Red Sky at Night

by Crazy PurpleSage

Haerelion, Gandalf, and Legolas have been searching all over the Undying Lands trying to find out the secrets to Haerelion's past. How can he do magic? How did he come to be in Greenwood? And who were his parents? Just when all hope seems lost, Gandalf makes a suggestion to lands never ventured to before. [Last instalment to The Pull of Heart and Tide series] (Part 3)

2. Chapter 2

And so, after nearly 5 years, one grad degree, an extremely prematurely born nephew who just turned one, a concussion, time spent travelling the world and living in different countries, a challenged and changed world view, and hopefully more experience and maturity…. (drum roll, please)…. Here is the next instalment of The Pull of Heart and Tide from The Swallowed by the Sea trilogy.

Disclaimer: Good chunks of this chapter and story in general have been influenced by The People of the Sea by David Thomson. I do not own or make any profit from Rowlings and Universal's Harry Potter verse or Tolkien and Jackson's Lord of the Rings.

Summary: Haerelion, Gandalf, and Legolas have been searching all over the Undying Lands trying to find out the secrets to Haerelion's past. How can he do magic? How did he come to be in Greenwood? And who were his parents? Just when all hope seems lost, Gandalf makes a suggestion to lands never ventured to before. Can the trio sail past the borders of the Undying Lands, through the Void, and find the last piece of Almaren where Eru is believed to still live? And more importantly, will it give Haerelion the answers he so desperately seeks? [Third and last instalment to The Pull of Heart and Tide trilogy]

Note: The old Irish name Hurlee is pronounced /her'-ley/ and it means 'sea-tide' and 'Sídhe' is pronounce 'shee'.

And without further ado, enjoy!

...

Red Sky at Night

~...~

Part 2

…...

That night, under the extinguished sentinel of Illuin, Haerelion was spirited away in his dreams to a time long past.

The grand city of Almaren bustled with elves, all going about their business under the protection of the Lamps of the Valar. It was clearly a time of peace and prosperity, well before the time of Melkor and his reign of destruction. Haerelion wondered if any of the passers-by were even slightly cognisant of the destruction that was to come. What discontented rumours were being passed around, whispered under breaths in secluded corners? Such thoughts were of no use now, of course, as the past could not be changed. And in present day, all that was left of Almaren was a ghost-town floating in the abyss on the edge of the world.

Lost in thought, it took Haerelion several moments to realise that the perch he was 'standing' on was the light of Illuin, and that it was steadily brightening to a blinding blue beneath his feet. He brought a hand to his shield his squinting eyes, turning his face away from the glare and towards Ormal, which was also pulsing a brilliant gold in the near distance. He closed his eyes tightly as the two lamps battled for dominance, each more fulgent than the hottest star in the heavens.

Then, just as quickly as it had begun, the luminance started to fade and Haerelion dared to open his eyes once again.

It was there, hung in an invisible balance between the two lamps that the silhouette of a tall woman emerged. Though the shadows made her features indistinct and nebulous, it did not take Haerelion long to recognise her. His breath caught in his throat as he was rendered completely witless and awestruck. Faith, instinct, and intuition – an understanding he pulled from his heart of hearts – told him exactly who she was.

She was known by many names. Chiefly as Elbereth, or Varda, Queen of the Valar, wife of Manwë. Other elves knew her as Gilthoniel; Queen of the stars, or Star-kindler. Every elf knew who she was and felt her in all she represented, which was the very spark of divine creation, liberty, and the pursuit of living a morally meaningful existence. Her face was said to be the light of Eru Himself and it was truly beyond any beauty his meagre words could describe.

He looked on at her for what at once felt like an age and a single heartbeat. And in that undetermined span of eternity, he was overwhelmed with the knowledge that he knew everything there was to know, and yet managed to understand absolutely nothing. When retelling this moment to Legolas days from now, all he would be able to say was that he had been weighed, measured, and ultimately found wanting through no fault of his own. And that all was exactly as it should be.

Elbereth turned to look at him, or at least turned in his direction, for he could not properly see her face and meet her gaze as it was. Nonetheless, it filled him with a sense of calm and hope, and he would swear until the end of time that in that moment she smiled at him. Still frozen in place, Haerelion could only watch stupefied as she raised an arm and pointed a finger, directing the lamp to throw a beam of light eastward towards the sea, the opposite side of the isle from whence they'd come. No words were spoken, or further gestures made, but Haerelion was left with the distinct impression that he had just been directed on to the next leg of his journey. And what was more, it told him to not to despair; his journey was not yet over.

With a single, involuntary blink, the dream disappeared and Haerelion was pulled back to the waking world.

~...~

Dawn had broken cold and wet over the two elves and Istar, as though the sea had risen up and washed over them in the night. It left no more than a thin trace of dew on the skin and the faint, fleeting impression of the salty scent of the sea in his nose. Haerelion tried to capture the smell and breathe it in deeply, while doing his best to hold onto and savour the overwhelming sensations left by the dream. He felt a sense of calm and confidence, grounded in his own skin, coupled with a well of unbridled energy that begged to be released.

About to sit up, he shifted his gaze to his sleeping husband, whose face was inches from his own and whose arm was still thrown over his waist from how they'd drifted off the night before. Gently extracting himself, he rolled to his feet and padded softly to the petrified tree towering above. The blue sphere, which had been glowing brightly the evening before and again in his dream, was now pulsing gently once more. Hesitantly, curiously, Haerelion reached out and placed his hand on the trunk, just as he had done the night before. This time, however, instead of going dark, it flared even more radiantly, and Haerelion felt a quieting warmth reverberate from his palm down to the soles of his feet. Closing his eyes and letting his forehead fall forward to press against the wood, Haerelion incanted, "Hannon le an lîn gûr a golu, Elbereth." (Thank you for your counsel and wisdom, Queen of the Stars).

What can only be described as a wave of courage and conviction flowed through him in answer. He now understood, at least in part, why Almaren was still hidden from the rest of Arda and remained a secret from even the inhabitants of the Valinor themselves. Some things were still too sacred to be made common knowledge. That understanding also came with the realisation that his trek eastward to the sea… it was his journey to take, and it had to be made alone.

Stepping back until only his fingertips were grazing the ancient pedestal, Haerelion craned his neck to look back consideringly at Legolas and Mithrandir. Both were still sleeping soundly, none the wiser to Haerelion's internal plans. Hopefully he would be back before they even woke. Breathing in through his nose, he swallowed thickly and pulled his hand away. Before he could think better of it, he gathered his energy and cast a small, subtle spell on the two, pushing them deeper into sleep, and hopefully buying himself a bit more time to figure out where he was supposed to go.

Grimacing guiltily, he spared Legolas one last glance and made a silent promise that he wouldn't be long. Then before he could change his mind, he orientated his body eastward and silently stole across the darkened green fields towards the sea.

~...~

Galvanised, Haerelion's long, eager strides brought him to land's end in just under an hour. He stood before a low-standing rock wall that separated grass from sand and looked out onto the wild, tirelessly crashing ocean waves. Toeing off his shoes, he stepped over the wall and sunk his feet into the dampened dunes. The sands were strewn with thick seaweed that had washed ashore, tangled with tiny shells, pieces of crabs dropped by seagulls, driftwood, and other debris that all gave off the strong, comfortingly familiar, briny smell that Haerelion had been trying to chase that very morning. It beckoned him closer, invited him to roll his leggings up his ankles, and wade right in.

Not quite sure what he was looking for, or what he was supposed to do from here – and not feeling too keen on swimming at the moment; especially alone - he stopped once the waves were about thigh-high and pulled himself up onto the nearest flat-topped rock to pause and regroup. His hands and knees slid across thick algae and seaweed interspersed with mussels at varying stages of growth making it both slippery and cutting.

As he slid to a stop, his fingers stumbled over something solid and immovable that sent a sudden jolt of sharp energy up his arm. Snatching his hand up, he fell back on his haunches and glared accusingly at the offending spot.

Still half covered by the wet plants was a rusted horseshoe that had rotted into the rock itself. It was surrounded by copper-coloured flecks and bubbles that solidified it as part of the stone, as though it had been left there by accident and sunk into the boulder over time.

There was nothing particularly special about it, though, making Haerelion wonder if he'd imagined the shock. Or perhaps it had been some aberration; a combination of peculiar static electricity and his own magic reaching out in his state of heightened vigilance?

Or was it something else entirely?

Leaning in closer, he could make out the faint, mostly worn-down words etched into the arch, 'Seron Aearon'. "Sea-lover", he translated aloud, nonplussed.

Slowly lowering his hand, Haerelion let his fingers hover inches above the object. Once again, he was met with a strange vibration that rolled leisurely across his skin. Leery, he switched tactics and instead reached out with his magic, extending his senses to gauge the objects' intent. This time, when he 'touched' the item, the result was more prodigious. The wind picked up from a gentle breeze to a powerful gale and the waves around him swelled up and around before crashing outwards, leaving him relatively dry and the piece of iron glowing a cold, reflective blue.

For a moment, Haerelion had forgotten how to breathe. Slowly, he released the hold on his magic and everything around him calmed. Left dumfounded and astonished, he let his mind mull over the information he was able to glean from that flash of contact. The purpose of the enchantment was to transport. If he pressed his hands over the words, he would be taken… somewhere.

All common sense and Mithrandir's teaching explicitly went against doing something so incredibly foolhardy. And yet… The horseshoe was clearly here for a reason, put right in the middle of the path Elbereth had directed him to follow. And he was here to solve a mystery, meaning there was bound to be some risks and unknown entities involved.

Haerelion sucked on his teeth, cast his eyes back the way he had come, and shifted his jaw from side to side. Now might probably be a good time to go back and get Legolas and Mithrandir; hear their opinions and have them there as back-up in case something untoward were to happen.

But as seconds ticked by into minutes, he stayed rooted in place.

