Disclaimer: everything canon belongs to Tolkien, the OCs (Nenros, Eruwest and Rîneglan belong to me)

A/N: For Raina (Elven Warrior Princess). Happy birthday! I wanted to gift you a longer fic but what with my motivation to write being all over the shop I decided on a oneshot so I get it finished. It's a few days early this time (I think...). Elinde being early? Unheard of! But yeah I'm posting it now so it's up before rather than after Christmas XD.

So yes; to everyone else, and Raina as well, merry Christmas! I think I'm a tad rusty where this whole writing lark is concerned but I hope you guys enjoy this little story anyway!

Further inland the snow fell, silent and deep. But by the coast in Círdan's haven the Sea kept the air that bit warmer. So the only white around was the now very off-white of Nenros' outer robes as he Eruwest and Rîneglan waited by the harbour, watching the ship come into port from the Isle of Balar. Eruwest shot a sideways glance at her companion as the ship drew close, saw the tense twitch just below Nenros' eye and squeezed the hand she held tightly. Nenros started, looked at their clasped hands and then up at her eyes. He smiled slightly.

"I can't go any nearer."

"No one's asking you to."

On reflection, the Noldo thought, this probably wasn't the best place for him to wait. Further down the coast lay Círdan's shipyard, and though production was only a quarter of what it had been when the refugees first came here, the sounds still made him want to run.

"Hey!" Rîneglan, who had been standing quietly ignoring his companions' conversation, suddenly came back to life. He jumped on the spot and waved his arms above his head, "I can see them, look!"

The older Elves followed his gaze and saw a small blond figure jumping up and down and returning Rîneglan's wave from the boat. Oropher stood behind his son, watching him while bracing himself to lift the heavy chest they had gone out into the bay to get. As the ship drew against the quay, he was forced to abandon the chest in order to stop Thranduil jumping ship too soon.

"Go and help Oropher, please," Eruwest ordered her son.

Rîneglan stopped jumping and eyed his mother, "Why can't Nenros go? He's stronger than me."

"You know why," Eruwest replied, heavily, as gangplanks were leant up against the ship and dockers rushed to help unload her cargo. Thranduil was let loose and he thundered down the planks to dry land as though the hounds of hell were after him. Rîneglan grudgingly made his way to help Oropher.

"I don't actually know why," he said over his shoulder; "You both promise to tell me what's so terrible about ships but you never do. And then you assume I know so give me grief when I ask."

"We will tell you, just not right at this moment."

"That's what you always say," Rîneglan muttered as Thranduil dashed past him and jumped into Nenros' lap. Never mind the fact that Nenros was still standing up.

"One day," Nenros chided, "I won't catch you in time. And then where will you be?"

"On the ground?" The young Elf asked as he twisted around in Nenros arms until he was comfortable.

"Good answer," Nenros replied, laughing. Tracing the seams where various odds and sods of fabric had been added to the small Elf's tunic as he grew, he asked, "How are you, Patchwork?"

Thranduil grinned, proud of his nickname. But instead of replying to the question asked he launched into tales of his adventure:

"The isle is so beautiful. There's a huge port with a town of white towers behind it and it's all clean and spotless and surrounded by woods and mountains. The only thing it doesn't have is a beach. They say it looks like Gondolin." He said this while looking at Nenros. Nenros laughed once;

"Since I have seen neither Gondolin nor this island why are you looking at me for confirmation?"

"I thought you'd been everywhere," Thranduil admitted, sadly now that this was proved not true. He quickly brightened up though: "Why can't we live on Balar?"

"You and your father can, and Eruwest and Rîneglan can, but I can't go with you."

"Why not?"

"Because it means getting in a ship, and you couldn't get me on a ship if you paid me all the money in the world."

"Not even if someone gave you a Silmaril?"

Thranduil was grinning impishly as he looked up into the Noldo's face, but his smile faltered as he saw the change that had come over Nenros. Though the silence lasted only a few seconds, to Thranduil it seemed to last for ever. He pressed a hand against Nenros' chest, trying to persuade a response out of him. When it came it was said from between clenched teeth.

"What don't we mention?"

"Fëanor?"

"And."

"His jewels."

"And what did you just mention?"

Thranduil wrapped his arms around Nenros' neck and buried his face in his hair, "Sorry, Nenye."

Nenros hugged him gently so he knew he was forgiven; "Those things are dangerous, and dangerous people still hunt for them. Don't give them any reason to come after you."

"But I just said their name-"

"Names are powerful things. In the Beginning the Ainur created things just by speaking their name."

