Marchwarden

Lothlorien, 4 and a half years ago

Two Elves sat on a high flet in Caras Galadhon, sipping red wine and looking out over the city of trees below. 

“Loth, you must bring your new friend to your Aur en-Onnad, I would love to meet her!” Melleth bustled around the small home, making tea and pulling out food for her daughter.

Lorien, T.A. ; the past

It had been months since she had been home. Delicate hands were now calloused and strong, her thin arms taut and muscled as never before. Long brown hair, once worn flowing around her shoulders, was now tied back in a tight bun and covered in a glimmering grey hood that shifted with the light.

She tapped softly on the door of the little home on a high flet.

“Iell nîn, what do you wish to do with your life?” 

Mother and daughter sat under the branches of a tall mallorn, the silver-green dappled light dancing over their weaving. Lothuialwen’s hands stilled and she nearly snapped the delicate golden thread as the unexpected question hung in the air.