Author Note:

1: This story is based on the Altered Fates Universe concept established by Jennifer Adams, however I’ve taken some artistic liberties so this story doesn’t strictly adhere to the rules Jennifer established.

2: This is also a fanfic of the J.R.R. Tolkien world of Middle Earth in an untold tale of the First Age. Please note; I didn’t stay completely true to the Middle Earth that Tolkien set up. This is my take on what Middle Earth in the First Age might have been like.

Logan wrapped the freshly dampened bandana around her nose and mouth trying to filter out some of the smell. The sun was now directly overhead and the Elves had been hard at work collecting the bodies of the slain Orcs and Trolls. Logan counted at least a dozen large pyres already burning fiercely. Unfortunately, from her position atop the ridge, and with the wind from the east, the smoke from the fires was making it difficult to breath.

Logan glanced over at Molly and saw that he’d adopted a similar tactic to filter some of the smoke. Narmartë had left once the battle had moved away from them asking Molly and Logan to stay on the ridge with Othon and Cainir. Logan assumed that she didn’t want them to bump into a group of Elfish warriors and become mistaken for a foe. Logan settled a little lower trying to escape some of the stench, and reflected that the Elves were very efficient. After the fighting had stopped they immediately began cleaning up the battlefield.

“Hey, how are you doing?”

Logan glanced up Molly had seen her look and come over. “I’m fine. I wouldn’t mind getting off this ridge though.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean. I didn’t realize that bodies stunk so badly when they’re burned.”

Logan glanced at Molly a little concerned, he might have inherited Logan’s weapons and battle skills, and even some of Logan’s memories, but he hadn’t experienced a battle before. This was bound to hit him.

“Yeah, but if you want something that really stinks, try pouring gasoline on a bucket of shit and burning it.” Logan shook her head, “At least this just smells like burning meat and wood.”

They both sat back and watched the Elves for a bit. “Okay, out with it.” Molly said.

“Out with what?”

“You’ve been giving me looks for over an hour, what’s up?”

“During the fight, when you ran out of ammo, I saw you fighting with a glowing trident.”

At this Molly nodded, “I know, it was the strangest thing. I was out of ammo and about to go for my 9mm and then my arm started burning and I just knew that if I summoned it my trident would appear.”

“Can you do it again?”

Molly looked thoughtful for a second, “Yeah, I think so. I mean I can feel it right now, and I think if I called it would come, why?”

“I . . . can you talk to it?”

At this Molly shook his head, “No. How could I? It’s just a weapon.” Then he looked closer at Logan. “What aren’t you telling me? Wait, Cainir said that Narmartë had named you. Um . . . Ilcaúrna, the white blaze, or White Fire?”

“The blazing white fire is what Narmartë called me.”

“Why, what did you do?”

“I set one of the attacking Trolls on fire.”

Molly whistled, and then looked closer, “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I . . . it’s my tattoo, the witch-demon. I can talk to her. She says her name is Melchiresa, the mistress of Air, Fire, and Metal.”

“Really; Wow! I never named her. I just thought she looked sexy, dangerous, and I was sort of at a rebellious place when I had it done. Daddy was so mad he could spit and mom didn’t talk to me for a week.”

Logan looked worried but pressed on, “She wants to teach me to use her powers, and when I used them in battle, they changed me.”

“Changed you how?”

“When I let her strength come into me my body gets bigger, and I’m stronger and faster.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad.”

“For now, but I’m afraid that there are things about Melchiresa that I don’t know.” Then Logan looked intently at Molly, “Have you talked to any of your tattoos? The Griffin or the Spartan Hero?”

“No,” then Molly looked a little thoughtful, “well, now that I think about it. When I need to see something better I can sort of feel the Griffin and last night during our fight with the Orc scouts I could feel energy flowing from him into me and then my eyesight just sharpened and I could see in the dark. What do you think it means?”

“I don’t know. But it was that Obelisk that did it.”

