Chapter 9: The Call for Arms

The company of four took a week before they finally arrived back at Imladris. Vanille was sprinting by the time she took sight of the gate, eager to come back home with a good bed, soft pillow, and probably hibernate for a good two days. It had been a memory the last time she really did this much outing. Her body was exhausted and completely surprised at the long walk. Her feet collapsed at it reached the opening. Glorfindel was at his horse, about to leave when he noticed a bright shade of pink sitting on the grass beside Asfaloth.

"Well met Lady Vanille!" the elven warrior greeted, clearly pleased to see the young woman well and unharmed. "I trust you aren't the only one who will arrive here?"

Vanille could only nod, catching her breath.

A moment later, the two elves and Fang arrived. "Hey!" Fang nodded at Glorfindel.

"Well met as well lady Fang," Glorfindel bowed.

"Any news from Imladris?" Elladan inquired.

Glorfindel was silent before carefully replying, "It would do in better if Lord Elrond would relay it." His voice was grave and he bowed his head lower. "These are indeed dark times," he sighed and looked determined, "Still, I have my own duty to do young lords that needs immediate attention. Farewell thee well, lords and ladies." He spoke to Asfaloth and off they sped and disappeared.

"What could have happened?" Vanille voiced what everyone was thinking.

They were greeted upon arrival, though they made the formalities short. Elrond was not present, prompting the twins that the news is more serious than they expected. They decided to make a quick wash up and immediately proceed to Lord Elrond's study after.

Back in her room, Vanille quickly put off her weapon and stripped down her clothes to wash the grime and dirt more quickly from her body with the towels the elves prepared. She tossed her pink battle gear at the nearest basket and quickly donned back to the regular elvish dress. She raised her skirt to run more freely, and with her pigtails gone, she dashed straight to Elrond's study.

The room was one of the largest in Imladris, and among that possessed the grandest of murals. Shelves donned most of the space and it was all filled with books, scrolls and artifacts mortals would spend lifetime to read and never finish. There was a large window on the wall nearest outside of the garden of Imladris at it was there where the biggest table was placed. Elrond sat behind it, his stance bent and grave.

Fang never saw the elf lord in this state, which to her is anything but good. He was the stronghold of this place and his mere short of will could never be good on his land. She unconsciously gripped her spear tighter. What exactly happened?

"Ada, what news fell from Imladris?" Elladan asked when the four of them were at his father's study. They were all seated in a circular plan, Vanille close to Fang and the twins on each side of Elrond.

"A messenger came," Elrond said, beckoning for his visitor. From his side Vanille and Fang only noticed now the faint dark green shadow moved and stood in front of the four. It was an Elleth clothed in dark green robes, a bit tattered at the end probably because of her journey. Her hair was gold unlike the residents of Imladris. She bowed in greeting.

"Well met, Allinor," Elladan greeted in Sindarin.

"Well met Lord Elladan, Lord Elrohir," she replied in even tone.

Vanille and Fang kept silent, concentrating hard at the simple conversation that happened. Fortunately, the two had enough gist of the language to recognize the simple greetings.

"What are the tides of Lothlorien to send you of all messengers?" Elladan asked, his tone serious, for Allinor was the swiftest of all messengers on Lothlorien, and bearer most of ill tidings that must be relayed as quick.

"What did he say?" Fang asked at Elrohir.

"He asked why Lothlorien sent her of all the elves," he replied. "This is not good. Allinor is a daughter of the higher lords in Lothlorien. She rarely goes her trade for fear of her safety. Her very presence here…"

"Is like some omen of death?" Fang said, guessing much how Elrohir would end his sentence.

Allinor recited her message, never blinking and pausing for a second. Elrond's head was kept low. It contained a mere three sentences, and all three short and brief. Fang however didn't understand a word. Vanille only caught a few words. Allinor's accent was very different from the elves of Imladris and even her sentence formation sounded bizarre to Vanille.

The room was silent when Allinor finished reciting her message. Elrohir's face was hidden in his hair.

"What's wrong?" Vanille asked the million gil question for her and Fang.

