The glow of the fire lights the low branches above the glade, the smoke slowly meandering toward the stars. The armed elven woman beside it smiles towards the young one who asked of her name and life. A moment of thought, a deep breath, and so she begins speaking, softly:

"This quiet champion has lived all her long life in Mirkwood. I was old already when Oropher and his following entered Greenwood the Great at the beginning of the Second Age, and I still remember a time when one could walk from the Grey Mountains in the north to the White mountains in the south and see nothing but trees, untouched and strong.

I am Tianderiel, my fathername is Tinnugaladh. It's original form in the Doriathrin tongue was Thindairiell, which means Daughter of Treeshade, and Thingalada, Grey Treewise. My early days were spent in peace and quiet, roaming the vast forests of Greenwood with my Silvan kin. This all changed as what was later known as the First Age of the Sun and Moon arrived, along with the Noldor and their war against the Shadow in the north. At first my people lived happily oblivious of the raging battles in the west, but soon dark shades were seen crawling the forest at night, and the sky was lit with distant fires.

When the first assault by wayward orcs burned down some of our home trees, I and many others took up arms to defend ourselves for the first time. We knew little in the way of weapons, stealth and small numbers were our major defences against the roaming enemies, who were also few and badly organised. This changed as Sindar warparties came east over the mountains at around the year 400 of the First age. With their aid we built two strongholds, beginning with Ost Muilin, the Veiled Keep in the pass uniting Hithaeglir and Ered Mithrim in the northwest. The other two were Amon Lanc in the center, others gathered in Lórinand on the eastern banks of Anduin. But others may tell their story better than I.

I settled in Ost Muilin with my spouse Brethgoldior and aided in its defence as part of the governing council. The Enemy showed little interest in Greenwood, but as the War of Wrath commenced, it would prove to be the undoing of this the first and greatest of the Silvan strongholds. A great host of orcs, led by a nameless Evil who fled in panic away from the victorious forces of Beleriand came marching up through the pass of Muilinand at night, and although we had prepared for a siege there was no holding them back. On the second day the fighting took to the streets, and the situation turned so desperate that I took up sword alongside my spouse even though I was thick with my second child at the time. Eventually the Sindarin army chasing this host arrived, giving us time to evacuate those who had not had the time or chance to flee. From the walls I saw the final assault, when the earth suddenly shook and the floor of the ruined council hall broke under the feet of elves and Shadow alike, taking them all into the depths of the caverns beneath. My spouse was among them... This was the end of the First Age of Moon and Sun."

She sighs and shakes her head slowly, then continues: "Now followed a time of peace and quiet, it was as if all the world were breathing calmer. I brought my daughter and newborn son to Amon Lanc, where they grew up. My daughter eventually moved to Lindon and Gil-Galad's court to pursue her calling as a warden, and my son is much like his father, in love with all things growing. Some of the warriors of the Sindarin army followed us back to Amon Lanc, and among them was their leader Oropher. Here was an elf with the light of Beleriand in his eyes, and although his eyes were grim after the loss of his home he was ever mild-mannered and fairspoken. Many there were who loved him, and he was soon chosen as head of the governing council of Amon Lanc. I spent many an evening conversing with both him and others of his following, and they taught me much of weapons and warfare that I did not know. It was prosperous times, although we now lost the last traces of the Silvan tongue that we had spoken since our roaming life beneath the stars.

But experience has shown that such peace is rarely left to last. Those remaining Noldor who did not settle in Lindon came south and founded Eregion, with all the troubles that follows suit wherever they go. Once more I polished up my armour and joined the border patrols. On the council's request, Einior Oropher made a bargain with the dwarves of Ered Mithrim to aid in the building of a new city, not above the ground but beneath it. It would be as a mirror image of Menegroth of old, to preserve some of its lost beauty. It was impressive to see Dwarf and Elf work side by side as the halls grew. As word came of Annatar revealing his true self, many left Amon Lanc to the safety of the new halls. I was not among them, I stayed by Oropher's side to be ready if the worst came to be.

What happened after has been written and rewritten many times. I need not recount the war, the destruction of Eregion, the fall of Khazad-dûm and Númenor. We lived in a vigilant peace, nigh untouched by strife while others fought and died. Eventually those others came to us, pleading for help. Asking us to stand alongside our distant kin and the Edain as one, united to force Evil down on its knees yet again. To make a war to bring peace. And so we did."

Her eyes flashes with sudden anger, mirroring the crackling sparks that bursts up as a branch breaks from the heat.

"Death is never glorious. I spit on the Noldorin minstrels who would have anyone think otherwise! No songs of glory or pride were sung for Einior Oropher, beloved of all his people, as he was carried to his final rest. And many there were who pleaded and swore that we would never fight the wars of others again. Young Thranduil was as well loved and respected as his father, yet I could not bear the pain of seeing another on Oropher's seat. To turn my head to share a thought, only to realise that he is gone forever - it was too much. I left to live in solitude, and did not return until I received word that Amon Lanc had fallen.

After my return, I chose a path as teacher of arms, weaponry and the ways of war. And I seemed to be needed. The Battle of Five Armies, the driving out of the Necromancer and the constant harrying of the goblins and orcs from Hithaeglir and Dol Guldur all required my blade, and in-between it was good to have my hands and mind occupied. Then word came from Lórinand that the Shadow had risen in the east once more, the old trade routes shut down one after another... And who did Thranduil choose as messenger to gain news from the other Elven realms?"

She laughs bitterly, but the smile soon returns to her lips and eyes.

"Very well. I went south to join my distant kin in Lórinand, only to find that the place had changed name to Lothlórien, and was more or less ruled by Noldor. The situation was similar in the other realms of the south. I spent some time with a small group, but have decided that it is time to move on. Uneasiness has haunted my sleep of late, like the tension before a gathering storm. Nay, I will not sit idle while danger encroaches upon my home and the homes of other Quendi. This old tree has not withered yet. But enough talk for tonight. The night passes swiftly, and we have a long road ahead."

She reaches back and wraps the grey cloak around her shoulders. Swiftly she climbs the rope to the talan and disappears into the night above, with the fluid movements of one who has spent an age among trees.