Gifts of the Valar.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the Original Characters and their adventures. Everything else belongs to JRR Tolkien, the Tolkien Estate, New Line Cinema/Peter Jackson, et. al. This was done purely for entertainment and as an exercise in creativity.
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“I believe I have found it.”

Erestor and Cunion looked to where Durisia sat on the floor next to the window with the view of the mountains near the Sea of Rhun. She held a book with pages so old, they were in danger of crumbling; only the delicate touch of an Elf prevented them from tearing as she browsed the contents. The binding looked to be some sort of leather, sturdy despite the years.

“It is the journal of an Elf called Naveradir,” she said. Glancing at Cunion, she raised a brow. “I do not recognize the name.”

The healer shook his head. “Neither do I. I do not believe he still dwells among us.”

“When is it dated?” Erestor asked, coming over to kneel beside her.

“It appears to be dated just over 6500 years ago.” Durisia shook her head. “That is about how old you are, is it not?” Cunion laughed.

“Approximately,” he said, “Unless you listen to Vanurion.”

“That is close to the end of the First Age,” Erestor said. “The Elves awoke at Cuivienen about 5000 years before that.”

“Vanurion was alive at the time; perhaps he knows this Naveradir,” Durisia said, turning another page carefully, scanning the faded writing.

Cunion left, returning shortly with the Rhunian Elf leader. They explained what they had discovered and he thought for a moment. “Naveradir … I believe I remember my father mentioning that name. He was killed, I believe, in some battle with the Dwarves or Men or something, further east of here. He … I am sorry. I remember nothing else.” He looked at the journal. “You believe he visited Cuivienen?”

“So it would appear,” Erestor replied. “And if this journal is correct, he did it long after the place of the Awakening was said to be destroyed.” The possibility went against everything they had always heard about Cuivienen. He was finding that many things he had thought were true about his kind were not always as they seemed.

Erestor and Durisia did not join the others for dinner that evening and he lay on one of the couches, propped on some cushions against the arm, reading the journal of the long-dead Elf. Durisia lay with him, her head on his chest and rested quietly, eyes open, not really seeing; dreaming, but aware. His perusal of the journal was slow by his standards, due to the ancient script, fading ink and use of some of the Rhunian terms that he had to think about before translating.

It seemed the Elf, Naveradir, had journeyed to Cuivienen about 500 years before the journal was dated, putting it about the same time the Noldor crossed the Helcaraxe, the Grinding Ice which once joined the Blessed Realm of Aman with Middle-Earth, just at the beginning of the First Age. Naveradir had gone at the behest of Goroth---who else?---because the Lord of the Elves of Rhun had heard there were mystical properties to the waters. Well, thought Erestor, that would make since; they were the Waters of the Awakening, after all.

He occasionally stroked Durisia’s hair as he read, taking odd comfort from her presence. As he would turn a page, his hand would then drop back down to rub along her back, trail through her braid; just maintain contact. He was feeling quite content, though excited at his discovery, when another word in the ancient, faded script caught his eye. He stopped and reread to make sure he was seeing it correctly, though he knew his eyesight was infallible, and to be certain, he was.

Lastharos.

In a text over 6500 years old, documenting a journey almost 7000 years old---the name of the Butcher of Khand; the demon who haunted Charika; the vile creature who had raped her and tortured both her and Legolas simply for his own amusement---that name was mentioned as having been “the leader of the Khandun, who claimed the Sacred Waters as his own.”

Surely, he thought, it is an ancestor of the current leader of Khand. From all accounts the man was indeed mortal. But the description …

Durisia sensed his change in mood and lifted her head so she could see his face. “What is it my lord?”

“I need to speak to Legolas,” he said sitting up. “He needs to read this.”

They found the prince preparing to join in the watch for the night. His wife and Haldir were standing watch that night also and he indicated they should go on without him. He gave Alexandra a lingering kiss even though they would be apart only a moment, then turned to Erestor and Durisia.

“Read this and tell me what you think.” The dark-haired counselor handed him the journal. Legolas looked over the text and frowned slightly.

“I cannot translate this,” he said with a rueful smile. “I am afraid I know only Sindarin and Common. What little Quenya I know is spoken only.”

