Mantauriel Manta or Tauri Bronze hair flows freely down the back of the Lady Elf standing before thee, her green eyes gazing perceptively into your own. A ring of sapphire and mithril is upon her finger, and her skin seems to shimmer just so...she will lay claim to living with the Silvan Elves but in your heart you know this is no Moriquendi...save for her lack of age is she Umanyar. Born in Greenwood the Great ere the end of the Second Age; and raised among the Silvan Elves, Mantauriel believed herself to be of their kin...the Light of the North they called her, though she didn’t know why; she grew up as the honour daughter of Thranduil, and bond-sister to a certain "Greenleaf". Early on in her life she married to a Noldo of Galadriel’s kin, who had sought to find the Last Children of the Three Kindreds. Mantauriel he found in the still-clean forests of the Greenwood, singing of the moon and stars, and the waning of the world... Powerful had her song been, and Eruondo of the Golodhrim was enchanted...their daughter was Aleandra, and few were the sweet years they enjoyed their time as a family, for darkness crept back into the Greenwood. Sending her daughter to the South of Middle Earth, Mantauriel took with her husband a brave stand to fight for the woodland realm...but the two were captured in a brutal orc raid. Shadow found Mantauriel for many mortal years; though to her ’twas as months...when she did find her husband; she discovered the unpleasant surprise of him seeming to have been broken-but ai! Light burned within his blackened shell of a body, he bequeathed to her a black cloak, a dark pendant, and three jewels she would keep hidden in an earthy looking satchel ere he fought for her escape from the orc dens of the Misty Mountains. She would not know what had happened to her husband as he led a chase out of caverns and into darkened forests in starlight... only that she stumbled in the dark as black hands tried to catch her, to give her- a bow. Those dark hands shoved her down into the night-shadowed forest, and out of sight... For o’er a thousand years, Mantauriel wandered with a darkened heart, more oft than not straying near Mordor; wherein at first Sauron had smiled; would this become one of his Minions? But it was not to be, no Elven nor clean mortal blood did her arrows spill. She thirsted for orc-blood with equal hatred and fury as those thralls of Darkness... Time passed, and the shadow she held to her heart with hatred and love grew heavy. She approached finally the Elven Realm of Imladris, on weary feet and with a shadowed heart. She wished for family... ...But perchance, a meeting, with a fair young maiden of the Elves upon a quest! Aleandra, all grown up to a strong young lady of 1200 mortal ’years’! Mantauriel would make her home, but leave it every so oft to go wandering again. From the Lady of the Golden Wood she recieved her Family Scroll, and learned why she was called the Light of the North... For in her was the blood of the Teleri, the Noldor, and the Vanyar. Her mother, who had died early in her years, was Celebriel, kin of Celeborn of Doriath, and Maiden of Melian. Her father was one of the Noldor; his own father was of Aman. And sure enough, tracing her finger to the top of the family tree that day, was Fealome of the Vanyar; her foremother. She had yet to rise to her fullest, but even Galadriel had this weighty prophecy for her...that even should she rise to the level of her forebears, she would wear early in her years of Middle Earth, and ere her years were spent, she would depart, for these were the fading years... Now Mantauriel enjoys Imladris for a little while, her feet walking softly the gardens of her house, Yana Olorion, and her eyes ever watching her beloved husband, Nurbor Caladcrist. But never again shall she make the same mistake she once made of trusting too well that the Shadow would dare not touch Elven lands; she has become an Arquendi of Rivendell Defense; her mithril longsword hangs ever faithfully at her side, and her new bow, Cusilach, hangs upon her back with quiver ready. The ring of Caladcrist rests upon her finger, its sapphire heart burning from within the intricate weavings of mithril around it. ’Tis said that though its power is naught to the Three, it offers Mantauriel some power, at least o’er her tiny realm in Imladris; to keep her family safe. Back to the top Return to the front page of the book