"The Fellowship passed Lothlorien. Mithrandir is not with them. He fell in the hands of a Balrog in Moria."

Elladan frowned deeply as Elrohir translated the message. "These are grave tidings indeed."

"A Balrog is a beast from Morgoth, clothed in dark flame and magic," Elrond explained at the confused face of Fang. "It is good tidings they were even alive. Mithrandir however–"

Vanille gasped. "You mean… Mithrandir is dead?"

The silence answered her question.

"Tea, dear?"

"No thank you, Mister Bilbo," Vanille replied back, "I'm not hungry."

"Still upset about Gandalf?" Bilbo offered gently. "Oh child…"

Bilbo limped his way to Vanille's side and embraced her in a grandfather way. Vanille quivered at the touched and sobbed. It was too much. Vanille felt one of the connections to her old life was cut. Her conversations with Gandalf, though always vague, always reminded her of home in a not so sad way. Reminiscing of Oerba and Cocoon felt peaceful and reconciling with the old wizard. His last words even comforted her, given her strength to carry on.

"He was a good old friend," Bilbo narrated, "he was the one who led me to my first adventure. It was well and good with him company… I miss him too." He smiled encouragingly. "But child, you shouldn't let those tears fall so much. My lad Frodo is still alive, the company is well. Not all are lost."

"You're right," Vanille complied. She sniffled before calming down.

"Now, how about hearing this nice little poem I made when you two young ladies left," he headed back to his table and gathered a number of papers. "This one is about Smaug."

He started narrating his piece. Vanille only half-listened on her part, with Bilbo's voice becoming a steady and good hold of reality if ever her thoughts stray too far. After two hours of recitation, Vanille snapped back into her thoughts when silence settled in the hobbit's room. She looked up and saw Bilbo asleep, his head hung low and his piece gripped rather loosely on his right hand. He looked so much like a peaceful sight that Vanille for a moment forgot the world and the time passing. Bilbo looked so peaceful and content. He seemed very much reconciled on Gandalf's death, no matter how much sadness was in his eyes whenever the wizard's name is mentioned.

If Bilbo moved on, why couldn't she then? Vanille closed her eyes and made her prayer stance. She should try to be at peace as well. It wouldn't do any good being depressed besides getting your L'Cie mark speeding up to open its eyes. Vanille quietly slipped away from the old hobbit's room. It had been a tiring day. Maybe a good rest and an early sleep are good for her brimming anxiety. She followed Bilbo's act and proceeded to go back to her own room.

When she did finally arrived at her own quarters, she was more than surprised when she saw Elrohir sitting at her chair, the one nearest to the window. He was dressed similar to his father's robes, something Vanille never saw before, apart from when she saw him earlier in Elrond's study.

After all, the Ellon was always garbed in either the warrior's clothes or traveler's vestments. Most of the elves here are, except for Elrond and his council. Looking at Elrohir in his costume now was like looking at a past Elrond, younger in eyes of experience. Vanille never noticed, until now, but the twins looked so much like their father.

"Lady Vanille, I have been meaning to ask you about matters," Elrohir said, standing up and offering the seat he occupied a while ago. When Vanille didn't budge nor replied he continued. "Your dream last week – that is what I wish to speak of."

"Oh, yes, about that," Vanille replied uneasily, looking away and fidgeting her hands, "It's nothing really. Just a dream, like you said."

"It doesn't seem that way," Elrohir frowned. "Your eyes betrayed you Lady Vanille. They showed fear."

Before Vanille could answer, a pair of loud footsteps echoed. "Vanille? Are you in there?" the two were stunned as the voice came nearer and the owner finally entered Vanille's room.

When Fang entered, her eyes were immediately greeted at the sight of the two standing at opposite corners and as though there wouldn't be any time they would go near each other in two feet radius.

She crossed her arms and turned to Vanille by the doorway. "Ok, what in Atmos's name is going on here?" then she looked hard on Elrohir. "And what are you doing inside Vanille's room?"