The waves were gently lapping at his toes and he sensed the tide coming in. If he were to go back now, the rock would likely be covered by the time he returned. He didn't want to lose this opportunity while it was within his grasp. He had resolved to do this by himself and he wouldn't falter now.

Not letting himself debate a moment longer, Haerelion moved his left hand an inch or so to the right and brushed his fingers over the words. "Seron Aearon," he murmured to himself before all air rushed out of his lungs and two things happened simultaneously. First, the iron began to heat up, burning his hand, and second, he felt a sudden pull behind his navel. A flash of rainbow colours burst across his vision as he was carried away from the rock and sea to places unknown.

… ... .. ….. …

"Ai!" Eyes squeezed tightly shut, Haerelion skidded to a halt on his hands and knees before pitching forward, his forehead slamming into the solid ground. Ground, as in dirt and grass, not rock, seaweed, and water. Cursing under his breath for several seconds, Haerelion spewed profanities and imprecations he'd heard only in Dwarvish as he blinked the rainbow coloured spots from his eyes and wiped his hands on his leggings. That had been one disorienting ride to say the least, he mused, clutching at the side of his head.

Swaying a little, he rose to his feet, noting that the sounds of the ocean had been replaced by birdsong and trees rustling in the breeze. Likewise, the smell of salt and fish had been replaced by moss, rotting bark, and fresh ferns. Haerelion was certain of only one thing at the moment – he wasn't in Almaren anymore.

Feeling more than a little wary, he looked around, taking in his new environment with keen eyes and readying himself for anything.

A little ways behind him and to the left stood a large hawthorn tree. Its trunk was split three ways and it was leaning decidedly to the right, while its limbs reached outwards and upwards at odd angles. Surrounding him and the tree were mushrooms, arrayed in a near perfect circle with the tree as their focal point, all growing atop a hill. They were obviously not your average fungi; there were flat-topped and crested golden ones, red ones speckled with white dots, and oddly shaped white ones that dipped inwards in the centre. Underfoot was a soft bed of moss and loam with its sweet, cloying smell that reminded Haerelion of nights spent in the Old Forest outside the Shire. It had the odd effect of making him feel sleepy and content, like if he would just lie down, he could be lulled into sweet dreams.

"Hurlee!" a woman's voice cut through the sleepy haze in his mind, and he whirled around to see a lady standing frozen at the bottom of the hillock. Looking right at him, she let out an unintelligible cry. And then in a blur that even Haerelion could barely follow, she was suddenly standing just outside the ring of toadstools. Her body was leaning dangerously forward, and her face was drawn in deep yearning, but she made no move to draw closer.

Haerelion's back hit the trunk of the tree, jutting against his spine, as he attempted to put distance between himself and the strange woman. He supressed the urge to shiver under her intense stare that held him unblinkingly. She seemed to be taking in and scrutinising his every feature, while her hands twitched in an aborted gesture to reach out to him. All in all, it made him feel exceedingly self-conscious and distinctly ill at ease.

"I'm sorry, Madame," he began slowly, wanting to break this strange impasse and deliberating on how best to handle the situation. Was this woman mad or just lost and confused? He took a second to examine her further. Her face was young, pale, and quite pretty. He was never good at guessing people's ages, but if pressed he would say she was in her 30s. She dressed similarly to the everyday garb of the lesser nobility who lived in the city of Gondor, with a dress of deep browns and greens that was snug at the bust and waist. It had a modest neckline just at the collarbone and fitted sleeves. But her most striking feature by far was her bright red hair that curled down her back and over her shoulders with no elaborate knots or pins, just simply framing her face.

She was quite beautiful, despite her disquieting behaviour.

"Are you lost?" he asked gently, not sure how or if he could help her, but willing to do what he could if it meant she would stop staring at him so.

"Hurlee," she repeated. "You are my Hurlee," she insisted in a thick, foreign accent, her voice strained, and her face stricken with a sorrowful, aching expression that almost hurt to look upon. "Yeh've grown so much; changed so much. Oh, how handsome you are!" Even her tremulous smile was as pained as it was joyful, as though she couldn't contain herself to just a single emotion.

Haerelion felt himself caught between pity, confusion, and embarrassment. But her next words changed everything.

"A mother knows. A mother always knows." She reached out to him with two open palms as though to hold him, placing herself more directly beneath the weak sunlight coming through the cloud cover. And while quite solid-looking at first, the light that now shone upon her revealed her to be somewhat translucent.

Haerelion's stomach dropped with a mixture of incredulity, amazement, and fear that gripped his heart and induced an almost out-of-body experience. He felt his face go slack as his mind went into overdrive. Violently shaking his head, his half-jumbled thoughts began spinning away having suddenly lost their centre of gravity. And all he could think was, 'Was it true?'

Seeing that she had at least gotten a reaction out of him, the woman making such bold claims continued to speak in soft, hesitant tones. "I'm so glad you've finally come. I was praying I would see you again. Hurlee—", she began again, but he cut her off.

"My name is Haerelion," he said in a strangled voice, not sure if he was trying to inform, dissuade, or convince at this point, and to what end. "And who are you?" He asked firmly, though not unkindly.

The woman's entire countenance fell in anguish as though he had physically wounded her. She shook her head dazedly and gathered her hands back to her chest. "My name is Lil Peverell, but to you I am yer mother. You wouldna' remember, o' course. You were only a bairn…. Only a bairn when I had to give yeh up to the Daoine Sídhe, the Faery Folk. They whisked you off to another world; a world where you would belong," she said slowly, emphatically, "a world where you would be safe. And now I can see for myself how well yeh've grown for it."

Haerelion felt his heart begin to race, even as his arms and legs still felt like lead and his stomach continued to drop lower and lower. Another world? Faery Folk? Given him up? This woman was serious. Surely, she was mad. She was actually claiming to be… She really thought she was… This was absurd! And yet, there was some possibility that he was actually speaking with his… "Naneth?" he whispered in question, wondering where his breath had gone and why it suddenly felt like a giant wave was crashing inside his chest and rising up his throat. (Mother)

"I have no way to prove it to you," she admitted, her gaze still intense and disconcertingly overwhelming, "But I know it's you. Yer eyes…" She paused and his gaze narrowed in on her own eyes, noting that they were an arresting, deep green colour and similarly shaped to his own, though not nearly as bright. And yet they bore a striking resemblance, nonetheless. It was a clear point in favour of her maternal claim, though not yet a foregone conclusion.

After a moment of uneasy silence, she asked, "You said they call you…?"

"Haerelion," he answered promptly, voice still thin, but he was sure of that answer at least. "It means 'distant star', Adar would say it was because I was a blessing that came from afar". For some reason it suddenly seemed very important that she knew that. If she was his naneth, it was important that she knew Thranduil had taken him in as his own son. He had been treasured and seen as a star of hope, auspiciously heralding in the Fourth Age. But he supposed that also meant he had once had a different name, one given to him by his parents – from another world, though? (Father)

Lil opened her mouth several times, her expression oscillating between confusion, regret, joy, and relief. "Huh-reh-lee-uhn," she said, stumbling over the cadence of syllables. "Aye," she commented finally, smiling somewhat mournfully, "that's a good name. Yeh had a good home, then? A good family?"

Haerelion nodded, still trying to decide whether or not he believed her. Yet despite the fact that she was offering no further evidence to convince him, he felt his suspicions unwittingly dropping away bit by bit with each loving look she sent him. Maybe it was her tone of concern and caring? Or maybe it was the lulling effects of the forest around him? He didn't know, but he did his best to refortify his defences, not wanting to be pulled into some trap by his own desires. All the while thinking - had Elbereth sent him into this woman's path? Could it be possible?

"They raised yeh to be a good man?" He nodded dumbly again. "Respectful? Responsible? Honourable?" He nodded thrice in quick succession, standing a little taller and pulling his shoulders back. "Have ye a wife?"

Haerelion opened his mouth slowly, "Ehm. Actually, I have a husband. Legolas. He is my ada's other son, though we did not grow up as brothers. He's much older than me, and ours was a deep, abiding companionship and friendship that grew into something more." He noticed, for the third time, the way her brows drew together in confusion at his use of Sindarin. (Dad's)

"Oh," she said in surprise, visibly composing herself. "Such pairings are not unheard of, o' course. Rare, but not unheard of." He wondered if she was referring to the large age gap or the fact that they were both male, but he kept his silence as she considered him with greater scrutiny. "He is good to you? You're good for each other?"

"My better half," he affirmed, a feeling of contentment and reassurance calming him at the thought of Legolas, finally slowing his racing heartbeat.

"Have ye been together long?"

"I have known him all my life. But we've only been married for 55 years, as I am just 105," he said somewhat self-deprecatingly. Though he knew it worked just fine for them, it was true that such large age gaps were not terribly common. And though he would not admit it aloud, it did bother him at times to be so much younger and inexperienced than his husband. It was hard to fathom all that Legolas had seen sometimes. There lay an entire age between them; Legolas was born not too long after the start of the Third Age – less than a century – and Haerelion was born at the beginning of the Fourth. With their deep bond and easy camaraderie, it was easy to forget sometimes that Legolas had such a vast array of knowledge in his head. It helped that Legolas thought little of it and was of the opinion that it was theirs to share.

"Is that considered young for your People?" Her eyes were wide in shock and she gave him another look over as though she had missed something.

His People, he repeated silently, his mind returning to her assertion that they were from separate worlds. But what did that mean? All signs seemed to indicate that she was not Elven – she did not look it, she lacked the intuitive feeling of one connected with Nature in that preternatural way all elves had, and she clearly had no understanding of what he spoke. And yet, he was still willing to entertain her questions, half in hope and half in bewildered disbelief. "Very. Legolas is 3,037."

Her eyes widened considerably as her eyebrows attempted to disappear into her hairline. "Ye're immortal." It was both a question and a statement.

"We do not age past a certain point, and very slowly at that," he corrected; it was a common misconception among most Men, Dwarves, and Hobbits, as well. But what did that make her? "We can still die from a mortal wound or Fade into Nothing from a broken heart or trauma."

