I forgot to mention earlier that Neniel will not be a Mary Sue. Hopefully not anyway... I know it may seem that way now.

Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of The Rings or anything that the genious, J.R.R Tolkien created. :(

17 years later...

Neniel lay on her back, the cold of the rock seeping in through her dress. There was a light drizzle coming down from the sky which was gently soaking through her clothing. Neniel didn't mind however, as she had always enjoyed the rain. It felt to her as though it could wash away all of her troubles. Rain was a renewer. Turning her head to the side, Neniel could see a small spider making it's way up the rock towards her. She shuddered as a result and blew it away. She had never liked spiders, much to the amusement of her best friend, Holdwyn.

Once Neniel felt she was safe from the spider, she turned her head back to the sky. She watched as the stormy grey swirled and danced above her. Grey sky... grey like her eyes. Neniel had always hated the colour of her eyes; a dull grey, compared to everyone elses brilliant blue eyes. Though she hated the colour, she had always been proud of her eyes. They were her father's - her real father's. Her foster parents had never tried to keep secret from her the fact that they weren't her real parents, and considering that she was the only one in the village who did not have flaxen hair or bright blue eyes, it was rather obvious.

She had been told that her mother had died gving birth to her. Her father, however, was a complete mystery. He had left on the night of her birth to find an elvish settlement, promising to return to her. He never did. Her foster parents had given up hope, telling her not to dwell on it. However, Neniel knew that she would never give up hope, though with each year that hope got smaller and smaller. She still waited though, waited for a man with grey eyes and a pale face surrounded by dark,unruly hair.

Neniel remebered a time two years ago when she thought her father had returned. A group of Gondorian soldiers had rested in the village as a few of their number had been injured. She had convinced Rowena, the village healer, to allow her to help with the healing in order to find out as much as she could about the Gondorians. It was to no avail though as none of the soldiers knew who she was.

Neniel sighed, she knew she aught to be getting back know - it was getting late. Her grandmother would not be pleased with her. She climbed down from the large rock, situated just outside the village. She strolled up the worn path to the large wooden gate, passing a few of the cottages until she reached her own, thanking the gods that it was so close to the gate, as she did not wish to be much later.

Neniel opened the old front door, creaking as it always did, and entered the living room. Her grandmother was sitting in her usual chair by the fire. 'Neniel, where have you been? You know you are to come in when it starts to rain. Look at your clothes, they are soaked through! Go on up and get into some dry things or you will catch your death, child!' her grandmother scolded, sitting up in her chair.

'Yes Nana,' Neniel smiled, and skipped upstairs. She was in a very light-hearted mood, she always was when it was raining. She entered the small room she shared with her sister, Dérnwyn, who was sitting in front of the mirror, trying out different ways to style her hair. She was to be married in the summer and could talk of little else. Neniel laughed at the strange style of plait she had gathered on her head which in her opinion made it look as though Dérnywn had a rather strange growth. Dérnwyn scowled at her and asked, 'Is it really that bad?'

'No, Dérnwyn,' replied Neniel, attempting unsuccessfully to hide her smile. 'It merely looks as though you have grown an extra head.' Dérnwyn chucked a pillow at Neniel who laughed and began to peel off her wet clothing.

'You do not have to be so mean about it, Neniel! It is not a joke, this decision is really important!''

'Do you mean the decision to marry a man you will barely see or the style of your hair for your wedding day?' Neniel asked, pulling on her spare dress.

'Éogar is a good man, Neniel. You should not speak so unkindly of him!' Dérnywn scolded, unwinding the braid.

'I did not speak unkindly of him, Dérnwyn. I merely said that you will not have much time to be with him. He is joining the muster of Rohan as you well know. Surely you realise that this means he will not be with you much while you try to raise a family!'

'Of course I realise this, Neniel! But I willing to make this sacrifice. I love him, and hopefully you will find someone you feel this way for some day too,' said Dérnwyn with a sickly sweet tone to her voice that did not go unnoticed by Neniel.