Before Molly could reply Cainir shouted and they looked up to see a small group of Elfish Knights coming toward them. Narmartë was in the middle of the group walking next to a tall Knight in golden and green armor. Molly and Logan climbed to their feet and followed Othon and Cainir who were moving down the side of the hill to greet the approaching Elves. They stopped a dozen feet from the Elves and Narmartë walked a few steps forward.

“My Lord, Knight-Commander Sir Helcëtôr, these are rangers, Cainir son of Duvainor and Othon son of Aeglosson.”

“Cainir and Othon, you are both to be commended! You did well in discovering this raid and taking out the foul one’s scouts. The loss of those scouts allowed our trap to work flawlessly. Well done!”

Logan felt the power of Sir Helcëtôr’s voice resonate within her bones. Both of the young rangers bowed deeply at their leader’s compliment. Then as the pair straightened up Narmartë gestured toward Molly and Logan.

“These are the Atan I told you about. Sornohen, Eagle-Eye, spotted the foul ones and fought bravely against them. In battle the Song of Ainur flowed through him and he struck down the enemy with a weapon of light!” At this the Elves making up the party murmured in awe but Narmartë continued by gesturing toward Logan. “This is Ilcaúrna, the Blazing White-Fire, she slew a Troll by the Song. I have named them both Elf-Friends.”

Sir Helcëtôr, nodded and stepped closer, he was taller than Molly and when he smiled Logan was stunned by his raw physical beauty. “Sornohen, Ilcaúrna, I welcome you to the lands of King Turukáno. The village of Lindornëa is an hour’s walk from here. Please allow me to offer you hospitality for the night.”

Molly nodded and stepped forward, “My Lord, we’d be honored to accept.”

The village of Lindornëa was one of the most beautiful sights that Logan had ever seen. The sun was still high in the afternoon sky when the trees opened before them. This allowed the small group a good view down a gentle hill into the village. Dividing the village was a branch of the river they’d crossed earlier and at first it was difficult for Logan to see where the village started and stopped. The buildings had been crafted gracefully from wood and were built into the trees themselves. And then there were the trees! They were a variety of Oak that Logan had never seen before. The bark was a pale white that reminded Logan of the White Birch trees of her native Michigan, except that the vibrant green leaves were shaped like an oak leaf. But more impressive than the white on green beauty of the trees was their size. The trees were huge!

Logan had never seen a tree more than a hundred feet tall. She remembered hearing that the Giant Red-Wood trees in California could get up to three hundred feet, but unless she was mistaken these trees had to be at least five hundred feet tall. Then Logan spotted the bridges arching gracefully over the river connecting the east and west banks.

“The village of Lindornëa was one of the first settlements of our people after we crossed the ice.” Narmartë said, causing Logan to jump. The woman could move absolutely silently when she wanted to!

“I’ve never seen anything like it.”

At this Narmartë laughed gaily, “My people Thlim Ith Mindon built this place, your actions have saved many of my House.” After a moment’s pause she added, “In the winter when the snow lies deeply upon the ground, the trees blend in perfectly looking like individual towers of snow.”

While they’d been talking the rest of the group headed down to the village. Leaving the five companions slightly behind. The Elves seemed content to wait until their human guests were ready to move forward. After a few minutes Narmartë said, “My family has moved to Ondolindë but I have a small house in the village. I would be honored if you would stay with me.”

“We’d be glad to stay with you Narmartë.” Molly replied before Logan could answer.

“Come, there will be a feast tonight to celebrate the victory.” Cainir said.

With that they moved down into the village and if Logan had been impressed by the size of the trees before, now, up close, it was stunning. The Elves built with impossible skill and after a few minutes Logan started to wonder if they used magic in their crafting. There were gardens around the village and under the trees themselves. Logan realized these gardens must be a primary source of food. Then she noticed that in addition to buildings set within the trees there were tiers of hanging gardens.

There were paths constructed of stone and wood along the ground and Narmartë led them along a wide street waving occasionally at people she knew. Logan continued to stare in awe at the village. Some of the buildings gracefully flowed between the branches and trunk of a single tree while others arched between several the trees. Then Logan realized this wasn’t a village, it was a small town. If she had to guess Logan would have said that several thousand Elves lived in this place. There were stairs, ramps, and ladders leading up into the tree city and Narmartë now brought them to a wide set of stairs that wound around the trunk of a single tree. As large as this tree was, it was one of the smaller ones Logan had passed. At this Cainir and Othon said goodbye at the first landing moving along separate hanging bridges into different trees. Before they left they assured Molly and Logan that they would see them later.