That explanation seemed to shake something in the woman claiming to be his mother, as though the circumstance of their current meeting dawned on her. "How did yeh come to be here then?" She gestured to the land around her.

He glanced around him – realising belatedly that he had taken a few steps from the tree at some point – and was not terribly surprised to find the weird horseshoe that had brought him here missing. Still, he did his best to explain the odd magical object he'd found and how touching it had brought him here. "Wherever here is, he" finished with a shrug and vague gesture to his surroundings. He knew he should be more worried at present that he had no clue where he was. But at the moment, there were other more pressing matters to attend to and being "lost" was not his top priority.

Lil breathed a sigh of relief and smiled at his confusion before starting to explain. "This is the Place of In-Between, open to all races and manner of deceased and living alike. The dead can come and go as they please, but the living can only enter by invitation and cannot abide here long."

Putting together some of the pieces that had hitherto escaped him, Haerelion understood then why she was not as solid as she appeared. And though he had never seen or interacted with a spirit before, he did not need to ask what manner of being she was to know how she came to be here.

As though following his train of thought, Lil explained. "I have long waited here at the hawthorn." She gestured to the ring of mushrooms and the great tree it surrounded. "A perfect mirror to the one in the World of the Living, where I gave yeh to the Faeries. I come here often, hoping that one day you'll grow curious as to where you came from, and eventually return." She smiled again, a bright, beautiful smile that lit up her entire face. Again, she reached forward with an open palm, never crossing the odd circle of mushrooms, and silently asked him to come forth.

But Haerelion still had his doubts and too many questions that had yet to be answered, so he demurred, shuffling his feet slightly back towards the tree.

Seeing this, Lil dropped her hand despondently and bit her lip before attempting a reassuring smile that Haerelion found eerily familiar. He wished Legolas were here to see; he would know Haerelion's expressions and habits far better than anyone to know if it was just Haerelion's own wishful thinking or something more.

"Wellaway," she sighed glumly, before pointedly sitting down at the edge of the circle, folding her legs neatly beside her and inviting Haerelion to do the same. Speaking in a somewhat forced conversational tone, she proposed. "Perhaps you could tell me a bit about how you came to find the portkey?"

"The what?"

"Ah, the magical object with the writing on it that ye touched to come here."

Haerelion nodded. He supposed that was one mystery half-solved. But did that mean that the horseshoe came from here; this world - if he believed her about the different worlds, that is? Mentally shaking his head, he decided to put it aside for now and answer her question. Either way it couldn't hurt, and it might even help bring some more clarity to the situation.

Sitting down, he crossed his ankles and began playing with the still damp hem of his leggings. The trick would be figuring out how best to reply in a way that would make sense to her, seeing as she had no concept of Arda - strange as that was. He reckoned that starting the story with Almaren would create more questions than it would answer, and so began an abridged version of Legolas' Sea Calling, the crossing of the Belegaer, and his tutelage under Mithrandir. He watched as she absorbed the deluge of information, her face awash with amazement, apprehension, concern, and definitely more than a bit of censure. At several points in the story, her eyes positively flashed in what seemed to be recognition and confirmation, as though she was able to discern something more from the few meagre details he was giving.

Not pausing his tale once he was on a roll, he expounded briefly on how his magic, unknown heritage, and adoption had originally set him on this course to find out about his past. And how after many fruitless trips and dead ends, he, Legolas, and Mithrandir had eventually crossed the Ekkai into the Void, which had ultimately brought them to Almaren. He left out his dream and meeting with Elbereth – it still felt too personal, too private – and instead ended with, "When I woke this morning I was drawn to the sea, where I found the horseshoe affixed to a rock." He shrugged then as if to say, 'you know the rest'.

Lil opened her mouth to speak, and then stopped, an arrested expression on her face. "The portkey was a horseshoe, you say?"

Taken aback, Haerelion nodded.

"Made of," she hesitated and looked around her, as though making sure of her surroundings, "Iron?"

Haerelion nodded again. He knew of little else horseshoes were made of and found the question exceedingly odd, but waited for her to explain.

Lil seemed about to say more, but then thought better of it. "Never mind," she insisted, shaking her head. "What I meant to ask was, ye can still return to this," she waved her hands in the air, groping for the correct names, "Greenwood and Ith-eon and Val-nor?"

Deciding not to question her odd statement about the iron for now, Haerelion replied, "We should be able to return to the Valinor, yes." He accompanied it with a confident, affirmative nod, though he honestly wasn't sure how he was going to return to Almaren yet, let alone the Valinor. "But, em, Greenwood, Ithilien," he corrected gently, "and the rest of Middle Earth is lost to us now; few of our People have ever returned after making the crossing. And that was several millennia ago."

Lil pursed her lips and frowned. "Is that normal for one as young as you to leave Middle Earth, then?"

Haerelion instantly regretted not breezing over that bit in hindsight. He sensed from her tone that this was going into infuriatingly familiar condescending territory that he'd dealt with from both friends and strangers alike. Wanting to just nip it in the bud, Haerelion was bitingly brusque and final in his response. "It was necessary."

Thankfully she did not press the issue, and instead, after several moments of somewhat awkward silence, said in a gentle, conciliatory tone, "You must love him very much indeed."

Her words did the trick of softening his irritation and he managed a smile. "Well, I did marry him for a reason."

A wry smirk painted her mouth in response, her scrutiny relenting for the moment. "I see you've inherited my sense of humour as well."

As quickly as the light-hearted mood had come, it just as swiftly disappeared, with Haerelion's doubt resurfacing like the oliphant in the room – erm, forest. Haerelion bit his lip, not sure how to react. After all this, did he believe her? There were so many unanswered questions. So many things that didn't add up.

After a prolonged moment of silence that seemed to stretch on for eons, she spoke again. "Will yeh come out here and join me?" Her arms were reaching out again, palms up as though asking him to take her hands. When he hesitated and failed to move, yet again, she said, "I'm afraid I canna' pass the Faery line, even now."

And there was that mention of Faery again. Faery Folk, Faery Line, Faery World.

'Faerie', as Haerelion knew it, was what the Hobbits called the Undying Lands, including Almaren. Was it simply a line of mushrooms that separated him from his nan- from this woman's world to the world he grew up in with Legolas, his Adar, Gimli, King Elessar, Queen Arwen, Eldarion, and the rest of his adopted family? Did that mean he was still in Almaren somehow, just a totally different part of the island? And if that were the case, and crossing this line would take him to another world, was it a good idea to do so? Voices that were most definitely Legolas' and Mithrandir's asked if such an action was wise, and most importantly, if it was safe. And then they followed that by demanding he stay where he was until he knew all his possible options and exits, or barring that, to stay put until Legolas and Mithrandir found him and came with him.

Speaking of whom, he had already been gone much longer than he'd originally anticipated. They both had to be awake by now and likely starting to worry at his absence. Haerelion cringed at the thought of Legolas waking up to find him gone. Thinking in hindsight, he probably should have left a note of some kind before galivanting off like he had. Unfortunately, it was too late to do anything about it now, and he had only two real choices in front of him. Stay where he was and bide his time, or take a leap of faith and cross into another world?

This woman was, after all, claiming to be his mother. Surely, she wouldn't wish to cause him harm.

Still, he thought it prudent to finally ask, "You're not an elf, then, are you?" She shook her head and his heart sank, despite having anticipated the answer. Still, he pushed ahead and demanded, "Then what are you?"

"Human," she stated matter-of-factly as though this were something he should have already known. He took a second look at the woman, his eyes squinting as he scanned her every feature with a mixture of accusation and curiosity. In spite of every piece of information telling him otherwise, in direct opposition to the fact, he still greatly wished to believe her, and he found himself grasping at even the smallest of possibilities.

Just then, the sun, which had so far been hidden by the dreary day – so very different from the clear skies he had left on the beach – suddenly decided to make an appearance once more. The entire hillside was bathed in warm light, and as before, Lil's entire body flickered diaphanously.

Following his gaze, she raised her arms and watched dispassionately as they shimmered and disappeared in motley patterns. "Well, I once was human. But Wizards are not as long lived as the Fae and I left the world of the living some 40 or so years ago. Magical Folk are known to live a wee bit longer, but not as long as your kind."

"You're a wizard," he blurted out in a rush, his feet moving of their own accord closer to her. "You can do magic?"

"A witch," she corrected softly, "but yes."

He was Peredhel then. And his mother was a magic user in this world. That explained how his conjuring and enchantments were so different from that of Mithrandir's; his magic was of a different kind, not of the Maiar! It all made sense! (Half-elf)

Still, his father's blood must run strong in his veins in combination with his mother's magic. He had never had to make a choice for the eternal youth of the Elves, at least not that he was aware. It must have something to do with how powerful his magic was from his mother. Still, he felt compelled to ask the next question before he could question his mother any further about her brand of sorcery. "What kind of elf was my father, then?"

"Elf?" Her face scrunched up in confusion, at a loss for words. "He was not Fae, if tha's what ye mean. He… he was human as well. A wizard from a very powerful and ancient line."

No. Haerelion shook his head. No. That wasn't right. He was an elf. What race, no one knew for sure, but all who met him would concur he was of elven blood. She couldn't be his mother then. But even as he thought the words, and his heart thudded sluggishly in the depths of his stomach, a part of him knew he couldn't take back the fact that it had felt so right when he'd acknowledged himself as her son.

"Yer father and I may have been merely Magical, but we knew from the moment yeh were born that you belonged to Tír nAill, the Other land. Not much is known about the Fae, I'm afraid," she offered apologetically, "Or. Ye prefer to be called an 'elf'," she asked with a frown. Seeing that Haerelion was still speechless and looking defeated, she hastened to clarify. "I suppose they never told yeh. I can't say why. But I can tell you what I know.

