Her head ached and for all her years of slumber, Amera found she desired nothing more than to crawl beneath a blanket and rest until the aches in her bones and in her head and in her heart faded. However, such was a luxury she would not afford to herself, not even for her weariness. Glorfindel had given her a few minutes alone upon her request and she had found herself nearly collapsing with the weight of the memories that flooded over her. It had taken only a few pages, a few simple drawings to trigger what had been hidden from her but she had looked.

And she remembered.

Images of stone, water, earth and blood swept through her and stole her breath away. She remembered the sound of rain against crumbling marble and the chill of mist against her skin and the warmth of the rising sun. She remembered flashes of faces and the glimmer of grey eyes, crowned brows and bright swords. A thousand years of memory all at once. It was so much and it was too much.

Amera had lowered herself onto the floor, shaking violently all the while as she drew her knees to her chest. Roughly pushing back her hair with her hands, her eyes wide, she had gasped for breath as her mind absorbed a thousand years of recollection in only a few moments. There was pain there too for all the joy she remembered and she felt the hot prick of tears. Yes, there was happiness, but there was also loneliness and sorrow, regret and hope. It was enough to leave her reeling and she took the few minutes of privacy to try and compose herself as best she could.

Still, for all the emotions flooding through her and setting her limbs to shake, there was still a curiosity in her. Why now? What had caused her to wake and why had it done so? She remembered Mithrandir had found her and he had seemed just as surprised to see her as she had him. They had only met once, very long ago, and it seemed by accident that he had come across her. Amera rose to her feet, drawing a long breath and running a hand through her loose hair to try and remedy the tangles she had caused. She also had met the leader of his order, a wizard who's name she could not recall, but Amera remembered the cold curiosity in his eyes as she had smiled and bid him welcome to the City of Kings, to fair, silent Annuminas. Perhaps he had sent Mithrandir to collect her, perhaps he had been the cause of her reawakening?

There was still more, Amera knew as she smoothed out her robe and rubbed away the remnants of tears from her eyes. There was much more that still flickered in the shadows of her mind, more memories that would reappear with time, but for now she sought to sate her curiosity. She rejoined Glorfindel in the hall a minute later, expression steeled to the best of her ability. She saw the pity in his bright eyes and ignored it, giving a simple nod to show she was alright.

"I would speak to both you and your lord," Amera said softly, "And Mithrandir as well, if he too is within the valley."

"That is well!" Glorfindel laughing, a shining sound. "For so does my lord desire to meet with you, Amera Aeliniel. Many questions, he has, and so also have I. I had not thought to see you again but glad am I for it." He nodded once, his voice growing gentler. "Many will be glad for your return."

He began to walk and she followed aside him, forcing herself to block the flow of memories swirling through her mind, to focus on his words instead of the glimmers of her past. "Much has happened in your absence," Glorfindel continued, "And no doubt Mithrandir or Lord Elrond will be able to give you a more helpful summary than I would." He kept speaking but she found herself distracted by the elves that passed them, for only once had she spent time in the company of the firstborn and the circumstances that had brought them together had been less than ideal. They were beautiful and fair, much like the elven lord beside her, and there was a wisdom in their eyes where she had only even known pride, there was a coolness, a poise where she was accustomed to fiery passion.

She had been a servant unto the kings of men, not to elven lords.

All were courteous unto her, smiling faintly and politely inclining their heads and it seemed to her they were glad to have her in their fair halls. Amera could tell they knew who, or rather what, she supposed, she was, but not one said a word as Glorfindel led her onwards through the last Homely House until they reached a study. It was outside the doors that he finally paused, turning to her and meeting her pale gaze with his own. "You have been missed, Amera."

She was caught off guard by that. "For what?"

"You were a counselor unto the kings of old. Your wisdom was-"

"I counseled no one." Amera interrupted briskly, her words firm. That much she remembered. "Men simply came unto my city and so did I speak to them when they asked it of me. There was never wisdom in my words."

Glorfindel shook his head and she saw the pity once more in his eyes. "You fought the Witch-king of Angmar at Fornost and lived to tell tale of it. You earned a title from my kindred possessed by few not of our race."

"You gave me that title," She paused, glancing downwards with a small tilt of her head, "And I barely survived our meeting. The scars on my back are a testament to that."

"Yet you did not and it was a title rightly earned."

She shifted her weight, drawing a breath, "I picked up that sword because there was nothing else left to fight for, Glorfindel. There is no courage in desperation."

He was silent for a long moment and she felt naked beneath his eyes, like a child before a parent amused. "Is that what you think, Amera?"

Her voice hardened then, eyes glinting like steel. "That is what I know."

He did not reply, instead opening the door to the study and moving to allow her entrance. Amera felt his gaze upon her back as she entered into the room, immediately comforted by the stacks of books piled upon the tables and neatly placed into shelves. Mithrandir was sitting, his grey hair even wilder since their last meeting,and beside him stood a dark haired elf, tall and noble in his bearing. Inclining her head and bending lightly at the waist, she caught glimpse of a tired smile from the wizard as Elrond Halfelven, for she knew it was him, placed a hand over his heart in greeting.

