Eledhrím Fae

Relocation

Hermione put down her quill and shook out her hand with relief. She had been working on the translation for weeks and she had finally found  the last rune in the script that she was working on.

Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, she read and then reread what she had translated. It didn't make any sense. The language was ancient, but it was relatively similar to gobbledygook, so it had only taken her a couple of weeks to make a full translation. But it still didn't make any sense. She read it out loud in english;

"Only death can move her, and yet not true death.
The Elven kingdom not of this earth love her.
And a king shall heal her soul."

It sounded like a prophecy but that was ridiculous, her dislike of divination was well known in the academic community. No one, not even for a joke, would leave her prophecy to translate.

She took up her wand and carefully traced each rune in the air leaving glowing lines of runes floating in front of her. She tried one more time speaking out loud, but this time her tongue stumbling over the unfamiliar pronunciation of the language itself.

"Ero gwanath pul'rumá he dan ú thrand gwanath.
I Eledhrím aranarth ú nan sen amar thel'mela he.
Ar'i aran na'nesta he fae."

Hermione immediately knew she had made a mistake. Her magic felt as though it was exploding from her skin. She gripped her wand tightly as she doubled over, feeling herself being engulfed in flames. The pain was quickly overwhelming her senses as it raced through her body from her toes up to the crown of her head. She closed her eyes trying and failing not to panic, her last thought was that she was probably going to miss lunch with Harry tomorrow.

🔸

"Come, gwanûr (brother). I'll race you to the gates." Elrohír called over his shoulder, his twin pulled up alongside him and snorted and drawled out.

"Gwanûr you never win. But if you require another loss, I am more than happy to oblige." It was Elrohír's turn to snort, while his brother was a marginally better horseman than he was he could still beat him on occasion.

Before he could answer his brother's challenge a boom of thunder cracked through the air and the sharp smell of ozone tickled his nose. At Elladan's cry of alarm he wheeled his horse around swiftly. A fork of lightning had hit the ground not fifteen paces from his brother and the horse had thrown Elladan in panic.

Elladan was on his feet and soothing the horse before Elrohír could dismount. He swung his leg over and gracefully dropped from the saddle, moving over to where his brother stood murmuring soothing words to the panic beast.

"There was no sign of a storm a few minutes ago, and there is no sign now." He muttered to Elladan looking up at the clear sky, his brother shrugged elegantly.

"Stranger things have happened gwanûr." He hummed in acknowledgement, eyes travelling to where the lightning had hit.

He choked and nudged Elladan sharply. Elladan followed his light of sight and stilled. A crumpled and smoking form lay on the ground directly where the lightning had struck. He dropped the reins of his horse and jogged over to what he had spotted.

A girl lay sprawled out on the burnt earth, her clothes smoking and falling apart in places. Elrohír knelt down beside her, unclasping his cloak from around his neck he gently wrapped the girl in it noting that despite her burnt clothing her skin seemed to be unharmed. He looked to his brother,

"She is alive gwanûr." Elladan's eyebrows rose.

"I will ride ahead to inform Adar (Father). You take her straight to the infirmary." He instructed, already striding back to his horse. Elrohír didn't answer but scooped the girl into his arms. He jolted in shock, the power he could feel from the small form in his arms stunned him.