The scene is the Guild House in Edoras...4th Age....where Lord Elbren and Lady Idril are preparing to Initiate 4 new Mithril Knights...

As midnight approached, Elbren strode into the Common Room of the Edoras Guild House and then stopped at the huge double doors. He opened them, peered out into the darkness of the deep night, waited a moment, and then shut them again.

He drew a key from around his neck, and locked the doors with a loud, audible click. It even sounded like the doors whispered something as a light breeze blew through the room and then a silence descended.

**All through the night, 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 resounds through the Guild House and the city of Edoras....**

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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. He looked up to see the massive mural that surrounded all four walls...

The Knights in Training 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. He shook his head; it was still impressive, even after seeing it so many times.

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 mightly 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 the Invitees to enter and begin their dreamquest...

As soon as Aurandir walked in, the scent of incense hit him. On top of the slightly uneasy stomach he always had before something of great import, he had to deal with incense, which usually made him nauseous.

He had arrayed himself well tonight, taking out the little used finery he reserved for special occasions. He wore soft leather boots, the tops turned down exactly the way he liked. Over the black shirt and pants he wore a dark blue surcoat, divided in the middle for riding, and in the center of the surcoat the arms of Fingolfin, surmounted by the Fist of Wrath, his emblem. The white glove was clenched, and a drop of fire rose over the fist. On the edge of the glove were the arms of his House, a red cross bordered in white upon a black field. His sable cloak draped itself around him, though soon it would become to hot for it.

The first thing he saw as he entered the room was a vast mural that used the entirety of the east wall. On it was portrayed the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, the coming of Feanor and the rest of his unhappy band. Those treacherous dogs. Only occasionally had they produced a scion to be proud of, and his pride had led to his downfall. Still, he felt bad for Celebrimbor. Admittedly, it was an excellent work, and despite his revulsion of House Feanor, he liked it. One could not fail to be stirred by the sight of the Sons of Feanor as they screamed a mighty challenge to Morgoth that they had arrived. Or Feanor, the very model of proud folly, as he rode after the orcs, riding into peril heedlessly. He studied the scene of the balrogs attacking Feanor, how he defended himself valiantly until Gothmog, the Lord of Balrogs, gave him his deathblow. He watched as Feanor cursed Morgoth thrice, then bound his Sons to their oath again, even as he knew that they could never regain the Silmarills. No, he had no love for Feanor. A measure of respect, but no love.

After he was done perusing the mural, he turned to Elbren, speaking softly in the dimness. "Am I to wait until the others arrive? Or do we have some trial to experience alone? And please forgive me if I have wrongly broken the silence."

The room that Athelos led Elenath to was simple, but comfortable. A bed stood against one wall, and opposite it a desk sat underneath a window. There was also some drawers and a table, on which a lamp was burning. As Elbren had said, there was a pitcher of water and a cup on the table. Elenath set her pack down on the bed, then sat down beside it. She did not know much about the Initiation ritual, and now that it came down to it she found herself more nervous than she had anticipated. Strange things were said of the Mithril Knights: most of it was certainly not true, but still... What was this ritual going to entail? Standing up, Elenath walked to the window, and looking out she saw the stars beginning to appear. She took a deep breath, and whispered, "Elbereth, togo gilgalad lín dâl." Elbereth, may thy starlight guide my steps.

When Athelos knocked at her door, Elenath was lying on the bed, her eyes open but unseeing. She had shed her travelling clothes, and dressed in her silver tunic and grey leggings. The embroidering on the tunic caught the light as Elenath stood and followed Athelos down the halls. They stopped at a large, heavy door, and Athelos gestured that Elenath should enter. She did so, then closed the door behind her, turned, and stopped. The candles flickered and the incense swirled, but it was the mural which clenched her hands and widened her eyes. It was the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, and it was as if the tales her father had told her had taken life. Elenath fought to take a breath as she looked on Feanor, and on his sons as they re-pledged their Oath. Bitterness rose in her throat, but she pushed it down, and turned to meet Elbren's eyes.

"Lord Elbren," she said, striving to keep her voice calm. She saw that Aurandir was there, and nodded to him also. "I am ready for my Initiation. Is there anything that I should know before we begin?"

