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Subject: The 3rd go & am presently ignoring C@'s post.

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Date Posted: 12:32:36 08/20/02 Tue

The kings weary body slumped back onto the throne, his downcast eyes gleaming with tears between straggled ends of hair saturated with the Mellorn's thick blood.

Around the room. applause rang out. A hundred or more souls clapping should've brightened the loneliest of hearts.

But Anawiel knew what he saw in the palantir and her heart cried silently.

There was so much hurt that he was yet to know and more suffering than she believed any mortal heart could stand.

The High Elf was now gone, her torment overwhelming her soul like a torrent of burning flames, wrapping around her heart keeping all others from it. As much as the witch disliked Faeirex, she couldn't keep herself from knowing that feeling and sharing it - even if no one but herself, not even Faeirex, knew it.

Slowly people left the throne room to plan and prepare for the coming war. With them went the king himself and Legolas of Mirkwood. She remembered the last time she had seen them together. At least this time she did not have to deal with the High Elf looking into her soul.

She stood up quickly and followed the two towards the kings apartments. Anawiel waited a while after they had gone in before tapping firmly on the door.

An irritated "Come in then" came from the room beyond and she opened the door slowly, inclining her head, touching her forehead, towards both elf and man as she entered. She would at least show proper respect after her inturruption.

Elessar was sat on the window seat, looking out as rain tumbled over the battlements of Minas Tirith from the ever-darkening sky, his mind somewhere else. Legolas sat nearer the fire with a frown darkening his fair face.

Again Anawiel felt Elessar's anguish, a thousand "what if...?'s" and "if only...'s" running through his mind, eating away at him from inside out.

"It's not your fault," she whispered causing his face to soften slightly and be replaced with a small sign of confusion, "I can assure you, Estel. None of this is your doing." She swallowed away the pity she felt, concealing her emotions once again behind a wall of cold. "Please, I must talk now and do not desire any inturuption, Your Majesty, your Highness." Anawiel now spoke directly to Aragorn.

"Of course the High Elf: Lomode, or whatever she calls herself here whether it be true or not, is right. Sauron has returned, you saw for yourself in the palantir. The Nine have again come to his aid for those rings remain in exsistence. He will come and you cannot stop him, nor can any soul in Middle-Earth. Neither is it your place to do so.

"I do not desire to order you around, Your Majesty. But the Dark Lord had other means of life put in place long ago and he is a likely to be defeated by the descruction of the one ring as you are, as anyone in your court is. He is immortal, yet without breathe or feeling as the elves are. He cannot be killed by emotions, for he possesses none, nor any weapon forged by the hand of a soul that resides within Middle-Earth.

"But that is not the point of course and neither should I be disheartening you with tales of no hope. For there is hope, as there is always. There is a prophecy among the witches from before the time of Middle-Earth.

It is of three beings created by the Fates to hold off the end of this world. Mere children in the eyes of the Valar, yet who hold more power between them then Eru himself. And they will be vessels to the Fates who shall come forth and walk the plains of the world once again.

"One is pure and good, the second dark.Two opposing forces that create a circle of war, that can only be won on the descion of the last.

"The last of the Three shall swing the balance - being neither right nor wrong, brave nor cowardly,good nor evil. Until, that is, one triumphs.

"I cannot stress to you the importance of finding the Three. And as the others back in the throne room I pledge my power and knowledge to you to provide whatever aid I may. But before that you must find
something else,"
Anawiel looked straight into the kings weary eyes without blinking, for he already knew, in one way or other, what she was about to tell him.

"You must find Arwen, Elessar. Bring her home, make her certain of your mistake and of the true desire within your heart. Your son must be born and he must be born here. If Arwen remains without you for much longer then she and your child will perish. Already the onset of death draws closer to her as a vulture to it's prey, for that it what she has become. Without you she is as helpless as the child she carries. She is dying, she will die if you procrastinate any longer. And then there will be nothing left for you to fight for."

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