The climb felt like it went on and on, and it occurred to Logan that only in a world with lesser gravity could a town like this have been constructed. Once they were a couple hundred feet above ground Narmartë led them over a bridge between two massive branches and then up another hundred feet. The house she brought them to was constructed of a nearly white wood, and was nestled against the trunk of the tree. The main door opened at a word from Narmartë and spell-sung stones flared to life at the return their mistress.

Logan quickly realized this was a decent sized house with three bedrooms, a combination kitchen and eating area, a room Narmartë called the water room, a main sitting room, and a ‘sanctum,’ whatever that was.

“I’m sure that you could use some time to refresh yourselves.” Narmartë said after giving them a quick tour of her house. “There will be a feast tonight and you will both be guests of honor. The water room has a bath, and if you have need, I’m sure I can find some clothes for you for tonight.”

“That won’t be necessary. We’ve extra, although nothing particularly fancy.” Molly said.

“I think my people will be impressed by the exotic nature of your garb, fancy or simple.”

Molly turned to Logan, “Dibs on the bath.”

“Fat chance, I’m playing the female card. I get first use.”

At this Molly chuckled, “As you wish, my lady.”

Logan quickly dropped off her gear in the room Narmartë had indicated was hers and then dug through for fresh clothes. As Molly had said there wasn’t anything fancy. Fresh khaki pants, underwear, and a light white cotton top that looked nice. Then Logan spotted the light silk bathrobe that she’d overlooked the first time she’d done an inventory. Logan quickly stripped, slipped into the bathrobe and collected the shower kit from the backpack before heading to the water room.

The room was obviously what Logan would have called a bathroom. It had a tall tub a sink with a circular mirror and what looked like a toilet. It took Logan a few minutes of experimentation to figure out how to use the crystal controls to bring water to the tub and sink as well as flush. Somehow she managed to sense the flow of magic through the crystals and Melchiresa offered a suggestion or two.

When Logan had a tub full of hot water she slowly eased into it, letting out a hiss as the hot water hit her more delicate parts. Once she settled in she was startled by how buoyant her breasts were and how much the hot water caused her to relax. Even though gravity here was less than what she was used to, a day and night of hiking followed by a battle had left Logan, tired, sore, and bruised. As she relaxed Logan started to drift off a little and could feel Melchiresa stir.

*This feels nice.*

‘Yes.’

*May I stretch?*

Logan didn’t really know what Melchiresa meant but she didn’t sense any ill intent and by this point she was half drowsing.

‘I guess.’

Logan felt a pushing of energy from her back and then she had that same feeling of growing and expanding. Muscles rippled, skin stretched, it was like Logan’s whole body was being reshaped, yet it wasn’t painful. This went on for several seconds and Logan couldn’t move and then it was done. The first thing Logan noticed was that water was now sloshing over the sides of the tub.

*Ah, much better!*

Logan felt a sense of relief and happiness flow from Melchiresa. Logan glanced down and gasped. Logan had thought that Molly had a great figure with perfectly sized breasts. When she’d become Molly’s twin Logan thought that her new boobs were too damn big. But now they were huge! Logan surged to her feet and for a second had trouble balancing and spread her wings. Then it hit her, she had WINGS!

‘What have you done?’ Logan practically screamed into the vault of her mind.

*Just a little stretching. Doesn’t it feel better, now that our body matches our power?*

Logan could hardly see down past her massive mammaries and then she remembered the mirror. She stepped out of the tub, ignoring the water that ran everywhere and moved to the mirror. The woman that looked back at Logan was stunning. Logan’s red hair had been replaced with long midnight tresses and her figure was an exaggerated hourglass. In fact it was as if she’d been reshaped into the perfect male sex fantasy. ‘How can tits this big look so firm?’ the thought drifted through Logan’s stunned mind.

