through the trees, and another, and more still, purple and amber and soft. Closer she came and closer, stepping at last past a line of birch trees and into a small open glade with a bower. She came forth into purple light cast by candlelit lanterns hanging from limbs of the encircling trees, their colors various. As she entered the bower, the music rose up joyously, and she found herselves among Elvenkind, dressed in silks and satins and leathers of varying hues. The Foam-riders, the Singers of the Shore gathered in celebration.
Lutes began a soft melody, gradually intensifying as Elven voices slowly joined. And the music, oh the music of the lute, silver melody on the air. And there came a dance, with a ellon and elleth whirling and gyring, advancing and retreating, laughing and mock arguing, fleeing and chasing, catching and escaping, dancing far apart and independently, then sensuously together.
She joined the dancers, her eyes sparkling with joy and her heart pounding. She felt that the blood flowing through their veins connect her to them. After all, the Forest Folk were descended from those of the Teleri who, on the Great Journey, were daunted by the Misty Mountains and lingered in the Vale of Anduin, and so never reach Beleriand or the Sea.
Falathrim chose the sea, her people chose the forest, and yet their hearts beat the same on this special night, under the pale Moon.
