Hello all, I am back. I was going to put this up last week, but I felt it would be best to do it this week since the new Hobbit movie premires on Friday.

Disclaimer: I only own Feywen

Bold=flashback

She watched the short people as they ate. They sat near the head of the table with Lord Elrond and the grey wizard. She wondered at them. She had no idea what they were and why they had come to Rivendell. She recognized thirteen of them as dwarves, but she was at a loss at what the fourteenth member of their company was. He was no dwarf and he looked too old to be a child.

"So who and what is he?" She wondered.

"Feywen!" A voice whispered loudly in her ear.

"What!" She hissed silently, turning to her distraction and then blushed. It was none other than Lady Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter. The young five year old blushed, ashamed. "I am sorry my Lady." She said dutifully.

"It is rude to stare." Lady Arwen said. She looked young, but the elfling knew better. Elves lived long lives and Arwen had been alive for centuries, though, not as long as her father, Lord Elrond.

"I will apologize before they leave."

"The hobbit did not notice. If he had, he would have said something." Feywen could only nod. She had not realized she had been staring at the odd creature.

"A hobbit? I have never heard of a hobbit before. They look as if they are a cross between a man and a dwarf."

"Why the smile, Melamin?" A voice whispered in her ear. "This is a funeral you know." She pulled her shawl closer to her, trying to drive off the remnants of her illness with the end of the old year.

"I was remembering the first time I saw a Hobbit."

"Oh, do tell."

"It was this one." She nodded to the left, freshly dug and covered grave. "I was only five years old then and never had seen a Hobbit before. I remember thinking that they looked like a cross between a man and a Dwarf." He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her close.

"And then he went on an adventure of his own."

"And returned to Rivendell fifty years later. But by then, he was already a hundred and eleven years. Even though it has been destroyed, the magic remains." She said darkly, remembering the chill she had finally gotten rid of. Many centuries had passed since she and the rest of the Elves of Rivendell had sailed across the sea to Valinor, never to return. She had hoped that she and Frodo would be rid of the sickness that gripped them both at the end of the year of Men as decreed by her brother, King Elessar at the end of the war. This year, Frodo had not survived his illness and he and Bilbo had passed to the realm beyond. He looked at her.

"Feywen, are you still ill? Do you wish to go and lie down?"

"No, my love. I just need time to heal. I hate being reminded of what I had to do to that poor Hobbit and what the war cost us all." He didn't say anything. He knew what she meant. Since they had been in Valinor, they had been hoping for a child of their own. They had yet to be blessed with one. Feywen felt it was her fault. If she had not gone with Frodo into Mordor, the evil of Sauron would never have had a chance to work its magic on her. But if she hadn't, she may have been killed instead. He couldn't think of what he would do if she was suddenly gone and there was nothing he could do.

"Fey, it is not your fault that you cannot have children. Have hope that Gandalf, Elrond, and Galadriel will find a cure. Perhaps it is the illness."

"Perhaps," she said quietly. She didn't move as a messenger stopped in front of them.

"Lady Celebrant, Lord Glorfindel, your presence is requested in the great chamber. Mithrandir says it is urgent." Feywen nodded and dismissed the young Elf. Glorfindel squeezed her shoulder and they walked hand-in-hand to the great chamber. It was the library, but the others chose to call it the great chamber. She had spent much time there when they first arrived to find a cure to her illness.

As they walked, she breathed in the peace around them. Valinor was the most beautiful place she had ever seen. Not even Minas Tirith could match its greatness. She and Glorfindel had their own little house by a river so she could be near all her friends, Alu, Kemen, Vilya, and Naur; the four spirits of the elements assigned to protect her as the last descendent of Lord Celebrant. She knew that if they had not been with her when she went with Sam and Frodo, she never would have been able to cut off Frodo's finger and destroy the Ring. Aragorn had given her his dagger, the one she had used, as a wedding gift. It hung with Nardin and Nardil above their mantle next to Glorfindel's weapons. They had both agreed that they had enough of war to last them an eternity.

They entered the great chamber and found the three bearers of the Great Rings standing in the center. "You called for us." Feywen said, hiding how tired she felt. She had only been able to get out of bed yesterday. She always felt weak after her illness had passed.

"We have some good news." Gandalf said cheerfully. The looks in the eyes of Galadriel and Elrond betrayed Gandalf's voice.

"And bad," Galadriel said softly, sitting on a sofa. She patted the cushion next to her and Feywen sat. "Which would like to hear first?"

"The good I suppose." Feywen whispered.