Neniel knew that she too would have to marry soon. She was coming of age in a year and it would be expected of her. Neniel however, did not feel the same way about marriage as her sister did. She dreaded the day her parents would tell her that they had found her a suitable husband. She left her sister to sort out her hair and went to her mother's room at the end of the hall.

Her mother was lying in bed, blankets piled high on top of her. Her thick, golden hair was strew out across the pillow, her light blue eyes half-closed with exhaustion. She had been sick this last week, but was slowly recovering. Neniel sat beside her bed, picked up the cloth from her bedside table and began to wipe her forehead. 'Have you taken your medicine today, mother?' Neniel asked.

'Yes, your grandmother gave it to me earlier. Stop fussing, child,' her mother smiled. 'Now what was all that noise I heard coming from your room? Have you been mocking Dérnwyn again? You should know better than that.'

'I'm sorry mother, but it really was funny,' Neniel dropped her gaze, her light mood suddenly leaving her.

'Neniel, what is the matter?' her mother asked, concerned.

'Oh mother, I do not want Dérnwyn to leave. It is not fair!' Her mother stroked the hair off her face and smiled at her.

'You will still be able to visit her, Neniel. She is not going that far.'

'I know, but it will not be the same here without her.'

'Well, we do not have to worry about this till the summer. Cheer up, Neniel. That reminds me - I have some very exciting news for you. Brytta wishes to court you!' Neniel's face dooned an expression of pure horror which her mother failed to notice. 'Isn't that wonderfull news? Brytta is a respectable man and will make an excellent husband!' Déorwyn looked at her daughter, expecting to see a face full of joy, instead seeing a face more down-trodden than before. Déorwyn knew what was coming next, this argument had been going on for some time now.

'Mother, I have told you I have no wish to be married yet! You know this. Why can you not just leave me be?'

'Neniel you know you will have to marry some day. You do not wish to become an old maid, do you?' Her mother gave her a stern look then continued. 'Besides, you would not be leaving the village if you were to marry Brytta so it would not be that bad.' Déorwyn sat up in bed and gave her daughter a reassuring hug. Neniel climbed into the large bed with her mother and curled up beside her. She considered continuing to argue but she knew it would do no good. Besides, she did not want to distress her mother while she was feeling ill.

She moved closer to her mother and placed an arm around her slim waist. 'No, it will not be that bad, mother.'

The next morning dawned bright, with a clear blue sky and a cold bite to the air. Neniel was making her way to Rowena's house as her mother was in need of more medication. She ambled slowly through the streets, taking advantage of the good weather. Rowena's house was far across the other side of the village so Neniel sped up her pace. She eventually arrived and smiled as she approached the door. Neniel loved Rowena's house, it was in her own words ''eccentric''. She walked through the red front door and entered the brightly coloured room furnished with a number of odd looking contraptions. Neniel called for Rowena, thinking she would be upstairs, and instead found Holdwyn skipping lightly down the rickety steps.

Holdwyn had arrived at the village four years previously, having been sent there by her family who lived in Edoras. They wanted her to become a healer, something that Holdwyn was only to happy to agree with, and so Holdwyn had moved to Neniel's village to gain personnal training from Rowena (who was a renowned healer). The fact that Holdwyn's parents and Rowena were old friends helped.

Holdwyn, in all sense of the word, was beautiful; waist-length golden hair coming down in perfect waves, surrounding a beautiful porcelain face containing a set of the bluest eyes Neniel had ever seen. They were like looking into a clear summer's sky with not a cloud to mar their perfection, rimmed by an even more intense blue around the edges.

And it was not just her physical attributes that were beautiful; every move Holdwyn made was graceful, as though she danced rather than walked, her golden hair sitting perfectly, always worn down as Holdwyn had never liked the style of the braids. Her voice sounded like music to the ears with a laugh to match.

There was no doubt about it that Holdwyn was the most beautiful girl in the village. She was the envy of all the girls, and many of the young men of the village held affection for her. There had been many attempts to gain her hand in marriage, but Holdwyn insisted that she would not marry - she wanted to focus all of her attention on becoming a healer, an aspect that Neniel greatly admired.