After a few seconds of astonished staring some of the finer details began to penetrate Logan’s masculine brain. She slowly reached up and touched the small, cute, metallic horns pushing out from the hair on her brow. Then she looked at her hands. They were longer and the fingernails could substitute for claws. In fact unless Logan was completely wrong they also seemed metallic. Then she noticed that her skin while still light was now a shade of red. Getting a good view of her waist and hairless crotch was challenging with her new breasts but Logan saw that at some point below her knees her legs sort of shifted looking like nothing a human would have. The skin hardened until it was more like scales than skin and where her feet should be there was a pair of taloned appendages. Then it hit Logan these looked more like the hind legs of a dragon.

Logan felt her wings shift in response to her confused thoughts and out of curiosity tried to spread them. The wings responded instantly and she realized that she could touch each wall of the bathroom with them and still not have them fully spread. The underside of her wings was the same midnight color of her hair while the back of them matched her skin tone. Then with a thought Logan folded them and realized that folded they looked like some great cape.

‘What have you done to me?’

*I’ve just shown you our true shape.*

‘Can we change back?’

*Of course. But why would we?*

‘Because, no one will recognize me, for one. For two, we’ll scare the hell out of everyone!’

*Oh, poo.* There was the sound of a pout in Melchiresa’s thought and then Logan felt the energy that filled her body slowly pull back. When it did Logan noticed how Melchiresa did it and felt sure that she’d be able to duplicate the move. As the energy receded Logan watched in fascination as her body seemed to shimmer and shift and in a few seconds the familiar form of Molly Falk stared back at Logan from the mirror.

“Thank God!”

*Hehehehehehe . . .*

By the time night was falling Logan had just finished getting ready. After her bath she returned to her room for a quick nap. A pounding on the door roused Logan and she saw that it was Molly. He was dressed in a clean set of clothes and his hair was still damp from using the water room.

“Um . . . I was wondering if you needed help?”

“With what?”

“Well, getting ready. I didn’t pack any nice clothes in but there’s a bit of makeup and I can help you with your hair.”

At first Logan thought about refusing but then relented and let Molly in. The makeup consisted of a little lipstick, foundation and mascara. The skills that Logan had gained from the medallion when she became Molly came in handy now. Molly watched with an amused look on his face as Logan took care of the basics. Then Molly helped Logan with her hair. The soft, fine, red hair under Molly’s expert hands was put into a style that braided the bangs and wrapped them around her head while allowing the rest to flow down her shoulders.

“I swear that your hair is at least a couple of inches longer than it was three days ago.”

“Hair doesn’t grow that fast.” Logan tried to argue.

When they were done Logan had to admit to the reflection in the bedroom mirror, that the woman staring back was very beautiful, with her pale skin, red hair, and blue eyes.

“Well, my lady, are you ready to go to the ball?” Molly asked a smirk twitching his lips as he extended an arm.

Deciding to ignore the teasing Logan looked at her weapons belt. “Do you think we should bring them?”

“Naw, it’s a feast and we’re the guests of honor. We’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” with that Logan slipped her hand through Molly’s extended arm. “You know this is my first ball as a woman and I’m not even in a dress.”

“Ha! How about this, when we get back home, I’ll take you dancing and you can were one of my dresses.”

“Um, that sounds nice, but I’m not sure I’ll be ready for that.”

When Logan and Molly reached the main room they found Narmartë already waiting and to their surprise both Cainir and Othon were there. Now that they were out of their armor it was easy to see a family resemblance between Cainir and Othon. Both Elves were the same height and general build. Each Elven Ranger was tall, with broad shoulders and they looked a little out of place in formal tunic and trousers. As if they were each more comfortable in steel and leather than cloth. Cainir’s hair was a little lighter than Othon’s chestnut colored hair. And then there was Narmartë. The Captain was as tall as Othon and Cainir which gave her the height to look Molly in the eye. This made Logan feel positively short! Even with the height Narmartë in her light grey-sliver gown looked absolutely beautiful. She was thin, in the Elfish way, with small firm breasts that were enough to declare her gender without getting in the way.