A long painful silence followed. Vanille wanted to disappear right this instant. This is so bad. If Elrohir would even dare open his mouth, all hell will break loose and Vanille would find herself the next second on top of Bahamut's back riding to Mount Doom. Should Elrohir even mention the word 'Focus' and 'Fal'Cie' in front of Fang, her friend might make all the connections Vanille carelessly planted.

What if Fang demanded Vanille to 'cast' Cure? She could never fake it, with her power already brimming. Fang would surely know is she was faking or not and she would eventually know the truth.

"Lady Fang, I have been meaning to ask Lady Vanille about matters she does not want to disclose," Elrohir explained, his voice steady and serious. "And if she wouldn't answer me, then perhaps you would enlighten me more."

"About what?" Fang asked, her attention completely now at him.

"It's about her–"

"Wait!" Vanille screamed, drowning Elrohir's voice. "Please! Yes, I'll answer you. Just…" she lost her voice, completely without any words to convey what she wanted only Elrohir to hear and certainly within a thousand miles away from Fang's presence. She was already on her knees, something she didn't notice until now.

Her voice's echo settled and turned into a dead silence, and the two were all exchanging glances at each other and back to the newcomer, gauging the situation in each perspective, Vanille desperate to keep secret, and Elrohir keen to finding out the truth.

After a whole excruciating minute for Vanille, Fang suddenly burst out laughing. "Ok, what? I seriously have no idea what you guys are talking about." She turned her whole attention to Elrohir. "Since missy here have every intention to stop you from asking, I'll ask you. What were you saying again?"

Elrohir spared another quick glance at Vanille and almost regretted it. She was in near tears and completely looked desperate. This is not what he was planning for. "I…" he sighed heavily. He made a silent prayer to Manwe no word he will utter now will go outside this room. He looked at Fang seriously and continued. "I want to ask Lady Vanille permission to court her."

Another dead silence. Vanille was already considering casting Death upon herself. That is definitely not what she is asking for. That is exactly like spinning lies more than a spider could even weave in a web. Fang was already looking at her, her face Vanille did not even dare describe. "And?" Fang pressed.

"And what?" Vanille retaliated back, her voice unnaturally high and gone at the last syllable.

Fang shrugged, not getting any of Vanille's defensive signals. "You don't need to murder my ears missy. He just asked you. You could calmly say no." She looked apologetically at Elrohir. "I'm sorry, but Vanille here was never asked on a date before. You're the first one who asked her, so be gentle."

Elrohir was considering jumping outside the window as a means of escape from this whole fiasco. He was never good at coming up the best lies. His brother does that. Back then, Elladan would make the story. Elrohir would just be at the side, making the story come 'true'. Why is Vanille even that desperate to keep the secret from her friend? Elrohir paused to reconsider. Lady Fang was the only one Vanille truly has as the last connection to her world so it was highly irrational to distance herself from Fang. What kind of information did he exactly possess?

He didn't have much time to reflect on his options since Fang was staring him down like what his mother did before when he was just a young Ellon caught stealing one of the ponies in the stables. What was he about to do again? Courting, right…

A thousand years of life and experience and Elrohir for his life never truly asked an Elleth before. Their elvish practice involves simply of gatherings with elves, intimate conversation with your dance partner that caught your eye, asking her father or guardian for permission, plighting of troth, then marriage. There is no step involving of asking the Elleth first, let alone asking her anything. For elves, it was always a shared understanding. Few that did not mostly end in tragedies.

Elrohir bit his lip hard. Courting was something he learned during his travels with the Dunadain. He recounted hard on the proceedings. It was a very faint memory and certainly forgettable.

"Well?" Fang drained the silence. "Do I have to go outside?"

"Please?" Vanille piped, getting her voice back. "This is sort of…"

Fang scoffed. "Fine, go get your fairytale. I'll be in my room when you need ol' Fang." She walked toward the door. "Wake me when dinner's ready, all right missy?"

Vanille dumbly nodded. "All right. See you at dinner."

