Disclaimer: LOTR belongs to Tolkein. We apologize for any resemblances to other stories - there are a lot in this fandom and there are sure to be small similarities. We pride ourselves on originality, so please let us know if there's anything that could be mistaken for plagiarism.

Please review :)

Prologue

It wasn't that the commemoration of a newly established settlement wasn't of importance.

It just perhaps might have been more meaningful if the settlement had actually been established. As far as I was concerned, it was still composed of a bunch of unhewn rock. And a few kegs of wine too, to postpone the actual setting up of the settlement with a premature celebration.

But of course it was still important, especially when one of the most hailed participants was going to be yours truly. It was just a matter of not boring myself and company any more than the inevitable.

I had been traveling with a division of elves from Greenwood the Great for the past month, and not voluntarily either. We had supposedly arrived at our destination, but I couldn't tell what made this particular patch of snow any nicer than the next. The elves traveling together were all garbed in grey cloaks to deflect against the elements, an undulating, indistinguishable mass. The cloaks swallowed any differentiation of power, status, or wealth.

And then there was me. The only thing that the cloaks couldn't hide was the naïvety of an elf who had never seen so much frozen water in the same place, and had little experience navigating it.

I was just beginning to totter over a frozen rock when a heavy hand clapped down on my shoulder, causing me to start with a few choice words and plenty of windmilling. "Muinthel [Sister]."

There was a brief silence as I waited for him to continue. Finally I can't resist a, "Are you sure of that, Camaethor?", glancing at my brother through the corner of my eye.

Camaethor's eyes narrow slightly as he processes my remark, "Sometimes I wish I wasn't."

He turns his back to my indignation, and instead addresses the crags and crests that jut out of the land like misshapen teeth.

"Think, muinthel," He murmured reverently, though it seemed more to himself than me. Camaethor surveyed the desolate panorama as though it was some grand conquest, his chin raised and hair streaming behind him in the wind. I half expected minstrels to appear just to play dramatic music for him. "A guest of honor at the birth of a new Elven kingdom, with the earth and the Valar as witnesses. A legacy to stand for eternity."

The corner of my lips quirked up, "Yes, may this moment forever be treasured by these spectating frozen rocks," I bit back sardonically.

Cold silence was Camaethor's only reply, his distain drifting toward me on the chillier still mountain gales.

I sighed through my nose, my shoulders hunching under the barrage of icy winds and stifling loneliness. At least Camaethor still had some semblance of adventurous spirit, even if it was somewhat risible. My passion had been drained out of founding Daerven, and drew me toward just about anywhere else. I just had to survive the Grand Opening ceremony. And develop the literary genius demanded of having to phrase 'thank you' a couple hundred times while I was there.

Someone called for the caravan to gather, and a sea of light grey cloaks silently glided around me. I wiggled my toes, feeling the smooth coldness of snow. If I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine it was the stone tiling that floored Mirkwood.

But no, the snow was different. It formed a kind of pricking sensation that notified me of its presence, but not quite like discomfort. A tingling, perhaps. It was the kind of cold that slowly seeped all the way to the bone. I opened my eyes, realizing that my heat had melted the snow and that it was literally soaking through my shoes. I gingerly stepped forward to hear what was being said, leaving the smallest of puddles behind me, that quickly froze over.

At the back of the crowd, there was little to hear. The speech turned into a patience seminar, and I counted my heartbeat as I squinted at the overcast sky. There were no celestial bodies to mark the time, so I tried to make out the movements of the clouds to the ticking of my heart. It was no use; they were all an amorphous grey blur, as though the Valar had smeared charcoal across the sky. There was little difference between the sky and the elves and the oppressive atmosphere.

I stared at the clouds until my eyes glazed over, letting the frigidness drive a shiver just beneath my skin. Grey… like the Grey Havens? My vision of the clouds suddenly sharpened as I studied them more closely.

Was she there? Perhaps she did not make it.

I whispered an apology under my breath.

I'm sorry, Naneth [Mother].

The least I could have done was stayed. My vision began to swim, and I looked away from the clouds with an irate sigh. I pinched my nose and shut my eyes as weariness drained the fight out of me.

I gulped in a breath of air, but I didn't resist as the memory pulled me under.

I lazily nocked an arrow, pizzing the bowstring to make the arrow bounce.

"Hwimmith may I speak with you?" I suddenly straightened into a perfect archer's posture as though a rod had been shoved down my spine, making me quiver slightly. I slowly turn to face my father, hoping there was nothing incriminating about my expression. To my unease, my father's face was grim.