"The good news," Elrond began, "is that the illness is not causing what is happening to you aside from the chill at the end of every year of Men." Feywen looked at him. He had barely aged since leaving his daughter in Middle Earth. They were family of a sort as Aragorn was her brother and he had wed Arwen, Elrond's daughter.

"Does that mean I can have a child?"

"No," Galadriel took Feywen's hands in her own. "Your family has been cursed for a very long time. We did not know it before because we had no idea the effect it had on your family. To get his revenge on the evil, Celebrant's family was cursed. But the curse fell on the women of the family more than the men." Feywen felt her stomach drop. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the end of this. "The curse the evil placed on you was one that would ensure that no child of Celebrant would again set foot on Middle Earth as long as it was imprisoned. It ensured that your father would only have one child, a daughter. This curse then destroys the bloodline." Galadriel could not bring herself to finish. Feywen felt Glorfindel's hands steadying her as she felt her world crash around her. She would never be able to have children. If she ever decided to pass into the next world,

"How do I lift this curse?"

"You must kill the one who placed it."

"And when Celebrant's blood no longer walks Middle Earth?" Feywen asked, already knowing the answer.

"The evil is set free after a time." Gandalf answered solemnly.

Red glowed in the darkness around him. They were all gone. They were finally gone. His curse had worked. There was no Elf that had the blood of his enemy running through their veins. The only Elves left were the ones that lived in the woods near a single mountain. But they were no threat to him. Even the Great Rings were gone. The world was his for the taking. He lifted his hand and felt the liquid fire above him. It had not stopped for two thousand years. For two thousand years, it had run, giving him power.

"Soon," he thought. "Soon I will be free and this world will be mine. With no one to stop me, it will be like stealing food from a blind man." He laughed. His laugh echoed through the cavern, sending chills down the spines of his minions who labored to free him. They refused to remove the rock directly above him, but that was fine with him. That was his store of energy for now. Soon, he would have a throne of it above the ground that entombed him. He laughed again. His minions worked faster.

He breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the city. They were celebrating the twenty-fifth hundred year celebration of the end of the War of the Ring, the New Year. He rode across the field, through the gates and through the circles until he reached the sixth ring where he left his horse. He strode purposefully through the gates to the highest circle and to the great hall where the king was entertaining his guests. The guards reached to stop him, but the look on his face made them reconsider. He strode right up to the throne. He fell to one knee.

"My King, we must speak."

"Then speak, Ranger of Ithilien."

"It would not be wise to do so in front of your guests. It is… troubling news that I bring and you must hear it in private first."

"Very well." The king turned to the woman next to him. "My love, there are matters that I must now tend to."

"Return quickly for I have news of my own." They smiled at each other and the king led the ranger away and to his private study.

"Speak quickly, Ranger. What is so dreadful that you must disrupt my celebrations?"

"My Lord King, there is activity in the Forsaken Land."

"What sort of activity?" The king asked, deciding to indulge the ranger.

"Smoke rises from the Dead Mountain. How is that possible? Everyone knows that he has been destroyed these past twenty-five hundred years."

"The mountain is simply waking from its slumber. It is nothing to worry about, Ranger."

"King Elessar said should activity ever start in the Forsaken Land that we are to send for her. That she is the key to stopping what is to come."

"He also said that it may not happen. We cannot send for her unless we are sure. She may not be able to go back to where she is from. There is nothing wrong. Creatures have not started pouring forth. Whatever evil he feared returning will not be returning any time soon. Since you are here, join the celebrations of the New Year."

"Thank you, my King. But I must decline. I must return to my post. I am sorry that I disturbed you." The ranger bowed at the waist and walked out. The king waited a few moments before returning to the celebrations. He smiled when he saw his beloved wife.

"Now that I have returned, you said that you have news for me."

"Yes I do." She stood and took his hand. "This day, I have conceived the hope of this kingdom." She said loud enough for the hall to hear. The ranger stopped by the door. "Today, I tell you, my husband, that I bear your heir and we shall name him Estel." The ranger continued walking, a tear in his eyes. He knew what he was seeing. But he had no way of contacting her. That was for the king to do by order of the White Wizard should the land do as it is doing now. They would watch it for now. When they had more proof, perhaps King Estel would listen and send for her. Something in his heart told him he would be waiting a long time. He thought of his son, the next commander of the Ithilian Rangers and Steward of Gondor. His face set in a grim expression, he began his way home. Maybe there was still hope he could get the king to send for her. They all had children who would die if they were wrong.

And so it begins. I know this was a filler. But it has a purpose, i promise.

Translations: Melamin- my love

Alu- Water

Kemen-Earth

Vilya-Air

Naur- Fire

Thanks for reading and please review.