The two followed Fang's footsteps as it descended until its echo was definitely out of both Vanille and Elrohir's earshot. When they were quite sure no one is listening for them again, both let out a heavy sigh of relief they weren't even aware of earlier. Vanille completely slumped to the floor and brought her hand to her face. "This is awful. Of all things you said, it has to be that."

Elrohir bowed apologetically. "Forgive me; it was the spur of the moment. I'm afraid I was never good at weaving lies. My brother excels at that. Still," he looked thoughtful, "it proves to be the most sensible since Lady Fang considered it without a second thought. Do mortal women always cry when she is asked?"

Vanille stared at Elrohir like he somehow grew another head. "What are you talking about? Our conversation is anything but courting."

Elrohir nodded understandably. "I see, yet Lady Fang accepted it. Is it then you always act so towards similar issues?"

Vanille frowned. "I don't!" she replied defensively.

Elrohir studied her face and sighed. "You are an open book."

"What?"

He pointed at her eyes, bending down to her level to meet hers. "They change when you are anxious and they are anything but calm when the truth is held back. Tell me, why do you intend to keep what I ask away from Lady Fang? Why do you opt to run away?"

Run away… Elrohir couldn't have put a better word to pierce Vanille's heart. She bowed her head and let her bangs cover her face, away from anyone's sight, away from this elf to see. "Why? Why do you keep asking why? Do you have to know?" she brought her knees closer to her face and hugged them tight. "You can't help. No one can. It wouldn't matter if I told you or not." She took a quick look at Elrohir determined. "I'm tired. Please let me sleep."

Elrohir didn't want to admit it, but he never felt so frustrated in the last hundred years. He risked making a big lie in front Imladris through Fang and still Vanille doesn't trust him. He stood up. "As you wish Lady Vanille. Fare thee well until dinner."

"Fare thee well, Elrohir," Vanille replied quietly as she watched another friend go out. As the door closed, her body collapsed at the wooden floor without any plans to go back to the soft pillow and bed.

That dinner…

It was a dead silent throughout the meal. Arwen was beside her father and quietly ate. Fang sat at the other side and idly played with her food a bit before putting it to her mouth. Vanille sat beside her, concentrating seriously at the vegetable in front of her. Erestor was at the opposite side of Arwen, conversing silently and sparingly with Elrond. He made a few curious glances at the two women's curious antics, Vanille with her staring contest and Fang with her cat and mouse. Elladan was watching his brother intently. He couldn't put the right words now but his brother was acting a bit… different. Too stiff, or somewhere along those lines; he was figuring it out all the while. Elrohir sat opposite to him, mechanically eating what is on his plate at the moment. Beside him sat Bilbo, falling asleep at the middle of the course. It would have been a surprising thing for a hobbit to fall asleep during eating but Bilbo was a very old hobbit, too old even for his race. He was sleeping most of the time now and he looked more bent with age.

When it ended, everyone quietly left with a silent good night.

It was, after all, still during the mourning for their old friend.

Fang slipped quietly out of her room, out of the open window and jumped down. She landed with a soft thump on the garden's grass and did a quick look at her surroundings if anyone spotted her yet. She picked her spear up and began to walk toward the nearest wall. She disappeared behind the trees, climbing one of the branches and sticking her spear to the wall's small cracks. She swung herself and with a quick leap and a high jump, she was out.

Sensing freedom outside the protective walls, she took off with the wind.

She didn't bother deciding which path to take. She didn't need any of them anyway. After all, what mattered tonight is to simply get away. She dodged each oncoming trees and jumped high over the lower branches. The simple act reminded her much of her heritage, what she was born for, a dragoon by blood, a proud race that claimed the blood of the legendary Kain Highwind. Heck, she even named her spear after him.

The Yun clan… Oerba Yun Fang… she gripped her spear tighter and ran faster. In truth, she was never the fastest, but the wind is always in her favor and always there to catch her breath. Her sprint took about an hour and took her feet to the cliff she summoned Bahamut when they went to Bree. Her head met the sky and she found herself watching the stars, hypnotized at the silent comfort it's giving her. What anxiety she's feeling now to distinguish the comfort she is feeling now, she was still figuring it out.