"I am honored by and grateful for your hospitality, my lord," She began quietly, "Much had I heard of the beauty of Imladris, but what words fell upon my ears brought no justice unto your lands."

"And honored are we to have you, Aeliniel," Elrond replied, "Though I would wish our meeting be in a happier hour than this."

She paused, running her tongue over her lower lip. "I fear I do not know what hour is upon us, my lord, though from what Lord Glorfindel has hinted at and what now you state, I should think there is much that has passed since last I treaded the West."

"Indeed there has!" Mithrandir nodded, resting his hand on his knee. "Though perhaps it best to determine why we are graced with your presence at all, Amera Aeliniel, for many and myself included thought you dead long ago."

Amera was unsure how to reply at first and Elrond took note of her hesitation, motioning for her to sit. A moment later there was a glass of wine before her and she took it gladly, curling her fingers around it. It gave her something to look at as she considered her words. "I…I should be dead, I suppose, or at least still asleep in Fangorn, yet it seems I am not, yet also I see no reason for my wakening. I had thought it perhaps the leader of your order, Mithrandir, who was with you when you came unto Annuminas, but it seems it is not so?"

"No." His face grew hard. "Saruman is no longer an ally unto the Free Peoples nor do I think him capable of awakening you, for you are no object to be summoned at will, Amera." She looked up from the wine at that. "Whatever the reason for your waking, it is one welcome."

"I mean no offense by such, but why?" Amera asked softly but bluntly, "I am no great warrior nor have I your wisdom, Mithrandir," She glanced to Elrond, "Nor have I your skill in healing, my lord. I…I was naught but a caretaker, a reminder."

"We are glad for all allies we can muster, Aeliniel," Elrond interjected, sitting across from her. "The Free Peoples of Middle-earth seek any who would lend them aid and they are fewer than we had wished. Saruman's betrayal is not to be taken likely nor the force of his will to be underestimated. The loss of his alliance is a grievous blow, indeed."

"Betrayal?" Amera remembered Saruman, though only dimly. He had been cold in his wisdom, scornful where Mithrandir had been curious, and she had not been sorry to see him leave Annuminas. "What cause has Saruman betrayed?" She paused once more, her brow furrowing as she tilted her head, eyes darkening as she questioned, "With whom has he chartered an alliance, if not the Free Peoples?"

Mithrandir and Elrond looked at each other, silent for a long moment. Finally, the wizard looked to her, a faint smile playing around the edges of his lips despite the exhaustion in his voice. "It seems your slumber has not dulled your wits, Amera Aeliniel. We may have need of them yet." He sighed and ran a weathered hand through his beard. "Do you know of Isildur's Bane?"

Amera perked a brow, tentatively sipping at her wine to settle her nerves. "The Ring of Power? Yes, perhaps not much, but I have read of it, but what need is there that I should know of a legend?"

"Until a few days ago, you were naught save a legend," Elrond said. She flushed. "Much that was once called legend is now before us, Aeliniel, and just as you are here so also is the Ring."

Amera nearly choked on her wine. "The One Ring? Isildur's Bane?" She suddenly grew very pale, her voice taking on a renewed urgency as she set her glass aside, pressing a slender finger against the table in emphasis. "If that has…has been found, then surely Angmar will seek it, if you do not have it already. The Witch-king will-"

"Angmar does not have the power it once did, Amera," Mithrandir interrupted gently, "But the Witch-king now answers to another."

"Another?" She clutched the cup until her knuckles ached. A shadow of dread clouded her heart and she found she understood, for all her confusion. "Isildur's Bane has been found and the Witch-king answers unto a master, while one who once was a great ally unto the Free Peoples seeks the favor of another." Amera swallowed hard, working to temper her voice. "Sauron. Sauron has returned or seeks to, does he not?"

Elrond nodded and she pressed the back of her hand to her lips, closing her eyes as Mithrandir continued, "As he has returned, though his spirit has never truly died, we had thought so you also had returned, that you had chosen to awaken, had sensed this somehow."

Amera shook her head, opening her eyes slowly. "No, I did not awaken of my own choosing. I…," She swallowed hard once more, painfully aware of the flood of memories that surged in her mind, each roll of the tide bringing renewed grief she had no desire to feel once more. "It is complicated, Mirthrandor. There was no king, none left of that line. Long had Annuminas had been abandoned, I knew that then even if I was loathe to admit it. My watch was ended."

Elrond was silent at that, but Mithrandir's eyes grew very soft suddenly, a little smile appearing. "It seems, at last, we understand the reason of your return, Aeliniel." He leaned forward and she watched him, confused all the more. "A chieftain of the Dunedain, he is of the Line of Elendil and so he is an heir to the throne of Gondor and your Annuminas."

Amera's eyes slowly widened and she stared, fingers faintly trembling around her glass. She blinked and her expression grew nearly hungry, tinged with confusion and desperation, but also touched with hope.

Mithrandir smiled at her. "You have a king, Amera."