Chapter 3 — The Echo of Broken Fate
[POV: Galadriel]
Galadriel sat alone in her garden, where moonlight shimmered upon silver fountains and leaves whispered in the night breeze. Before her, the sprout of the Golden Seed pulsed softly—its glow warm yet alien, a rhythm older than Arda itself.
She studied its faint luminescence, but her thoughts drifted elsewhere.To the dream.To the young woman announcing her pregnancy.To Tiriana.
A strange bond tugged at her heart—unfamiliar, unsettling, as though her spirit recognized a sorrow not yet born. And the name Sellia… it tasted of destiny. A crossroads of fate where something terrible would unfold. A place where joy and agony would clash until the soul broke under the weight.
Galadriel's breath trembled, though she did not know why.
Before the thought could root itself, a voice reached her mind—a summons.
Saruman calls the Council.
She rose, the garden shimmering behind her, and with quiet urgency made her way toward Rivendell.
[POV: Gandalf]
Gandalf and the dwarves had finally reached Rivendell. After washing away the dust of the road, they were invited by Elrond to dine with him and his family.
When Gandalf entered the hall, he found Elrond seated with his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir. Beside them stood a young elven maiden, radiant as starlight—Arwen, daughter of Elrond and Celebrían.
Elrond rose gracefully."Welcome to my house, Gandalf, Bilbo, Thorin, and company."
Bilbo bowed awkwardly. "Thank you for your hospitality, my lord."
Thorin merely nodded, pride ever his companion. Gandalf bowed slightly."My friend, you honor us. I see Arwen grows more like her mother—and her grandmother—each day. And your sons have become warriors worthy of your lineage."
Elrond inclined his head with quiet pride and invited them to sit.
Over dinner, Gandalf recounted the encounter with the trolls and the weapons they discovered. Elrond explained their ancient names and histories. The evening passed in warm conversation.
Later, as night wrapped Rivendell in soft silver, Gandalf lay down to rest.His final thought before sleep was of her—the woman wreathed in deathly frost.It had been days since he dreamed of her.
But the dream returned.
He found himself once more in the misted realm, alongside those who always gathered: Elrond, Galadriel, Saruman, Bilbo.
And before them—Galadriel embracing a woman.
Elrond froze. His breath faltered.
"Celebrían…" he whispered.
He rushed forward, and for a moment husband and wife held one another again—tears of shock and longing mingling silently.
When they finally parted, he asked in a trembling voice,"My love… how?"
Celebrían answered softly,"I do not know. One moment, I sat beside Lady Varda and Yavanna, and suddenly the three of us slept—and awoke here."
Everyone stiffened.
"The Valar… here?" Gandalf murmured.
A voice, bright as dawn, replied,"Yes. We are here. And it seems you know this place far better than we."
Light blossomed, and Varda appeared beside Yavanna, her presence like starlight woven into form.
"May we see your memories?" she asked gently.
Gandalf bowed."My lady… you may."
Their gaze brushed through his thoughts—the Erdtree, the child, the shattered grace, the radiant woman, the river of blood, the moment Tiriana revealed: I am with child.
When the vision ended, Varda whispered,
"I see… her children broke fate. And in return… fate broke her."
But then Varda stiffened.
"Who is there?"
The dreamers turned sharply.
"Sensed someone beyond us?" Gandalf asked.
Varda closed her eyes, her awareness expanding through the mist.A heartbeat later she opened them, sharp and blazing, staring toward Galadriel.
"Even you are here… Mairon."
A pillar of living flame rose beside Galadriel, shapeless yet unmistakably him.
"Sauron," Varda declared. "What stays my hand from unmaking you here?"
The flame flickered with mirth."Here, Lady of Stars, neither you nor I hold power. We are not invited guests. Should we act… we would be erased by the true master of this place."
The air grew so cold the dreamers felt death brushing their bones.
Varda lowered her hand.
And then the mist dissolved.
[Vision: The City of Sellia]
They now stood in a thriving city—streets of magic, banners fluttering, walls brilliant with life.
Guided by instinct, they followed the woman from their dreams.
She entered a palace and sat upon a throne of radiant crystal. Mages bowed deeply.
"My lady Tiriana," one announced, "all is well. Sellia prospers."
A sudden crash of doors.
Two children rushed inside—red-haired like burning suns, golden-eyed, pointed-eared. They leaped into Tiriana's arms.
"Mama! You returned!"
Only then did the dreamers understand—These were the children she carried.
Galadriel pressed a hand to her mouth.Elrond felt tears sting his eyes.Even Saruman's breath hitched.
Varda spoke quietly,"Fate… its sound echoes."
Then a soldier in crimson armor burst in.
"My lady—urgent news! Queen Marika the Eternal has vanished. Her children move. And a messenger from Lord Miquella requests an audience."
"Let him enter," Tiriana commanded.
The soldier returned with a man robed in gold, eyes dulled as though enchanted.
He bowed stiffly."My lord sends a message to Lady Tiriana, Queen of Blood and Herald of Death."
The children tightened their hold on her.
"Miquella has chosen Radahn as his consort. You are commanded to sever all contact with him. Disobey… and your bastards shall be slain. Your city burned."
Silence fell, crushing and absolute.
Tiriana smiled.
A terrible, knowing smile.
"Do you know who I am?" she asked softly.
The messenger faltered. "Radahn's consort."
Her laughter shook the hall.Tears gleamed at the edges of her eyes.
"You fool enchanted by Miquella's charm… I am called Herald of Death and Queen of Blood because there is no warrior in this land stronger than I. When invaders came, I alone walked into their army and butchered over a hundred thousand souls. Rivers ran red. Death itself bowed before me."
She rose, retrieving the bone-like weapon strapped behind her—barbed, twisted, hungry.
A blue fire ignited at its tip.
She struck it once against the ground.
A wave of azure flame engulfed the messenger, freezing him in an instant. He shattered.
Tiriana turned to her soldiers, her voice cold as the void:
"Ready all forces. If Miquella has spoken thus… he will not send soldiers. He will send Malenia and her legions. Evacuate the children and elders to Castle Morne of the Weeping Peninsula."
The dream trembled.The mists rose again.
[POV: None] — The Whisper of Fate
As the last vision faded, only a single sound remained.
A thread of destiny snapping.A future rewriting itself.A warning echoing through all who witnessed:
"What was broken… shall demand its price."
And then the dream scattered like falling leaves.