"The phenomenon is well known among my kinsmen as well as Magical Folk; that is, a child of the faeries being born to a human couple. Such occurrences are mostly from Wizarding couples, as magical babies are strongest and most compatible with the magics of the Fae. Though in truth it is no' spoken of. A taboo subject." She shook her head in disapproval before seeming to rid herself of her thoughts and directing a smile his way. "I reckon yeh're quite a powerful wizard in your own right. It's usually the reason such children are chosen to be faery-kind. Or, elf-kind? Is that right?"

Haerelion's frown deepened. Was what she was suggesting even possible? He had never before heard anything of the sort. Surely, he would have read of such a phenomenon in the vast library of Greenwood or heard it from the many Valar he had met thus far. This – what she was claiming – was madness. Haerelion bit down his disappointment. And yet, he still felt himself drawn into her story and aching to believe it to be true. The problem was, they were essentially speaking two completely different languages and the gap between them seemed too wide to breach, despite how desperately he wished to.

And so, attempting to follow her line of logic to its inevitable conclusion, his thoughts turned to the crux of the issue. If she was his mother, why did he grow up in an entirely different world, lineage or no? There were humans in Arda; there were even the Dúnedain who were descended from Elves. But if her story was to be believed, these Faeries were not of Arda at all. They couldn't be.

Haerelion squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his temples. His head was spinning in circles now, and he was starting to get angry. His next words left his mouth more harshly than he intended, and before the thought was fully formed. "Why did you give me up?"

His accusation was met with such misery and a look of absolute anguish that he almost wished he hadn't said it. Almost.

"Yer father never fully forgave me for giving you to the Faeries," she finally answered in no more than a whisper. "He believed we could raise you as our own, plenty of Wizarding families did so. It was an unspoken mark of pride among many – though considered bad luck by others. But the blood of the Fae was so verra strong in you. It was not something that could be hidden with glamours or explained away. Those eyes," she murmured, her gaze looking lovingly upon his face once more. "Your gorgeous, bright green eyes. I could not even think to hide 'em, even if I had been able."

She met his gaze, pleading silently with him. "Giving ye up. It was no' a decision I made lightly or easily, but I knew you were not meant for our world. Ye'd never have been at peace here, not when you could have a life with those who could understand yeh best and ensure that ye'd become all you were meant for. And as much as it pained me to concede," she said, grimacing as though it were indeed a physical blow, "that wouldna' have been possible had you stayed with me an' your father." Her voice broke as she finished, and she looked away from him for the first time since calling his name at the bottom of the hill.

Haerelion was reminded painfully of the dreadful moment when he and Legolas had tried to say goodbye to their adar. Haerelion had seared into his mind his adar's look of utter agony, betrayal, and heartbreak when Haerelion and Legolas told him that they would still be following Legolas' plans of leaving Middle Earth and their home. Haerelion could recall it as clearly as if it were happening now; could still see the desperate, pleading looks and hear his ada's accusations, "Greenwood is your home, I raised you here. You were supposed to keep Legolas's feet on Greenwood soil! You would not do this to me! You would not leave!"

Without thinking, Haerelion began to move forward. Even as certain details clicked into place and others still had him questioning his very foundational knowledge of the world, the belief that she was his naneth had taken a firm, unwavering hold in his mind, against all odds. He stopped abruptly once he was toeing the line that separated them, standing just inches from her. Somehow common sense and the smallest bit of uncertainty still held him back from taking that last step.

"Forgive me. Forgive me," Lil said, wiping her tears away with the heel of her hand, making her blind to the wetness gathering in his own eyes. "I canna' tell yeh how it warms my heart to finally see you here after all these years." The gaze she set upon him then was one Haerelion knew well. It was a look of such deep, unfettered, and unadulterated love.

It was that look that finally squashed his last bit of doubt and convinced him that she really was who she claimed to be. That look coupled with the reminder of his adar drove Haerelion to take the final step and cross the barrier, overcome by the urge to comfort and forgive, in a way that he wished he could still do for his own ada.

Stepping through an invisible barrier, he felt a shiver run down his spine, but otherwise was given no indication that he was traversing between worlds. He closed the short distance between them and stood before her, towering nearly two feet above her. Absently he noted how the colours had dimmed and softened, making her look more corporeal. But he didn't think on it long as his naneth was quick to reach forward and pull him into a hug; a tight, solid, loving hug that had him hunching over and burying his face into her hair as she squeezed him for all he was worth. "My son," she sobbed, her words muffled against his tunic. In response, he wrapped his arms around her and squeezed back.

Finally, he thought he might understand the emotion behind the expression 'a mother's love'. There truly was no comparison.

… ... .. ….. …

They stood there embracing for several moments, though neither could say how long. Haerelion didn't know when he closed his eyes, but when he opened them again, he noticed the world had lost its clarity. There was an indistinct haze around everything that made the blades of grass blur together and the discrete shades of greys, blacks, and greens of the rocks smudge into dim blobs of indistinct colour.

It was disconcerting to say the least; it felt like a misty film had fallen over his eyes and no matter how many times he blinked to dispel it there was no change. He noticed as well that the air seemed less sharp and the smells of the recent rain, of the moss on the stones and trees, and of the nearby animals were gone. All his senses seemed duller. The sounds of the squirrels chittering from deeper in the forest behind him had gone silent and he could no longer hear the buzzing of the insects underfoot. Even the nearby chirping birds had lost their distinctive cries.

He wondered if it had something to do with where he was, this Place of In-Between, where his naneth said the lines between worlds and that of the living and dead were blurred. Perhaps this place was just as solid and real as his naneth herself.

Lil pulled away and held Haerelion at arm's length, unaware of his internal ruminations. "It is so good to finally be able to hold ye again." Her hands came up to cradle his face, stroking his cheeks and turning his chin this way and that, studying his every feature. Her hands were not as solid and strong as they should have been, but there was no denying she was here, even if by sheer force of will.

Wrapping her hand around his upper arm she pulled gently and beckoned, "Come." Turning around she began to lead him down the hill and into the surrounding forest. And Haerelion allowed himself to be led, though not without some verbal protest.

"Where are we going?" He craned his neck to look back at the ring of toadstools he had just passed and noticed that the very air around it was distorted with a prism-like warping. "Will I be able to get back?" he asked, starting to feel a bit of worry. His senses were dampened, and he was in a strange new world being pulled away from his only connection to Legolas and Mithrandir.

"Of course, you will. No one can stay between worlds forever."

Somewhat comforted, he placed his hand over hers and fell into step with his naneth.

… ... .. ….. …

Meanwhile, a world away, Legolas was just waking up to the late morning sun shining on his face. Despite the warming light, however, he felt a chill run down his arms and reflexively reached out to pull Haerelion closer, wondering when he had let him roll away in the night. Groaning as his blind swipes came up empty, his eyes quickly came into focus as he rolled over to find the space next to him completely empty and cold.

Sitting up in alarm, he looked around himself and the still sleeping Gandalf to find that other than his husband's rucksack still leaning against Legolas's, Haerelion was nowhere in sight.

Legolas immediately reached out his senses as a deep sense of worry took root and his stomach began to churn with dread. When his search returned nothing, not even a trace of Haerelion's presence, Legolas leapt to his feet and moved to alert his friend. It only took two words, "Haerelion's missing," to get the ancient wizard up and following him.

Neither said anything as they broke camp, grabbed all 3 packs, and began to track his footprints eastward at a fast, tense pace. They made it to the wall at the edge of the sea in almost half the time Haerelion had.

It was high tide and the beach was completely submerged, with the waves lapping at the base of the stone barrier in a slow, sluggish rhythm.

Legolas dropped their packs at his feet and lunged at Haerelion's shoes still sitting atop the wall. He squeezed them in a white-knuckled grip. They were cool to the touch and probably hadn't been worn in hours. How had he slipped away from them and for so long without either himself or Gandalf knowing? And more importantly, why? Legolas's heart was beating erratically in his throat as he looked out at the horizon that was glittering under the sun's rays, but was otherwise unmarred by anything but the gulls overhead. The skies were clear, letting him see for miles and miles uninhibited, and Legolas' hawk-eye vision scanned all directions with focussed intent.

"Perhaps he has gone for a nice, brisk swim," Gandalf said with false bonhomie, even as he too scoured the open seascape, his face pale and drawn. Sighing in defeat, he began berating his absent pupil. "Of all the impetuous, cockeyed, imbecilic-," Gandalf grumbled in frustration, cutting himself off. "Foolish boy!" he finally cried in castigation, as the lines around his eyes and mouth tightened and deepened further.

Legolas didn't respond and had barely heard Gandalf's remarks over the sound of his own blood loudly pounding in his ears. Moving his scrutinising gaze back along the length of the wall, he cried, "There!" He pointed to a rock in the near distance with a flat top. It was rather unassuming, very much like all the other rocks dotted by the shore that were all but submerged in water. Unlike the others, however, the seaweed covering this one was matted down and clumped together around the edges to make room for two long leg-shaped objects. It was a longshot, but Legolas had a hunch that Haerelion had been there. The question now, though, was where had he gone?

"Haerelion!" Legolas cupped his hands around his mouth and cried out towards the sea. "Haerelion!"

There was no reply, no movement in the water; nothing. He didn't know what he had expected. He began to wrack his mind for some other possibilities. Had a ship come by and picked him up? Had he slipped into the sea? He knew not to go swimming by himself! Or was there some other crazy magic at work here that would require even further out-of-the-box thinking? If Haerelion had taught him anything it was that the universe was the limit where magic was concerned.

Turning to Gandalf, Legolas could feel the dread in his stomach explode into outright blind fear. Gandalf's answering blank and worried stare did nothing to quell the feeling.

Needing to do something, Legolas jumped down into the water, Haerelion's shoes still in his hand and his own still on his feet. The water immediately reached his waist and he dove forward to begin swimming towards the rock. It didn't take long before he was pulling himself up to kneel on the exact spot Haerelion had been, and he bent down to examine his husband's imprint further. He found no trace nor indication of where Haerelion might have gone from there, but he did find a rusted, old horseshoe practically melted into the rock face. At the top, faded, but still visible he read the words, 'Seron Aearon'. (sea-lover)

Reaching out to touch it, he –

"Daro!" (Stop!)