“Forgive me, Legolas. I sometimes forget not everyone still reads the old language. It is a description of someone and I wondered if it was accurate.” He took the book and began to read aloud.

“’Tall, as one of the Firstborn, and fair; most beautiful to look upon, with hair as the midnight sky which fell in soft waves, like a black tide spilling over his shoulders. His eyes were as deep and dark as the bark of the trees in the forests surrounding the Sacred Waters, though they glittered as if golden flames danced behind them. His face was as one imagines a Vala, with a beauty both terrible and wonderful. His flesh was like golden honey kissed by the sun, smooth and pure. His body was powerful and strong though not with the bulk of his mortal brethren. That he was mortal, I had no doubt; yet his presence was disturbing and I kept my distance, sending one of the mortals to speak with his company. I do not know what hand stayed me from his presence, but I am grateful, and was thankful to all of the Valar when he and his company departed. He is dangerous to Elves.”

When he was done Erestor looked at Legolas. The prince’s mouth had tightened and anger flashed in his eyes.

“It cannot be the same man,” he said. O, Eru, it could not.

“Is the description accurate?”

He nodded. “It describes him perfectly. But he was mortal, Erestor. I saw him, I touched him. He was not of the Firstborn and neither is he a Maia. I do not know how it can be possible. Mortals do not live for over 7000 years.”

“Is there anything else about him in there?” Durisia asked. She did not know much of this Lastharos everyone seemed so concerned with, but what she had heard was not good.

Erestor shook his head. “I went through just scanning for his name again and do not see it. Still the part regarding him having claimed the waters as his own---that disturbs me greatly.”

“But the waters no longer exist,” Legolas said automatically---it was, after all, what they had always been taught.

“They were thought to have been destroyed even before the beginning of the First Age, but according to this, were extant when the Noldor returned to Middle-Earth.” Erestor sighed. “I like these coincidences not; that Lastharos’ name should come up in something seemingly unrelated; that Goroth should have searched for the Waters for their ‘mystical properties’; that my son feels a sudden urge to search for these Waters himself.”

Legolas nodded. “It does seem a strange combination to suddenly find; especially in this place. I cannot provide any counsel, Erestor. I am probably the youngest Elf here---well, maybe just a bit older than Helcarin---and I do not have the experience or wisdom that would help to solve this mystery. Glorfindel, Vanurion, Cunion, you---you are all older and wiser than I. But I will do what I can to see that this entire situation is resolved in the best interests of those we care for.”

Erestor smiled slightly. “It is strange to seek counsel from others after having been the one to whom others have turned for so long. But you are wrong in one point, Legolas: you have experience and wisdom in your relatively short years that many Elves never achieve. Do not devalue yourself.”

Legolas chuckled. “Thank you, my lord. Your words mean much and I am honored that you find my opinion of value.” He fastened his cloak. “Please, let us know if you find anything else. And,” he added, meeting Erestor’s eyes. “I know you hesitate to tell your son of this discovery. Believe me, I understand the fear of losing one you love after having them for only a short time. But he has his destiny as you have yours. Your counsel will be invaluable to him. I know my father’s is to me.”

The dark-haired Noldo smiled and gave a slight bow. “You see, young prince? Your wisdom exceeds your years.”

Legolas returned his bow and went out into the night to stand watch with his wife, Haldir, Helcarin and Sarendir and a few of his Elves. Durisia went back to the library to search through more journals for more mentions of this Lastharos person, leaving the dark-haired Noldo paging through the journal in his hands, deep in his own thoughts.

Erestor turned and walked slowly back toward the library, stopping when he saw Glorfindel leaning against the wall just beyond the stairs, his arms folded and a small smile playing about his lips.

“What are you keeping from Helcarin?” he asked bluntly.

“Well, you were obviously here; you should know, if you heard our discussion.”

Glorfindel laughed. “Only the last few words from Legolas. It has something to do with this journal hunt you had us all on recently. I know you, my friend. You have found something of interest to our son and for some reason you do not wish him to know about it.”

Erestor sighed and handed Glorfindel the journal. As the golden-haired Elf read through it quickly, he told him, “There is a map that goes with it.”

