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𝔄𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐧 𝔑𝐚𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧
The silent figure watched from the open balcony as the sun's glow started to brighten up the Hidden Valley of Imladris. It was early morning, a warm breeze caused the elf's blue skirt and sleeves to billow about her. Her mind was calm and quiet that morning, just as it had been for many mornings before. Naerien's mind did not wander like it had once — she wouldn't allow it. Her past was riddled with tragedy that she did not wish to recall. Death and destruction and loneliness. That was her past.
The elf left the white railing, turning her back to the sun's light as she entered the large, open drawing room of her chambers. To her left, through an open door, she spotted a silver circlet, beautiful and delicate, sitting on her workbench. She had fashioned many fine pieces of jewelry in her workshop, though these days she didn't work as much anymore. It was lit only by the dim light of the sun, as she had left the candles unlit the previous night.
She didn't enter her workshop, but stepped into her bedroom, where she found a beautiful wooden chest pressed up against the wall. She hadn't opened it in many years, but she was tempted to. Every day she was tempted to open it and yet she dared not to. Memories lived in that chest, and she refused to relive them.
"Naerien!" a young boy's voice hit her ears, cutting through the silence and causing her to turn to face her visiter. She briefly thought of rebuking him for using that name, but she didn't. He was only a child, a mere ten years old, and that was the only name he knew her by. She used to be called Alassaran, but that was sixty years ago, before the last of her kin had been taken cruelly away from her.
She could always manage a smile for the ward of Elrond, however, who had let himself into her living quarters on his own. He was a child of man, not elves, but he was accepted in Rivendell nonetheless.
"Almáre' arin, Estel," Naerien bid him a good morning softly, leaving her bedroom and smiling gently. The young boy gave her a quick embrace, wrapping his arms around her middle. "You're awake early," she pointed out, looking down at him. "The sun has barely risen."
"I'm not sure why I am up," he confessed. "I wanted to go back to sleep again; I was having an exciting dream! and I wished to see the end of it."
"What was your dream about?" she asked him curiously. She sat down on the couch and motioned for him to sit beside her. He did as she motioned and launched into a wild and wonderful tale in which he was a great king of a mighty kingdom (which kingdom that was, he did not say) and he had single-handedly defeated an army of terrible goblins. Then, he had saved a beautiful maiden locked away in a dark tower.
