When Destinies Meet, part 1: In the wake of discovery

Author's Note:
Thanks to all my reviewers! I'm sorry for not getting an update up faster...>.< school has blogged me down, I fear. I should have chp 6 up soonish...hopefully.

Also, a question of a language barrier has been asked: how would Elves communicate with Padmé, since they spoke Westorn and Padmé speaks 'basic', but Westorn isn't English? For the sake of this story, let's say that Westorn is English, and although heavily accented by the Eldar, they were able to communicate with the Nabooans. Fair enough? I'll remember this for next time and come up with a more reasonable explanation...


Chapter Five

The morning dawned bright and clear the next day. Spring had finally settled at the roots of the Misty Mountains, after what was the coldest winter in years, according to Erestor's notes. The Eldar of Imladris had been up and about ever since Arien had first appeared from beyond the horizon, guiding her boat which contained Laurelin's fruit onto the sky. Horses were brought out and watered and fed, combs ranked through their thick manes. Bells were placed upon their bridles, and the ellith adorned their locks with flowers of bright colours. Flowers adorned almost every part of the Last Homely House. Delicious aromas rose from the kitchens.

When Arien had been sailing for about an hour, her boat was positioned right above the highest peak of the Misty Mountains. At that moment, a bell rang out throughout the House, and all voices joined into a song. From the deepest masculine to the soprano feminine, all of the Elves within the Valley sung a song of morning, of life and living and of birth. The horses nickered softly, prancing about as they were lead, cowered with flowers and perhaps carrying an elleth, towards a large meadow, placed strategically within the structure of the buildings. Bonfires had been set up, tables placed and chairs positioned for their Lord and his offspring and noble guests.

There was Thranduil of the Woodland Realm of Mirkwood, accompanied by his son Legolas. Their flaxen hair shone in the light; Thranduil sported a circlet of spring flowers neatly woven around a band of gold. Legolas wore a silver one, also covered with flowers. There was also Cirdan the Shipwright, his white hair and beard outshinning everyone. His robes were of blue and silver, and the crest of Mithlond adorned his chest. Keeping the Elves of Imladris, Mirkwood and Mithlond company were fair Eldar, tall of stance and fair of face, their hair a shimmering golden or silver. There was their Lord Celeborn, upon who's hand rested the Lady Galadriel. Both were clad in white, the Lady sporting a circlet of golden elanor flowers, while the Lord's circlet had been made of white niphrendil. Accompanying them was Haldir the Marchwarden, and one of his brothers, Rumil, and many other Lórien Elves. The company gathered in the Last Homely House was now awaiting the arrival of the Lord of Imladris, last of the Noldo Princes in Middle Earth, and his family.

Padmé Amidala stood upon an archway that overlooked the glade, watching the colourful mixture of Elves singing, laughing and speaking to each other. They all seemed so fair and serene. Nothing seemed to disturb their world of peace and festival. Sabé stood beside her Queen, watching in awe. Both girls ( and all other handmaidens, as well as the guards) had been given Elvish clothes to wear, and Amidala was advised to forego her formal attire and make-up, to more easily blend in with everyone. The monarch could do nothing more than agree, really, since it was obvious to her that the white face would truly stand out amid so many healthy-coloured ones.

"It seems we have landed just in time for a festival," spoke Sabé and looked to her friend. Padmé nodded.

"Seems so; I wonder what it is called? Look, they have flowers everywhere, even the men wear them. It must be a festival of life…"

"It is called tuinaré in the tounge of old, meaning spring-day. We celebrate it each year in honour of the coming spring and the leaving of winter. For winter resembles death, and spring symbolises life."

Both girls turned around at the sound of the voice. Arwen smiled at them warmly, and offered each a hand.

"Come, they are waiting for my father and us. You are the guests of honour this day, and shall be treated as such." Padmé hesitated for a moment, remembering her earlier talk with Elrond. She had been summoned to the Lord even before the sun had risen, to speak about all that had transpired the previous day, and to try and explain from which world they came. It was obvious to Amidala that this culture knew nothing of the Republic nor any system within it, so she left the matter be, for their own safety. The planet was far too pure to become corrupted as many of the other planets were becoming.

Smiling finally, the girls took Arwen's hands and she lead them down the stairs to where Elladan and Elrohir stood waiting. Each had two handmaidens on their arms; Eirtaé and Rabé were being escorted by Elladan, while Saché and Yané (who was, to the relief of all, feeling better and was allowed to attend the festival, although with her arm bound) were standing next to Elrohir. Arwen and her two friends joined them, and the group was soon joined by Panaka and the guards, followed closely by Elrond, Erestor and Glorfindel. There was no sign of injury upon the golden-haired elflord, and he smiled and laughed with the others as if nothing had happened, but he eyed Panaka wearily, and stayed away from him throughout the Nabooans' stay in Imladris.