His eye caught Eruwest who was shaking her head, a wry smile on her face. When she saw him looking she mouthed; "Is that true?"

"Does it matter?" Nenros mouthed back.

Eruwest snorted and turned her attention back to the quay in front of them. Just as her son cursed loudly and began hopping around clasping his foot, to the amusement of some of the onlookers and the annoyance of others. Oropher was representing the annoyed. When Rîneglan dropped the chest they were carrying not only had it injured his toes but the jolt had pulled Oropher's back. He was now bent over, one hand grasping the handle of the trunk, the other massaging the small of his back. He was hot, in pain and now seriously annoyed.

"Stop acting like an infant!"

"What on earth have you got in that thing? What could be that heavy? And I'm sorry but this really hurts."

"Oh get a grip, Rîneglan. People have had their arms hacked off and made less fuss than this."

"That's just it; the handle's damp."

"Of course it's damp. Look into the bay; the water's not exactly glassy smooth."

"My hand slipped. It's not my fault I dropped it."

"It's not so much that you dropped it as the scene you're creating because of your own incompetence. Now pick it up again and let's keep going."

"But my foot!"

"To hell with your foot."

He and Rîneglan lifted the chest again but that didn't stop the younger Elf's moaning: "Look at all these people waiting to give you a hand!"

"They'd need payment."

"Maybe I want payment. I have been injured doing you this favour."

"Oh yes and I have never been hurt while doing something for you."

"Maybe I should take Rîneglan's place," Nenros said, setting Thranduil on the ground as he spoke. The Elfling immediately latched onto his hand.

Eruwest shook her head, "He's just showing off now. He'll stop when he runs out of retorts."

"That was different!" Rîneglan's latest comeback caught the attention of all three of them. "That was wartime. This is peace."

"If you think this is peace," Oropher muttered, "there is something wrong with your brain."

"Well it's been worse-"

"And it will get worse again, or I'm a fool."

Rîneglan had no answer to that. Besides he and Oropher had reached Eruwest, Nenros and Thranduil by now. Eruwest Oropher greeted with a peck on either cheek, and then once Thranduil had run off to bounce around Rîneglan for a while, Nenros welcomed back Oropher with a hearty embrace.

"How are things holding up?" The Sinda asked.

"Same as ever," was the reply, "you haven't been gone that long."

'Same as ever' meant the realities of living on the edge of an abandoned world; not enough food, not enough cloth, not enough of anything. The farmers would only work the land so far away from the safety of the havens before the dangers of the world beyond became interested in them. No one asked them to put their lives on the line; too much had been lost already. There were talks of moving everyone to one of the old kingdoms en masse, a mad dash as Nenros put it, but so far this was just an idea. As the years went on it became less and less likely. But these were concerns for the night, when the world was dark, when the frost seeped in through the walls and strange noises made children run to the safety of adult arms. They weren't thoughts for the day, so Oropher gave the phrase 'same as ever' as much thought as he gave any other set expression. What he took interest in was what Nenros said next:

"I have a surprise for you."

Thranduil was instantly interested; "What kind of surprise?"

"If I told you it would be a surprise no longer," Nenros teased, "Come."

Thranduil skipped ahead through the streets, Nenros came second followed by Rîneglan who was affecting a limp. Oropher and Eruwest brought up the rear. "Do you know what it is he has to show us?" Oropher asked.

"I do indeed," Eruwest replied, smiling, "though how he got it I have no idea."

That merely left Oropher more intrigued.

"It's a horse! It's a horse!"

Thranduil's excited squeaks told Oropher what to expect a split second before he saw it for himself. Tied to the wall opposite the house was indeed a fine mare, her dappled white body blending into a black mane and tail. Oropher raised an eyebrow: "Yes, that is surprising." His gaze flicked between her and the Noldo, who was now smiling quietly.

"You match," he observed.

"Hmm?"

"You're both black and white."

"Mae," Nenros said, laughing slightly awkwardly as he spoke.

"She's beautiful," Thranduil cooed, stroking her flank with a tentative hand.

"Do either of you ride?" Nenros asked.

Oropher shook his head; "Never had reason to learn."

"You should learn," Nenros said. "Makes things easier."

"I haven't the time," Oropher said, "more important things must come first."

"You could ride with me. Get a feel for it."

"No, I don't think-"

"Or Thranduil could."

There was a pause as Thranduil's eyes lit up and Oropher's brow furrowed.

"He's seen the Isle of Balar," Nenros pressed, "but ever since we arrived here he's seen nothing else of the mainland. It's only just gone noon now; we have a few more hours of sunlight. We could get quite far in that time."

