~oOo~

Something moves beside him. A voice, soft words in the dark that wisp against his skin . . . if he had skin. It never ceases to amuse him how he can still hold on to the corporeal after all this time. But then time has no meaning here. Here there is no time, no substance. There is no pain.

Perhaps he continues to hold on to the idea of form in a vain attempt to continue to have some sort of feeling. To feel anything. But that is just not the case. Not here. Never again.

The voice whispers near him again, soft and delicate, gentle touch from the nothing.

It was silly for him to continue to think of himself as a being of matter. It is a foolish thing to hold on to and yet he could not stop himself. Perhaps out of habit. Perhaps out of stubbornness.

Stubborn, the voice caresses, like all your kin.

Well, he supposed that was as good an answer as any.

The wisp wound around him, almost like an embrace, if he could remember what that was like. He could almost imagine his physical form as it would recline back, his eyes closed. But he has no form. He has no eyes. For what did the dead need to see? He simply existed now. Shapeless. Formless. Much like the space in which he has chosen to exist.

And yet, there was something so familiar about the presence that moved about him, something so comforting. If only he could remember what comfort felt like. But he had forsaken such feelings a long time ago. They were meaningless without her after all.

No! The memories! Always there, waiting. In the dark they implore, begging him to turn! Stars reflected in the water. Her face in the dim light. But he will not turn. Never again. He will never feel the pain again. But what is pain? Here there is no time, no substance. There is no pain.

He twists away from the force around him, but it does not recoil as he had hoped. He can feel the eyes are watching in case he loses himself again. Like a patient mother to her unruly child, it brushes against his being once more, surrounding him.

Aikanáro, the voice breathes, you have a choice before you.

~oOo~

He stares out the window, the cool slate grey of the first morning light filling the sky.

It had been quite startling at first, returning after all those years, no, all those centuries. Hundreds of thousands of centuries. He was not sure it could really even be counted. The land was far different from what he remember of course. Námo had warned him that the world had much changed from when he had last held physical form. The dominion of man was upon the lands now and they would hold sway till the breaking.

Beleriand had been completely lost, along with so many other things. Replaced with the realm of middle earth which only faced its' own peril to be shaped and twisted and changed once more. His people had fled. Returning to the blessed lands across the sea. The few that remained disappearing into the shadows of lore or fading quietly away. Or perhaps some still held on for surely he could not be the only one.

He walked silently throughout the ages as this world turned. How curious men would become. There lust for conquest seemingly even more unquenchable as time continued on. Progress it was called. Progress. And he had progressed right along with them.

He swirled the hot liquid in his mug as he continued to look out the window lost in thought.

He had wandered for some time after his re-embodiment. He found that he could blend quite easily for one thing had not changed despite the long crawl of time, war still raged. Once all of the dark creatures and monsters had been driven out men, in their quest for power turned on each other. Waging wars over lands and religion, making the need for soldiers a constant through several lifetimes. And Aegnor was able to find a place throughout, all the while never truly finding peace. He served under Archelous I and Alexander the Great. He saw the fall of Troy and the battle of Thermopylae. He served under the rule of Hadrian and saw the rise of Christianity with Constantine. He followed the teachings of Faxian and witnessed the rule of the great Southern Dynasties of China.

It was sometime during his service to Philip III of France when he began to first feel it was an empty existence and although he had never been gifted with the foresight, he felt as if he could tell the future for every day was exactly the same.

There was a period of time when he found himself thinking more and more of ages past. And he began to wonder if perhaps there were others that roamed the world like him. It was during his time serving in the first Great War of men when he first began to believe there could be others. There was a cease fire, and as he sat huddled in the bitter cold down in the trenches, he heard it. A voice that rose up in sad song in the night. A clear voice. A strong voice. A beautiful voice, and when he heard it his startled eyes went wide and his own voice came out a hushed, shocked whisper.

"Makalaurë?"

The voice came to an immediate halt and the air seemed to become colder.

He began to question if he had made the right choice.

