"Quendu!" She had screamed at the strange ellon "I am of the Quendi too!" She was exhausted. Disgustingly filthy. She knew she was no longer that beautiful, gentle creature she had been so long ago. So much degradation and agony. They had changed her, poisoned her, abused her and left her eternally tainted and damned. But she was still at her core - no matter how much it might appear that she was forever lost - she was still one of them. No matter that the cruel god's cursed poisons had leached the colour of her golden hair to this lustreless bone-white. Had turned her eyes blood-dark from the blue of water under clouds. No matter. She was still one of the Quendi.

She waited not knowing if she wished him to kill her or have mercy on her. She could only beg for one thing and she whispered it hoarsely over and over to him as she lay crouched and trembling at his feet.

"Kill me if you must but do not let them take my body… please… please not that! Do not let them take me and make me live again… please… please do not leave me here!" She knew she must sound mad but she could not stop herself - the terror still circled around her too closely. But this Elf did not know that. Would not understand why she was so distressed, so out of control.

A hand reached out to her and she recoiled from it, too used to receiving blows, not expecting anything kind or gentle. And she was too befouled for him to touch anyway. He had said she would be safe amongst them? Them? He was alone she thought… She risked a glance upwards, past his hand to his face. He had grey silvery eyes and his hair was very dark, like the sky when clouds hid the stars. He was alone here with her, but he was telling the truth. It was in his face and she knew her lost brethren would not lie, had no reason to. There must be others out of sight somewhere... Ignoring his hand she rose slowly, head bowed once more, not meeting his eyes now, for this was something that was not done where she came from. With difficulty she mastered herself, stood still for a moment and then spoke her voice low and hoarse, unused to speaking like she once had.

"We must go to the other Quendi quickly then – we are not safe here." Her voice dropped into the harsh whisper again "They may still be looking for me and so it is dangerous to be only two of us out here."

As she spoke she looked over her shoulder back in the direction of the great range of hills she had fled some time before, but she was almost certain that she had not been followed for a long time now. Tracked maybe, but she would have sensed them surely. The wind was blowing hard from the Dark Fortress, but she could not smell any more of the nightmare creatures that dwelt there, only her own stench and the Quendi. Many of them… Maybe this Elf was right. She was safe…?

His hand had dropped back to his side, but she knew he was still staring at her, trying to look in her eyes. Hesitantly she faced him and slowly brought her head up but kept her eyes downcast for a few moments, unwilling for him to see her worst disfigurement. Dreading his reaction to her, for she knew full well the toll her obscene captivity had wrought on her face, her whole being, leaving her only the vestiges of the body of an Elf. And she was one of the lucky thralls. Being female they could never risk changing her too much, for that would have rendered her useless to their foul schemes. The males were not so 'fortunate'.
The dark-haired Elf was talking to her again. Kindly and gently. He told her his name. Nurbor. She was awash with shame and loneliness. It had been so long since anyone had addressed her as though she mattered, or had even wanted to talk to her without cursing her, or as a prelude to crushing her will, or beating her body.

Now the Elf called Nurbor was asking her for her name. At last she met his gaze for a few moments before she squeezed her eyes shut again, so she could not see the look of shock on his face as he saw the ruin of her once beautiful eyes at close quarters. They were the colour of dulled, dark-red, dried blood. Rank with death. He could not have failed to see for he was not much taller than she, not as tall as Giliathmen… No. She could not think of him. Must not.
Nurbor asked for her name once more. His voice now was very soft and again he reached out to her.
"No! Please!" She backed away in a panic and then did something she had thought herself no longer capable of. Tears streamed down from her eyes as she howled like a wounded animal, seeing the look of concern on the ellon's face as he took a few paces toward her. She collapsed at his feet again and curled herself into a shuddering, tight-knotted ball of anguished incoherent sobbing .

Nurbor knelt down beside her, feeling he should do something but reluctant to touch her, for that only seemed to distress her more.
"What is your name elleth? How shall I call you?" He kept his voice soft, calm. It was clear that she had been through some terrible ordeal and he could not imagine how such changes could be made to one of the Quendi, but she was an Elf and badly hurt in some way. He made himself keep still since she seemed so distressed whenever he tried to touch her. Perhaps if he just kept talking to her quietly until she calmed down? "The others are just over this hill behind us. I am of Finwë's kin." He looked at her, wondering if she might have been close kin to him. Maybe not, although her unnatural hair colour could be deceptive. Perhaps she was… had been Vanyar? Or Teleri? He spoke again, still keeping his voice quiet and gentle, not wanting to distress her any more.
"Ingwë's kin are there too… and Elwë and Olwë's folk follow a little way behind us."

Nurbor's voice was calming her and now he was not trying to reach out to her, she was gradually getting herself back under control. Silent now, she heard him say names she knew and she inhaled sharply as he mentioned Ingwë. Why were they here, so far from Cuiviénen? She breathed deeply now trying to will herself to respond to Nurbor.
"Elleth? Will you come back with me now?"
She uncurled a very little and looked at his knees in front of her. Head hanging down she raised herself until she was also kneeling. The tears had left white tracks on her dirty face and he saw that her skin was also very pale, almost white, but lacked the lustre of the Quendi. This time, though his heart went out to her, he resisted the urge to reach out to the poor ruined creature and just watched her carefully, instinctively knowing she was terrified of something. She was shaking with fear in fact, but she appeared to be trying to master it, though she would not look at him.