Logan felt a flash of jealousy at Narmartë’s beauty and squished it but not before she felt Melchiresa stir.

*We’re more attractive in our true form.*

‘Shush! I don’t care if she’s prettier than me, I’m a guy!’

Othon and Cainir both bowed when they entered while Narmartë curtsied. “Are you ready?”

Molly was silent and when Logan glanced at him she saw that he was staring at Narmartë with a stunned look on his face. Feeling amused she stepped on his foot and said, “Yes, although I fear we’re both underdressed for tonight.”

“Nonsense,” Othon said. “We know you’re traveling and have limited access to formal raiment.”

Molly glared down at Logan but said, “Please, lead the way. I can only speak for myself, but I’m quite hungry.”

The walk to the village’s feast hall took them over several suspended bridges and around numerous buildings. The size, shape, and function of each building was different and unique but the one thing they all had in common was the delicate sweeping beauty. The three Elves kept up a steady dialogue about the village. Pointing out the function of the public buildings and the names of friends they passed. In fact the number of greetings and introductions caused them to take a considerable time getting to the feast hall. About half way to the hall Logan became convinced that the three rangers must know everyone in the village and that anyone who wasn’t going to attend the feast had made sure to find a spot along their route. After a few minutes Logan realized that the reason so many Elves had come out to see them must be simple curiosity. Most of these Elves had never seen an Atan before.

Then Logan caught sight of a great platform constructed of wood in the shape of a square. It was at least a hundred yards across with no roof or walls and it was by far the largest open area Logan had yet seen within Lindornëa. The platform had dozens of long tables set up and Elves were already mingling among the tables. The sounds of music drifted out over the night air and lights set within the boughs above the platform began to softly come alive.

For a second Logan felt like she’d fallen into one of the Tolkien movies that had come out a few years ago. Then she heard Molly clear his throat. When she glanced at him she saw him quirk an eyebrow and she didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. This was one of the most amazing things either of them had seen. Then when they arrived at the feast hall Narmartë brought them to a cluster of tall Elves standing in a clear area.

Logan spotted Sir Helcëtôr at the center of the crowd by the fact that he was taller than everyone else. When he caught sight of Narmartë he moved through the crowd toward them.

“Welcome Narmartë, sister-daughter, it warms my heart to see you in something other than field-clothes.”

At this Narmartë curtsied deeply bowing her head for a moment before looking up, “Uncle, may I present to you again, the Atan Elf-Friends Sornohen and Ilcaúrna.”

When Sir Helcëtôr nodded, Narmartë turned to Molly and Logan, “This is Sir Helcëtôr Thlim Ith Mindon, Knight-Commander of the Ondolindë Ranger Corps and Lord Protector of the Seven Villages of the Southern March. He has requested that you sit with him as we celebrate the victory at Quick Water Ridge.”

Logan was too startled by the formality of the setting to say anything and the beauty of the Elves was making it hard for her to think. Fortunately Molly recovered first, “We’d be honored to dine with Sir Helcëtôr.”

As if this were a signal the Elves began to move to the tables and sit down. Sir Helcëtôr and Narmartë led Molly and Logan to a table set at one end of the platform. The table rested on a slight dais and was perpendicular to the rest of the tables. This allowed the Elves eating here to see those at the other tables and was what Molly thought of as the head table. Molly and Logan found themselves sitting to either side of Sir Helcëtôr, with Narmartë sitting next to Molly, and a male Elf named Raegdil next to Logan. Raegdil was a cousin of Narmartë, although he made it clear that he wasn’t a ranger. He was a spell-singer who specialized in Ulmo’s Refrain, ‘whatever that was,’ Logan thought.

Once everyone at the feast had found a seat Sir Helcëtôr stood up and clapped his hands once. The sound was surprisingly loud and the hall quieted.