“Lastharos … and Goroth knew of the waters? And Lastharos has claimed them as his own?” He shook his head. “I do not like this turn.”

“Neither do I,” Erestor commented as they walked slowly back to the library. He opened the door and Glorfindel did not miss how his friend’s gaze softened when it fell upon Durisia, curled up on the couch, reading through one of the journals.

“It is interesting, though, you must admit,” he said with a smile. He had not seen Erestor so taken with anyone in … well, ever.

“Yes,” the dark haired Elf sighed. He handed Glorfindel the map. “I had not thought of the similarities in names: Sea of Helcar and Helcarin. He was named because his mother came with the cold wind from the north. And he was not … his origins were not conventional.”

Glorfindel glanced at his friend. “No, they were not; and I believe his destiny lies here in the east.” He told Erestor of the brief flash of insight he had experienced back at Vaurion’s keep as they had discussed the future of the Rhunian Elves. The dark-haired counselor’s expression did not change, but a small glimmer of pain was visible in his eyes.

“I always felt he would not go to Valinor with us. From the time he was still a babe in arms, I felt his path was different from ours. I suppose I did not wish to examine it too closely. Perhaps I felt---or, more likely, hoped---it would pass and he would either come back to one of us or go to the Havens on his own and we would see him in the Blessed Realm. I never …” He met his friend’s eyes. “It never occurred to me our son may leave us and we would never see him again. He is an Elf and Elves always have the hope of meeting in Valinor.”

Glorfindel shared Erestor’s pain. He, too, had always hoped Helcarin would follow their path.

“It is his decision,” he said, “and as his fathers, we owe him our support.” He sighed. “I come to appreciate Elrond’s dilemma over Arwen more and more.” Erestor nodded glumly. “Still,” he added, “you must share this discovery with Helcarin. He was sent on this quest for a reason. Perhaps it is not for us to know why now or maybe even ever. But we must trust that Eru will guide him.”

“I know,” Erestor sighed. “I have simply been avoiding the inevitable.” He looked at the journal Glorfindel had placed on the desk. “Knowing this Lastharos may be involved somehow---and even Goroth peripherally---I dread giving him this information even more than I normally would.”

Durisia had been trying to avoid eavesdropping on their conversation, but they were not trying to keep it secret and she was, after all, possessed of Elven hearing. She put down the journal she was reading and spoke.

“If I may offer my opinion, my lords,” she said. They turned to her and she was suddenly very aware that they were of diverse cultures; Elven, like her, yet they were quite different.

“Helcarin is a fully mature Elf. He has lived his own life for almost a thousand years and if he felt called by Iluvatar to seek the Waters of the Awakening and dwell in the east, then it is not wise to interfere with Eru’s will. From what Erestor has said, your … your people have gone against the will of the Valar in the past and it has taken millennia for some to do penance. I would think you, as Noldor, would have learned which battles to choose and which to leave to the Creator.”

Neither Elf had a response. She was correct.


When Legolas joined them on the walls of the keep, Haldir and Alexandra noticed he seemed troubled. Exchanging a glance with the Warden, Alex touched her husband’s arm.

“What did Erestor want?”

He looked at them. “They found a journal and map showing the location of Cuivienen and telling how Goroth sent an Elf to seek the waters for their mystical quality and upon their arrival, finding Lastharos had claimed them.”

Alex did not understand why the Elves seemed so fascinated with this place except that it was where their ancestors supposedly evolved---awoke---whatever they called it. She saw Haldir shared Legolas’ consternation and so she figured it must be a matter for concern. Of course, anything that included Goroth and Lastharos could not be good.

Legolas filled them in on what Erestor had shared. When he was done Haldir thought for a moment.

“Do you believe it is the same man?”

“The description sounds the same.” Legolas shook his head. “But mortals do not live over 7000 years.”

“If the waters have mystical properties, perhaps he has harnessed them and that is why he claims them. They give him unnatural long life. If the One Ring could do so for its bearer, then the Waters of the Awakening may do the same.” Haldir’s smile was grim. “It seems the Valar may have sent Helcarin to Ithilien for more than simply a reunion with his fathers.”

“Indeed,” Legolas agreed. “His quest seems to coincide with Rumil’s search for Lastharos.”