"I will come back with you… Nurbor." Her voice was gradually coming back, less hoarse but still husky and low. Tentative and halting. "I had a name… once. But she died… I… died. I am not who I was… not anymore."
At last she looked at him again and this time met his silvery-grey gaze. There was no anger, no hatred or contempt in his eyes and this made more tears come, but this time with relief rather than humiliation or despair. She knew he was trying his best to help her and she did not have anywhere else to go. Did not have anyone else to go to. Not any more.
They gazed steadily at each other for a few moments and then he smiled slowly at her. A kind smile that a friend would give to a friend. The effect on her was too much and she stood up hastily, wiping her tears away impatiently. For the last time she looked back to the north, the wind blowing strongly into her face so even her matted filthy white hair was lifted and snaked away behind her. Nurbor looked at her, wondering where it was she had come from, what she was running from. Or whom.
She was not really looking at anything at all. She felt numb now. Like the dead person she had told Nurbor she was. She had not had a name for so long. Had not needed or wanted one. The name she had given herself when she had lived at Cuiviénen was not one she wished to remember. Or wanted anyone else to remember for that matter. Best that elleth was forgotten altogether. Those whom she had loved most were not here to remember her anyway. But she needed a name if she was to return to the Quendi. Her old self-given name had held meaning for her in her old life. Had reflected her nature.

There was nothing here except windswept, stunted trees and bushes clustered together in little groups on otherwise bare hills and dried grass. The clouds had mostly blown away now and the stars were once more blazing down from the heavens. Some of the rough thorn bushes were bearing little white flowers, ill-formed in driving winds. The colour stirred a memory and she laughed, a harsh sound, more like a fox's bark. She tried to remember what the bushes were called. Thorns. Snow Thorn? She turned to Nurbor at last and spoke quietly.
"I suppose I should have a name again. Call me Aeglos."

They had walked over the hill together and, like he had said, she saw a sight unparalleled at any other time. From the eastern horizon to the western they were marching - the Quendi. She nearly turned and fled, but Nurbor kept on talking to her and gradually her breathing calmed and she could speak again.

"So many! Did everyone leave Cuiviénen then?"

Almost in disbelief she listened to him as he told of the promise given to them by a Vala. Of the beautiful lands far, far to the West of the World, where they all could dwell without fear and in the bliss of undying, everlasting peace with the other Shining Ones to watch over them and keep the Dark Lord at bay forever. Nurbor had no need to tell her who the Dark Lord was. Aeglos knew that well enough. And that there was not one Dark Lord, but two, the other hardly lesser in his malice and cunning.

"But how do you know these Valar tell you the truth? You are passing close by lands of great evil now – how do you know this… 'god'… Oromë is not leading you into a trap?

Apparently some Elves had thought the same as she and remained in Cuiviénen. She looked at the Noldo in astonishment as he spoke in awe of this 'god', Oromë. She only knew of one god and he was not one to trust, much less love, as it seemed most of the Quendi appeared to regard this bright spirit who rode at the head of the leaders of this march into the west, riding on a great white horse with Ingwë ever at his side. However, she also knew Ingwë was no fool. How often had she had cause to rue her own disregard of his counsel? But Giliathmen had been so sure they would be safe if they left the Lake within a large enough group of fellow Vanyar.

Nurbor explained to her how Ingwë and two others representing the Noldor and the Telerí had been spirited away by this Oromë to these fabled 'Blessed Lands', where evil was unknown and the Quendi could live unmolested by the forces of the Dark Lord. There, they had seen with their own eyes the beauty and peace of those pure, blissful lands. So much so, that when they returned with Oromë to Cuiviénen, the light of those lands shone from their very eyes and convinced most of their kin to undertake this Great Journey. Indeed, the ellon spoke earnestly, the Valar had already, beyond doubt, proved worthy of the trust of the Quendi, as they had captured the Dark Lord and imprisoned him beyond the Circles of the World.

At this Aeglos laughed scornfully… although now she thought of it, it had been long since the Dark One had been seen in the deep reaches of his fortress, so far as she knew anyway. But her own torment had grown more as the years passed, not less, and so, she had reasoned in her sour delusion, this was perhaps a matter of simple boasting made from the comfort of some other realm of godhood, where they could withstand the Dark One's might. If Ingwë and the others were convinced, and had persuaded all these others to follow them so far from the Lake, then perhaps these Valar were everything they claimed.

Aeglos hesitated, not knowing how she could accept that she might be within reach of safety after so long living in torment. Hesitantly she turned and looked deep into the grey eyes of this kinsman, who was the first being in so long to have been kind and respectful to her, and saw that he had full belief in the truth of these extraordinary claims. And there was this enormous host of Elves, all following their chieftains to show that he was one amongst thousands who believed as well and had committed to this long, long journey. So many people. Her people.

"And you are sure of this Nurbor? That these Valar will keep us safe on the other side of this world?"

"Finwë is convinced of it. And so is Ingwë and Elwë. We all believe in them. That we will all have a better life with the Valar in their lands, than to stay here in darkness and fear. The light of these Blessed Lands shines in their eyes still - and we all can have that too if we follow Oromë." In turn he gazed into her strange red eyes and spoke to her more softly. "You are of the Quendi and so you may join our Journey. You still have close kin amongst the clans who would take you in surely?"

"Perhaps…" She whispered the word, worrying once more that she was too lost in evil to return. Too defiled. Too ruined. "I do not know. I must have kin yes… but will they accept me again? As I am now?"

"You are still of the Quendi. I can see it and so will others."
He smiled at her again and this time she did not shy away, though her own face had seemingly forgotten how to smile. "Maybe…" He stopped and grinned at her, then chuckled at his inadvertent thought "Maybe you should bathe first – so they can see the elleth underneath all that dirt?"