Rho was gazing out the window, when the knock at the door finally came. The moon was no longer visible, but the light it was giving off was as bright as the full moon the night before, and she was losing herself in the details and shadows of the terrain The overwhelming apprehension about the upcoming ceremony was no longer with her, but she still had a healthy nervousness, along with a lightheadedness from the fast, and found that looking out onto the landscape was the one thing that calmed her down.

As she opened the door, there was one of the Mithril Knights standing there to retrieve her, just as Lord Elbren said there'd be. Calling Chirion over to follow, the Knight then requested that they follow with him. The two were silent, the Knight and the Knight-in-Training, as they walked down the hall until they reached Master Erinhue's door. The Knight knocked on it and Erinhue quickly answered and invited her in for a brief moment. Rho said her good-byes to Chirion with a hug, a pat, and the signal that she always gave him whenever she departed from him. She then thanked Erinhue for taking care of her companion and departed with the Knight.

Finally, the two reached the area just outside the Initiation Chamber where Rho saw the others Knights-in-Training. She walked over to where they were standing, but said nothing to them. The Knight who had lead her to this spot then left and Rho waited along with the others until the doors were opened and they were invited in. She followed the other Invitees into the room and greeted Lord Elbren when Aurandir and Elenath were finished.

Elbren motioned for Elenath, Aurandir, and Rholarolyn to sit on the floor. There were comfortable rugs and furs piled throughout the room and each one took a place.

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

To each 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 first to Aurandir, kneeling and holding the metal piece, which was hollow, towards his mouth.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients," 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." Quickly, he added, "Do not attempt to change the past. Simply observe. You will be safe."

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

Then, to Elenath, Elbren kneeled before her and held the metal tube towards her mouth.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients," 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." Gazing into her eyes he added, "You will be safe. Do not attempt to change the past. Just listen and watch."

Finally, to Rholarowyn he came dnd held the metal tube towards her mouth.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients," 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. You will be safe. Do not attempt to change the past. Just watch with a keen eye and ear."

*****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...*****

Idril had dressed in a dark dress of blue with silver lining and accents and an matching cloak. She made her way to the initation room and was told that the initiation was "in progress". She nodded that she knew this and understood. She had had to attend to a few things before she could come to help with the initation and she had let Lord Elbren know that earlier so he was expecting her now. She very quietly entered the room and held the door as it closed without a noise behind her. She slowly worked her way towards Elbren noticing several things there. She noticed the usual grayness to the room which added the mysterious feeling of a quest. The candles were all lit and gave off and almost eerie glow with the incense smoke.

The massive mural that surrounded all four walls, ever present. She noticed that Elbren had already given the vision quest drink so she looked towards the rooms walls.

As she slowly moved about the room, it 'watched her', moving with her and the scenes ever changing. The Knights in Training would face first the East wall where the battle of Dagor-nuin-Giliath was portrayed. Idril's keen, green eyes traveled the length of the painting, noting the intense life-like expressions of the paints. She always marvelled at the feelings that she got when looking at the wall, it was still impressive.

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. Idril winced a bit as she fancied hearing the growls and foul language of the dark creatures, but then, she knew all to well that the murals contained life and energies of their own. She stopped when she looked at Lake Mithrim, its contrasting colors, much like the outfit she was wearing tonight. Ironic.

She quickly scanned the hosts of Morgoth, the passes of Ered Wethrin, Feanor's people who were caught off guard. She always wondered at the strength of the Noldor in their Exile and how they had fought so bravely. Her 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. She gasped as she again relived it all. The balrogs were let forth from Angband and with swift precision, surrounded Feanor, who stood alone. His receiving his death blow without fear, determined to not go down easily or without a mighty battle. And finally, a mightly 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. Then the Sons of Feanor came and drove off the Balrogs as Feanor lay dying for he had taken his death blow, 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. Feanor 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.

She stepped back and straightened her shoulders and found Elbren looking deep into her eyes. He quietly whispered to her

"Powerful isn't it?! It never loses its power and it always feels as if it is the first time." She looked into Elbren's eyes and nodded.

"Awesome!" she whispered. Clearing her thoughts, she asked, "How many I be of service?" waiting for his instructions.