That was the only reason, really, apart from her reckless impulse to just took off. She is starting to miss the wind beneath her feet anyway. What was she anxious about now? Everything is all right now. Sure she still hasn't gotten over being a complete human but…

"What's wrong with me now?" she said frustratingly to no one in particular. She was getting tired feeling helpless. What's worse, this one seemed it doesn't even have a reason. She was just fretting like some sissy. Something is wrong, something is missing, something isn't fitting what it wants to fit, something… something is about to go bad, really bad – like Ragnarok bad.

She found herself touching her right arm and looking at her dormant L'Cie mark.

"You're always there, even if everything moved on," she muttered. She closed her eyes and muttered a mute Calling. Bahamut appeared and wrapped its gigantic wings around her. She opened her eyes and muttered a mute Sending. Bahamut disappeared. The cold wind immediately whipped her skin. "Sorry big guy," she apologized to her last companion, "just wanted to check if everything's all right."

In truth, Fang wanted shout to the heavens.

At Bahamut's wake, she somehow got a funny feeling what she was worried about. And somehow she was not so much surprised it had to do with her certain redhead friend.

Erestor was strolling along Imladris' corridors, unable to sleep tonight. He was at his second round when he spotted Arwen sitting at a bench, caressing a white flower in her hand. She was already in her nightgown and no jewelry was present in her body. She was probably about to go to sleep. Only, she seemed not to move away from her position anytime soon. Erestor decided to approach the Elleth.

"Well met Undomiel," Erestor greeted.

Arwen looked up and smiled warmly at her old teacher. "Well met Lord Erestor. What brings my patient teacher here?"

"I was about to ask you as well," he replied, "As for me, I cannot sleep."

Arwen twirled the white flower, "As for me as well."

"Do you worry for Estel?"

"Always," Arwen replied, closing her eyes and holding the bud nearer to her, "And I find myself in deeper worry recently. To feel such sorrow," she paused, taking a breath to not let her tears fall so soon, "They only started the journey and a Balrog already hindered their way. I could not… I could not imagine what other terror and hardship the Fellowship shall face." She faced her teacher and let the tears flow now, "But on Estel, Lord Erestor, my heart is troubled more so on Master Frodo. His burden is great, a thousand fold than the others."

Erestor embraced her tight and hung his head low. Arwen was right, and everything hung in such balance. Everyone here in Imladris could only wait and strain ears for any news and rumors that could fly abroad. "These are dark times indeed, my lady. And for this teacher's wisdom, I could not give our Evenstar comfort."

Arwen sighed and leaned to his embrace. "None could give. But you to be here is enough. Thank you Lord Erestor."

"Always Undomiel. Always."

Elrohir was at the front garden that night. He let his feet carry him to wherever part of the Imladris, mostly occupied to his thoughts. Most of it was mourning for Gandalf, reminiscing his childhood years with the wizard. Of the brothers, Mithrandir spend time with him more, telling stories of the Old Age, and each memory was always filled with childhood wonder. Mithrandir awoke the scholar in him, and eventually followed his studies with Lord Erestor. And although he was a skilled warrior as well, Elladan is greater than him – learning his greater years with Lord Glorfindel instead of Lord Erestor – and a better battle tactician. It was one of the very few qualities that distinguished him from his brother. At least, that's what he sees.

He thought about Celebrian, his mother, his most beloved and fairest to his eyes. All his memories to her were always of happiness, her smile never faltering, and her love always gentle… Elrohir stopped the train of thought. He didn't want to continue relieving the memories. It wouldn't end well. Of all things Elrohir hated ever since he was but a mere elf-ling is a sad ending.

He continued to walk. Soon, his path led him to meet someone. His brother Elladan was standing still at a corner, his eyes fixed upon a scene before him. "Well met brother," Elrohir said, bringing his presence known to Elladan.

Elladan blinked in surprise before turning toward him. "Well met indeed Elrohir," he replied. He smiled and bit his lip. "Have you been here for a while?"

