I wrote this story after receiving a message from CAH that asked the following questions about the elleth who was Legolas's nursemaid during his days as a very young elfling in Mirkwood: Where did she go? Did she stay in the cottage? Did Thranduil retrieve her after Legolas disappeared? When did she come back to the palace? What was her relationship with Thranduil when they first saw each other again after all those years? Did the king feel regret, guilt, etc.? How did she find out Legolas was 'dead'?

Edwen Nana means "second mama," i.e., foster mother. The story "Edwen Nana" is her back story.

This should be considered part of The Nameless One series. Legolas has not yet taken the name Anomen—he is known by the nickname Laiqua—but this story arises out of the events that caused Legolas to run away to Rivendell, where he will be fostered by Elrond. The story also mentions characters from The Nameless One, such as Edwen Nana, Gilglîr, and Tathar.

The incidents from Laiqua's childhood that Edwen Nana remembers are told in "The Clearing" except for the reference to his tracing and naming the embroidered birds. That comes from Chapter 2 of The Nameless One.

Beta reader: None, because this is not part of Parallel Quest, the lengthy story I am working on. If anyone notices any errors, please let me know.

Edwen Nana banked the fire in the stove of the little cottage she had once shared with Laiqua. Then she went to the wardrobe and drew out a little tunic and a bundle of letters neatly secured with ribbons. Sitting by a table upon which stood a brightly burning candle, she smoothed the tunic upon her lap and then untied the bundle. She took the topmost one, the most recent, and carefully opened it. "Dearest Nana," it began, "thank you for the pastries. They are much nicer than any baked in the kitchens of King Thranduil." Her brow wrinkled. 'King Thranduil', she thought to himself. 'King Thranduil. Why does Laiqua never refer to him as his adar?'

She continued reading. "My archery master says I am getting better and better at my shooting, and my horse master says I have a very good seat." Laiqua's foster mother frowned anew. 'He mentions the praise he receives from his weapons masters and his riding teacher, but he has never mentioned receiving any praise from his father', she said to herself. "Write again soon, Edwen Nana," the letter continued. "I miss your voice. I miss your smile. I even miss your scolding me, but if I could see you I would be very good so I do not think you would need to scold me." Edwen Nana signed, and the hand holding the letter dropped into her lap, where it rested upon the little tunic. "Soon I shall receive a reply to my last letter," she murmured, "and I shall send him an answer. But it is not enough. If only Thranduil would see fit to allow us to meet. Laiqua is not happy. I am sure of it."

Just then Edwen Nana heard hoofbeats. "So late," she exclaimed, surprised. "But if it is a traveler who seeks shelter for the night, I will not turn him away." Even after the departure of Laiqua, a guard had been maintained around the cottage, so although it was very late, Edwen Nana was not frightened by the approach of a traveler. What Edwen Nana did not know, however, was that it was Thranduil who had ordered that the guard be kept in place, and that the King had given the order less to protect her than to prevent her from traveling to the Great Hall. Now that Laiqua was acknowledged Prince of Mirkwood and heir to the throne, Edwen Nana was deemed no longer suitable as a companion for the young Elf. Thranduil therefore wished to prevent her from journeying thence.

A knock came upon the door, and Edwen Nana opened the door without hesitation. There stood Gilglîr, the Seneschal. Edwen Nana was pleased, for Gilglîr had always looked out for Laiqua's interests when the elfling still dwelt in the cottage. He it was who had made sure that cloth was provided so that Edwen Nana might sew garments for Laiqua. He it was who had made sure that books were provided the lad. Edwen Nana assumed that it was Gilglîr who had ordered that the guard be maintained, and on some days she indulged herself in the belief that it was done against the day when Laiqua would come to visit. Perhaps this is why he now came, to inform her that Laiqua was on the way so that she might prepare the cottage. She smiled happily.

"My Lord Gilglîr," she exclaimed. "Mae govannen! Please, come in." She gestured toward her chair. "Please, my Lord, sit ye down, and I will fix you something hot to drink."

Gilglîr hesitated, then nodded and took his seat. He did not seem comfortable in it, however, and continually adjusted his legs and crossed and recrossed his arms. "I am sorry for the poorness of the furniture," apologized Edwen Nana. "I could fetch you a pillow, my Lord. 'Twould make the chair seem less hard."

Gilglîr shook his head. He picked up the tunic, which Edwen Nana had laid aside at the sound of the hoof beats. He examined it. It was very carefully embroidered with many different species of birds. Gilglîr gently traced the figures with his finger. "Cugu the Dove," he murmured, "and Thoron the Eagle. Tavor the Woodpecker and Gwael the Gull."

Edwen Nana remembered how Laiqua had traced and named the embroidered animals, and she smiled fondly.

"This was Laiqua's tunic," Gilglîr observed as he continued to finger the garment.

"Yes, my Lord. It was the last one I embroidered for him before he went away to the Great Hall."

Gilglîr put the tunic down with great care. He cleared his throat.

"Edwen Nana, I have news."

The nursemaid waited expectantly.

"We cannot find Laiqua."

Edwen Nana tut-tutted. "For shame, my Lord," she scolded. "Laiqua used to give me the slip, aye, and even the guards without, but you are many at the Great Hall. One would think the lot of you would be able to keep track of one little Elf. Now if you have come to see if he has run back to his nurse, no, I am not hiding him hereabouts. If he does make his way here, I will send word—after feeding him properly, of course, for I can tell from his letters that your food does not agree with him. Too rich and dainty it is, I suppose, for one who was raised on wholesome fare."