“Greetings my kinsmen and friends, we are gathered tonight to pay tribute to our fallen brothers and sisters and to thank Illúvatar for our victory over the forces of Morgoth. The minstrels will sing the song of the fallen, and will praise the valor of Erudaugron Toralaonel who led the charge against the Hruo and died while fighting the largest of them. We will hear of the might of Glanmerun Celeendthor who used his bow to kill the Orcs and when his battalion was attacked dropped his bow and with sword and shield slew the Orc Captain.” At this the Elves at the tables burst into cheering for the heroism of the fallen. When they quieted Sir Helcëtôr continued, “We will also hear of the rangers who protect us. Captain Narmartë and her troop discovered the raid and gave us the time to marshal our forces, but that wasn’t enough for our brave Captain, she and her rangers spent a night killing Orc scouts ensuring our trap would be a surprise.”

This time the applause was even louder. Narmartë was obviously a favorite of the Elves. When they quieted Sir Helcëtôr cleared his throat, “And we will sing of the Atan Elf-Friends Sornohen, and Ilcaúrna. How they assisted Narmartë and fought along with us against Morgoth’s servants.” There was a pause and then after a second a scattered applause that gradually got a little louder but Logan could tell it was halfhearted. As if the Elves present didn’t really know how to react to the human’s who’d helped fight the Orcs.

“Let the feast begin!”

At Sir Helcëtôr command servants started moving around the tables carrying trays of food and bottles of libation. After a moment Raegdil leaned over to Logan, “Do not be disturbed by the lackluster response to your deeds, Lady Ilcaúrna, most of my kin simply do not know what to think of the Atan.”

Logan was prevented from having to respond by a servant who offered to pour a glass of wine. After trying a sip of the light white wine Logan thought this was the best wine she’d ever had.

“Do they have miruvor in your land?” Raegdil asked.

“Yes, of course. Although wine has never been my favorite drink. I must confess this is the best I’ve ever tasted.”

“I’m not surprised. The grapes used for this came from the gardens of Yavanna in Valinor. King Turukáno brought these vines with him from Valinor and gifted them to Helcëtôr that he might enjoy a small taste of Valinor to ease his burden here in the Southern Marches.”

As the banquet continued Logan was impressed with the quality of the food, it was easily the best dinner she’d ever had. While they ate minstrels moved among the tables playing and entertaining. As the night deepened the crystals woven into the boughs above the feast platform shone brighter and brighter in a multitude of colored light. Logan discovered that besides tasting delicious the wine of the Elves was one of the stronger drinks she’d ever had.

“So my lady, Ilcaúrna, tell me of your land. Do you have kin? A husband perhaps?” Raegdil asked.

“Um, a husband? No.” Logan responded trying not to shudder. “My parents died several years ago and I don’t have any brothers or sisters. I do have several cousins.”

“Will they come searching for you? I would think that a woman as beautiful as you would cause her relatives much concern should you go missing.”

“No, not really. I’m a sailor. They’re used to me disappearing for months at a time.” Then Logan blinked. She must really be drunk. She wasn’t a sailor anymore, she was a civilian, but even so her cousins wouldn’t come looking for her. Besides if they did they’d never recognize her!

By the time the last course had been served Logan thought her sides would split from eating so much. This had easily been the best meal she’d ever had and there was a part of her that wished she could continue. But her stomach told her that there wasn’t room for any more food. Then the lights dimmed and a minstrel with a harp came forward and began to sing of the fallen. As the first notes were struck the hall fell silent.

Logan felt a stirring in the air and Melchiresa sort of sat up and took notice. The music was hauntingly beautiful and then when the singer started in Logan felt as though she could see the battle unfold. Morgoth’s forces crossing into Nevrast in small bands to avoid notice was clever. Then as they paused to gather their strength the forces under Sir Helcëtôr’s command struck. The foul ones weren’t ready yet they fought with a desperate rage. The Hruo or Mountain Trolls had fought hard and had proven very difficult to kill. The bard then sang of Erudaugron Toralaonel who charged the Captain of the Hruo and defeated him breaking the spirit of the Trolls. In Logan’s mind’s eye she could see the battle play out. An Elf Captain in shining green and gold armor fighting a Troll more than half again his height and three times his weight. Spear versus club, skill versus brute force, the battle unfolded as the Elf wounded the Troll. Then in a full rage the Troll charged faster than the Elf had expected and setting the butt of his spear against the ground he impaled the Troll. But in its rage the Troll moved forward and brought its club down on the Elf. Even though he was wearing a helmet it was no use against the raw power of the Troll. And both Elven and Hruo captains died. Logan felt a lump in her throat and her eyes get watery at the beauty and bravery of the fallen hero.