Legolas froze, his fingers millimetres from the object. Turning to look behind where the cry had come from, Legolas jumped in surprise to see he was no longer alone on the waters. Standing atop the gently lapping waves was a woman with flowing silver hair and simple blue robes that matched her slightly blue-tinted skin. She had her hand out in front of her, reaching towards Legolas, but once he leaned back and turned to give her his full attention, she too relaxed, but continued to frown at him.

"You are not the one I am looking for, and that portal was not meant for you. Who are you and what are you doing here?"

"I am Legolas, Thranduil's son, and I am looking for my husband, Haerelion. He was here," he pointed to the rock below him, "just this morning. Please, I need to find him!"

The woman's frown deepened. She turned her face to the side and seemed to stare at the iron object affixed to the stone in contemplation. Suddenly, out of nowhere, she asked, "Your Haerelion. Was he his parent's natural son?"

Legolas opened his mouth in shock at the unconventional question. But time was of the essence and he didn't have time to ask for explanations if she knew where his Haerelion was. "No, he was adopted by my father. Do you know where he is?" It seemed strange, considering he wasn't even sure she knew who Haerelion was, but if there was a chance…

Amazement, shock, and sheer joy lit up her face, and Legolas was suddenly given the impression that he should know who she was. Breathing an obvious sigh of relief, even as she shook her head in disbelief, the woman smiled, "Mae govannen, Legolas! Avo Grogo, hervenn lîn maer." (Well met, Legolas. Fear not, your husband is fine.)

Legolas was quick to return the greeting, wanting to move on and find out what she knew. "Mae govannen, Hirill." He bowed his head, feeling too awkward to do more in his current crouched position. "Do you know where he is then?" he demanded soon after raising his head to meet her gaze once more. (Well met, my Lady (formal))

"Uinen," Gandalf called out from the shore, waving his arm in a grand gesture and diverting both their attentions back towards the land.

Legolas' eyes widened in shock as he did a double take, looking from Gandalf to the lady standing atop the waves before him. Finally, he recognised her as one of the Maiar. "Hiril en Aer?" (Lady of the Sea)

"Mae, Nin estar Uinen" the Lady nodded and held out her hand, looking much calmer and more assured now. "Shall we join young Mithrandir on shore? He never was overly fond of swimming. (Yes, that's right. I am Uinen.)

Nodding dumbly, Legolas made to rise before remembering the urgency of the matter at hand. "But! Haerelion!" He looked back over his shoulder out to sea, still seeing nothing. A flash of light at his foot redirected his attention. Lady Uinen's hands were glowing as she dropped a cloth to cover the horseshoe, which had begun to shine as though infused with a deep blue light. With some difficulty, she pried it from the rockface and picked it up, still covered.

"I was not expecting him here so soon," Lady Uinen said conversationally, as though explaining something Legolas had not asked. "I had my misgivings when Elbereth first came to me, thinking that surely she had contacted the wrong elf," she said, reaching over to take Legolas' hand and pull him onto the waters with her. Steadily she walked them both back to shore over the waves as though neither of them weighed more than the slightest breeze. "But thankfully it seems my timing was just a little off. Worry not, we will go fetch your husband presently."

Fears slightly assuaged, Legolas stepped back as Lady Uinen went to embrace Gandalf with a laugh. The two exchanged greetings and became quickly engaged in catching up, but Legolas wasn't listening. In fact, he dearly wished to interrupt them and demand she take him to Haerelion now. How was Gandalf suddenly so calm when they still didn't know where his other half was? Nevertheless, he was neither so young nor stupid to dare interrupt two Maiar, knowing the consequences such actions would engender. So instead he stood there outwardly calm, while inside he was seething, ready to erupt at any moment and itching to force them to act.

Feeling restless and absolutely useless, he shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and then back down to his heels, while looking back towards the rock he had just been on. He was curious as to what that piece of iron had been doing there and why he had been stopped from touching it. Unconsciously, he began to take a step closer to the two friends, intent on getting another glimpse of the horseshoe still held tightly in Lady Uinen's hands. Fortunately, his movement seemed to have caught their attention, and the lady's gaze was on him once more.

"Haerelion," he repeated impatiently - desperately - not wishing to waste another second. "Do you know where he is? Can you take me to him? Now?" Legolas urged with asperity. "Hirill?" he added hastily, not wanting to seem disrespectful. (My Lady)

Uinen smiled, still looking infuriatingly phlegmatic given the situation. "I can, but we will need to leave Arda to do so," she replied rather cryptically. Not bothering to wait on his answer, she began unwrapping the item in her hand, explaining, "This will allow us entry into a land generally reserved only for those marked by death."

"Death!" Legolas howled. "What do you mean-," his throat seized up, "Haerelion-?"

"Is alive and well," Uinen hastened to clarify, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "And safe, I promise you. My apologies." As Legolas's body literally shook with relief from the sudden panic, he saw then a true expression of remorse and fear on Uinen's face, as though the very thought of Haerelion in such danger was nearly as abhorrent to Uinen as it was to Legolas. It was baffling to say the least, but Legolas pushed it to the back of his mind for now in favour of getting to Haerelion first. He directed his attention back to the cloth with myopic intensity and waited for further instructions.

"You need only touch the words at the top and it will bring us to where Haerelion is."

And though he knew he was going in blind and should probably ask some more questions before touching foreign magics, Legolas reached forward post haste and laid a finger next to hers. As long as it would bring him to Haerelion, he didn't care about his own safety in the slightest. Gandalf promptly added his gnarled forefinger as well, at which point, Legolas felt a tug behind his navel, and then they were all pulled forward into a colourful abyss.

… ... .. ….. …

It was a relatively short walk through the forest, during which his naneth asked an endless list of questions, all of which he answered to the best of his ability. Tell me about the elf that raised you. He was widowed? The poor man! What was the name of your first horse? When did you first learn to wield a sword – you started with a wooden one, right? You were how old?! Promise me you won't be putting yourself in such unnecessary danger again – fighting giant spiders with just the two of you! This Gimli fellow sounds intriguing. What else would he tell you? You and Eldarion must have been quite the troublemakers – God bless his parents! I should have liked to meet them both. Who did you first fancy? Was it a girl or a boy – were they pretty?

"Emig!" (Mom)

"You keep using these strange phrases," she exclaimed. "I assume yeh're not calling me something horrid."

Haerelion blushed and shook his head, feeling an odd mixture of frustration, embarrassment, and affection. "They're Sindarin words, the language used by most elves. It just means 'mom'. Naneth is 'mother' and Adar is 'father'," he explained.

Lil hummed in acknowledgment, a faraway look in her eye. "I like emig; it sounds so… sweet."

Haerelion's blush deepened, but he answered her delighted smile with one of his own, nonetheless. Privately he would admit that it was amazing to finally be able to say these words himself.

Their little moment was interrupted however when they finally broke through the trees on the other side of the forest.

"And here we are," Lil announced softly, directing his gaze with her own to a small house tucked away off the banks of a small lake and resting on a gently rising slope. It was less than a mile away now from the edge of the trees, and his naneth guided him through the gorse, tufts of grass, and soft bog lands with ease, telling him where to mind his step and where to jump. Soon enough they were standing before the heavy wooden door of a one-story stone cottage.

Lil paused and placed a staying hand on Haerelion's chest. Giving him a look to stay put, she bent down and swept away a few grains of salt from the thin white line that circled in front of the door and seemingly all the way around the house. She then hesitated slightly before standing up and removing the iron horseshoe above the door, tossing it down into the grass by the stone steps.

Nonplussed, Haerelion watched her work, wondering if these were perhaps types of magical protection in his mother's world.

Turning back to Haerelion, she bid, "You are most welcome to enter." Pushing in the door, she ushered him to follow her inside. "Welcome home," she gushed warmly, gesturing grandly at the room around her.

Haerelion gasped and spun around. What looked on the outside to be no more than a one-roomed cottage smaller than Legolas' talan in Greenwood, was in fact a modestly large home with multiple rooms and windows that let in plenty of natural late-morning light. They were currently in a wide hallway that led to the kitchen on the right and a cosy-looking sitting room on the left. And further down, just where the hallway turned away, Haerelion could see a conservatory in the back. Along that same hallway there was a grand staircase leading upwards and three other closed doors on the landing above. The lines and dimensions didn't seem to make sense for the amount of space, and Haerelion found himself blinking and squinting as he tried to figure it out, to no avail.

"This house has been in my family for generations. Yer father insisted we update the place when we married, so we made a few magical adjustments to make it feel more like home for the both of us."

Reminded then of something that had been bothering him, Haerelion put aside his awe and confusion for a moment to turn to her with a frown. How was it that his mother was here, but his father was not? Surely he wasn't still alive? Earlier, his naneth had alluded to the fact that his father had not agreed with sending him away, but did that mean he no longer wished to have anything to do with Haerelion? As much as he dreaded the answer, he still felt the need to ask the question. Mustering up the courage, he opened his mouth and proceeded to ask as much.

Lil's smile immediately dimmed, and for a while she looked at a loss for words. Breathing out a sigh of defeat, she acknowledged, "He would have dearly loved to be here, if he knew. He never believed me that ye'd come back. Was convinced I had sent you off to a place ye'd never be able to return from."

Haerelion nodded but held his tongue. He couldn't imagine what his parents must have gone through after his mother had given him up. At the same time, he couldn't imagine letting Legolas come to a place like this – somewhere in-between worlds that put him slightly ill at ease – alone. He would support Legolas no matter what, even if he was mad or resentful while doing so. Neither of them was perfect, but he had already vowed to follow Legolas to the ends of the earth, and he assumed that included into other worlds, if necessary, as well. And Haerelion was confident in knowing that Legolas would do the same. But every couple operated differently, he supposed, and he knew he would never get the full story of who his parents had been or were now.

