AN: I made a few changes, the largest was the name of the House in which Daerwen belonged to. I didn't like it, thus I changed it.

I heard Men and Dwarves, even some of the Elves, begin to murmur there decent at my unveiling. If my hairstyle, nine warrior braids decorated with metal and jewels, did not reveal my sex, then my face surely did. My skin was pale; a Harad I met once said my skin was the color of ivory. Strong brows rested over pale grey eyes. High cheekbones and a long, aquiline nose led to full pale pink lips. Where it not for my hair, I look exactly like one of Numenorian blood. My hair, for which I am renowned among my people, is like flames. Riotous curls the color of fire would surround my face in a halo were it not for the braids that tamed them.

Angered whispers grew in volume. Lord Elrond's voice cut through the chatter. "So be it. You shall be the Fellowship of the Ring."

Silence descended on the council. Beside me I heard one of the hobbits, the one called 'Pip', fidget. "Great! Where are we going?"

The look on Lord Elrond's face will be engraved on my mind forever. Behind me I heard Gandalf's soft chuckles. Turning, he gave me the barest of winks. Gandalf pushed through the line of hobbits before him and made towards Lord Elrond. Passing me, he squeezed my hand. "I think Lord Elrond," began Gandalf, "that it would be best if we begin without delay. However, that should start with the Fellowship becoming a fellowship."

Lord Elrond gave him a slight smile. "I too think that would be best. Please, relax. There shall be a feast at sunset in your honor."

Around me the various races began reforming their ranks. The Men grabbed Boromir's arm and drew him away. Gimli stepped away from Legolas and joined his companions. Legolas nodded at Aragorn and Gandalf before turning and joining the Elves of Mirkwood and Imladris. Ignoring the pointed glares in my direction, I turned and faced the four hobbits to my right.

"Good morrow, Master Hobbits," I greeted. "I have heard many praises of you and your kind."

"Gentlemen, this is Lady Daerwen Barathon," Aragorn said, gently brushing his hand along his cheek with a worried gaze directed at me. The hobbits jumped, just remembering that he and Gandalf still stood behind them. I tried to keep my face smooth, but could feel the corners of my lips pulling up. I glanced at Aragorn with a slight shake of my head.

Frodo gave me a timid smile. "It is good to meet you, my Lady." A chorus of 'ayes' reached my ears.

"I am Meriadoc Brandybuck, my Lady. Though you may call me Merry; most everyone does. This here is Peregrine Took, but he prefers—"

"Pippin, my Lady."

"As I was saying," Merry shot Pippin a disgruntled glance, "and over there is Samwise Gamgee."

"Hello, my Lady." Samwise gave me a nervous smile which I returned in full. At this his eyes widened and his cheeks reddened. The movement caused the cut from Gimli's axe to open, and I felt a drop of blood rolling down my cheek. Samwise hurriedly shoved his handkerchief into my face. "Oh, my Lady, what happened to you face?"

"It's nothing, just a scratch," I said with a smile, "but I thank you for your concern." I softly dabbed at my cheek until the blood clotted. "If you do not mind, Master Gamgee, I will return this to you tonight, clean."

"It's no problem at all, my Lady. And, please, my Lady, you may call me Sam."

"Then you must call me Daerwen." Sam's blush grew, making his cheeks appear as rosy as tomatoes. Behind me, I heard my mother softly clear her throat. Half turning, I made room for my mother in the conversation.

"May I introduce my mother, Lady Elda Barathon." My mother gave the halflings a bow which they returned. As she straightened, I saw her smile and the hobbits' nervousness disappeared. When my mother smiled all of her grandiose was erased from her face. The years of battle and hardship vanished turning her into a comforting older woman with laugh lines prominently covering her face.

"Forgive me, young Masters, but I must take my daughter from your company for but a while," Elda said. "I bid you tidings for it is a long journey back to our lands and I must return quickly, thus our greetings must be farewells, as well. May the blessing of the Valar be with you." My mother stepped towards Aragorn, placing her hand over her heart and bowed. "Be safe. Be wise, and know the blessings of your kin are with you, Dúnadan." Aragorn and my mother embraced quickly, with my mother kissing his brow.

"Come, Daerwen." I bowed to the hobbits before turning and following my mother towards her rooms. As we passed the dwarves, I touched my mother's arm and veered off towards Gimli.

"Excuse me, Master Dwarves, for interrupting; however, I believe this belongs to you, Master Gimli," I said. As I handed over the axe fragment, Gimli turned red from embarrassment.

He cleared his throat before gruffly apologizing. Saying my farewells, I returned to my mother's side. As we left the company of the menfolk, my mother's shoulders sagged. We found are way to her room quickly where I leant against the closed door. Silence reigned. I stood watching my mother. Her shoulders were curved forward, her back slumped. The long years of her life seemed to grip her very soul in dark fingers.

Moving from the door, I sat on the bed next to her. I turned over her hand and rested my palm against hers. In all the years of my life, never before had I seen her so tired. Gently, she gripped my hand and placed a kiss upon my brow. "I wish that I had more time with you, ai' runya."

"I do not know if I shall return to the North, but we shall meet again; if not in this life, then the next."

"My time is coming to an end, Daerwen," my mother began. I started at her words.

"You still have many more years left, surely. You are strong—"

"Hush, child." My mother stood and went to her packs. She pulled a bundle of oiled leather from within and laid it next to me. "I believe that your father would have wanted you to have these on your journey."

As she spoke, I felt my eyes widen in shock. Reverently, I untied the package. Inside lay two curved daggers. The blades, I knew, were etched with runes reading 'Flame of the North' on one and 'Light of the West' on the other. From tip to hilt the blades were the length of my forearm and hand. The hilt was wrapped in leather up to a pointed pommel. The sheaths were plain dark leather, buffed by years of use. Many times when I was a young girl, I had seen my father strap on these blades and head off into the wilderness.

I felt tears well up in my eyes. "It has been a long time since I saw these," I murmured. The last time I had seen these blades, they were strapped to my father's sides as he rode south with Aragorn. I had not seen my sixth winter.

I forced memories back into the recesses of my mind; now was not the time to dwell in the past. The bed dipped next to me. Turning around, I saw that my mother's eyes were wet as well. "I am proud of you, Daerwen."

"Mela lle, Naneth."

"Mela lle, ai' runya."

That afternoon I watched my mother depart from Rivendell with her guard. I stood in the courtyard until the sky was turning purple and gold.

"You will see her again, Daerwen." Aragorn slowly walked up behind me and turned me around. "She will see brighter days."

"My head says that is true; she is strong. But my heart tells me that this will be the last I see of her." Aragorn wrapped his arms around me and I tucked my chin over his shoulder. "She will not outlast this war."

Arm in arm, Aragorn and I walked to the pavilion where the feast was being held.