Elbren greeted Erinhue, Idril, Parador, and Nenya as they entered the Lothlorien Guild House. They looked weary and he listened patiently to the full tale of their adventure.

"You have done well," he smiled when they were finished speaking, "and now, you must rest. Parador and Nenya, you must prepare yourselves for your visionquest; Erinhue and Idril, you must prepare for our journey to the First Age. Come! I will show you to your rooms, Parador and Nenya, and there you may bathe and rest. You will be summoned at midnight."

Elbren himself led the two potential Initiates to private and separate quarters near the rear of the Guild House. He pointed down a long, shadowy corridor, "You will be summoned and walk this path to the double doors at the end of the hall. Do not bring weapon or armor and dress comfortably. You will be fed now, but after this meal, you must not eat until afterwards." Elbren paused before he stepped away, "Oh, no matter what you hear or see, do not leave this room until you are summoned to enter the Initiation chamber."

When they entered their rooms, they found a fire blazing in the hearth and a meal of hot meats and breads on a small table. A comfortable bed with fresh linen was also prepared.

As the sun set that day and they lay down to rest, the distant sounds of battle horns, horses' screams, sword upon sword, the twang of bows, the scream of dragons, the dreadful cries of horrid, nameless things...the distinct clanging of metal gates resounded through the house, leaving the Guild invitees wondering what was in store for them.

The bath had soothed Parador's aching travel worn muscles...and relaxed her mind and spirit...the amber tunic and pants she wore, outlined with golden braiding fit her comfortably...taking the belt wrap, Parador tied it around her waist...her hair was pulled back into a braid of curious workmanship; something taught to her as a child

She hardly touched her food...the complexity of the sounds coming from outside her room darkened her appetite...she remembered Elbren telling her and Nenya not to go outside no matter what they heard...to be obediant to his command outweighted the curiosity to scrifice her opportunity to becoming a Mithril Knight...but even deeper was the thought of the visionquest...Parador rose from the table walking around the room in a ruminate state of mind...

Her thoughts turned to Nenya...she loved him deeply...

Laying down on the fresh linen...Parador closed her eyes resting herself for the last part of the initiation...she would not let her thoughts stray either way...but, focused them on the path that lie ahead...to guess what awaited her would be fruitless...she would need her heart to guide her...leaving her mind vacant...she drifted off to sleep...yet, a part of her remained cognizant to the sounds around her so that she could hear Elbren when he summomed her

Elbren stood in his silver robes, lighting the candles in the meditation chamber as the incense layered the room in misty gray. He had the oils prepared on the tray, each one meticulously infused with the ancient recipes. Slowly, the room was transforming into the Initiation Chamber at the Guild House so far away in the South. He looked up to see the massive mural that surrounded all four walls...

Nenya and Parador would face first the East wall where the battle of Dagor-nuin-Giliath was portrayed. His keen, grey eyes traveled the length of the painting, noting the intense life-like expressions of the paints.

In the top left corner was the arrival of Feanor, his sons, and the Exiles with them, landing in the waste of Lammoth, the Great Echo, at the shores of the Firth of Drengist. They all had their mouths open and their fists raised as they screamed a mighty challenge to Morgoth that they had arrived.

Farther up, near the dark mountains, were orcs, Balrogs, and other dark creatures that were clearly listening in bewilderment and then anger. Elbren winced a bit as he fancied hearing the growls and foul language of the dark creatures, but then, he knew the murals contained life and energies of their own.

His eyes continued along the colors until he then focused upon the Exiles as they traveled the Firth into the land of Hithlum, and then finally to the long lake of Mithrim.

Elbren's heart stopped and his mouth went dry as he looked up to see the hosts of Morgoth moving at an unnaturally rapid pace through the passes of Ered Wethrin and then falling upon Feanor's people, completely caught off guard, with no defenses built or permanent dwelling yet raised.

But the Noldor were mighty and filled with the spirit of Exile that had led them back to Beleriand. The orcs actually fled from them, defeated and baffled at the incredible energy coming forth from the Exiles. Then there was the figure of Celegorm, pointing and drawing his sword, as more orcs joined the fleeing host. It was no matter; Celegorm's band fell upon them and left them in mounds of death. Ten days the battle lasted. A handful of orcs made their way sullenly back to Angband.

Morgoth was not pleased.

But then, Elbren's eyes moved near the end of the East wall mural, and there was Feanor, in his anger and white heat, pursuing the orcs alone and into certain peril. There he was, in his shining mail, his sword brandished mightily, fighting valiantly upon the Plain of Dor Daedeloth before Angband, Feanor's laughter echoed upon the iron walls before him.

Elbren's mouth went ghostly dry as Balrogs were let forth from Angband and with swift precision, surrounded Feanor, who stood alone.