He stopped abruptly as Oropher's hand came down on his shoulder; "You were just saying yourself how dangerous the world has become. Why on earth should I let my son travel in abandoned lands, be he with you, me or anyone else?"

"The Darkness will come," Nenros replied, speaking so softly Oropher had to strain to hear his words, "and when it does we will have to move again. Into this world. There will be a showdown in the North and your son will fare better if he has seen more of the world than Neldoreth and this place. Does he even remember Neldoreth now? He was so young when we left. Have you asked him?"

"Stop it!"

Oropher closed his eyes and there was a long pause, as he considered what Nenros had just said. He kept his grip firm on the Noldo's shoulder all the while. After a while, Nenros licked his lips and asked:

"Do you trust me?"

"Of course I trust you."

"Then let me do this. Let me show him that there's more world out there than this harbour. The feeling when you're riding over the grasslands with the wind in your hair- it has no equal."

Oropher breathed out and opened his eyes. Steely blue met warm grey.

"You'll wear your armour."

"Yes."

"And carry a sword."

"When do I not?"

Another pause. Then,

"Alright."

Nenros was secretly glad to have an excuse to wear his armour. Like almost everything around here it was second hand, having been made for Eruwest's husband. Nenros couldn't help but smile as she helped him into it, but the smile was sad. The armour bore Thingol's device, but this was as close as he was going to get to becoming one of his people. That chance had been dead for decades.

"How do I look?" He asked as Eruwest handed him his sword (one of the few things in the house that had been made for its current owner).

Eruwest cocked her head. "You look like an Elf wearing adjusted armour." She smiled at his twinge of annoyance before adding; "It suits you. When it catches the sun you'll look like a fallen star." She went to kiss him but he stopped her; she embraced him instead.

"Maybe I should lodge somewhere else for a while," Nenros said.

Eruwest slapped him, instantly regretting it as the metal shoulder guard stung her hand, "You're not running away; this is our challenge."

"My record with facing challenges is not 100%."

She hugged him again quickly before leading him outside.

Thranduil, cloaked and booted, was jumping up and down again. The mare, a docile creature, was watching the Elfling's movements with mild disinterest. Nenros watched his small charge for a moment, an impish glint in his eye.

"Ready?"

"Ready!"

In one fluid movement Nenros lifted him up onto the horse's withers before vaulting onto her back himself.

Oropher stood away while they mounted but once they were settled he stepped close to Nenros, "if anything happens to him…"

"Herdir, should anything happen to him I shall fall on my sword."

Nenros was deadly serious and Oropher knew it. His expression didn't change but he said, "Please don't; that would leave me with nothing to do." His eyes sparkled for a moment but Nenros didn't trust himself to smile.

"Hold tight," Oropher said to his son as he moved to untether the horse, "don't fall off."

Thranduil grinned, but now there was weight on her back the horse was growing restless. Nenros was actively holding her back now. Oropher stepped aside and, with the slightest of cues, the horse sprang forwards.

"Back before dusk!" Oropher called after them. Nenros raised his hand to show he'd heard before they disappeared from view.

Wherever the horse had come from she'd been well trained. She weaved in and out of the crowds on the streets like water and quickly made the gate. Beyond that she quickened again, galloping along the overgrown path out of the settlement.

"Sit up a bit," Nenros said, "grip with your knees."

Thranduil did as bidden but was instantly unbalanced by the horse's stride. He fell against Nenros' encircling arms; "I'll fall!"

"You won't fall, I've got you."

Thranduil tried again, slower this time and though he wobbled slightly this time he kept his balance.

They had cleared the marshes now and were riding through the wide grasslands along the bank of the Sirion. Thranduil had never seen the river like this before. His slight vantage point allowed him to see more of its course as it wound through the gently undulating landscape. On the far bank, fields stretches away as far as the eye could see; mostly brown now, waiting for the spring, but in some there was clover, clinging to the earth for dear life. It was so calm out here; it could have been any time from the dawning of the sun to the end of days, or so Thranduil thought. Gaining confidence in leaps and bounds, he leant over Nenros' arm and watched their reflection in the water.

"It looks like we're flying!" He exclaimed.

Nenros followed the Elfling's gaze and smiled quietly to himself. "Where would you go if you could fly?"

Thranduil thought for a moment: "Everywhere!"

"What kind of an answer is that?"

"It's my answer. Where are we going?"

Círdan's havens were receding into the distance. The Sinda was suddenly aware that something, anything, might be after them. He wriggled on the horse's back, causing Nenros to slow the horse and tighten his grip around him.

