Author's Note:

I am sincerely, deeply, truly sorry for the late update! I have no excuse, other than becoming easily distracted. I appreciate your patience (or impatience but still decided to stick with me), and I reward thee with a chapter. :)

Reviews are loved. Constructive criticism is worshiped. Please let me know what you think! As an author it is highly welcomed and we will give you cookies.

"You tell me you saw in Rohan what I forewarned you of, and yet that is not all. An ill influence stands at the side of the king and threatens his wellbeing. Indeed, your tale weaves a concern that has troubled my mind for some time. Orcs roaming the lands is no revelation, an activity that should be expected that it is. Warg-riders, however…now, that inspires many questions."

"Questions that inspire answers hardly pleasant to the ears, I am sure."

"It brings me sadness to say it, but yes. I believe so. For a long while now the legions of Mordor have tainted the wide lands. Now Sauron is gaining his full strength."

Duvaineth shook her head. "He cannot gain his full strength without the One Ring. He can only become as strong as he can without it, and he is strong enough without the Ring in his possession. The mere thought fills me with dread."

"Then you will little like what I have to say next," Gandalf said. Sighing, he continued. "Our days grow dark, mayhap worse now than before. Deny this I know you would not, for you have felt it for some time. This concerns Lord Elrond. He stood many hours with me in deep council concerning many things. But we did not come to an agreement."

"An agreement," Duvaineth echoed quietly. "An agreement to what, if I may inquire? Your story interests me."

Gandalf hesitated, an action that made the elleth uneasy. Her eyes bore into him, dark and curious. "What is it, Mithrandir?"

"You know well of the dark power and sway Sauron possesses," the Wizard began. "Weak he may be, but that does not entirely diminish his power. Our council concerned this. Sauron and his strength." His answer, though sincere, was not entirely truthful. There was something else and Duvaineth knew it. She stopped their walk and turned to him, opening her mouth to speak. But the words did not come. She did not have the strength to ask. Yet she did not need to, for one look in his eyes told her everything, and the answer she sensed they both feared to utter.

"I believe I now know what it truly entailed. It was of the One Ring, was it not, my friend?"

He nodded slowly. "It was."

"But the One Ring has been lost for yéni."

"Until now."

Duvaineth stared at him incredulously. She did not move, as if winter had come and froze her in place. "Surely not."

"I am afraid so," Gandalf said gravely. "The Ring has been founded for fifty years and right under my nose as well! Fortunately, it has been in the hands of one that is not so easily corrupted, though attached to it he became over the years."

It was not for some time that Duvaineth was able to find her voice. "Who?" she then inquired curiously.

Again, Gandalf hesitated. And then, an innocent smile broke free. "A Hobbit."

"A Hobbit!" Duvaineth exclaimed. "They should not know of such evil, Mithrandir!"

"I fear the Shadow will come to them in due time, should nothing be done. The Shire remains safe for the present, but I know not for how long before evil finds its way upon their doorstep. This is why Lord Elrond is concerned. The Ring is no longer hidden and it now rests in the hands of the former bearer's nephew. He seeks the safety of Rivendell but has not yet arrived. Even I am beginning to fear where his trail may be."

"That is discomforting news. And he bears this journey alone?"

"Not entirely," Gandalf answered. "With him is a companion, a stout-hearted Hobbit! However, so long as they remain out there they are not safe. You know what servants the Dark Lord has at his command. They actively seek the One Ring at his behest. They would drive a dark blade through him if it meant they would obtain it."

"A Morgul Blade." A look of uneasiness danced across her features. "Those are ill tidings."

"Indeed they are. You know of the Nine and their capability, the Witch-King of Angmar among them all. You know what will happen if they retrieve the Ring."

"I wish not to spend even so much as a moment on the thought."

"Yet aside from myself, you know well about them."

"All too well," Duvaineth said, her voice dry and filled with bitter disdain. "Yet do not be fooled that the Nine are his only weapon. They are not. You know this. He favors toying with the mind. That is his strongest weapon. He haunts me each day and torments me in my dreams where I feel I cannot escape."

"Let us hope that the mind of our dear Hobbit is stronger than we believe it to be."

"For all that is good in this world, Mithrandir, dearly do I hope so." They fell back into a walk. "He will need great strength if he now bears the Ring and Sauron's servants seek him. Even I struggle to repel against him, yet I do. It is a trying effort, one I hope the Ring-bearer will not have to endure."

They continued their walk together, though far they were from discussing pleasantries, sharing all that had transpired since their last meeting and Duvaineth telling the Wizard the small details she had left out, but neither spoke yet of the Elvish blade. She decided she would present it to him in the presence of Lord Elrond in a private council. She would need both of their wisdom. This continued on for another hour before Gandalf took note of the day and saw how much time had passed. "Alas, evening will be upon us in a few hours, and yet much needs to be done and spoken still," he said with a sigh. "Heed my words; rest! Your journey was long, I do not doubt. Rest for a while if you can. You look as if you could greatly use it."