Elrohir shook his head. "However, your attention is fixed upon a sight. What does your eyes took interest?"

"Our sister," Elladan answered, beckoning for Elrohir to come over. "And our teacher, Lord Erestor. It is a treasured sight." Elladan looked away and turned to him. "But now, let us give them privacy. I shall turn my interest to you know, my brother. What thoughts are in your mind?"

"I'm afraid I do not know what you exactly ask," Elrohir replied, frowning to find the right words, "Mostly of Mithrandir and his memories with me, our Amme Celebrian, you…"

"And Lady Vanille?"

Elrohir sighed. "No brother, not her. In truth, I do not want to delve into thoughts concerning her," he glanced at the direction of where Vanille's room stood and looked back at Elladan frustratingly. "Friendship requires trust, does it not?"

Elladan raised a brow, not know where his brother is getting at. "True."

"Do you consider your allies friends if they are not to be trusted?"

Elladan frowned. "I would not consider anyone an ally if I do not trust him," he replied. "What is wrong, Elrohir? Does Vanille not trustworthy?"

Elrohir looked at his brother long and hard before turning away. "No. But, it seems our friendship with Lady Vanille does not amount to give us enough trust."

"Is it?" Elladan looked thoughtful. "Is that what troubles you since dinner?"

Elrohir smiled bitterly. "I could not hide secrets from you, can I my brother? But no, that is not what troubles me." He paced a few steps, gathering words to best express the situation. "I would have understood should she not disclose it to me. After all, I am not her closest friend. It is when she refused as well to disclose any information to Lady Fang that caught my concern. She keeps a very deep secret and its nature reveals for me as dark and foreboding."

"How so Elrohir?"

"Secrets do not let its keeper down to her knees," Elrohir answered, "bar it goes ill to its keeper."

Elladan turned seriously to his brother and carefully searched his face. "I see in your eyes you caught a glimpse of her secret."

"Brother, I believe…" he paused, then continued, "I believe I already know, only that I lack the word's meaning to fully comprehend it." He frowned and looked deep in thought, "But should I trust the sight given to me, even if it is weaker than our sister's, I fear it concerns great power and the dark forces."

The brothers remained silent throughout the night, before settling to sleep.

Three days passed and on that fourth night Elrond found his self strolling outside Imladris and walking along the forest path, treading on the soiled path but eventually straying away. The elves' singing occupied the air most of the time and Elrond relived of old memories, war and peace alike. Back when he was a young Ellon, serving under Gil-galad. He remembered his skirmishes and battles, his founding of Imladris as the Homely House, and his start of family with Celebrian. He felt himself smile at her memory, her golden hair much likened to her mother Galadriel, her smile sweet and light, and her passion strong as her father Celeborn. It was the most beautiful centuries Elrond cherished, besides his last years with his own brother Elros. He remembered Celebrian being strong beside him, especially when she was about to give birth to their twins. Labor for the elves were more dangerous compared to Men, and their exhaustion causes much life extinguished in them. Celebrian's spirit held stubbornly, refusing to give up, wanting to raise her own children.

When she conceived Arwen, her labor was greater. Still, she lived on and during those years when their family was complete Elrond felt what his brother Elros felt and why he chose the mortal life instead of claiming his elvish blood. Children. Elros wanted to have many children and his line to continue in hundreds of generation to follow. What Celebrian gave to him, Elrond could never thank her enough to give him this much joy.

And he loved Arwen deeply. He remembered the years when time is idle and he and Celebrian would simply watch Arwen dance, sing, and ran on Imladris, flowers following her path. Celebrian would laugh at her daughter's sight riding on her first horse and insisting to try Asfaloth.

Elrond continued his walk and soon found himself out of the forest clearing and looking directly at the sitting Fang watching the stars intently. A campfire was built and he could make out more ashes and burnt wood scattered around, indicating she had been doing this for the past couple of days.

Fang might have noticed his presence since she turned around and looked very surprised to see of all elves, it was Lord Elrond himself.

