Somewhere in the world, 1991
The little girl climbed down the rocks that led to a small wooden deck, where the old fisherman was sitting. She walked silently over to him and sat down. The old man didn’t turn to look at her, only smiled and kept smoking his long pipe, for he knew it was the girl who visited him everyday. He put his fishing stick down and smoothed his long white beard.
‘The Wizard’: that’s what they called him. Partly because people thought him strange, partly because of his big pointed hat.
“Do you hear it?”
“What?” she said in a whisper.
She strained her ears and closed her eyes. A gentle breeze caressed her face and she breathed in deeply. She heard it then; it was the waves; the trees; the flowers; the sand.
And beautiful voices.
“Who are they?” she asked mesmerized by the voices.
“Hmm?” He turned to look at her, still smoking his pipe.
“The people who sing.”
He smiled. “Elves.”
The girl frowned and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Papa says that neither them nor Santa exist.”
The old man laughed.
“Oh yes! *They* don’t. But the elves do.”
He turned to look at her, his eyes holding a twinkle she hadn’t noticed before.
“Elves are not what they are thought to be. They have nothing to do with Santa.”
“Then why do people say that?”
“Oh, people say many things!” He sighed. “I can tell you that elves are immortal; tall and graceful they are, and excellent warriors! Not that wicked little creatures they are thought to be!”
She was beyond confused. The old man chuckled and turned toward her once more.
“Imagine them like… angels. Only without the wings.”
The girl’s face changed into one of recognition.
“Oh, I see… Then why people don’t know them?”
“Because the people who have seen or heard them have chosen to keep their existence a secret. But these people are very few.”
“Why am I one of them?”
He smiled and grabbed her shoulders. He looked at her in the eyes and smiled.
“Do not question fate, little one. Just meet it.”
She stayed there for a few minutes, listening to the voices and watching the sunset. Then she stood up and, after turning to look for a last time at the old man, she climbed up the rocks to go back to her house.
She never saw him again.
Author's Chapter Notes:
This is my first fic... so please be gentle! I am aware that Galadriel sailed to Valinor. And I can already imagine the rest of your objections. Please remember that it's an AU story and I present things the way they fit my plot. Oh, and I cannot guarantee for the quality of my elvish!