"Where's the fire?" He asked, laughing to cover his anxiety. Maybe the Elfling had seen something…

"If something was after us we would see it first, wouldn't we?"

Thranduil arched his back and gazed intently at Nenros' chin.

"We would see it first." Nenros' brow furrowed. "Do you want to turn back?" He was already turning the horse round.

"No no no no no," Thranduil squeaked, wrapping what he could of the horse's mane around his hands, "Not yet, but… it's dangerous out here, isn't it? It's beautiful but dangerous."

"Listen to me," Nenros said, kindly, as the horse came to a standstill. "This will not be the only time you find yourself in dangerous lands. So look around you, see how even though the world is dark it is not necessarily destroyed. The sun still shines, even winter is beautiful. See the frost; you could see it as cold, dead, a sign that life is hard and days are short. Or you could see it as tiny stars brought down from the heavens to sparkle in the lawn. There are two ways of looking at everything-" He faltered, memories of how he came to Beleriand flashing across his mind's eye. "Almost everything," he qualified.

There was a silence as Thranduil thought about what Nenros had said. He thought he understood, but as the silence deepened and his ears started listening for the quieter sounds his comprehension or lack thereof became unimportant. Not compared to the sighing whisper of the wind in the grass, the breathing of the horse, the creak of Nenros' armour as the older Elf shifted on the horse's back. The wind was picking up, its icy hands prying at the fingers, faces and ears of the Elves. The air danced as minute ice crystals were lifted from the grass and spun up into the air. The fading light shone off the river, making the water seem like a river of silver weaving off into the distance. The lengthening shadows transformed the horse and two riders into some gigantic beast out of the time before the Elves awoke. Thranduil breathed out and noticed as if for the first time the cloud he'd created. A smile was spreading across the young Elf's face.

Nenros too drank the scene, but he was more used to moments like this, so his mind was already thinking of what they would do now. He twisted round and watched as the sun sank in the heavens behind them.

"We have to leave now, Eldu."

"But it's so beautiful here."

"There is something else I want to show you and the light is waning fast."

They set off back along the Sirion, galloping through this world of silver as though in a dream. Or so Thranduil thought. Nenros was too busy looking out for dangers to indulge himself in thoughts like those. The sky was turning from the cold blue of winter to the cold pink of a winter sunset as they reached the coast. Along the cliffs they rode, the sound of the surf piquing Thranduil's interest and making him think of the Isle of Balar once more. He wondered if it was so perfectly wintery there. The winds buffeted the cliffs, slowing them down as the mare compensated for being blown back inland.

"Are we close yet, Nenros?" Thranduil shouted over the wind as he began to feel its biting cold.

Nenros tried to speak but his hair had been blown into his mouth. He flicked back behind his shoulders and started again: "You see that cluster of rocks just ahead? Beyond them is a track we need to take down the face of the cliff. It's quite safe; it's wider than you'd expect.

There was indeed a track, covered in low-lying scrubby grass. Its gradient was shallow enough for horses so the mare easily picked her way down to the base of the cliffs. Down at sea level the wind wasn't as gusty and horse and riders perked up almost immediately.

What lay before them now was not what Thranduil had expected and it took his breath away.

Stretching out towards the surf was a completely deserted beach, silver-pink in the light of the setting sun. Apart from a thin band of shingle at the base of the cliffs the beach was of soft slightly undulating sands. The mare picked her way through the loose dunes, snorting in annoyance as her hooves slipped as the sands moved, and onto the firmer sands closer to the water. They were facing west and the light from the sun poured towards them along the sands and glinted off the waves. Behind them, purples and blues took over from pink as the world settled into dusk.

"What do you think?" Nenros asked.

Thranduil had no words. He just shook his head, still marvelling at the simple beauty of the scene before him.

"Most people know beaches like this exist," Nenros said, "but few find paths down off the cliffs to reach them. Hardly surprising; it took me a long while to find that track."

"It was worth it."

"Mae."

With a small squeeze from Nenros' heels, the mare began walking along the sands again. The harder ground made her gait different again and made Thranduil unsure of his balance again. When she began to trot, Thranduil asked to be let down.

"I can't, I'm going to fall!"

Nenros helped him down but stayed mounted himself. "What if I show you that it is possible to gallop along sands?"

Thranduil cocked his head to one side and Nenros smiled. "If you walk along the beach and find a nice place to settle down, I'll ride past you and prove that she'll ride better on sands than she did on the claggy grasslands."

Thranduil's smile was back: "Alright."