Feanor never faltered nor did his pores issue the scent of fear; he fought on, determined, though he was wrapped in fire and lashed with whip again and again. Finally, though, a mighty Balrog, Gothmog, stepped forth and smote Feanor such a blow that the Elf Lord fell to his knees, dazed, and his sword fell from his hand.

His sons came then, finally, and drove off the Balrogs. But, Feanor had taken his death wound, and he knew it. They carried him from that field and tried to get him to their new home for tending, but Feanor, when they reached Ethel Sirion, he bade them stop. There he cursed Morgoth thrice and as death drew near, the veils between the spirit and mortal world began to intertwine. With anger in his heart, he was granted the foreknowledge that the Noldor would never overthrow Morgoth on their own.

He spoke to his sons of their Oath, and they kneeled next to him, swearing it again and swearing to always serve their own hearts and their own minds above anyone else's. Feanor then took one of the mightiest of talismans and gifted it to Maglor.

When he died, his spirit was so hot and full of fire that his body was consumed and turned to ash before their very eyes.

Thus ended the East wall mural.

Elbren stepped back, sweat upon his brow and his heart pounding. No matter how many times one studied the mural, its power was never lessened in any way. The power of its creator was pulsing like a Silmaril.

He then walked to the doors, opened them, and waited for Parador to enter, for she had been summoned to enter and begin her dreamquest...

Elbren motioned for her to sit on the floor.

Elbren went to the brazier and took some warm oil and several sprigs of rosemary. He walked to her, whispering words in Quenya that could just not quite be heard, and then he handed her a sprig of the herb.

He said, "This represents the life within you and the life around you, keep it in your hand, smell its aroma, know it is in this room, and when you wish to return, it will bring you here."

He walked to another corner of the room and retrieved a large, ceramic liquid vessel and put what looked like a piece of metal into it. He walked to Parador and kneeling before her, holding the metal piece, which was hollow, towards her mouth.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients, Parador," he said, "within this room lies the future and the past...and to know one's self, one must see all aspects. Drink...and know the origins of this Order."

The metal tube was black, so an observer could not tell if the liquid was ingested or not.

*****This liquid works very quickly!! It's like the peyote of the Native Americans...if your character drinks it, your going to find yourself with Feanor and his band of Noldor...*****

Elbren watched Parador bring the drinking vessel to her lips and then took it as she handed it back to him. Elbren could not tell if she had drank from it or not; but if she had, it was his task to ensure her safe passge as her spirit traveled to the Battle of Dagor nuin Giliath. He was to make sure that she was comfortable, did not thirst, and bring her back, if matters became too intense for her.

Elbren then stood and walked to the brazier, using a gold covered spoon-like tool, he shoveled much of the visionquest incense into a golden bowl. The bowl had a chain that could be attached to it for carrying, and this is what Elbren did. He drew the hood of his midnight blue cloak up over his head, drawing it down in the front so that his face was in complete shadow, and then took the bowl of incense into his hands.

He walked to the middle of the East Wall mural and began to walk up and down it, swinging the golden bowl to and fro, and chanting words in a language that was as old as the stars themselves.

Some of the words reached through to Parador, even as far away as she was, both in time and in distance.

...light of the stars will be shown to thee.....and you know that the power of the starlight can be used.....great power and strength......behold the makings of the Spirit of Fire, which resides in the stars...and the stars reside in him...and in thee....you have been chosen to witness the first giliath....BEHOLD!

Within the room, the ceiling became the starry, twilight sky of the First Age as Parador began to glow with a silver aura. The middle portion of the East Wall mural, the Battle of Dagor nuin Giliath, began to move and sway as the figures came to life, battle screams and shouts emitting and echoing from it.

The hosts of Morgoth were moving at an unnaturally rapid pace through the passes of Ered Wethrin and then falling upon Feanor's people, completely caught off guard, with no defenses built or permanent dwelling yet raised.

But Feanor himself had not been idle during this time, and using his skills to work with the Starlight, he had fasioned what would later become the icon for the Guild of the Mithril Knights. Using this for the first time, the orcs actually fled from the Noldor. Defeated and baffled at the incredible energy coming forth from Feanor, the orcs went nearly mad.

For ten days, Feanor held aloft the shining object, and ten days the battle lasted. A handful of orcs made their way sullenly back to Angband.

But, having held the object for so long, Feanor was unable to control the power. He was weak in mind, spirit, and flesh, and nearly mad himself. He pursued the orcs alone and into certain peril. There he was, in his shining mail, his sword brandished mightily, fighting valiantly upon the Plain of Dor Daedeloth before Angband, his insane laughter echoing upon the iron walls before him.

Morgoth then sent his answer: Balrogs were let forth from Angband and with swift precision, surrounded Feanor, who stood alone.