“And yours,” Alex said as she kissed him before moving off to her post. Haldir and Legolas glanced at each other before they took theirs and each pondered this new information. Knowing the Butcher of Khand and the corrupt former Lord of the Elves of Rhun had both sought---and apparently found---the mystical Waters, heightened their awareness of the unnatural atmosphere surrounding the keep.

The night was quiet and uneventful but Alexandra once again began to feel restless and uneasy---more so than she normally did in this place. At first she thought it was just the disturbing news about Lastharos and Goroth’s connection, but soon realized it was something more. As she had earlier, she began to walk the wall. As she passed Legolas she told him of her uneasiness and he nodded.

“I feel it as well.” He moved further toward her position, his keen Elven senses allowing him to cover both of their posts. “Satisfy yourself that the others are safe and aware.” He knew to force her to remain where he could watch her would be seen as restrictive and somewhat insulting to his warrior wife.

Alex kissed him before heading toward Haldir’s position. When she approached him, she found him reaching back to his quiver, pulling out an arrow, fingers lightly moving over the fletching. He did not look at her.

“You felt like walking or you simply wished to make certain the rest of us were alert?” he teased.

She gave him a wry glance. “I know Elves are nothing if not alert. No,” she said, gazing out into the gloom. “There is something wrong.”

“Yes,” he surprised her by answering. “And it is growing stronger.”

“What do you think it is?” she asked. She could see nothing amiss, but the outlines of the trees were sharp and the leaves were blowing in an unseen wind … unseen and unfelt. That the leaves should not be moving registered with Alex at the same time her companion spoke.

“It is here,” Haldir said, nocking an arrow and letting it fly. A shriek cut through the night air and something thudded to the top of the wall between Haldir’s position and Legolas’, two arrows protruding from it. The thing thrashed about as Alexandra drew her sword and thrust it into the thing’s body. Legolas arrived, having run from his post to see what had been shot down in the night. One look at the dark grey skin and the wings and he turned to scan the skies.

“Vampires,” Haldir hissed. There was another shriek from the far side of the keep where Sarendir had been watching. They could see no more of the creatures and slowly, the feeling of imminent threat dissipated, though the night still held an undercurrent of menace.

“See to the others,” Legolas told her as he and Haldir continued to scan the skies and surrounding countryside. Their keen eyesight and archery skills made them more effective for keeping watch while Alex could find out what their kin along the walls had seen and done.

Alexandra ran along the battlements checking on the others as she circled around the keep. The Rhunian Elves on watch had not spotted any of the creatures, though one had tried to slip in between Sarendir and Helcarin’s positions. They had slain the creature, Helcarin having brought it down with an arrow and Sarendir using his tatequalme to decapitate it.

“I do not believe there are any more vampires nearby,” Helcarin said. He had sensed the creature before it cleared the trees and so was prepared with his bow when it appeared. He glanced down at the grayish creature. “I have never seen one in the flesh. I had thought them all destroyed.”

“Apparently Lastharos uses them to do his long-range reconnaissance work or as bodyguards.” She filled him in on their encounter with the creatures the previous year when Legolas and Charika had been taken by the Khandun as they walked back to his post. “I had never seen them anywhere since I arrived here and neither had Legolas, so I take it they are not common.”

“No they are not,” he said. “I recall my fathers mentioning them when they were telling me the history of Morgoth and his minions here in Middle-Earth.” He gave a slight laugh. “Elladan and Elrohir would tease me about them, telling me there were vampires in the forests if I strayed to far.”

She chuckled. “From what I hear, Elladan, Haldir and Legolas were told the same things and took the stories to heart.”

“It would seem the tales were not so far from the truth,” he replied as he resumed his post. She nodded as one of Sarendir’s warriors returned from checking on those inside the keep.

“No disturbance was reported inside,” he told them as he passed them on his way to report to his commander. Both felt relief at his words.

“I still do not like that they are here,” Helcarin said. “Still, I do not sense any immediate danger.

“I hope you are correct,” she replied as she moved on to complete her circuit of the keep’s walls.

For the rest of the night, the Elves maintained their watch with Alexandra moving from post to post, eyes scanning their surroundings. Though there were no further disturbances, they were glad when the first rays of dawn lightened the sky.