'Hello, Holdwyn,' laughed Neniel, walking over to her friend. 'It is a wonder you never fall down those stairs!'

'Neniel, you should know better than that by now,' her friend replied, smiling mischieviously at her.

'Ah Holdwyn, I shall catch you making a fool of yourself one day, you will see! Now is Rowena here because I need to pick up some more herbs?'

'No, she is not here but I am perfectly capable of getting them myself,' Holdwyn said, smiling. She walked over to a wonky shelf on the wall and retrieved the strange purple pouch containing the herbs. The two friends then chatted aimlessly, sitting at the round table in the centre of the room, until Neniel announced that she had to to be getting back to her mother.

'Of course, I shall walk back with you. I need to stretch my legs. Besides, this way I can stop you from tripping over your two left feet,' Holdwyn said. Neniel replied by giving her friend a face of mock horror, then the two girls proceeded to make their way back to Neniel's cottage, enjoying the sun warming their backs. They had decided to meet up later in the day, as soon as Neniel had sorted out her mother. Saying their goodbyes, the two friends departed.

It was late in the afternoon when Neniel made her way to the rock, the orange sun setting in the western horizon. She could see the figure of Holdwyn laying stretched out on the large rock, enjoying the last of the sun's rays. She clambered up the rock to lay out beside her friend, who did not seem to be startled by her sudden appearance. 'Good of you to join me at last, Neniel,' Holdwyn said, her eyes shut against the light. 'I was starting to think you wouldn't come.'

'And miss quality time with you, dear Holdwyn,' Neniel replied. 'Certaintly not! Else I would be stuck in the house listening to Dérnwyn talk of her wedding and her dearest betrothed - ''Oh isn't Éogar so handsome, Neniel? Isn't he so charming? Don't you just love the way his eyes sparckle when he laughs?'' Neniel was standing on top of the rock doing a strange dance. The setting sun casting long shadows on the face of the rock exagerated her movements while she pretended to be her sister. 'It's as though her brain can't function to think of anything else! Honestly Holdwyn, you have it lucky living with Rowena; Dérnwyn is fast becoming a nightmare!'

She had stopped doing her strange impression of Dérnwyn and flopped down beside her friend.

'I wouldn't be too certain of that; if it weren't for meeting up with you I would rarely leave the house - Rowena claims the sun addles with her mind and refuses to go out with me!'

'Rowena always was rather strange,' exclaimed Neniel.

'You can say that again! I fear I shall be the same way too soon if I am not careful. This is why getting out with you is so important!' The two girls laughed as they thought of Rowena's strange antics.

Neniel suddenly stopped laughing as she remembered something she had wanted to discuss. She sat up and looked down at her friend. 'Holdwyn I have some bad news.' She gave her friend a very serious look. Holdwyn almost let a laugh slip out but managed to control herself just in time. Neniel had never been able to make her 'serious face' actually look serious.

'What is it?,' she asked, her face set.

'Brytta wants to court me.' Neniel waited a few moments to let is sink in. What she hadn't expected though was for Holdwyn to start laughing. 'Why are you laughing? This is not funny! I do not even like Brytta! He acts like a child!' This only made Holdwyn laugh harder, tears streaming down her face. Neniel's face was turning redder by the second. 'What is so funny, Holdwyn? I'm being serious! This is no joke!'

Holdwyn laughed harder still, but seeing the colour of Neniel's face, she knew it would not bode well for her to continue. Eventually her laughter died down as she wiped her eyes with her sleeve. 'I'm sorry, Neniel, really, I am.' She took a deep breath of air, calming herself. 'I know this is serious, Neniel,' she said with a porrly-hid smile. Neniel gave her a frown in response and flopped back down on the rock.

Holdwyn looked over at her huffing friend. 'I'm sorry,' she said again, 'Forgive me?

'Alright then,' Neniel said, in a mock-serious tone. 'I forgive you.'

The two girls continued laying in a companionable silence, watching the orange sky slowly darken and listening to the sound of the River Emnet, which ran it's course beside their village. This was a good factor as it meant their lands were always fertile and their crops excellent, especially these past few years.