Then the minstrel moved on to a battalion of archers. Logan saw a vision of Elves moving through the woods to take up firing positions. At the edge of the wood they watched as the Orcs charged attempting attack the Elven center. Then Captain Glanmerun Celeendthor gave the command and the archers loosed a volley. The arrows fell like a deadly hail upon the Orcs. From their position the battalion wreaked havoc upon the Orc’s, such that the Orc Captain ordered a sally against them. The speed with which the Orcs reacted caught the Elves by surprise. The picket line between the archers and the Orcs was over run and when there wasn’t anything between the battalion and the rushing enemy, Captain Glanmerun ordered the withdrawal of his force. Then he drew his sword and led his personal guard in an attack on the Orcs in an attempt to buy the time needed for the archers to escape. Logan felt her heart race as one by one the members of Glanmerun’s House-guard fell until only the captain stood surrounded by foes his bright sword flashing in fury and then, eventually, he was born under by a tidal wave of Orcs.

Logan now felt tears streaming down her cheeks as the minstrel moved on singing about how Glanmerun’s sacrifice slowed the Orc advance and caused them to divide their forces. She sang of how this slowing had allowed the archers to escape. Then the song and vision shifted. Now Knight Commander Sir Helcëtôr at the center of the battle called upon the reserve and led the charge personally. His assault was like thunder upon a plain rolling over the Orcs smashing all sense of organization as he drove to the middle of the host and confronted the Orc Commander. The battle between the Orc and Helcëtôr had been a brief vicious fight and it ended when Helcëtôr’s bright blade removed the Orc’s head from his shoulders.

Once their leader fell the fight went out of the Orc raiders and they fled the field allowing the victorious Elves to pursue them. As the notes of the song wound down the vision that had filled Logan’s mind also faded. She shook her head and looked around the hall and noticed that she wasn’t the only one who’d been entranced by the song.

Sir Helcëtôr looked over at Logan, “Ilcaúrna, well did Narmartë name you Elf-Friend, for unless I miss my guess you’ve just experienced the Olorlirilla. The Song-Vision only comes to those who can truly hear the music of Ainur.”

Logan shook her head and wiped her eyes, “I don’t know anything about the music of Ainur. But I could actually see the battle unfold and the heroes as they fought the darkness.”

Helcëtôr nodded, “Yes, even so. Only those who can hear the music are so deeply affected. Both you and Sornohen can hear the music. You are rare among the Atan.”

Logan felt like she needed to squirm under the intense blue eyed gaze of Helcëtôr. He knew there was a mystery here and she could tell he wanted to understand it.

Then the night was shattered by the clang of a mighty bell being struck. For a second everyone sat in stunned silence and then the sound reverberated through the hall again. Now there was an explosion of activity as Elves surged to their feet. Then screams from the edge of the village reached them and fire lit the night.

“What’s going on?!” Logan asked surging to her feet.

Helcëtôr looked over at Logan, a stunned look on his face, “We’re under attack.” Then he was moving, shouting orders and the Elves leapt to obey.

Logan looked over at Molly who’d climbed to his feet looking around as if expecting to be attacked at any second. When their eyes meet Logan couldn’t resist saying, “I told you we should have brought weapons.”

Then Molly grinned, “I brought mine.”

With that he held out his left hand and once again light seemed to coalesce around it forming a trident. Logan couldn’t help feeling annoyed.

“That’s totally unfair!”

Just then there was a sound like thunder and the branches above them burst into flame as something dropped through the boughs to land on the platform knocking everyone in the area from their feet. The creature stood up and Logan felt a thrill of fear course through her, the creature was at least ten feet tall and wreathed in flame and darkness at the same time. Then it cracked its whip and drew a sword that burst into fire.

Narmartë’s horrified shout cut through the chaos. “May Illúvatar save us, a BALROG!”