ear 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 to visit the
wizards. 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, link with a name: a face that looked almost exactly
like her own. The bright green eyes and shape of the features were the same.
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 in 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. Reunited with her family, Lyra had been only several weeks in Rivendell
when her father and some of her sisters decided to travel to Lothlórien.
Lyra went as well, but soon grew restless there. She missed the green plains
and Golden Hall of Rohan. Among the Elves she did not belong; she had been raised
apart from them. But even her beloved Rohan was not the same. She did not feel
the joy she had once felt while riding across the plain, and was visibly depressed.
After a month of this, Lyra knew that she would never feel the same way about
Rohan again. To make it easier on her friends, she did not tell them that she
was leaving. In the dead of night she packed up all her possessions and rode
away to the neighboring land of Gondor, where she dwells to this day.
<< Fanatics Plaza
ear 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 to visit the
wizards. 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, link with a name: a face that looked almost exactly
like her own. The bright green eyes and shape of the features were the same.
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 in 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. Reunited with her family, Lyra had been only several weeks in Rivendell
when her father and some of her sisters decided to travel to Lothlórien.
Lyra went as well, but soon grew restless there. She missed the green plains
and Golden Hall of Rohan. Among the Elves she did not belong; she had been raised
apart from them. But even her beloved Rohan was not the same. She did not feel
the joy she had once felt while riding across the plain, and was visibly depressed.
After a month of this, Lyra knew that she would never feel the same way about
Rohan again. To make it easier on her friends, she did not tell them that she
was leaving. In the dead of night she packed up all her possessions and rode
away to the neighboring land of Gondor, where she dwells to this day.