"But don't go out of my sight!" Nenros called after him as he hurried along the beach. Nenros turned the horse and rode back down the beach a short distance, glancing over his shoulder every so often to make sure the Sinda was alright. When he saw Thranduil settling down he turned the mare and nudged her into a gallop. She didn't take much encouragement. The firm sand was much more appealing than the grass had been, and she extended her neck as far as she could in excitement. Nenros, gripping with his thighs, stood up from his knees and put his hands far up the mare's neck. The mare's excitement was contagious. Yes this was what life was about.

The sight Thranduil saw next would stay with him until the end of days. First there was the hollow sound of hooves on wet sand, accompanied by the vibrations it sent along the beach. Then there was the mare's excited whinnying. And then Thranduil allowed himself to look. The horse's mane and tail were blown behind her in her wake, but were also bent towards the cliffs by the gusts coming off the sea. The same was true for Nenros' hair, as black as that of the horse he rode. His robes billowed out where they could escape the restraints of his armour; their movement made him seem like a ghost of spirit awakened to ride in the time between day and night. The same light, as it bid farewell to the world, picked out the shine on their hair, making them seem like highly polished jewels. It danced in stars on the metal of Nenros' armour. It made the mare's white body and Nenros' white robes and skin glow as though with their own light. As ever their long shadow followed them. The surf foamed white and the sea shone like a mirror beyond them. For the first time Thranduil understood why the Noldor were accounted as beautiful beyond measure. But it was Nenros' expression more than all of this combined that etched itself onto the Sinda's memory. As Nenros passed him and glanced at his small charge – a small angel with a counterpoint face and spun gold hair – he smiled so broadly and his eyes sparkled with stars of their own making. Thranduil had never seen him so happy, so alive.

And this, young as he was, was when he first understood that in the darkest of times it is the simple joys that mean the world.

Now that Nenros had passed his charge he slowed up and turned back towards him.

"Are you sure," he said when he came near; he was still regaining his breath, "that you do not want to ride along the surf with me?"

Thranduil smiled, his tongue poking out slightly. He nodded.

Nenros half smiled and turned back to look west. "I suppose we should be heading back. The light's almost gone and I promised your father I'd have you back before dark."

"Or he'll have your guts for garters," Thranduil laughed, getting up and trying to mount the horse,

"Skin me alive," Nenros added, lifting the Elfling back onto the horse's withers.

Once they made the top of the cliffs they galloped all the way home, racing the light back to the safety of the havens.

"The days should start getting longer soon," Nenros said as they rode through the gates at wove through the streets.

The last of the light failed. Lanterns were being lit as the riders passed; when the dusk took hold it settled like a blanket.

Oropher was in the main room of the house when Nenros and Thranduil returned, letting the dark in with them. The older Sinda was sat at the large table, marking out guides on a large piece of parchment by candlelight. The chest which he had brought from Balar was open beside him, showing its contents of among other things parchments, inks and new quills. He lifted his gaze when he heard the latch but didn't stop his work as the pair came.

"Cutting it a bit fine," he said, flatly, as Thranduil bounded round the rest of the house looking for someone to tell his adventured to. He knew better than to bother his father when he was working. Nenros stayed in the main room by the fire. He had the good grace to look bashful.

"It's difficult not to what with the days being so short."

"Mmm," Oropher replied.

"Besides we were fine when there was very little light at all."

"That was a long time ago," Oropher replied, but he softened. And he trusted Nenros. After all they all owed him their lives. Oropher nodded to the kettle over the fire, "there should be some water in that if you want to warm up."

Nenros laughed, "It's a kind offer but I have work to do yet." He moved back over to the door and put his hand on the latch, "I need to go back into town with the horse and try to find out who she belongs to."

Oropher did a double take, "She's not yours?"

"Of course not," Nenros said, impishly, "I found her wandering in town earlier today. Whoever her true owner is knows little about knots; hers had come loose. She was holding people up and no one stopped me taking her." Oropher's disapproving expression only made him grin all the more. "How on earth could I look after a horse?" He added. He lifted the latch and opened the door, then paused: "Never mind that; how could I afford one in the first place?"

"So… you took my son out for a ride on a stolen horse?"

"Stolen is such an ugly word! But yes, pretty much." Nenros shrugged, stepping through the door, "Why not?" Oropher still looked angry so he added: "Lore I'm returning her now, aren't I?"

The door closed behind him but Oropher gazed at it for a long while after. Maybe his morals aren't as strong as I thought they were… he mused. But when Thranduil came bounding back in, so full of energy after his excursion on an appropriated horse, Oropher couldn't help but smile. …But yes, they are strong enough.

I meth