Chirion left Rholarwyn's side as he agreed and went into the room of the one called Erinhue. It was small and warm and had a good smell. From what he knew of the man made caves the sloping ceiling meant they were high in the house. Sensing a strange presence, the wolf turned to study Agarak. The dragonharp's jeweled red eyes were dark and empty and Chirion ignored it. Continued observation revealed one reasonably sized window, but it was closed.

Erinhue remained by the door and let the big wolf inspect his surroundings. He would have gone down to support both Rholarwyn and Elenath, both members of the Bard's Guild but he understood Rho's concern about Chirion and he was pleased to be able to put her mind at ease with that concern. Seeing the wolf's pointed stare at the shuttered window, Erinhue nodded in the wolf's direction and opened the shutters and raised the window high.

"There, does that make you more comfortable?" There was no need to speak the creature's language to see the answer. Chirion relaxed and moved to a spot with his back to the window, where he could watch the door the harp and the man.

"I too would be a bit standoffish if my host were to be so rude." Erinhue went over to chair by his small hearth. He kept his step slow and eaven until he reached it and spoke to the wolf in a tone of formal introduction.

I am Erinhue and that is my companion, Agarak. I shall be brother Knight to you friend Rholarwyn when this is all over." Seeing Chirion's ears prick forward at the mention of Rholarwyn, Erinhue smiled and spoke as he would to any anxious friend.

"There is no need to worry about her. She will be safe while parted from you and she will return to you soon and quite unharmed. I have experienced this initiation myself and I can speak from experinece. She will walk in a kind of dream state and play witness to a great event in the lives of our long fathers." Erinhue winked at the great wolf and added, "It is her night of passage. She will gain acceptance and good position in the pack."

Elbren stood by Idril and nodded, "If you will help me ensure that they are comfortable while they witness, I would be most appreciative."

Elbren and Idril watched as their minds opened and the liquid took their spirits to the Battle of Dagor nuin Giliath. Elbren's job was to monitor their bodies, make sure they were comfortable, did not thirst, and bring them back, if matters became too intense for them. So, he walked from one to the other, feeling for their breath with his hand, checking their heart rates, and offering them water by holding a mug just at their lips. Some of them drank, a purely instinctual response, and some of them were too far away to care.

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 the Seekers, even as far away as their spirits were, 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!

As Rho swallowed the liquid that Elbren presented to her, all her awareness became focused on the sensation of it flowing down her throat. When the Elven Lord finally walked away, she closed her eyes and lowered her head. Slowly the warmth of the fluid intensified in her stomach and then it began to spread through out her entire body. Soon every part of her physical being had submitted itself to the effect of the drink.

Quickly she was taken away to a place that was beyond both time and space. The sound of her heartbeat filled her ears, and it became a constant source of drums beating off in the distance. The beat of the drum was rapid in the beginning, but began to slow as it was joined by the rhythm of distance waves, which echoed to the same rhythm as her breathing. She would have remained lost in this world had it not been for the sensation of something, or someone, reaching into this place and directing her attention outside the internal world she was being drawn too.

When she opened her eyes and looked forward, she found herself facing a history that overwhelmed her. She tried to take in the entire series of events at once, but then began to focus on just one figure instead and watched as he slowly came to life. His movements were stiff at first, but then he began to move with the ease and grace that all Elves seem to possess. As she continued to watch, life began to enter each scene of the history that was laid out in front of her and she was captivated. Everything then began to move and flow to the beat of the drums and the sound of the waves.

Slowly her attention moved toward the direction of the beginning, where Feanor, his sons, and the Exiles had first arrived on the shores. They were strong and mighty warriors prepared for the challenge they were about to face and their screams of battle filled her ears. Next there was the Orcs and the Balrogs up in the dark mountains. Their growls and dark words rang out over the course of time, reaching both into the past and into the future. This dark language quickly joined in her consciousness with the challenges of Feanor and his sons.

Then her attention reached Morgoth's approach on Feanor's people, and a new sound entered her mind, and joined with the others. It was a dark sound and was unlike anything she had ever heard before. As the Exiles fought hard against the Orcs, their strength and determination entered into Rho's very being, However, this sensation was soon followed by feelings of intense malice and hate, that came from the presence of Morgoth himself. Each of these emotions engulfed her, separately at first, and then intertwined themselves. There was nothing she could do other than to allow them to flow through her being, and note their presence. For nothing was being asked of her, she was only to watch with a keen eye and ear.

