“Go back.”

Aredhel paused. She had traveled alone for days now, her horse lost in the confusion of an attack by the same vile creatures that had separated her from her chaperones some months earlier. That part did not worry her; she had made it to Celegorm’s house on her own, and she could certainly go wherever else she pleased on her own as well.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

“Go back.”

With her arms crossed over her chest, she looked up into the bows overhead. The first time, she thought she had only heard in her mind the faint voice. Now she scanned the branches, thinking she might see one of the woodland Elves native to the outer reaches of Doriath. “Show yourself, please,” she announced.

The branches swayed as a breeze came, and the words on the wind were clearer now. “Go back... go back...”

The white lady leaned against the trunk of the insistent tree. “Go back to where, exactly? To Gondolin, to my brother, who shall smirk at my return and lock me away in one of his towers? To wait for my cousin, who wanders far and wide and has lost sight of his father’s goal? To Valinor, ah, but we all walk about in circles now with only false hopes of returning or regrets of leaving. No, I cannot go back, only forward,” she replied as she pressed her palms upon the bark of the tree and pushed herself back to standing.

“Go back.”

“I appreciate your concern.”

“Go back.”

“Good day!”

“Go back!”

“You really are persistant.”

“Come to me.”

Aredhel, who had been smugly walking away from the whispering willow, took a step back. “Reverse psychology?” she questioned as she looked over her shoulder, but faintly, she could still hear the tree, almost begging her to return. She began to take another step in the direction of the trees, but the new voice was stronger.

“Come to me...”

More compelling...

“Come to me...”

As if in a daze, she continued once again on her path, further into the depths of Nan Elmoth.

And the willow wept.