The sun was just setting over the tops of Greenwood's trees when the two appeared. A dark-haired man, supporting his very pregnant wife, stumbled into Thranduil's residence, leaving behind them a trail of blood.

The silvan elves stared as the pair staggered in. "Help us please!" the man cried. "My wife- my child-" Suddenly a wave of exhaustion swept over him and the man sank to the floor, his wife yelping in pain as he took her down with him. As the elves rushed to their aid, the man's vision slowly faded into blackness.

It was a moonless night that met his eyes when he awoke. Instantly, concern for his wife broke upon him and he sprang up. Ignoring the elves that tried to detain and question him, he only asked one thing. "Where did the healers take her?"

In time, he finally got an elfling to direct him to the healing wing. The sight that met his eyes made his heart seize with dread. Healers rushed to and fro, holding whispered conferences and casting frequent worried glances at the one occupied bed. On it lay his wife, tears and sweat streaking her face as she trembled with pain.

The man dashed to her side, falling to his knees and slipping his hand into hers. He brushed her sweat-slicked hair from her face and saw the love in her smile. He tried to smile back, but it was so hard to smile through the tears.

He felt a hand descend on his shoulder and he looked up to meet the eyes of an elven healer. The elf held out a basin of water and a clean cloth. "You may bathe her face if you wish," he said.

The man nodded his thanks and took the basin from the healer. He began to tenderly cleanse his wife's face and neck. As he did so, he spoke to the elf. "My name is-"

The elf interrupted. "Galenwen already told us. You are welcome here, Angrenbor. I am the chief healer of Greenwood the Great. Your wife is in labor, as you know, but there is something wrong, either with Galenwen or with the child. We are doing our best, but it may be that-"

Galenwen interrupted the discourse with an agonized wail. Immediately healers swarmed to the bed, shouting orders and doing various things that Angrenbor could not even begin to understand.

The night passed in a blur for Angrenbor. He knelt by Galenwen's bed until dawn, holding her hand and trying with all his might to ease her pain with the power that lay within him. He whispered prayers to each of the Valar in turn, hoping that at least one of them would take pity on his wife.

But the light of the rising sun broke upon a scene of sorrow at the palace. Angrenbor sat stunned, Galenwen's limp hand pressed between his palms. She had eventually lost too much blood during the birth and had taken her last breath in the blue hours before the dawning of the day. He had no idea what had happened to the child and he was past caring. All that he could run through his brain was the image of her eyes, pleading with him to do something to save her. But in his grief and panic for her safety, he had forgotten all words of power and had sat helplessly by her side as her life slipped into Mandos' hands.

He sat stone still, tears falling from his closed eyes, until he felt a gentle touch on his shoulder. His only response, though, was to open his eyes. Legolas, the prince of Mirkwood, stood at his side. The elf held a bundle wrapped in his arms and without a word he passed it to Angrenbor. Angrenbor looked down into the sleeping face of an infant. His own child.

He looked up at the prince. "The child lived."

Legolas nodded. "You have a beautiful baby girl, Angrenbor. It is truly a gift of Iluvatar that she lives when her mother..." He trailed off, unsure how to say what he meant.

Angrenbor shrugged. "I would rather her be born dead if it meant that Galenwen survived." He made as if to hand her back to Legolas, then stopped, gazing at her face. The child was so like Galenwen and yet a part of him as well. His eyes flicked to his right hand. In it was nestled Galenwen's ring, Melaglar. He stared for long moments at the ring, then the child.

Legolas' gentle voice shattered the spell. "Angrenbor, what will you do now? Will you remain here to raise your daughter or take her back into the Greenwood?"

Angrenbor's eyes shaded as he glanced up at the elf. "No. I was never good with women or children anyway, and she looks so like her mother that I-" He stopped, biting his lip. "I am afraid of what I might do to her someday." He grasped Legolas' hand for an instant before passing his daughter to the prince.

Legolas awkwardly cradled the infant and turned over his hand. Melaglar rested in his palm. The elf swallowed nervously and asked, "What will happen to her, then?"

Angrenbor sighed and clasped his hands in front of him. "I would that she be raised in Minas Tirith. King Elessar Telcontar reigns there still, and he was beloved of my mother, once upon a time. Someone connected to her family should raise my daughter. None of my kin in Imladris would have her, I think, after what I did to Yaonorme. And-" he paused, glancing around as if lost- "I don't want her raised here, in the house where her mother died."

Legolas shifted uneasily. Many had tried to tell Angrenbor that his brother was alive, and Yaonorme had even tried to seek him out. But the wizard was cunning and had not been seen except in passing for three years. Yet perhaps now he was ready to listen to tidings of his brother. "Angrenbor, your brother-"

Angrenbor's head snapped up and he snarled, "Do not speak of him to me!" Such pain flared in his eyes that Legolas was tempted to desist, but the man had to know. "Angrenbor, listen to me-"

"No, Legolas, you listen." The man stood to his feet angrily. "I killed my brother three years ago and I have had to deal with that guilt every day since then. And when I go out, all others try to speak to me about is what I did! Inflaming my guilt! I can't deal with it anymore.

"Take my daughter to Gondor. Make sure she is well cared for, Prince of Mirkwood. I am going now to do what I would have done three years ago if not for Galenwen. I will go into the Greenwood and fade into the shadows of the trees. I have borne all the sorrow I can bear. Farewell, Legolas. Take care of my Annaeru."

And before the prince could utter another word, Angrenbor Curunirion took a last look at his only child, and then strode from Thranduil's house. He would never be seen again.