Finally, there was the last scene where Feanor, stood alone against the enemies of darkness, received his death blow and was carried off by his sons. She watched as he was given the foreknowledge that the Noldor would never defeat Morgoth on their own, and Feanor's anger became a part of her too, joining in with the other emotions that were still present within her. Then she listened as Feanor spoke to his sons about the Oath and watched as his body was consumed and turned to ash.

It was at that moment all the emotions she had been experiencing stopped. The living history that had just played out in front of her eyes stopped too. Each scene stood silent and motionless. Slowly her awareness returned to the sounds of the drums and the waves in the distance. As they became louder, a sense of acceptance for what she had just witnessed began to grow within her. For she understood that that part of the past was now over and nothing could be changed.

As Elenath drank the liquid, she felt a momentary surge of panic. But she calmed it quickly, and manged to relax. As Elbren moved away, she closed her eyes, surrendering herself to what was to come. A warmth began to spread through her body, and the sounds and feelings of the room faded away. There was a moment of wonderful calmness, serenity, as she seemed to drift in emptiness. But soon light and sound grew again, and a world seemed to shape itself around her. At first the shapes were indistinct, but they quickly cleared, and Elenath found herself looking upon Fëanor's arrival in Middle-earth. Her stomach clenched, but she took a deep breath and forced herself to relax. As she breathed in, she caught the smell of rosemary: for an instant, she was tempted to follow it back, but then she banished the thought.

Elenath saw the host landing in Lammoth, and heard their cries echoing throughout the coasts. She saw the burning of the ships, the flames leaping high, and she saw the orcs that witnessed it also. She found herself both hoping for, and dreading to catch a glimpse of her father; but she never did. She watched as the Exiles made their camp by the lake of Mithrim, and saw the host of Morgoth pass through Ered Wethrin and attack the unsuspecting elves. She watched as the orcs fled before the wrath of the Noldor, and were destroyed. And she watched as Fëanor, laughing and fey, drew far ahead, and was surrounded by Balrogs.

He fought on, resisting the fire with his own fiery spirit. She saw him finally smitten to the ground, and she saw his sons coming with a great force to his aid. She watched as they bore him away, and she saw them halt in the mountains, as Fëanor looked upon Thangorodrim. She watched as he re-bound his sons to their oath, and her hands clenched as she looked on Maedhros, and Maglor, and the others, as they swore to uphold their oath and avenge their father. Anger burned in her heart, but her eyes were also drawn to Thangorodrim, and the anger burned even hotter against the one who had led Fëanor and his sons down this path. And as she watched, Fëanor's spirit departed, a spirit so fiery that as it left, the body fell to ash.

The scene before her began to dissolve, and Elenath found that her face was wet with tears.

A distant horn sounded and Elbren turned to the mural, his eyes focusing upon the scene where Feanor was dying. He saw the figures of Elenath and Rholarowyn appear on the mural, as if by magic, and Elbren thus knew that the two ladies, Elf and Mortal, were now Witnesses 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 two midnight blue, almost black, hooded cloaks of velvet overlaid with a layer of wool, he walked back to where Rholarowyn was sitting, still in the trance.

Elbren took the cloak and laid it around the shoulders of Rholarowyn, who stirred slightly as it rested upon her shoulders. Whispering, Elbren told her, "Come back when you are ready; all is well," and then he set a plate of fruit, bread, and mulled wine on the floor beside her.

Looking back at the mural, Elbren saw 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.

Elbren then took the second cloak and laid it around the shoulders of Elenath, who murmured something in Elvish as it rested upon her shoulders. Whispering, Elbren told her, "You are safe; return as you wish, all is well," and then he set a plate of fruit, bread, and mulled wine on the floor beside her.

Elbren then stood and looked upon them proudly as the Mithril Cloaks rested upon them magnificently. 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.

Nodding to Idril, Elbren spoke, "They will return shortly and will need food and rest. We have two new Mithril Knights."

The smile and glow upon his face was catching; within seconds, Idril wore the same expression of pride.

Aurandir tipped his head back, drinking the strange, sweet liquid. Instantly his awareness heightened, while paradoxically everything seemed to grow dimmer, fainter around the edges.