He could never return. That was a part of the choice laid before him. But he could fade, if he so wished. It would be simple enough to just let go. He would simply become one with the earth once more and become what he once was, formless and free from pain, from the gnawing loneliness that seemed to try to consume him from time to time. But what was the point? He would never see any of his family again, all having elected to become re-embodied and remain in Aman. And although all he felt throughout many of his days was loneliness and grief, at least he felt something. Only when even those feelings leave him would he begin to have some concern. But for now he would hold on to the pain. At least it was something.

He sighed and moved away from the window, his bare feet padding on the wood floors not even making a sound. He crossed the room and looked at himself in the mirror. He had been quite surprised to see his reflection again after so many years. Not much had changed. The old scars were gone of course, no burns. He winced and quickly pushed the memory from his mind. But they had been replaced with new scars. Minor ones that had accumulated from the many centuries of this new life. He had been reckless when he first returned. Plunging into battles with heedless abandon. But with the passage of time his temper had been . . . well, tempered somewhat as he settled into this new age.

He lived comfortably in the city. Having acquired many items and treasures through the years it seemed only logical that he would become a dealer in antiquities. There was no place for a soldier of his sort in this day and age, and this life style was far more peaceful anyway.

Aegnor set down his cup and walked to his bed room and began to dress. He preferred the casual style of today. Jeans and a clean black t-shirt, some work boots and a light jacket. He raked his fingers through his hair. He had kept it long in the early days, much as he had done in his youth. But now he kept it shorter. It was still long enough to curl over his ears in a shaggy sort of way, hanging loose about his face. He had to keep some length to conceal certain genetic traits. But in all, he preferred this shorter look. It was simple and easy to care for and helped him to blend. His hair tended to grow wild the longer it became and could be a bit conspicuous if he let it.

He walked out of the bed room and crossed back to the kitchen, picking up his coffee mug along the way and placing it in the sink. He gave another quick glance around the room as he grabbed his keys and headed out the door.

He had come to New York only recently, having spent most of his time in Europe and Asia. Europe had reminded him of Aman and so he spent the early years there. But as time wore on and mankind progressed and advanced, it began to become somewhat more difficult procuring a new identity when necessary. Changing continents made things slightly easier. This century it was the colonies turn.

He had to admit that he was quite fond of his little apartment in Soho. A two bedroom on King. He could afford something much bigger for he had acquired much wealth throughout the years and had become very adept at transferring it. But he preferred the smaller dwellings and it was not as if he frequently had company. It was a two minute walk to catch the express or the local and only a few blocks to the small antique shop he now did business with. But although it seemed to be working out well here, he did not think he would be staying for too long. His heart longed for the old countries. The Americas were just too new. He would more than likely stay only one century perhaps, maybe two.

He continued his walk onto Downing at a leisurely pace. He was meeting the shop owner Darshna. She had called him quite excited about some of the items he had brought in recently and had set up a meeting with some students from the department of anthropology from Columbia University to help her to estimate the value. Perhaps he would stop at Mazzas and get her an expresso.

The morning sun was bright when he finally approached the shop. The bell above the door rang out as he entered and Darshna looked up from the desk in the back of the shop and smiled.

"Agner," she called, "come! Come!" and waved him back.

He smiled in return and began to wind around the many tables and displays. He was known as Agner Aeluin here. He was from Norway. In this city, no one stood out.

As he drew closer to the table he saw that she was not alone. Two others were huddled around the table with her talking excitedly about the objects before them. He recognized them immediately as the items he had given to Darshna a few days prior. He smiled, these must be the students.

"Darshna," he says, offering the cup of expresso in greeting. "It is good to see you again so soon."

"Yes, yes," the little Indian woman answers grinning. She takes the cup with a little "ah!" in one hand and grabs his with the other. "Come, you have brought something very good! Very good! Very exciting."

He is still smiling as he allows her to pull him around the table. He liked Darshna. A friendly, kind woman with an open heart. He did not need to delve into her mind to know her purpose. In truth he did not need to delve into anyone's mind this day and age for this modern race of man runs around with minds open and buzzing. Most of the time he had to close his mind off to keep them from overrunning his thoughts with their own. And he could tell right now that she was quite excited.

