[Imladris]

Lira

Lira sighed as she flitted gracefully to the stairs and entered her room, closing the door softly behind her. The bed looked inviting after the hard days journey and she stretched herself out upon it, reveling in the softness of the spun woolen covers and the fluffy coolness of the pillow that yielded easily to her weary head. Drowsiness encompassed her and she entered the sleep of the elves that was so peculiar to that race. Her blue eyes were half open, dreaming of things long past:

It had been upon a visit to Imladris, where she had tarried on one of her numerous voyages to the Grey Havens. Few elves were left, but the timeless beauty of things fair and past remained, like silver starlight before the rising of the sun. Few passed that way anymore, and Lira loved to wander there, keeping company with the lingering memories, recalling the laughter and dances of the elves before the Darkness.

One day, as she was nestled upon a stone fountain, a group of lot elves arrived: they were bedraggled, the toil and dirt of travel still clinging to the rags that hung limply from their bodies. There was a lady elf and one of noble mien, probably her son, and they were both bowed with grief and worry. Silent tears streamed down her face as they told those of Rivendell what had happened, but Lira could only just faintly hear that her daughter had perished or been lost in the Caradhras Mountains. As she drifted towards them, hugging the shadows, she recognized the mother as one she had once or twice seen in Lothlorien.

The son tried to rally a search party, but the consensus was the same: the daughter was dead. That night, a lament had been sung in the Hall of Fire, the voices of many elves entwining in a melody of mourning for her that was lost. They sang of a Maiden of Twilight with a cascade of golden hair, soft laughter, a woman gentle to all things. A carver was she and under her deft fingers a block of wood could become a thing of delicate and intricate beauty. They described how she and her family were journeying to the Grey Havens and how a storm had come upon them and that she had been separated from those who loved her. Long they looked for her, but to no avail. She had vanished as the fading twilight. With poignant sadness, the music of ethereal elven voice and the strum of the harp grew into an aching crescendo for the beauty lost and for grace disappeared. Tears trickled down Lira’s face as she listened in wordless sorrow to the minstrels sing their dirge in the flickering shadows of the fire’s light.

Before the family had departed for the Grey Havens, Lira had tried to gain the nerve to comfort them, but their grief was too painful, so she had merely whispered a few words of hope -- hope that even Lira could not believe was true. The Maiden had Twilight had faded from this world. She had later learned that her family had safely reached the Havens and had left for the lands of the Valinor, though no joy was in their hearts.

Lira jerked awake, panting heavily as beads of sweat trickled down her forehead. Her heart raced feverishly as she ran through the events in her mind one more time, and sang the song again. A Maiden of Twilight: Uien was named for the twilight. An elf of great beauty was Uien. It could not be: the Maiden of Twilight was dead. How could she have survived?

Rising, hope and joy and disbelief mingled in her heart, Lira hastened to Uien’s room and knocked softly, saying, “Uien, it is I, Lira. I must speak with you.”