Hi everyone! I'm back with another LOTR story… This one will be a series of vignettes about my favorite/only OC in the LOTR dimension. She happens to be half-elf and half-Falanassi (Falanassi are another immortal race, only they are mostly extinct at the end of the Second Age, which is when this chapter takes place.) Please note that I am not very certain about the age conversions between elf years and Falanassi years—assume she is approximately seven human years old in this chapter. The Falanassi grow up quicker, but maintain the "flawless immortal" appearance.
Enjoy! Feedback is welcome!
Chapter One—Child's Eyes
The Lord of Imladris read the latest report, then dropped it back onto the ever-mounting pile of paper on his desk. Rubbing his large hand over his face, he stood up and headed out into the gardens.
The gardens were calm and quiet, filled with the soft fragrance of herbs and flowers. Elrond inhaled, taking a deep lungful of the soothing air. As he strolled, he heard the sound of a melodic voice singing.
Curious, he followed the sound, and after turning a corner, he saw an elfling sitting on a bench, looking up at the stars. Slender and barefoot, her dark hair fell loose as she gazed upward, singing in a clear, silvery voice. As quiet as the elf lord was being, she still turned and saw him. "Oh, Lord Elrond, I'm so sorry, did I disturb you?"
"No, little one, I was seeking the peace of the gardens too." As he came closer, he recognized the elfling—the daughter of Falchor, the last full-blooded Falanassi in Arda, and Elmir, a Noldorin elf of Imladris. The child was extremely quiet, but sweet-natured and intelligent. "You may call me Elrond."
"But my ada said to call you 'Lord Elrond' and always be very respectful!" Her huge dark eyes widened as she gazed at him.
Mentally making a note to discuss formality with Flachor, Elrond sat down next to the elfling. "Your ada is wise, pen-neth, but when we are alone like this, you may call me Elrond. What should I call you?"
"Naneth calls me Miir, but my full name is Mirwen." Trustingly, the little one scooted closer to him. "Do you like the stars, too?"
"Yes, pen-neth." Elrond slid an arm around the child, suddenly reminded that she was only seven years old in human terms. "Do you know any of the stories about them?"
"I like that great bright one best." A slim finger pointed out the brightest star in the heavens. "But ada won't tell me its story. He says it's not his story to tell."
"I see." Clearly, Falchor was trying to curb his daughter's curiosity, without much success. "Would you like me to tell you the story, them?"
She snuggled closer to him, her warm little body nestling into his side. "Yes please."
"That star is called Gil-Estel in the Grey Tongue. Do you know what that means?"
"Star—" Her brow wrinkled, then her eyes lit up. "Estel. It means 'hope'. So… Star of Hope?"
"That's right." Elrond sighed, looking up at the cold glitter of the star. "A long time ago, there was a beautiful jewel called the Silmaril. It was so beautiful that many people fought over it. Now, there was a human man called Earendil, son of Tuor and Idril Celebrimthal; he married Elwing, daughter of Dior son of Beren and Luthien, and they had two sons. They dwelled in Sirion, and there was a Silmaril in that town. One day, when Earendil was not in his home, an elf named Maglor, who lusted for the Silmaril, attacked Sirion and destroyed it. The people fled, but Elwing seized the Silmaril and fled with her sons, Maglor in hot pursuit. When Elwing could not run any further, she flung herself off a cliff with the Silmaril on her chest."
Miir looked up at him; Elrond noticed that her eyes were a deep purple in the starlight. "Was she all right?"
"Yes." Elrond touched the child's hair gently. "The Valar rescued Elwing, and reunited her with Earendil. They gave Earendil the Silmaril to wear on his brow as he sailed his ship Vingilot through the heavens. The light you see from the star is the light of the Silmaril."
"What happened to their sons?" she asked, innocent eyes huge.
Elrond faltered, but quickly found his voice. "They were captured by Maglor, but he grew to love them and treated them as his own sons. They later grew up to be fine men, but never forgot their parents."
There was silence from Miir; Elrond thought she was asleep, but when he looked down, he realized she was thinking. "Then that's a happy ending." she stated firmly.
"How so, little one?" Elrond got to his feet, carefully gathering up the child. She was surprisingly light as her slender arms went around his neck. "Come, your parents will be looking for you."
"Maglor didn't get the jewel, Earendil and Elwing were together again, and their sons were all right. That's a happy ending." Miir explained patiently.
"You're right." Elrond moved his head to look the child in the eye. "Do I tell good stories?" he teased.
She giggled, an oddly silvery trill. "Of course!"
Just then, Falchor came running up, a bit disheveled, and clearly shocked to see his liege lord carrying his daughter. "Miir, haven't I told you not to disturb Lord Elrond? My lord, I'm so sorry…"
"No need to scold her Falchor, it was I who disturbed her, really." Elrond put down the elfling and gave her a quick hug. "Go on, little one, your naneth has probably been looking for you. I'll see you again soon."
Miir hugged him back, then darted away, although she paused to flash a sunny smile at the two adults before disappearing. Fondly smiling after the child, Elrond turned to arch an eyebrow at Falchor. "She said you wouldn't tell her about Gil-Estel."
The male Falanassi raised his own eyebrow. "I felt it was your story, and I had no right to be telling it."
"Perhaps so." With the child's departure, Elrond felt as if his cares were weighing him down once more. "The shadow in the East is growing by the day, mellon nîn. All-out war will soon be upon us, whether we will or not."
"I know." Falchor's face was grim. "Elmir and I have been preparing for such an eventuality. Elrond, if anything happens to us… promise me you'll see to it that Miir is taken care of."
Elrond didn't reply. He just nodded, extending his hand—Falchor shook it firmly. As their hands met, the half-elven lord felt a mild jolt—without speaking, he knew this promise would be significant in the years to come.