When Elrond arrived he smiled and offered his hand to his daughter. Sabé was taken by Erestor while Glorfindel bowed and offered his arm to Padmé, who took it shyly and with a blush on her cheeks. Lindir strung one single tune as the Lord and his daughter stepped from under the archway. All fell silent as the company made way into the glade. Mostly, the Eldar eyed the humans on the hands of the rulling group, but not in an evil ways, as Padmé noted. Rather in curiosity. Then all eyes turned to Elrond as he lifted his hands. From his mouth flowed a beautiful song, the meaning of which neither Padmé nor the others understood, but knew it to be important to all the gathered.



As he finished, all voices rose into song and repeated the lyrics over again. The song, sung by the many voices, was haunting and sad, and Padmé felt a pang of sadness. Then it ended, and all fell silent as Elrond spoke once again.

"My friends! As every year, we gather today to honour the blossoming of spring, and its coming to the lands of our kin! Let the day be eventful and bright for all of you, and may our prayers for a rich harvest and a mild winter be answered by the Valar! Eglerio!" The Eldar broke into an applaude and cheered, then Lindir and the rest of the musicians struck up a lively tune, Elrond lead Arwen to their destined seats, and the feast began.

Never before had Padmé witnessed anything so alive and beautiful, yet also sad and in decay at the same time. It seemed to her that the Elves were saying farewell with their feast, although they actually cheered for life. There was nothing more beautiful than a couple dancing in the middle of the glade, or Lindir playing a sad slow tune upon his harp. Eirtaé, the only handmaiden who resembled the Eldar both in height and appearance, had soon been swept away into the middle where dancing took place. First by Glorfindel, then by the twins, and then she ceased counting. The rest of the handmaidens were also interesting to the Elves, and soon the two groups mingled and interacted as if they had been together forever.

"Might I have the honour of this dance, my lady?"

Padmé jumped slightly, as she had completely moved away from all the action with her thoughts, thinking of home and the regal, stiff Nabooan parades and balls, only to look into a handsome, youthful face framed by pale silver hair. Her brown eyes turned large and a shade of pink crept onto her cheeks. She stole a glance at Arwen, unsure of herself. The dark-haired Elf smiled and nodded, making a 'go on' sign with her hand. Taking a breath, Padmé smiled to the Elf.

"The honour is mine, my lord." And she stood and took the offered hand, and found herself pulled into the river of dance, twisting and twirling with no real idea of the steps, but she soon found out that there were none. So long as one moved according to the music and to the rhythm, one could do all he wanted.

"I'm Padmé by the way," she spoke into her companion's ear when they twirled close together. The Elf grinned, showing her two rows of brilliant white teeth.

"Rumil of Lórien." That was the last they spoke for a while.

Arwen gazed at the dancers with a content smile on her face, sipping some wine. Her father was busy speaking to Erestor about something. Everyone seemed to be having a wonderful time. Even her grandparents were dancing and laughing with the others. She could spy her brothers flirting with the tall blonde handmaided. But apparently, they had met their match, if one could judge by the shade of pink on Elladan's ears.

"Lady Arwen, what a delight to see you in Imladris once more!" The voice brought her back from her musings and she smiled up at Thranduil.

"Indeed, my King, it is nice to be home again. But tell me, how fares the Woodland Realm? I have heard talk about some sort of skirmish.." Thranduil waved his hand.

"Hardly I could call it a skirmish; just a group of goblins thinking they were smarter than us. But come! Now is not the time for such talk; the music calls. Have you danced today? If not, I think I'll snatch my chance and try to bargain the first dance with the lovely Evenstar." Arwen laughed, a brilliant sound that filled all that heard it with warmth, and accepted the King's invitation, allowing him to lead her into the dance.

All day the festivities went on, although the mechanics of Naboo had excused themselves earlier. Accompanied by a group of merry Elves, who were interested about this 'silver bird' of theirs they made their way to the Nubian cruiser and began works to repair it. Palpatine would not doubt be worried by now, and would have sent ships in search for them. Their goal was to fix the ship up and leave as soon as possible. Even though the Elves appeared cheerful, there was a dark, brooding feeling about, stiffening one's breathing. There was something amis, and they did not wish to be here to find out what it was.

TBC

*the Sindarin ode to Varda, kindler of the Stars. Here follows the English equivalent:
O Elbereth Starkindler,
white-glittering, sparkling like jewels,
the glory of the starry host slants down.
Having gazed far away
from the tree-woven lands of Middle-earth,
to thee, Everwhite, I will sing,
on this side of the ocean, here on this side of the great ocean!

Tuinaré - spring-day. I take credit for this, as I'm not sure that the Eldar actually had this...but, knowing their culture, they probably did.

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