Gilglîr shook his head. "I did not come here expecting to find Laiqua. We know the direction in which he traveled. Some hairs of his were found in a spider's web."

Gilglîr had not smiled since entering the cottage, and Edwen Nana suddenly seemed to notice that fact. Her own smile faded. "Some hairs of his," she repeated.

Gilglîr nodded, and Edwen Nana saw the misery in his eyes, something that in her excitement she had failed to observe. "Some hairs? As in a few?" she said.

"Some. A few. It matters not. His hair was found in a spider's web."

"Aye, it matters not," Edwen Nana replied steadily. "Laiqua sports a great deal of hair upon his head. He could leave more than a few strands behind and not feel a breeze upon his scalp. Let the spider have a few strands. I care not!"

"Edwen Nana," Gilglîr said, "other than those few hairs, no trace has been found of Laiqua."

"Aye, he was always good at making himself scarce."

"Edwen Nana," began Gilglîr, and then he stopped. Unconsciously, he picked up Laiqua's tunic and wiped at his eyes. At once Edwen Nana went to him and knelt at his feet. She placed her hands upon his knees. "Gilglîr," she said. "Do not grieve. I know my Laiqua. I have watched him get in and out of scrapes. I have watched him elude the cleverest of elven watchers. He has not met his end in a spider's web."

Gilglîr smiled a little. "If it comforts you to believe that, I would not stop you."

"You should believe it as well."

Gilglîr shook his head. "I cannot."

He arose. "I came here because I did not want you to hear of this matter from a gossip or a wandering trader. I would like nothing better than to stay for a little while, for it would do my heart good, I think. But I must return to the Hall without delay. I am needed there. Thranduil is distraught, and the kingdom in disarray."

Edwen Nana nodded. "You go where you are needed, as ever I have."

"Edwen Nana, do not forget your own needs. If there is aught you require, do not hesitate to send word to me."

Edwen Nana considered. "Gilglîr, if I have any need, it is to serve. If you hear tell of anyone who needs nursing, you send word to me!"

Gilglîr smiled a little again. "You are brave as any warrior, Edwen Nana, and suffer worse wounds."

"I have suffered wounds in the past," said Edwen Nana, "but I do not suffer any wound now." Gilglîr shook his head slightly but did not argue with her. 'No doubt', she thought to herself, 'he thinks I am refusing to accept the certainty of Laiqua's death. Doubtless he pities me. It is he who is to be pitied however, poor fellow. He does not know what I know'.

When Gilglîr had departed, Edwen Nana picked up the tunic and smoothed it again. Carefully she folded it and then returned it to the wardrobe, along with the letters. She snuffed the candle and lay down upon her cot. A long time she lay awake, meditating upon the news that Gilglîr had brought. She had known the moment of her husband's death, and she was certain that, had Laiqua died in a spider's web, she would have known that as well. Far from sorrowing, she began to smile as she rehearsed her memories of Laiqua.

'I remember', she said to herself, 'how Laiqua kept getting out of the cottage when I went to the spring. He was only a toddler, scarcely past crawling, and yet there he would be, trying to escape into the forest, when I would return bearing my bucket of water'. She laughed aloud, although there were only the walls to hear her. Then she sobered, for she thought of a frightful memory. "I remember," she said, speaking aloud, "that Laiqua was able to save both himself and little Tathar from a Warg. Even a grown Elf might quail at a Warg, and Laiqua was a laes. The two babes crept under the bedstead, and Laiqua struck at the Warg's nose with a ladle until I returned and slew the beast with an axe. A Warg he fended off! And to think Gilglîr would believe that a spider could fell him. Paugh! Laiqua would turn any spider into an insect, leaving it with six legs instead of eight."

Her good humor restored now, she remembered other incidents, such as the day that Tathar and Laiqua switched clothing so that Laiqua, his face hidden by the hood of Tathar's cloak, could escape from the clearing where he was confined by the Watchers. "He came to no harm that time, neither," she proclaimed happily. "Through the grace of the Valar and by his own wits and courage, he has never before come to harm. Nor has he now."

Suddenly Edwen Nana knew how it was. "He has run away," she exclaimed, "and they cannot find any trace of him because he doesn't mean them to."

She considered what she ought to do. Should she hasten after Gilglîr and insist that the hunt for Laiqua not be abandoned? "No," she concluded after awhile. "Gilglîr would not believe me. He would think my wits hampered by grief. Moreover, even if Gilglîr were inclined to believe me, Laiqua would not have taken such a step for any idle reason. He must have ample cause to run away. Indeed, I am certain that he does and that he will return when it seems good to him to do so. I will trust his judgment, and I will wait. Be sure, though, that when he does return I shall keep silent no more. I may be a commoner, but I will do as I once did to a Watcher who was not diligent enough in his guardianship. I shall take Thranduil by the shoulders and shake him until his brains rattle about his skull. Foolish Elf! To let things come to such a pass."

For a time, she allowed her indignation full reign. Then her mood softened. She was Edwen Nana, after all. She knew what it was to suffer loss, and she was able to feel compassion even for an Elf who had neglected his son. 'The poor soul never left off grieving for his wife', she thought to herself, 'and now he must grieve for his son—for I am sure he will. He felt such a great love for his wife that he could never be so heartless as to feel no affection for her child'.

Laiqua was safe and would someday return—this she did not doubt. She did not know when he would return, but she was not overly concerned on that score. She was a Naneth of infinite patience; she would wait and never once give way to despair. And so on this, the first night of her vigil, she folded her arms across her breast and with a small smile upon her face fell into a calm dream in which a small elfling traced the figures of birds embroidered with care upon a tiny tunic.