Madame Feuilly Lyra Near the end of the Third Age, a child was born to Andorëiel and Endilion of Rivendell. She was the fourth, and was given the completely meaningless name of Sáriel. Sáriel does not mean anything; it just sounds rather nice. Her mother decided one day to travel to the White Council. She was going to visit the wizards or something. Sáriel wanted to go too, for no small child is very happy to be away from his mother. Stupidly, little Sáriel tried to follow her mother. And unfortunately, Andi did not know that her daughter was trying to follow her. After the first day of travelling, Sáriel lost all sight of her mother. When she realized this, she did not know where she was going. She wandered around the general vicinity for a while, but soon gave up hope. It happened that a Rider of Rohan, who shall remain nameless, was on that road that very day. She saw the little lost child and tried to speak with her. It was in vain; they could not speak the same language. Since they could not effectively communicate, this Rohirrim had no idea where the child had come from, for she had no way of asking. She would not leave this child out there to die, so she put the Elf on her horse and took her home to Rohan. This all happened when Sáriel was too young to remember it; she forgot the past and called herself a Rider, as did those around her. All she remembered was a face that she could not, as hard as she might try, put with a name: a face that looked almost exactly like her own. The only difference was the color of the hair. This person’s hair was a sort of chestnut brown color, whereas as the girl– called Laeryana, or Lyra for short, by her new family– grew older, her hair grew lighter and lighter, eventually becoming a golden blonde color. She grew up to ride among the Rohirrim in their cavalry, along with her best friend Elena, who was the daughter of that Rider of Rohan who will still remain nameless. It was a happy life... but then something changed it. The Elves from Rivendell had come to Rohan to help the Riders on a quest. On the day they were to leave, however, Lyra realized that she had misplaced her armor. What a perfect day for that to happen. Luckily, one of the Elves from Rivendell had extra armor that he lent her. It didn’t exactly fit her, and she wasn’t used to wearing armor like that, but it was better than nothing. The Rohirrim said that Lyra died during the last battle. However, this is not true. When the Elves saw Lyra, they assumed from her pointed ears and Elven armor that she was one of their casualties, and took her with them. It was in this way that she was brought back home. It turned out that Lyra was not dead, but gravely wounded. She woke up after a week in Rivendell to find herself in a completely strange place. She had never been here before... or so she thought. Someone was standing over her: someone with a face identical to Lyra’s own. The only things that made her distinguishable from Lyra were the color of her hair and her age. That one image in Lyra’s memory was awakened. This woman was her mother. Lyra is still working on re-mastering the Elven tongue. Back to the top Return to the front page of the book