"You will see him again, after we…?" he trailed off, not wanting to give words to the moment they would have to inevitably part just yet. Lil understood, though, and nodded. "Tell him I would have liked to meet him," Haerelion confessed sombrely, feeling a short burst of indignation and anger at his father – a man he had never met – for not being here. Tamping that down, he looked to his naneth, reminding himself to be grateful that she was here at least. "And that while I don't know what would have happened had I been raised by you both, I have had, and do currently have, a wonderful life and couldn't imagine it any other way." And he really couldn't imagine giving up Legolas, the time with his adar, or his life on Arda for anything. It was inconceivable, and not something he would ever willingly trade away. "Please tell him that I am happy and so very blessed to lead the life I do."

Her heavy nod and tight-lipped smile very soon gave way to another warm, loving, and wholly enveloping hug. And despite the weighty moment that had precipitated it, Haerelion rather thought he could easily get used to these embraces. When they finally broke apart, Haerelion pretended not to hear the tears in her voice as she directed him into the kitchen for a cup of tea.

The kitchen was a relatively sparse, welcoming room. There was a roaring fire in one corner, a long side table that took up the length of the far wall, and several cabinets on his immediate left that each seemed to be designated for different types of food. Haerelion was led to the centre of the room to sit at a small wooden table that was worn and smooth with age. Lil patted his hand, indicating for him to wait there before she went about making a pot of tea with practiced ease.

Despite his earlier assertions and confidence that he wouldn't wish for any other life than the one that he'd had, he could not help but wonder, in that moment, what it would have been like growing up here. What would it have been like making meals in this very room, listening to his parents converse at the dinner table, and telling them about his day as he had with Legolas and his adar? How different things could have been.

Before he could delve further into those musings, however, his train of thought was cut off by two mugs being placed down in front of him. "Don't worry, this is safe to drink," Lil said with a wink. "You'll still be able to go back home to your Legolas when we're done."

Haerelion gave her an odd look – while internally cringing again at the mention of his spouse, who was going to kill him when he returned. He had determined that most of the peculiar things she had mentioned and eccentric rituals she had done thus far must have something to do with her brand of human magic. For while he had never been as fond of tea as some other drinks, he would always drink what was put in front of him. Why ever would she assume that he'd distrust something she had given him? Did she not think he was raised with manners? Pointedly offering his most sincere thanks, he pulled the drink closer and curled both hands around the ceramic cup.

"You must have questions," she said, taking a seat across from him and reaching across the table to place her hands around his own.

Of course, he did. His first thoughts were to question her about the unusual rituals and idiosyncrasies she kept making reference to, but then thought better of it. He'd rather spend their limited time together learning more about her, about his past, and about their family. He had plenty of questions about who he was, but where to start? He stalled for time by taking a sip of his tea, finding it even more bitter than he was used to. He put it down and looked up at his naneth's expectant face. "How did you know…" he paused and reworded, "Why did you think I wasn't… human?"

Lil's face relaxed into an amused, if forlorn, smile that intimated she had anticipated this question. "As I said before, your eyes," she sighed pensively. "Such a bright green that held a light o' their own. And your skin," she continued. "Your skin had a distinctive glow, especially at night. At first, we thought it might mean you had especially strong magic, but tha' didn't explain everything." She paused and seemed to consider before asking, "Is your magic strong?"

Haerelion nodded. Mithrandir certainly seemed to think so, and there were so many things he could do that the Istar couldn't. He supposed his parentage explained it.

His mother seemed extremely pleased with that answer, proud even. She squeezed his fingers. "I'm not surprised. Ye've grown up so well," she crooned.

Haerelion turned his head away, bashful and embarrassed once more. He startled when he felt her hand move to brush a lock of hair behind his left ear, revealing their leaf shape. He looked back up at her to see her blink in surprise. "Yer ears were something else we noticed," she disclosed, returning to his original question. "Though they weren't quite this pointed and long, last I remember." Her index finger poked at the tip of his ear teasingly, making him squirm in his seat. He supposed she wouldn't know how sensitive elven ears could be.

"You were a restless child, yeh know." She sat back in her seat and took a drink. "Never much of a crier, but you were always awake and alert. Couldn't get you to sleep through the night for all the whiskey in Ireland," she sang blithely with lilting, melodic intonation that she mirrored with grand, wave-like gestures of her hands.

Haerelion smiled, amused, having heard similar stories from his adar. Sleeping lightly was common in elves and getting only a handful of hours of rest never seemed to diminish his energy or magic supply. He surmised it wasn't the same for Men or even human wizards; not that he knew that many to compare notes.

"I would joke to your father," his naneth continued, her lips quirking upwards and her voice taking on a tint of irony, "that it was the Sea in your blood." At Haerelion's inquisitive expression she clarified, "Never being able to sleep fully on dry land. In the evenings, James would sit with you in the row boat, docked out there in the inlet, and just hold you as the waves rocked you both. Sometimes it was the only way to put you down."

"Sea in my…blood?" he asked, having never heard of such a thing before. She didn't mean it literally, did she?

"You said your name means 'distant star' in… Elvish?" He nodded to both questions. "Well Hurlee means 'sea-tide' in Irish. Let's just say the MacEvans clan were well known for having a few selchies in their bloodline." Her eyes glinted and her mouth quirked with a secretive smile before clarifying, "Seal-people."

Deciding that he'd rather not know the exact details, after all, and hoping that she was largely being facetious, Haerelion pulled his drink to his lips and took another sip. Ruminating on her earlier remark, he supposed that his best night's sleep had indeed been on a boat, or when he was by the sea, now that he thought about it. He'd always just attributed it to the fact that Legolas was happiest and slept best in those conditions. And when Legolas was happy, Haerelion was happy. So, it only made sense that if he knew Legolas was content and sleeping well, Haerelion would be as well. But perhaps there was indeed more to it than that.

Haerelion opened his mouth to ask more about this Sea-blood claim, when he heard a murmur of voices coming from outside.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Two heads turned in surprise as the knocking was immediately followed by the click of the front door opening.

Haerelion was already halfway to the kitchen door by this point, gesturing behind him for his naneth to stay where she was. One palm rested against the hilt of his sword, and the other was raised in front of his chest, ready to call forth his magic if necessary. Furtively, he peeked his head around the corner to the hall as the front door slowly swung open to reveal a tall, silver haired woman with lightly-tinted blue skin. But before Haerelion had even begun to take a step forward to confront the stranger, he was stopped by a familiar face pushing itself into view at the lady's shoulder.

"Haerelion!"

The strange woman gracefully cleared the doorway to allow Legolas to rush forward.

Haerelion only managed to take two steps before finding himself completely engulfed in Legolas' arms. The air was physically pushed out of his lungs on impact as they twisted on their feet from the momentum and force of the greeting.

Having been separated by two different worlds, completely cut off from each other, there were no words to describe the sudden onslaught of emotions and sensations that heralded their souls reconnecting. The simple understanding that their other half was there in more than just bodily presence was like being caught in a tsunami, and the two clung to each other desperately as they let it wash over them. On top of that, the excruciating pressure of inextricable fear, panic, and utter anxiety in Legolas' chest that had been crescendoing for hours finally burst into unending waves of relief, which was mirrored by Haerelion's own sense of contentment and knowing guilt.

Eventually, though, the passion and intensity quieted down to a strong, but steady undercurrent that held them fast as the two calmed enough to loosen their hold. And with the diminuendo came clarity and empathy once more. All that Legolas had experienced since waking washed over Haerelion slowly and methodically, making the younger elf grimace in shame. Too late had he realised how his abrupt departure and lengthy absence must have worried his husband. Winding his arms tighter around Legolas' neck, he buried his cheek into Legolas' shoulder and pressed his nose into the skin beside his husband's pulse point, whispering words of regret and apology. Legolas responded in kind, digging his fingers into the small of Haerelion's back and the base of his neck, pulling Haerelion closer as though he could physically absorb the younger elf into his body.

After what felt like an aeon, Haerelion was finally able to breathe easy again, not realising quite how much he had missed Legolas until he was back in his arms.

Breaking his hold again slightly, Legolas pressed his lips to the top of Haerelion's head and buried his nose into his crown. "Please don't ever do anything like that again." His words came out muffled, but Haerelion understood them all the same. "Promise me." Haerelion gave the barest of nods that he could manage with Legolas wrapped around him so tightly and repeated a muttered apology.

Neither were keen to let the other go or to let the moment end, but eventually they both moved half a step back until they were face to face. "Now," Legolas said softly, his face a picture of relieved exasperation, "What has your mind in such a state of confused excitement; and better yet, where are we?"

As though the words had been waiting to burst forth from the tip of his tongue the whole time, Haerelion released in one breath, "I did it! I finally did it! I found her!"

"Who?" Legolas' eyes finally left Haerelion's and began to scan the hallway in interest.

Putting a hand on his husband's lower back, Haerelion gently directed him into the kitchen. "Mellnín." He gestured to Lil, standing warily beside the table, looking at them expectantly. "Meet my naneth, Lil Peverell. Naneth, this is my husband, Legolas." (My dear; mother)

Flabbergasted, Legolas' jaw went slack in shock as he gazed at the woman with utter amazement. "You- ! You're-!"

Meanwhile, Lil's face had grown stony and her eyes hard and piercing. She was quick to cut right across his babbling. "I have been given the impression that my son is much too young to be in the part of your world you currently live in." Her words were as penetrating as her gaze and Haerelion's hopeful, excited expression soon twisted into raised eyebrows and a melding of horror and shock. "I was told that your People age much slower and that by all rights he shouldn't even be here with me now. So, as I am sure you can imagine," her voice dropping lowly with danger, "I have a lot to say to you."

Haerelion saw it coming, and he was sure Legolas did too, but neither elf stopped the woman as she reached up and slapped the older elf squarely across the jaw with a resounding smack!

"Emig!" Too late, Haerelion went to stand in front of Legolas, his hands raising in defence to ward off further attacks. "I already told you! I made my own choice," he said slowly, yet forcefully. "Leave Legolas alone. He does not deserve your ire in this!" (Mom!)