The merciless battle cries echoed around Parador has she passed through the veil of Arda...the vision quest had begun...

Feanor, son of Finwe, stood alone surrounded by Melkor's summoned Balrogs'...

The Lord of the Balrog's deafening bellows overpowered the battle cries taking place where Parador stood; sending a deathly chill through her...unsheathing her sword and bringing it forefront she vigilantly walked to where Feanor stood...sensing a presence, other than the Balrogs, he turned quickly only to look past her...the Squire's heart leaped against her chest as she stood motionless before the 'Spirit-Fire'...he had not seen her...and yet, she stood before him unclaimed of fear...her vision was just that, a vision...allowing her to go unnoticed...

Going with her instinct, she slowly channeled the sword back into the mithril sheath not taking her eyes off the Noldorin Prince...she was intrigued by the maddening look that canvassed his appearance...angry and filled with vengeance...Feanor wielded his sword...slashing wildly at the fiery Balrogs...

Parador took notice of Feanor's change in countenance...from a crazed Elven war lord, to one who knew his life was about to be overshadowed...the numerous wounds inflicted on Feanor did not call him down, until Gothmog, Lord of the Balrog's, dealt him the last deadly blow, propelling him to his knees...

Parador instinctively unsheathed her mighty sword, TœrRuin, once again...and started to advance on the Balrog, defending the downed warrior...her body froze with the sword hanging in the air...the words of the Oath of the Mithril Knights stung within her heart...swallowing hard, she lowered her sword with a feeling of helplessness as she watched the fallen Prince lie in pain and anguish with no defense to aid him...the words she spoke to herself back in her room at the Guild House seared through her mind...'the consequences outweighed the need to obey a command than to sacrifice one's will of authority that was not hers to sacrifice...she knew Feanor's death must be allowed to finish its course...

Although being a knight meant taking charge of her emotions...she couldn't help the great loss she felt at that moment in time...and she shared in that loss with all of Middle~earth that uneventful day to which would be handed down through song and lore of days gone past...

Feanor was dying.

Elbren saw the figure of Parador appear on the mural, as if by magic, and Elbren thus knew that Parador was now a Witness to the Giliath Londe.

He walked to the Northeast corner of the Mural Room and opened a wooden cabinet with a key that hung from his belt. Drawing out a midnight blue, almost black, hooded cloak of velvet overlaid with a layer of wool, he walked back to where Parador was sitting, still in the trance.

The cloak looked lovely from a distance, and it was both warm and cool as needed, but when closely inspected, runes of power and Elvish script could be seen woven into the fabric in many places. On the inside of the hood was a map of the night sky.

Elbren took the cloak and laid it around the shoulders of Parador, who stirred slightly as it rested upon her shoulders. On the mural, Feanor was holding aloft a small phial that was filled with brilliant blue and silver light, and all around, his sons and others, were kneeling and seemed to be speaking in unison.

"I will explain more about the cloak when you fully awaken," Elbren said to Parador, who seemed to be coming back to the present.

On the mural, Feanor died, his body suddenly consumed in fire and only ashes were left in the litter. Maedhros took the ashes and placed them into the Phial and held it high above his head as the others drew their swords and swore their Oath.

Elbren went and got a plate of fruit and a mug of warm, mulled wine for Parador and placed it before the new Mithril Knight.

She slowly laid her head into her hands...Feanor's fiery consuming left Parador exhusted, both emotionally and physically...

She felt the cloak fall around her shoulders soothing her tension...

She looked up after a few minutes had passed...Elbren handed her a glass of wine and a plate of fruit...

'Thank~you Lord Elbren'...taking the plate from his hands...'I am grateful for your encouragement and help'...laying the plate and drink down, and reaching over her arm, the new Mithril Knight touched the woolen cloak reverently and thoughtfully...looking up to Elbren again her eyes glistening...

'I pray justice and honor will not fail me as I continue down the path as a Mithril Knight...and the cloak, I will wear with a humbled heart'

Elbren stood in his silver robes, lighting the candles in the meditation chamber as the incense layered the room in misty gray. He had the oils prepared on the tray, each one meticulously infused with the ancient recipes. Slowly, the room was transforming into the Initiation Chamber at the Guild House so far away in the South. He looked up to see the massive mural that surrounded all four walls...Parador was now a Mithril Knight; it was Nenya's turn now, if he still wished to pursue the mysteries, to enter the Chamber.

He then walked to the doors, opened them, and waited for Nenya to enter, for he had been summoned to enter and begin his dreamquest...if he did not come soon, then they would have to leave for the First Age.

"Send the summons to all who will come to prepare themselves and assemble in the great hall of the Guild House. Tis time for us to make ready for departure. Please ensure that the message reaches Tempest and Orodreth as well," Elbren told an Elven Mithril Knight who was assisting him.