"Whatever you may blame upon me, is the fault of someone of higher rank than I." I blurted automatically, racking my memory for my latest callous deed. The frown on Ada's face deepened.

"Your faults are not what I wish to discuss." He purses his lips, in deep thought. After a second of hesitation, he ordered, "Come… come walk with me," gesturing towards the door leading outside. I set my bow down, and follow, but not without my own moment of deliberation.

I step out into the courtyard. The sky is clear enough to see stars, but the air is crisp and frosty. "What is it that you want us to discuss?" I ask timidly.

"I wish not so much as to discuss as to inform," My father stated firmly, pausing to stare at the moon peeking through the trees, "I have decided that it would be best if we joined the expedition to Daervan in a week."

"Wha-" The rest of the sentence was torn away by the wind. The icy breeze shoot straight through my chest, and I swallowed a mouthful of bile. "Father… I- you- I just..."

He continued to study the moon.

"You can't be serious." I argued, almost trying to convince myself.

Silence.

Empty, heavy, uncaring acquiescence.

There was a heavy beat of tension as I processed the information.

I felt a heat race to combat the cold gripping my chest. I clenched my fists, "This is ludicrous!" I snapped, "I've grown up here! I- My friends, my home- Imizael is like a sister to me!" I was grasping at straws, trying to think of something that would mean more to him. Status? Wealth?

"Father you-! How-?"

I sighed through my teeth, glaring at the moon, which gazed back with the same apathy as my father.

He continues to stare at the moon. The coward couldn't even look me in the eye. "The tree that stands firm is the first one to break in the storm," he says. "You must be flexible."

"But a when a tree's roots are deep, there is no reason to fear a storm." My fingernails dug into my palm, "And what if it's a fire?" I snapped scornfully.

My father lowered his head to study the tiled stones. "But there is reason to fear, a shadow has been cast upon this wood, I fear the shadow an ill omen of the times to come. Danger is nigh, and I wish to leave ere it comes."

"So you wish to flee? Is that it? What is it you fear?" Angry crescents had been indented in my palms.

"I-"

"Is it not the 'cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek'?" I sneer, playing at his cryptic philosophies.

"It is and it is for that reason we leave in the Season of Bloom, so you can enter your cave and find the treasure you seek." My father droned, recovering his detached disposition, "This place haunts you, too many foul memories dwell here. They hold you back. You can be free of them."

"I am fr-"

"As you mature I also wish for you to see more of Middle Earth. There are wonders far beyond Greenwood the Great. This is an incredible opportunity that many do not see throughout their lifetimes."

"And you didn't think to consult me? Or did you just tell me now as an afterthought?" I grumbled under my breath, "Did you even think of me?" He'd hardly even seen me since...

I straightened suddenly, Since... "Naneth. [Mother]"

Ada stiffened.

I snarled, digging into the wound. "So you want to flee? Just leave her? Fine. Go. Be free."

I shook my head slightly as he finally turned toward me. I glared into his vacuous eyes, "Of course. There is nothing here for us."

There was a strangled choking sound as Ada opened his mouth. He closed it, swallowing and looking away.

"This is not something you can change, Hwimmith, only accept. You can choose to make it difficult, but do not blame me. It is time you learned some independence. I-"

"I'm hardly dependent on you! I've grown since the last time you saw me. I'm no elfling! Although you may not remember since last we spoke."

"You say yourself that you are dependent on this place. It will do you well to be free of it."

"There is nothing to be free of! All the demons here are your own."

"Hwimmith!" Ada shouted, his pupils dilated slightly as he tensed.

I was startled into silence, before the temptation to goad him caused me to open my mouth.

Ada held up a hand, his voice betraying a hint of weariness. "I do not wish to argue with you further." He turned toward the moon once more, still avoiding my critical gaze. "I take my leave." He strode away, his hands folded behind his back.

I was left standing frozen stiff in the courtyard, the cogs in my brain churning together what this meant. An uncomfortable chill ran down my back and the night air suddenly seemed almost balmy.

I hadn't realized he was being literal about seeking the cave. Apparently the ceremony would be held in one. There was just a shortage of treasure...or living things in general.

A silence sealed my lips as I mused over my father's previous words to me.

I had chosen acceptance over change.

It was not just Ada who had left Naneth behind, I had as well. And while I'm listing betrayals, Camaethor had too.

But… independence? Was that what he wanted from me?

My hands curled into fists. I watched as red pockmarks formed on my palm, just the same as that day I was told to leave.

Independence was not so bad.