Fang didn't know sure what to make of it. For one, and she was quite sure of this, no one noticed her escapades. Two, if someone would, she bet either of the twins would found out. Three, it might be Vanille as well. Four, either Boromir or Legolas would spot him. Besides not considering her last option is far from possible, she certainly wasn't expecting him. "Uh… good evening?"

Elrond smiled and made a little bow of acknowledgement, "Well met at this night as well, Lady Fang." He walked toward her and joined in to watch the stars. "Are you alone in this detour?"

Fang shrugged. "Pretty much. Didn't expect any company anyway." She scratched her head, feeling a little awkward. "No offense King-lord, but what made you come here?" she asked, picking her words a bit more careful, opting for that question instead of the normal 'What the hell are you doing here?'

"Nothing of particular, my lady," he replied. "And I am no king of any land. I renounced that title before it was even given to me."

Fang smiled at the subtle humility Elrond showed. She relaxed a bit more and stretched her arms, "Well, you pretty much are now since you run this place and all." She laughed suddenly, "You know, you're all right. When those creases in your head disappear, you could really pass as the twin's older brother." She shook her head, "Man, I still can't believe you guys are really a thousand years old. Doesn't life ever get boring?"

"When you are with you loved ones, it is not so."

"Yeah, you're probably right. You're still here not going crazy after all," Fang considered. "Lord Elrond – Is that all right for your title? – do you think me and Vanille will be able to go back home? Arwen said you know more things than her, living literally a lot more than her."

Elrond studied Fang's face before answering, "Does your heart still yearn for the distant land?"

She looked thoughtful and frowned a little. "Now that I've been for a while… I guess it's all right to stay after all. Home's home wherever it is," she grinned, "as long as I have Vanille around. I'll surely miss Gran Pulse though, and I'll probably won't see Lightning and the others but," her grin softened and turned into a sad smile, "I can't hold on to the past forever, I know that. I'll break if I don't move on."

Elrond smiled warmly at her. "It is good my daughter's words healed you lady Fang."

"Yeah, let her know, will you? So, do you think we'll be able to go back home?"

"The world is older than me, lady Fang. And although I could not think of a way, it is no indication there is no hope of going back."

Fang went silent, contemplating on his words and looking at him at the same time. His brow wasn't knitted together and he was staring at the stars, probably reminiscing something, although Fang for the life of her could not think of anything what the elf lord could possibly be thinking. He looked… peaceful. Fang grinned inwardly at the sight. "Has anyone told you you're handsome? Beautiful?" He looked back at her, surprised at the change of subject. Fang laughed at his blank reaction. "Arwen takes after you, except her eyes. They're different. Got any blood of the fairest maiden or something?"

Elrond laughed at the question, becoming more comfortable at his guest's company. "Now I see what you and lady Vanille share, childlike curiosity."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Eagerness to know," he answered. "My mother is Elwing, who is the daughter of Dior, who is the son of Luthien, daughter of Melian the Maia and High King Thingol."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

Elrond smiled a bit, "It is known in our history Luthien was the fairest child of all children of Illuvatar. And disregarding a father's pride, Imladris' Evenstar is said to have Luthien's beauty and known as the fairest child in her Age."

Fang didn't need a history book to understand Elrond was talking about Arwen. She was, after all, Beauty Incarnate.

The two continued watching the stars until Fang was sure the early dawn is coming. She stood up and dusted any dust on her Pulsian clothes. Elrond followed suit. Together, they opted to walk back to the main trail and finally arrived at the gates of Imladris.

Five days passed.

Allinor was midway on her journey back to Lothlorien when she stopped as she spotted Thandilien, another messenger from Lothlorien sped on the way to Imladris.

"What news befell of Lothlorien to send two messengers on the span of weeks?" Allinor said, getting off her horse to greet her fellow elf.

Thandilien, upon noticing her presence, stopped and bowed low, "Well met Lady Allinor. Lothlorien most sees it fit to bring away mourning at times it should now be needed." He smiled and laughed jovially, "Mithrandir is alive!"