As were the two other persons at the table. He spared them a quick glance. Two young women, one with light hair pulled back and the other with dark hair falling about her shoulders and onto the table as she leaned over to look at the pieces. He could not see the dark haired one's face but the lighter one was facing him as she spoke to her friend.

"What is this? Song dynasty? It's Song dynasty isn't it?! I knew it! And on this coin? Philip II! This must date back to what? 336 – 340 BC? I didn't even know this existed! And –"

The voice trailed off as he turned back to Darshna who was sipping at her cup.

"Mmm, good. You always bring the best. And perhaps even better this time yes? Quite a stir these pieces caused. May be a big collector for this, if they are real." Darshna grinned up at him.

"Why Darshna, what are you implying?" Aegnor replied playfully. "Have I ever led you astray before?"

"No no no! I never meant to say –"

Aegnor laughed and held up a hand to placate her concern. "Calm yourself Darshna, I jest."

Her relief was almost palpable. "Good, good," she smiled widely once more. "The pieces you brought could be quite valuable. If they are able to authenticate we could get much at an auction house. This could be very good."

Aegnor simply smiled and nodded. They were authentic of course. Given to him by the Emperor Qianfei himself. He was assassinated shortly after. Aegnor shook his hand at the memory. He was sick that one. He was pulled from his thoughts by Darshna who took him by the sleeve and called over to the table.

"Here. You will meet my little appraisers. They are going to help us, for a small fee of course," she said with a wink. Aegnor shook his head. Darshna would try to be as frugal as possible when it came to pay. He would have to make certain they were compensated properly.

"Girls, I would like to introduce you to the handsome owner of the items on the table. This is Mr. Aeluin."

Aegnor suppressed a grimace at Darshna's introduction as he turned to face the two young ladies at the table.

"This is Ms. Macey," the light haired one's mouth slowly became a little O as she looked up at Aegnor, "and this is . . . Ms. Bealor was it?" The dark haired gave a mumbled reply from where she remained hunched over the table, inspecting a small gold coin with a loupe magnifier.

"Oh, ah yeah, hey, hi," the blonde said, "Katherine. My name's Katherine." She gave Aegnor a lopsided and appraising grin. "And this is Andrea," when the other gave no response, Aegnor heard a thump from under the table and the dark head shot up with a shout, dropping the loupe.

"Hey! Yes! Hello. Nice to meet you." She cut her eyes at the fair one before looking at Aegnor. "Andrea." she said in greeting and then returned to her inspection of the coins.

"I was just telling Mr. Aeluin," Darshna began, "what you discovered about these pieces. That they could be very old and very profitable yes?"

"Yes Mrs. Patel they could be, but I really wish you would consider donating these to the school. This could be a very significant find. If you –"

"No no," Darshna interrupted, "we have been over this. Mr. Aeluin and I –"

"I am not sure you and Mr. Aeluin really understand what you have here. If I could –" Katherine interjected.

The small verbal battle between the two women trudged on, each one trying to top the other. But Aegnor did not notice. Aegnor could not move. His stomach had clenched and his heart pounded, causing a dull throbbing sound to drum in his ears.

Her eyes. Hazel eyes. Striking eyes. Eyes of blue green with a flash of brown in the center.

Andreth's eyes.

He could not speak. He could not hear. He could barely breathe. It was her! It had to be her! Standing before him, studying that small coin with the same intensity she had the many books he had given her those countless ages ago. Her face, the hair! It was all Andreth! But it couldn't be! Andreth was gone, long gone. Passed into whatever realm that mortal death takes. It could not be her . . . could it?

It took Aegnor several moments to realize that the conversation had ceased and now all three women were looking up at him expectantly.

"Ah, yes . . . what?"

A collective subliminal eye roll seemed to emanate from the three women.

"I said I am sure you would agree with me on this matter yes?" said Darshna.

The air seemed to become perilous to Aegnor.

