Lothíriel paused in the gardens, looking around her. Before her the old willow tree loomed invitingly, bent enough to allow little hands enough leverage to get into it, and the grey-green curtain made it a beautiful hiding spot.
She leapt up, scrabbling on the bark for a handhold, and failed dismally several times before she wedged her foot into the crook of a branch and pulled herself up.
Lothíriel, scrambling up the winding tree, began to feel uneasy, even as she cat-crawled, gripping the trunk tightly.
Her shoe slipped and she wavered for a moment, her heart beating franticly. Hands lifted her and Lothíriel whimpered in terror.
A tall woman was standing there, dressed in some pale blue cloth that draped over her, allowing her free movement. She was standing, shoeless, on a slender branch, much to Lothíriel's amazement and even envy. She was not holding onto anything, nor did she show any fear. "You are reckless, little one." she said softly.
Lothíriel nodded mutely. The woman sat down on the tree branch, putting Lothíriel in her lap, swinging her slender feet over a tall drop. "You'll fall!" quavered Lothíriel. She tilted her head in cool curiosity and for the first time Lothíriel noticed the color of her hair. It was silver, thick and long. "No." the woman continued. "I will not fall. I am an Elf."
Lothíriel's grey eyes widened. "An Elf!" she exclaimed, twisting round to look up. "What Elf?"
"I am called Mithrellas."
Lothíriel frowned, the name meant nothing to her. "Why are you here?" she continued.
Mithrellas looked down to where the garden lay in the gloaming. "To watch over you."
"Why?"
"Because you are of my blood." said Mithrellas. She went on, as if to herself, her voice a sad whisper. "I left him, alone in the night, with two children to watch. He died, very long ago, but I would not sail. I will watch over our children, and our children's children, down to the last generation."
Lothíriel looked up again, trying to understand. "Who was he?"
"My husband." Mithrellas's voice was sharp now, and Lothíriel looked down again, tears stinging her eyes.
"You must go back now. Night is closing in."
Lothíriel nodded, inching off Mithrellas's lap and across the dangerously bending branch. But the Elf-woman only laughed and stood up. "Take my hand, Lothíriel, and I will bring you down."
The child's hand tight in hers, the Elf darted down the tree, leaving Lothíriel trembling upon the grass. "Goodbye, little one." said Mithrellas softly.
"Goodbye." whispered Lothíriel, waving her hand. She stared into the tree long after Mithrellas had disappeared, until her father's strong arms swung her upon his shoulders. "What are you looking at, tithen Loth?"
"There was an Elf." said Lothíriel quietly. "She said her name was Mithrellas."
Imrahil paused. "Mithrellas?"
"Yes. Who is she, Adar?"
Imrahil looked back up at the willow tree, but only saw the leaves rustling in the breeze. "My mother's mother far removed. Fate is a strange thing, Loth. I thought she had been lost to time many years ago."
"She said she was watching over us." added Lothíriel, looking back up into the leaves.
Imrahil smiled, turning back towards the house. "So I hope, little one. The love of an Elf is no light thing, little daughter. May she play the part of a mother to you!"
Mithrellas heard them, seated on a spreading branch, and she looked down, down to where the white monument stood, a sad reminder of death. She dropped from the branch, landing on the ground lightly, and spoke to the grave. "I did not know you." She traced her fingers over the carven writing. "But I promise you, I guard your children. Though I cannot redeem myself, and be the mother I never was to my children, I will strive to watch over them from afar, and keep them safe from any harm."