Suddenly his eyelids flew open. Below him were thousands of Elves, all marching up the Firth of Drengist. A cry was raised by each one as he marched inward, and the air around him roiled with the echoes of a thousand throats. This must be the Battle under the Stars, when Feanor first set foot on the cold soil of Lammoth. Far away, though it was still incredibly bright, rose the flames of the Swanships of Alqualonde as they burned. Pity welled up in him for the people of Fingolfin, pity and anger at the treachery of Feanor. Onward the mighty host marched, up the First of Drengist and through the Echoing Hills of Ered Lomin to reach Hithlum. As he watched, they made camp upon the northern shore of the long lake of Mithrim, setting up buildings and defences. Then he heard a sound, a harsh braying note, and turned to the east, though he guessed he already knew what it was. Swiftly the orc host marched, the hideous mockeries come to do battle with their purer cousins before the defences were full-wrought. Taking the elves by surprise, the orcs poured in, seeking to drive the returned elves into the sea. Then Aurandir beheld a great battle. Though but newly come, and outnumbered, the elves rallied, and then broke their enemies, pursuing them far afield, even to the great plain of Ard-Galen. Then he saw Celegorm destroy the army newly come out of the south, the valiant elves sweeping all before them.

Then Aurandir was taken from the Fen of Serech, and saw one of the most poignant scenes of the Elder Days. Feanor, cut off from his kin and surrounded by Balrogs, laughing in the face of his wounds. Aurandir felt a grudging respect, and a sort of sadness, for Feanor. He could have been so great, nay, the greatest amongst the princes of the Eldar. And he ruined his chance, and therefore ruined the elves. He had let his mind wander, and now he saw Feanor being borne up to the slopes of Ered Wethrin, to die in sight of his bitterest enemy. Thrice Feanor cursed Morgoth, a useless curse, and with the foreknowledge of death, knew that the Noldor would never overthrow him unaided. Yet, he disregarded the knowledge, and bound his son's once more to their oath to regain the silmarils, and commanded them to avenge thier father. Then he died, and as his spirit was set free, so his body was consumed, and burst into flame. Thus ends the mightiest of the Noldor, he thought to himself.

Again, a distant horn sounded and both Elbren and Idril turned to the mural, their eyes focusing upon the scene where Feanor was dying. There the figure of Aurandir appeared upon the Mural, as if by magic, and Elbren and Idril knew that Aurandir was now Witness to the Giliath Londe.

Elbren walked again to the Northeast corner of the Mural Room and opened the wooden cabinet. Drawing out another midnight blue, almost black, hooded cloak of velvet overlaid with a layer of wool, he walked back to where Aurandir was sitting, still in the trance.

Elbren took the cloak and laid it around the shoulders of Aurandir, who stirred slightly. Whispering, Elbren told him, "You have journeyed well, mellon, return when you are ready," and then he set a plate of fruit, bread, and mulled wine on the floor beside him.

Looking back at the mural, Elbren saw 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.

Elbren looked upon the the new Mithril Knight proudly as the Mithril Cloaks rested upon him magnificently. The cloak was a gorgeous piece of craftmanship, both warm and cool as needed, and 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 looked to Idril, "We have another new Mithril Knight."

As she continued to stare at the motionless picture, the words of the Elven Lord reached into Rho's thoughts and she felt herself being drawn towards the history of the mural. His final word ....BEHOLD! echoed within her consciousness again and again, and drew her back into the images upon the wall, until she found herself standing within the scene where Feanor was dying. The great Elve and his sons, remained motionless, suspended in time, while she watched from a short distance away. Glancing to her left, she noticed that Elenath was standing next to her and Rho realized that they were the only living, breathing, beings in this moment. Everything else stood quiet and still. Even the sound of the drums and the waves that had accompanied her on so much of her journey were now silent. Looking back at Feanor, she noticed he was holding aloft a small phial that was filled with brilliant blue and silver light, and suddenly Rho's heart was overwhelmed with a sadness and a reverence for this moment. This moment was not just a significant moment in history, it was also a significant moment in her life too. Although she was mortal, her life was now linked to that of the Elves. Slowly she knelt down and closed her eyes to honor the gift she had just been given and the understanding that had come with it.