"Yes? Yes. Of course," he agreed warily.

This caused Ms. Macey to make a tsk sound as she moved her arms across her chest and her weight shifted to one hip. Andreth – no, Andera – no, Ms. Bealor, set down the loupe and leveled a look at him.

Once again he forgot to breathe.

"I disagree. You don't really think that what you have here is nothing more than pure profit do you?"

Aegnor blinked. "What?"

"I mean, you can see that you have something of some historical significance here right? I seriously doubt you would have picked them up otherwise."

Aegnor blinked.

"Well, I-"

"And you don't really want to just cash this in without finding out just what they are before selling them off to the highest bidder right? Given that they aren't stolen of course -"

"Wait -"

"- and that we can't authenticate that these are real are you aren't just trying to scam people. These are or could be truly rare pieces of history. From a time that many know little about."

"Ms. Bea-"

"They need to be photographed -"

"Ms. -"

" – cataloged -"

" Andr- "

"and preserved for future -"

"Andreth!"

The young woman who looked and sounded and argued like Andreth stopped talking.

"Andrea," she said.

"What?"

"My name is Andrea."

"Ah, yes, of course. Forgive me. I . . . I just . . . Andrea." The name sounded strange to his ears. No her name was not Andrea, not for him. But then, her name was not Andreth either. "Of course we will do these things. And of course you may feel free to authenticate and record whatever you wish, for I will not allow anyone to accuse me of petty theft." This was true. He was gathering his senses again and for anyone to even suggest that he would have or could have stolen anything caused him to bristle.

Hazel eyes considered him only for a moment. For Aegnor, it seemed like an eternity.

"Cool. Can I take these with me?"

"Most certainly not!" Darshna exclaimed indignantly. "You may do what you need right here from my shop, under my supervision. Who are you to think we would trust you to take care of them? Or return them for that matter!"

Ms. Macey turned around. "Excuse me?!"

"Fine," said Andrea.

Ms. Macey turned around again. "Excuse me?"

Andrea shrugged. "It's fine. We can come back here as long as you leave me alone to do what I need to do."

"I will do no such thing in my own shop you have anotherthingcomingifyouthinkthatyoucanjust -"

Aegnor fought back the pounding in his chest and decided to diffuse the situation.

"That will be fine Darshna. I will supervise. I do not mind. In fact I insist."

Hazel eyes considered him once more.

"Okay then. We can come back on Wednesday maybe, after closing?"

Aegnor looked to Darshna, gave a huff and a nod. Aegnor smiled and extended his hand to her.

"I will see you then."

The corner of Andrea's mouth twitched in what Aegnor thought was amusement before she reached out to take his hand. But when she did it was like a lightening bolt through Aegnor's very being and he thought his fëa would leap from his chest. For a brief moment Aegnor thought that she had given pause, that perhaps she had felt it as well. But then she pulled her hand from his, leaving him feeling empty and alone.

"Yeah okay. See you then." And then she turned and left and Aegnor's world suddenly seemed very fragile.

~oOo~

Re-embodiment, Aikanáro thought. Life again. But what sort of life could he have? What could he hope to accomplish now? Was not all lost? She was gone. Forever. He had turned away from that path, never to know joy again. What would be the point of returning?

There was a time when he used to have a purpose.

There was a time when he used to have a voice.

It will be harsh. He will be vulnerable. He will feel. There will be pain out there. There is no pain here.

But there is also no love.

You will not be able to return to Aman Aikanáro. The air swirled and two green eyes formed in front of him. You must remain till your life if taken or till you fade.

"There is nothing in Aman for me."

The eyes gave him a slow blink.

"I accept."

The air swirled once more as the eyes dissipated and he found himself moving down a great hall and towards a bright light.

"Why do you bring this to me?" he called out. "Why am I made this offer?"

It was made to all who dwell here, the voice answered, save one.

And with that, Ambaráto Aikanáro, Aegnor the sharp flame, the fourth son of Finarfin and Eäwen stepped out into the light and was reborn.