And Allinor, always somber on her nature and left hope after many of her friends left to Valinor, smiled genuinely for the first time and joined in the laughter. "Let wind take haste on your feet, Thandilien! You bear things more great than tidings; it is faith and hope that you most carry!"

Thandilien was shouting by the time he arrived at the gates of Imladris. And on his words were only of three things, "Mithrandir is alive!"

"Dunadains of the South, our kin and beloved friend, Aragorn son of Arathorn, calls for our aid. Battle awaits on his quest and more arms are needed," Halbarad said, taking position as leader to his men. "The Lady Galadriel of Lothlorien sent his messenger more than a message of great tidings on Mithrandir's part, but the hope we wish to keep aflame. We should be there when Gondor calls for aid! Our once beloved land will not be sundered again!"

Loud cheers erupted from the Rangers and thirty were called to arms, including Halbarad as their working leader. They were quick to dissolve in groups to prepare for the coming long journey. Food, water, clothing, swords, and horses were gathered.

And along with them, the sons of Elrond made their preparations as well to fight alongside the Rangers.

Arwen ran as fast as her feet could carry her towards her father's study. She quickly knocked at her father's door before she was admitted. She was greeted at the sight of her father conversing with Erestor and the new messenger Thandilien. Elrond looked at his daughter and beckoned her to sit. "The winds change swifter than water. And only we could hold the river's momentum. The pieces are set and war will inevitably happen."

"Are there news on Aragorn?" Arwen asked Thandilien.

"Only of what Mithrandir plans to do," Thandilien replied. "He will meet with the Ranger and his company. As for his future actions, no rumors passed our ears."

"As there is then," Arwen said before she remained silent.

"There will be great numbers against each stronghold of the free people, that much is certain," Elrond said, "Gondor shall bear the deadliest blow and it there help is greatly needed. But of Rohan…"

"Rohan shall have its blow sooner and swifter," Erestor said, nodding on Elrond's concern, "Mithrandir should be swift to find the fellowship. Saruman's evil is at work and the life of that land hangs in delicate balance."

All the elves agreed. Then, Elrond looked solemnly at his daughter. "Arwen, I have looked as far as my Sight could carry me and many have been revealed before me. However, much yet is uncertain and without Lady Galadriel's help, not all we need is given."

Arwen nodded understanding her father's words. "Of course Ada. My Sight," she closed her eyes, recounting as much detail was the World had given her, "tells of Death and its path, yet it is what we hope." She looked at her father confused. "It is the strangest I have Seen. And for what, I cannot fully understand."

"I have Seen it too," Elrond nodded. "And from what you reveal my daughter, it is what I know. Our hope lies to the Paths of the Dead, the ally Aragorn must call when hope is at its smallest light."

"Is this the message you wish my brothers to bring?" Arwen asked, "To let Aragorn walk the Paths of the Dead?" As Elrond nodded to his daughter, Arwen left to leave the council to her father's hands. If this is the stake to keep hopes burning, then…

Estel to live… Hope to live.

The Rangers rallied their numbers and saddled their horses for the journey. Elladan and Elrohir were already horsed and leading the Company along with Halbarad at the front. Arwen was at her brother's side and giving them her blessings and their father's for Elrond's absence.

"The Paths of the Dead is what shall give you hope," Arwen said to Elladan. "Aragorn shall lead them to where war has conquered all hearts of losing."

"Give our Ada Elrohir and my love should we not return," Elrohir said, kissing his sister tenderly on her brow.

"You shall," Arwen replied smiling sadly, "Amme is also waiting." She back off, giving her brothers space to sped off the distance. The Rangers immediately followed, dust covering much to her knees. Their image swiftly disappeared as they hurriedly sped to Aragorn's help.

A/N: I think my chapters are getting longer. Yeah, I think that's a good sign. So what do you think guys? Good? Bad? Starting to get boring? I swear, we'll be moving to a new arc and that has more action. I wanted the girls to settle down first and resolve any fleeting attachment to Gran Pulse before going on to save another world. We can't have either of them break down at the middle of a fight, can we? So review and I might update faster.