Neniel could have happily lain there for quite some time but it was starting to get rather cold. She was just about to mention this to Holdwyn when her friend suddenly sat up. She appeared to be looking at somthing coming from the north. Neniel looked in the direction her friend was staring and saw what appeared to be a group of horsemen advancing fast.

Holdwyn jumped up suddenly, startling Neniel. 'Neniel, it's the patrol - they're back!' she exclaimed. Excitment quickly dawned on Neniel's face as she realised that this meant her father was back. The two girls clambered down from the rocks and waited somewhat patiently for the group to arrive.

As the horsemen approached, Neniel realised that Baldor, who was a friend of her fathers, appeared to be holding on to someone infront of him. The person was wearing a dark cloak, the hood of which overshadowed his face. Neniel panicked for a moment, thinking the person to be her father, but that panic swiftly left as she spotted her father riding at the back of the group.

Neniel looked across to her friend to see that she too was watching this stranger intently. The patrol finally arrived and Neniel immediately rushed over to embrace her father who had just dismounted. 'Father!' Neniel said, hugging him tighter. Her father responded by hugging Neniel closer still. The two finally parted and Neniel could see out of the corner of her eye, Baldor, with the help of a few of the other men, carrying down the wounded man, who appeared to be unconcious. Her father then gave her look that meant ''Leave it be, Neniel!''

The group with the wounded man, including Holdwyn, had quickly rushed into the village. Neniel helped her father bring the horse to the stables. 'Who was that man, father?' questioned Neniel. 'Is he one of our people?'

'No, he is not, Neniel,' her father explained.

'Well who is he then?' Neniel persisted, her curiosity roused.

'Not now, Neniel!' replied her father. Neniel then decided to drop it; she recognised that tone and knew it would best not to persist.

The next day dawned just as bright as the previous. Neniel was once again in a cheerful mood, having forgotten all about the mysterious stranger from yesterday. She walked lightly down the stairs in a fashion similar to that of Holdwyn's (although not half as graceful) and was just about to push open the door to the kitchen when she heard hushed voices coming from the other side.

Now, Neniel was by no means one to listen in on other people's conversations, but she was a very inquisitive person and her curiosity often got the better of her.

She recognised the voices as those of her father and grandmother, and realised with a jolt that they were talking about the wounded man! 'How could I have forgotten about him?' Neniel asked herself. She pressed her ear up against the door and listened intently.

'A large group of orcs, yes,' her father's rich voice came through. 'They had set up camp for the night which was their downfall as we saw the smoke from their fire.'

'Foolish beasts!' her grandmother exclaimed. 'Though it is a good thing they are so dim-witted or we could be in trouble!'

'Anyway,' her father continued, 'we managed to kill them off and there we found him - tied up with various wounds. It was clear he had been poisoned though unfortunatley we did not have the necessary herbs so we realised we had to get him back here.' 'Was he from one of the neighbouring villages?' her grandmother asked.

'No, he had dark hair and pale skin - it was clear he was from Gondor.'

'Travelling alone? Could it be him? Do you think he has returned after all these years?' her grandmother asked.

'I do not know, I did not get to see him when they came all those years ago, but he would be the right age.'

'He could just be an traveller though. We must not get our, or most importantly, Neniel's, hopes up,' her grandmother stated, a serious note to her voice.

'Why would someone travel alone during these times, Gléowyn?' her father replied sternly. Gléowyn cose to ignore this question.

'Did he manage to say anything?' she asked in a hopefull tone.

'We asked him questions but he was very feverish by this point so we did not learn much. We did learn that he goes by the name of Strider though. Does that mean anything to you?' he asked.

Gléowyn was silent for a while, as thought replaying that night in her mind. 'No,' she said at last, 'He did not tell us his name and nor did we ask, something that I sorely regret now.' Her tone was a bitter one. 'Did you find out anything else?'

Éadmód hesitated then said, 'Yes. During his fever he called out her name. He called out Neniel!'

That's it for now but the next chapter is nearly finished so it shouldn't be too long :-)