His mother's eyes cut to him from where they had been attempting to drill holes into Legolas' skull. "You were too young to be making decisions like that! By your own accounting, you were still a child!"

Haerelion blinked. Gone was the calm, comforting woman with the sweet voice; in her place was a fierce mother dragon defending her young. And as much as he disagreed with her and her right to have any say in the decisions he had made for himself a world away, witnessing her reaction inexplicably warmed his heart all the same. But even that could not override his instinct to protect his husband at all costs, even against his own mother.

"Be that as it may," he conceded carefully, knowing that there would be no winners in this, nor any answers that could suitably appease all parties. He could acknowledge that were it anyone else, she would probably be right. But this was him and Legolas, so all bets were off the table. "Perhaps I did not know the full measure of what I was getting into, or understood the magnitude of what it meant to be leaving at the time, but nevertheless, it's what I chose." He let that sink in for a second, his eyes never leaving hers. "And I don't regret it. In fact, I would do it again in a heartbeat."

As he spoke, he watched charily as his mother's expression slowly changed from being ready to breathe fire to disgruntled acceptance. Haerelion stayed standing in front of Legolas for several more moments, until Legolas gently pushed him to the side, and stepped forward, arms down and turned outwards in a show of vulnerability. "You're right," he said, "I was too caught up in my own longing to finish the journey. With so many of our People leaving at the time, as Middle Earth ushered in the Age of Man… I did not consider long the consequences of my decision."

"Other Elven children were leaving?"

Haerelion huffed. "I was no longer a child at the time. I was fully matured." Both Legolas and Lil ignored him.

Legolas shook his head. "Not quite. Haerelion was the last Elven child since Arwen, who was over 2,800 years at the time. Haerelion is the youngest ever to sail, to my knowledge," he finished sombrely, standing there as though waiting for another blow and opening himself entirely to her disapprobation.

The seconds ticked by in a silent staring contest, neither soul making a move.

Finally, Legolas grimaced. "I cannot change the past any more than I could find the words to properly atone for my sins. There is no justification nor words of apology that would excuse my behaviour." He paused a moment longer and Haerelion could see his naneth slowly softening ever so slightly. "But I can tell you," Legolas emphasised, "that your son is my entire world. I love him above all others. And he comes first, at all times, in everything."

Finally, after some repeated swallows and misty eyes from all three present, Lil nodded and bid him to sit. "I suppose-," she said somewhat brokenly, "that will have to do. For now."

Legolas silently bowed his head in thanks and moved to pull back a chair for Haerelion when a thought struck him. He turned back to the doorway, peering into the hall where Gandalf and Uinen had been silently listening to the proceedings.

A deep red blush blossomed up his neck to the tips of his ears, but he did his best to push down his embarrassment as he invited the pair into the kitchen. "Ahem," he cleared his throat. "Haerelion, Madame Peverell. May I introduce to you Lady Uinen, Maiar and Mistress of the Sea," he gestured respectfully to the great lady, "And Mithrandir, the White Wizard."

"You are most welcome to our home, my lord and lady," Lil greeted, sketching a deep curtsey with her head bowed.

"Yes," Haerelion echoed quickly, reeling with shock at having recognised the name. Standing at attention, he swept his hand over his heart and bowed his head forward. "Le suilon, Hirill! Elen sila lumenn' omentielvo!" (I greet thee, My Lady. [Sindarin/ formal] A star shines on the hour of our meeting. [Quenya])

"Haerelion!" Uinen smiled warmly, her entire face brightening with gentle affection. "How you've grown, my dear." She drew further into the room and came to clasp his hands, bringing them up to her bosom. "A bright star indeed."

Taken aback by her familiarity, Haerelion's smile slipped and his eyes widened in confusion. "Have– Have we met before?"

"Not that you would remember," she said softly, her voice holding the depths of mystery and sadness as she shook her head and let his hands fall from her grasp. Haerelion was suddenly plagued with a sense of déjà vu, having yet another woman telling him he was too young to remember her only hours apart from one another. "You were still no more than a babe when I took you in my arms and brought you into our world."

All eyes had turned to Uinen, looking at her with various shades of astonishment.

"So it is true, then?" Haerelion quietly breathed, heaving a weight off his shoulders he hadn't known had been there. For all the leaps of faith he had taken, to hear the truth confirmed by one of the Maia! That Eru's chosen had somehow had a hand in his coming to Arda was the final validation he needed for his heart and head to finally meet as one on the matter.

"And- And you made this possible," Haerelion continued, gesturing to the room at large and then frantically pointing to both himself and his naneth.

Lady Uinen, who was watching Haerelion closely, gave the most imperceptible of nods to corroborate.

'Thank you!" The words echoed between mother and son with equal bouts of gratitude and indebtedness. The mere recognition of what she had done for them was not enough, but Haerelion knew nothing ever would be.

Uinen smiled in acknowledgement. "I am sure we shall go into the finer details soon, but let me first say that despite your earlier-than-expected return, I am elated to see the fine elf you've become."

Maybe it was the caring, familial way in which she spoke to him. Or the way her hands came up again to clasp his arms as she looked him over with something akin to pride in her eyes. But whatever it was, Haerelion found himself eschewing proper etiquette, putting aside the many questions he had, and all but demanding an answer to the one question that had been tormenting him for ages. "Am I, though?" he all but blurted out. "Am I an elf?"

Thankfully, Uinen did not seem to mind his brusqueness, even as Legolas and Mithrandir let loose disapproving expressions at his insolence. Haerelion sucked in his lips and bit down as his eyes darted between the two, but otherwise refused to show contrition, looking adamantly at Uinen with a stubborn lift of his chin. He kept his eyes glued to her face, watching as her expression grew thoughtful and she tilted her head to the side.

The seconds eek by agonisingly and strangely in tune to the pounding of Haerelion's heart. His heart was the only thing he could feel at the moment, not even Legolas' hand stroking the small of his back.

At long last, though, she replied. "From our world's perspective, yes, you are." Sensing there was more to come, Haerelion held his breath. As predicted, Lady Uinen continued, "From your mother's world, however, you would be considered one of the Blessed, one of the Fae. They are cousins to the Elves and similarly have few offspring." She moved to clasp his hands again, squeezing them softly and bringing him back to the table. She pushed him down to sit as one would a child, and then sat herself at the head of the table to his right.

Taking that as their cue, the other three shuffled to find seats as well. Lil resumed her original chair, which was now at Haerelion's left side, while Legolas and Gandalf were forced to the other side of the table; Legolas right across from Haerelion, next to Uinen, and Gandalf at the elf's right, across from Lil.

Haerelion hardly noticed the sudden movement, however, waiting for Uinen to explain. Which she did. "But the Fae, unlike the Elves, can bless a human woman while she is pregnant, endowing the child with the heritage of their People. The Fae, from what I know, are especially adept at sensing when Magic is strong in a child at conception. These children, when they are born, are more Fae, or elven in your case, than human."

Lil, who had been listening to the Lady's explanation just as intently, chimed in then. "Normally that would just mean you would grow to be a powerful wizard. Many changelings who are witches and wizards are kept safe from the Faeries sneaking in and stealing what they have laid claimed to by strong family wards around their homes. They grow up the same as their peers, though much stronger and with a greater affinity for magic, and they tend to have very charismatic personalities. It is very easy to spot a changeling, even with glamours and cloaking spells. Spells that hide their natural features," she elucidated at Haerelion's confused look. "But you were different," his naneth paused and breathed in deep. Her lips pressed down and turned in an ironic smile. "Your features were distinctly Fae, and you were much stronger in magic than most wizard changelings. The things you could do through will alone at only a few days old! It was simply a matter of time before the Faeries would find you, strong wards or no. And so, I did what I did. I dinna' want you hiding all your life."

Haerelion looked from his naneth to Lady Uinen, over to Gandalf, and then let his eyes come to rest on Legolas. Legolas was the one person he held in highest esteem. The one he would protect against all costs. The one who he had built a life with, dropped all inhibitions with, and grew with every day in all the small, inconsequential ways. While he would always wonder what might have been had his parents decided to keep him and if he had grown up in another world, where wizards and magic were in more abundance, he would never harbour any regrets.

Turning back towards his naneth, Haerelion could see it in her face that though he had forgiven her, she had not yet forgiven herself. Reaching over to enfold her in his arms, he confided, "You gave me a great gift by sending me onto the path towards Legolas, Adar, and everyone in Arda. Thank you," he intoned. Lil clung to him tightly and Haerelion could feel a distinct wetness soaking into his collar, but he tactfully ignored it and gripped her tighter.

After a respectable amount of time had passed, Haerelion let go and allowed Lil to straighten up, swiping the side of her forefinger under her eyes and placing the handkerchief Haerelion had given her to her nose. Still looking away from her guests, Lil pulled out a thin piece of wood from her pocket and with a swish and downward slash, more tea was made. An additional circular motion with her wrist saw the tea and extra mugs floating towards the table of their own accord and settling in front of each person, not spilling a drop of the steaming liquid.

"Is that what you use to do magic," Haerelion asked, his eyes glued to the small stick in fascination.

"My wand, yes," Lil nodded. Looking up to face him again, her face was suddenly dry and devoid of any evidence of tears, as if by magic. Haerelion was rather inclined to believe that that was exactly what it was. "How do you focus your magic," she asked, just as curious.

"Well," Haerelion shrugged uncomfortably. "Mithrandir uses his staff," he nodded to the wizard's tall, white walking stick now resting against the wall. "But I, em, don't use anything." To prove his point, he made a come-hither gesture with one hand and willed the tea mug to gently float up and towards him until the handle was between his fingers and thumb in his hold. Looking back up at his naneth, both mother and child regarded each other contemplatively, each with a million questions etched on the tips of their tongues. Unfortunately, now was not the time to have this discussion, and Haerelion had to discernibly restrain himself from saying more. Instead, he turned back to Lady Uinen, who looked equal parts curious and amused.