When she opened her eyes, Rho found herself kneeling in the middle of a different scene, only this one was not still. As she stood up on the porch of her childhood home in Rohan, she realized that the events being played out in front of her were ones that she had already lived out fifteen years ago, when she was ten. She continued to watch as her father said good-bye to her mother, and then to her younger self. When he had finished, her eyes followed him as he walked over to where Rho's uncle and the stranger were waiting, climbed into his saddle, and turned his horse. Rho's heart began to break as she watched this scene from the porch. Everything in her being wanted to run after him, to stop him from the fate he was about to meet. And yet she couldn't. Elbren's words entered into to her thoughts once again 'you are just an observer...do not attempt to change the past. Helplessness gripped her as she remained on the porch, and watched them ride down the road. Just then the sounds of her younger self caught her attention and she watched as the younger Rho called out to her cousin and the two ran off to share their chores. A new grief entered her heart as Rho found herself desperately wanting to run after her younger self, to tell her, and to warn her that this was the day her life changed forever. How she longed to share with the young girl that her father would not return from this journey and that she would never see him again. But she couldn't, so she remained motionless on the porch and watched as the two children disappeared from her view. Tears began to fall as she looked off in the distance and saw the three riders turn right around the last bend in the road and then they too were gone. Slowly the sky grew dark and the evening stars began to appear, but Rho didn't notice.

She would have remained lost in this place of emotional helplessness and grief if it hadn't been for the sounds of sword fighting and a familiar voice coming from inside the house. Puzzled by this, she walked over to the door, opened it, and peered into the room. The inside of the house was no longer her childhood home. It had been transformed into the room where she and Culanir had trained secretly for a year in Minis Tirith, right after she had turned fourteen. What she was witnessing now was her very first training session that she'd had with the Minas Tirith Knight. As Rho closed the door behind her, she watched the two practice, and remembered the anger that had driven her to make a rash vow, and to seek out Culanir's help the night before. He had been reluctant to have any part of her training at first, until he realized the seriousness of her intentions, and eventually gave in. He'd finally concluded that at least under his instruction, he would be able to keep an eye on her. Rho continued to watch as the two trained in the secret of darkness and realized that the feelings that drove her then, were no longer a part of her now. She had come to terms with the vow once pledged, and had made her peace with it.

Suddenly the sounds of a young woman yelling entered into the room. Rho opened the door and walked outside just in time to see another scene from her past appear. As she let go of the door handle, the entire building disappeared, and the scene that surrounded her now was taking place in the open fields somewhere between Gondor and Rohan. It was late afternoon and finding a rock nearby, Rho sat herself down and remembered the events that had lead up to this point. She was fifteen and had been running away from Minas Tirith to return to her beloved land of Rohan. Her cousin Boromir had been sent out to find her and to bring her back, only the young girl wanted no part of this plan. He had been the one who had taken her and her mother away from Rohan in the first place, and now he was preventing her return. In his attempts to be reasonable with her, the younger Rho's insolence finally lead her to draw her sword. This only humored him, and that infuriated her even more. Rho sat on the rock and laughed quietly to herself. Drawing a sword on a man who was twice her age and a well seasoned warrior was not one of the smarter things she had done in her past. As the scene continued to play out, she watched as he then met her challenge, drew his sword, and waited for his young cousin to make her move. It didn't take long. Rho went after him with all the anger, hate, and bitterness she'd been holding onto and he became the object of all her wrath. She fought with an intensity and determination she had never felt before, using everything she had learned from her training with Culanir, but in the end he quickly disarmed her with one move of his sword. Exhausted, she collapsed to her knees in humiliation and defeat, and waited for him to gloat in his victory over her. That moment never came. Instead, after letting her rest, he then encouraged her to get up, lead her to the fire, and asked her to sit down. When she had, he sat down next to her, and the two remained silent for much of the evening. In the warmth of the fire, the young girl began to realize that he understood some of what drove her, and in his silence she became aware of the choice he was giving her. Sitting on the rock, and reliving this moment filled Rho's heart with deep affection and gratitude for her older cousin. And as she continued to watch them while they sat by the fire, the smell of rosemary finally began to fill the air and Rho understood that it was time for her to leave. After she'd climbed off the rock, she glanced back at the two of them one last time and smiled. They were talking now.

