This was the first ever fanfiction I wrote, back in 2003 (I think). It used to be on a site called Nern Ennorath, and gained quite a few fans there. Now, by popular demand, it's back! I know the style is a bit rough and ready compared to what I can do now, but I wouldn't dream of changing a classic...

Chapter 1

The first silver trumpet was sounding as Elireth walked back to Healing House Number Three with a tray of food. It was the signal for a new day in Minas Tirith, and a pale sunlight was already creeping over the walls and streets of the White City. It was also the signal that Elireth's night duty was coming to an end and it was almost time for her to retire to her quarters and take some rest, but she had no inclination whatever to do so. Not since she first took up her apprenticeship in the Houses of Healing three years ago had Elireth known such a night as the previous one had been: victory on the fields of the Pelennor, the coming of the King (Elireth had seen him with her own eyes!) bringing healing to the wounded with his own hands, and the arrival of the marvellous pherian, Master Meriadoc, over whom Elireth had had especial care for the last few hours. It was for him that Elireth now brought the tray, although she had removed a small piece of bread for herself. The hobbits - as he had told her they preferred to be called - were certainly a remarkable people, with remarkable appetites to boot, Elireth thought as she opened the door.

Master Merry was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs swinging in mid-air, and beside him now sat another pherian dressed in black and silver, his friend, Master Peregrine, who had been there last night. They eyed the food with relish and, Elireth thought, a little disappointment. There was not quite enough to satisfy the breakfast cravings of two hungry hobbits.

"Where's Strider?" said Pippin, between mouthfuls, as both tucked in.

Elireth stared blankly.

"He means the man who healed me," said Merry to Elireth.

"You mean the King?" asked Elireth, astonished by the hobbits' free way of speaking.

"He was working here deep into the night, healing the sick and the wounded. This whole place had been full of it. Aunt Ioreth takes credit for the whole affair, I believe! But he has gone now, back to the other Captains. They will have much to discuss this morning, I am sure."

"Then it's not likely he'll be bothered with the likes of us," said Pippin. "Still, Legolas and Gimli may come to see us."

"Legolas and Gimli: who are they?" asked Elireth. "More pheriannath - hobbits, I mean?"

"No, indeed!" laughed Pippin. "Gimli is a Dwarf and Legolas is an Elf."

"A Elf!" exclaimed Elireth, and a fresh surge of excitement welled within her. "Do the Fair Folk really walk in the company of mortals in these days? You know," she added, blushing a little, "when I was a child I used to dream of the Elves all the time. Aunt Ioreth said I was mad, and Mother reproached me and said the Elves were perilous towards mortals and evil befell those who sought them out, but I never believed it. I used to dream that an Elven prince would come riding out of Ithilien on a white horse all hung with golden bells, and that he-"

She broke, embarrassed, as she realised that both hobbits had stopped eating and were looking full at her.

"Don't stop, don't stop," said Merry. "I was enjoying that. You remind me of Sam. Dear Sam. I wonder if we will ever see him again."

He sighed deeply and stared into space. Elireth, frightened of upsetting the patient, turned the conversation slightly.

"But tell me of the Elves," she said, eagerly. "What are they really like? This - Legolas, did you say? - what is he like?"

Merry shrugged and took another bite of bread.

"Well, he's been a good friend to us, hasn't he, Pip? Saved our skin a few times with that bow of his; he's a crack shot with that. I think Gimli knows him best, though."

Elireth felt this to be a disappointingly prosaic answer, and it must have showed because Pippin gave her a mischievous grin and said:

"But he was riding a white horse when I saw him last. He rides bareback, of course. They can all do that."

"And don't forget Gimli perched up behind him like a spare part!" laughed Merry.

With that the hobbits finished their breakfast and went to walk in the gardens, since the Warden of the Houses had said it was permissible for Merry to do so. Elireth ate her salvaged piece of bread and then went to the window. In spite of a weary night, she now felt more awake than ever, and could not possibly contemplate sleep. She leaned out of the casement and looked down on the lower levels of the city as they opened out below her, and then beyond to the fields of yesterday's battle. But, in her heart's eye, she saw them not. This last news of the hobbits' had brought back all her childhood fantasies, and with a vigour and passion that they had never possessed when she still wore plaits and short dresses. She saw again the Elven prince of her dreams, riding through the forest amid the falling leaves, and he was singing a sweet, sad song in a tongue she knew not. And the song seemed to fill Elireth's mind until she was almost certain she could hear it in truth. And they she realised that she could hear it in truth and, looking down again to the lower levels, she saw a servant of Dol Amroth leading two figures up through the circles of the city. One was short and stocky with a copious beard which he stroked as he walked and stared about him, but the other was tall and slender with golden hair which gleamed in the morning sun. Even from up high, Elireth could see that his face was much fairer than that of any man, and her heart leaped to her throat as she realised that this must be the friend of Merry and Pippin and he was coming now to the Houses of Healing to seek his friends. There was no way that she could sleep now. She left the Third Healing House, went to stand by the entrance to the gardens, and waited.