"Apologies, my Lady," Haerelion implored. "If you could please tell us more," he invited, turning back to face her fully.

Graciously, Lady Uinen picked up fluidly from before. "As you have surmised, though your mother gave you to our cousins, you did not remain with them for long. Shortly after you joined the Fae, there was a great upheaval between the Unseelie and Seelie courts – different races of Fae with very different codes of honour," she said darkly. "I am not well acquainted with their politics, but I understood that it was serious enough for a new-born child to be in grave danger. And it did not look like it would be ending any time soon. Knowing this, the Seelie court decided to utilise the connection between our two worlds and send you somewhere safe.

"I received the message for help through the waters and came to fetch you. Through a portal I was given you," she looked at Haerelion, her eyes glazing over with memory. "And a horseshoe wrapped extensively in a thick piece of cloth. I was told to keep it safe for if you ever wished to know more about the place of your birth."

"Certainly kept it in a secure enough hiding place," Gandalf griped, adjusting his robes and re-crossing his arms in blatant ire.

Lady Uinen bowed her head in apology, a sheepish grimace marring her face. "Well," she stressed, "I, too, did not expect you back so soon. Though I suppose I should know to expect the unexpected where you're concerned."

"I surely do," Legolas affirmed, using that chipper tone of voice that left Haerelion wondering if he was being complimented or subtly complained about, and so settled on levelling the older elf with a mildly suspicious glare.

You did manage to find it, after all," Lady Uinen said in what was obvious praise.

Blushing, Haerelion was quick to correct, "With some help."

"Yes, I heard, and was not the least bit surprised." She smiled. "You are well loved by our Creator and the Valar, and word does get around." Her voice grew soft and tender. "Although I may have had much to do with that. Though you were never mine, it was not from lack of desire to keep you."

Haerelion blinked, once more overwhelmed by the admission, and wondering if he could handle many more heartfelt confessions and world-altering revelations in one day.

"There was no doubt in my mind that you were something very special the moment I held you in my arms," Uinen continued as though she had not just confessed to something so earth-shattering as wanting to raise a child from another world, let alone Haerelion. "You were such a strong, lively child; eyes wide open through the entire exchange. And yet you calmed instantly at my breast. The sea in your blood called out to my own, and guided me, as though by Eru's own hand, to do more than just allow you into our world. Ibestowed upon you the gifts of the Maiar, as well as that of the Teleri elves, giving you the best head start that I could."

Thunderstruck, and once more deeply touched, Haerelion opened his mouth to say… something, but his naneth beat him to it.

"Thank you," she said with such fervent warmth and gratitude that Haerelion wondered if there was not a touch of magic in her words. "Thank you for taking care of my son."

Haerelion nodded in concurrence, even as he felt his cheeks heat up under the tender scrutiny of the two women; who, just this morning had been utter and complete strangers to him. "For all my ignorance up until now, I am grateful and feel eternally blessed to have been loved and cared for by you both."

"As am I," Legolas echoed in agreement, reaching over the table to take Haerelion's hand in his own.

"There is nothing to thank," Uinen shook her head. "Indeed, one could say I acted selfishly; a magical child in Arda is rare enough, but not only was magic already exceedingly strong in you, there was the Sea in your blood as well. You, Haerelion, were something much more."

Overcome, Haerelion breathed out an involuntary snort of disbelief. "I suppose you could say that. Part human, part Faerie or shee - or something, part Maia, and part Teleri elf." That certainly was an interesting mix, if there ever was one.

"Actually, you're not human anymore," Uinen corrected. "You had very little to begin with when you were born, and what you did have was weaned out of you when the Fae took you as their own."

Haerelion numbly nodded, his heart still pounding in his throat at the final verdict, and absently wondering why no one else appeared the least bit perturbed by any of this.

"That must be why iron does not affect you," his naneth muttered seemingly to herself, as her eyes had glazed over, and she appeared be deciphering something in her head.

"Yes, that is true. We are not afflicted by the same aversions to metals as our cousins. Any sensitives or vulnerabilities he might have once shared with the Sídhe have since been expunged."

"It is all rather remarkable," Legolas spoke up in awe. And as strong fingers squeezed his own, Haerelion felt a small flicker of doubt that had sprung up at the confirmation of his rather unconventional heritage be firmly squashed. He supposed they had long ago entertained the possibility that he was more than an elf, potentially not even an elf at all. And though 'Fae-changeling-Sídhe' was well beyond their original scope of understanding, he supposed it didn't matter because it clearly hadn't changed Legolas' opinion of him in the least.

"Hmph," Gandalf grunted thoughtfully. "That certainly explains a lot. Mixing magics like that! It's a wonder you managed to get anything out of my teachings at all. Difficult to teach," he growled in disbelief, "That doesn't describe the half of it!" He jabbed a finger in Haerelion's direction, a mixture of pride, annoyance, and satisfaction on his lined face.

Haerelion suppressed a smirk at his mentor, accustomed to his rough demeanour. He knew for a fact that the old wizard was indeed quite fond of him and had it on good authority that the Maia actually enjoyed the challenge Haerelion presented. Most of the time.

"No, I am sure he was not an easy pupil, my dear friend," Lady Uinen agreed with a chuckle. "His magic is a uniquely singular combination to be sure. I am sorry I did not take his future tutelage into account at the time."

Haerelion sat back and listened as the two old friends continued to banter over him, all in jest and with an undertone of deep caring. It was an odd feeling, Haerelion pondered, to have been loved by so many who saw a greater future for him than what they could each individually foster. And in that moment, Haerelion was struck by the thought that he was currently surrounded by family; people who had helped decide the course of his life thus far and were each partly responsible for the person he had become and was still growing to be.

The yearning and regret he felt for his adar sharpened congruently with that sudden realisation, but overall left him with a deep sense of gratitude, joy, and contentment. Not to mention an added pressure of actually living up to this greatness they all seemed to see in him.

Legolas' voice broke through his thoughts then, pulling him back into the conversation. "So you blessed him as one of the Teleri, who are well known for their love of the forest and sea," he pointed out in amusement, "And sent him with the Eagles into the path of two elves descended from the Teleri. One of whom was already bound by the Call of the Sea," Legolas concluded the tale with a solemn air of finality. And Haerelion supposed when he put it that way…

"Yes," Uinen confirmed. "In a way, it was what drew you so closely together. Though you may have rejected the Sea in your heart the moment you saw it as a threat to your relationship with Legolas, you could not dismiss it forever. Blessing or curse, it is indeed in your blood."

Along with a few other things, Haerelion silently quipped, mentally placing aside that particular observation for later. He knew he would be reviewing and reliving these memories for many sleepless nights and centuries to come. He would painstakingly scrutinise every minute detail until he was satisfied. And even then, he knew he would bemoan questions he'd not thought to ask in the moment. But for right now, he could not think of anything more that needed to be said.

Lady Uinen levelled him with a steady, discerning stare. "It is something you will come to understand in time." Haerelion could not be sure if she was referring to his patchwork lineage, his affinity for the Sea, his connections to his human origins, or a little bit of everything, but it did serve to calm him slightly, nonetheless.

Just as a comfortable silence was beginning to settle around the cosy kitchen, both Lady Uinen and Lil suddenly stood up at attention and cocked their heads towards the front of the house, ears tilted as though hearing the same, inaudible message. Moments later, by tacit agreement, the women stood from their chairs, eyes darting to the window.

"Come," his naneth said, her voice eager and insistent, with an anxious, anticipatory smile stretching her face. "Our time here will be drawing to a close all too soon." She reached a hand out to Haerelion. "You must return before the sun has set, and I wish to know all I can about you before we are forced to part." Haerelion rose easily from his seat and allowed himself to be led away, knowing that their remaining time could never be enough.

At the doorway, Lil paused and looked back. After a short, internal debate that flashed across her face, she turned slightly to stretch her free arm back towards the table. "Will you come as well," she beckoned sheepishly to Legolas, "I have a feeling I will not hear the whole story as it stands without my son's other half giving his two-penny worth."

To Haerelion's trained eye, he could see Legolas' eyes light up in relief and delight, even as he schooled his features and stood up quickly to join them.

"And we shall be waiting for you at the hawthorn tree when it is time to depart." Gandalf nodded in agreement, coming around to stand beside Uinen.

As the trio left the house, Haerelion breathed out a silent huff of amazement and released tension. They had finally, actually, unbelievably done it; sailed to the ends of the earth, found a long-forgotten land, and travelled to another dimension all to find the answers of Haerelion's past. And yes, it felt good.

Preceding the Maiar to the door, Haerelion took Legolas' hand and allowed his naneth to lead the way around the other side of the cottage and down the hill towards the lake.

… ... .. ….. …

End of Part 2

… ... .. ….. …

Alas! We have only one more short epilogue to go and then we can finally put this story to rest. Thank God!

Note: For those of you who may be confused, Faeries are repelled by iron, and horseshoes nailed to a doorway were used to ward off any fey. Lil's joke about the drink being safe refers to the fact that you should never accept food from a faerie, and that eating any food while in their lands meant that you would be stuck there forever. And finally, changelings are faery children being left in the place of stolen human babies. Changelings were usually blamed when a child was sickly or deformed, with the belief that the faeries had taken the healthy child and left an afflicted faery child in his or her place.

On a related note, The Stolen Child by Keith Donohue is brilliant! It tells the story of two children swapped, and the different lives they end up leading. Very interesting bit of mythology and faerie lore interlaced beautifully with reality. Just a side recommendation if anyone's interested.

Also, an additional author's note to any other writers out there. I just discovered this app called SynMap which works similar to a Thesaurus, but also provides semantically related words for when something is just on the tip of your tongue. It also is great for when you turn off all internet to focus on writing, but still need help finding that right word and you don't want to go to . It was a game changer for me, made my editing go a lot faster, so I thought I would share in hopes that it helps others out there too!