Slowly she began to walk away in the darkness, leaving them and her past behind. She continued to walk across the moonlit field until a dark room appeared in front of her, which she recognized to be the Initiation room. Wanting to remain in the fields for a few moments more, she sat herself down in the grass and listened as the sounds of drums returned. Soon they were joined by the sound of the waves. Then a cool evening breeze swept across the field and Rho turned her face into it, closed her eyes, and felt the gentle breeze brush over her. Finally when she opened her eyes, she saw Elbren in front of her and felt the weight of her new cloak on her back.

Elbren greeted Rholarowyn in a hushed tone, "Welcome back and I now greet you as a Sister of our Order. Eat and drink a little of what's on that plate and then go to your room to rest. We will have a celebration breakfast for all of you in the morning."

He walked to Elenath and Aurandir to check on them and encourage them to eat and drink as well. Pausing, he called Athelos over to him, "Check on Nurvilya and see if she is ready for the Initiation. If not, there will be another time, if she so wishes."

Athelos nodded and slipped quietly out of the Initiation room while Elbren and Idril kept an eye on the new Knights...

Like a whisper born upon the wind's most gentle breath, the faint sound of a distant horn could just barely be heard by two sets of fine tuned ears. The great wolf's ears pricked forward and an inquiring look sought out the bard.

"Yes I heard it too>" Erinhue answered the look. "That means the vision is over and your friend has come through it all triumphant. She will be tired and need to rest but tonight there will be a great feast in honor of those who have passed the test, completed the quest and take their place among the ranks of the Mithril Knights. If she does not come before then I will take you to her room."

Idril had been watching and listening to the sounds of the Giliath Londe. She had been standing quietly watching and listening, remembering. She struggled with what she should be doing and yet she could not move as she 'relived the Giliath Londe' all over again herself. It was easier and she was not really there this time but yet she was there in her mindseye.

She then made herself busy preparing the trays of food and pouring the wine for the new Mithril Knights. She remembered being famished when she first came fully awake and exhausted. She readied the trays and then turned and faced Elbren. She was being overly emotional and she knew it but did not know why and the tears were brimming in her eyes. The candlelight played tricks on her and as Elbren turned he saw the glistening of her tears. He walked towards her and looked deeply at her as she tried to blink the tears away.

Elenath slowly began to feel the weight of the cloak about her, to smell the incense, to hear the hushed voices. She opened her eyes, and saw Elbren speaking to Rholarowyn, with Idril close by. She looked down at the cloak draped about her: it was of marvelous workmanship. She also saw the plate of fruit and bread, and found that she was very hungry. She ate slowly, sipping the mulled wine, taking time to collect herself. She had been deeply shaken by her vision; and she knew that it would take some time for her to sort everything out. It had brought intense feelings back to the front of her mind, from where she had managed to contain them. Taking a deep breath, Elenath managed to steady herself. She felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up.

"Go and rest now, Elenath," Elbren said. "We will have a celebration breakfast in the morning, but now is your time to rest."

Elenath nodded and stood up. She felt incredibly weary, and make her way back to her room in a sort of daze. When the door was closed behind her, she barely had the strength to undress before she fell onto the bed and into a deep sleep.

As Feanor drew his last breath, Aurandir began to fade away, leaving the Vision granted to him. Before he was swallowed up by reality, just before he was gone, a searing light filled his eyes, and he knew that he had witnessed the spirit of Feanor leaving its mortal shackles.

Again came a wrenching feeling, like being grabbed from one existance and pulled into another. He mechanically looked at his side, seeing the food and wine. He took a few sweetmeats and put them in his mouth, his mind concentrated on the Vision. It had been - stirring. He shook his head, then a smile lit up his face. He would never get over the Vision, but he was a Mithril Knight. Suddenly he realized he wasn't wearing his cloak. It was a different one, though luckily in colours he admired.

'You should rest now. The Vision tends to drain some people, emotionally, and it is late besides. Tomorrow we will celebrate your elevation.' He smiled, much as a grandfather would at seeing his grandson learn a new trick. Full of pride.

Aurandir nodded. As he almost left the room, he turned back to Idril and Elbren. 'Thank-you.' Then he left. He wasn't sure what he was thanking them for, but they had given him a precious thing.