Greatly strained her mind had been in weariness that Duvaineth could not remember when she had last truly slept. She nodded and agreed with the Wizard, and then parted from him. As soon as she laid her head upon her pillow, she quickly fell into a deep slumber, one that was surprisingly dreamless. Her slumber was long – though not the longest she ever slept, her time in Rohan having surpassed that – and when Duvaineth awoke she felt a peace over her she had not felt for a time now. Looking out the window, Duvaineth saw it was late; the Sun had long disappeared into the horizon and all glimmered softly under the white light of the Moon. For how long had she slept, Duvaineth wondered. She did not know, but she knew with all certainty it had not been five days!

Duvaineth turned and looked out the window above the nightstand. From where she lay, she could see the starry night quite well; unveiled and bright, the Moon's silver rays of light illuminating the valley below. As she removed herself from her bed and approached the window, she saw that the Falls of Imladris seemed to have a beautiful glimmer underneath the sky. Duvaineth soon found her mind drifting away in her thoughts. She thought about Éowyn and wondered how she fared as she dwelled in Théoden King's home, under the lustful eyes of Grima Wormtongue and his dark words. And Éomer – what of him? How well did he calm his temper and barely tamed tongue toward Grima? Duvaineth faulted him not. She could not. She admired the love the Rohír had for his home. He would speak and act freely if it meant the protection of those he loved. Yet she wondered, just how much benefit would it provide him?

Duvaineth remained like that at the window, deep in her thoughts. After a while, she turned and looked back at her bed. She was still tired and the night would not be leaving soon. If indeed she had been granted brief peace and undisturbed slumber wrought by dark dreams – an occurrence strange and worrisome, though not frequent as it once had been, but not uncommon in the house of Lord Elrond, then verily she would take advantage of it; she knew not how long the gift would last. And so Duvaineth returned to her bed and laid her head upon her pillow, and smiled as she gazed at the full crescent Moon, as a soothing wave fell over her heart and mind. No more were her fears, for they vanished into dust like one with the wind, and she drifted off into a deep slumber.

Éomer had long given up on sleep. It was late, but he was not tired. His body would not let him and his mind was awake with many thoughts. When he at last had enough of the fruitless attempts to fall asleep, he submitted to defeat and in frustration, tossed away his covers and rose from his bed. There was far too much on his mind; concerns and curiosities he could not rid himself of and he decided a walk may do him some good, though he was very doubtful of its effect. He felt as if he were on the back of Firefoot, galloping with great speed against the wind, yet with no direction or purpose. That was his mind this night; fast and whirling hard like an untamed wind.

The fresh air helped, yet heavily burdened his thoughts remained. If anything, he felt all the more restless. Soon Éomer returned to Meduseld and sat in the great hall near the burning hearth, every now and then stoking the fire. He sat quietly in a deep reverie. He thought about many things that concerned him; the Mark, his uncle, dearest Éowyn, Grima Wormtongue and his poisonous tongue. Out of them all, however, he thought about Duvaineth. He wondered if she returned to her home safely yet and how she fared. To say that she was missed would undoubtedly be an understatement. Éowyn was again alone and sad as she spent her days in the Golden Hall, tending to the gloomy affairs that were bestowed upon her. His uncle had been very disappointed to hear of her hasty departure, though some questioned it, the sneering Grima among them. Éomer himself missed her counsel and wisdom. Even Théodred had wondered about Duvaineth's whereabouts.

When Éomer briefly relayed to him in fleeting detail of what had transpired that night, Théodred had nodded. "I see. I must say it is a shame," he had said. "Her company was pleasant. I enjoyed hearing of her kin. Do you think we might see her again?"

"That I cannot say for certain," was Éomer's response. "I hope one day we will meet again. One such as her with such kindness and gratitude towards our king will always be welcomed in his home."

That was nigh over a fortnight ago. Éomer reclined back in his seat as he stared thoughtfully at the flickering flames, his fingers absentmindedly running over the armrest of the chair. The sound of faint footsteps echoing in the hall reached his ears, but he hardly focused any of his attention on it.

"Does sleep evade you as well?" enquired a soft voice. A smile spread over Éomer's lips and he turned to look at the fair and concerned face of his sister.

"Frequently it does, but fret not. I am well," he said, and then quirked an eyebrow at her. "What keeps you up at this hour?"

"Too much, I fear," Éowyn answered grimly.

Concern now etched its way into his own face, threatening to turn into a scowl. "Does Grima trouble you?"

"No, he does not. I am thankful he does not wander our uncle's home at night. Something else keeps me awake."

"Come, then," Éomer urged. "Sit with me and tell me what lays so heavily on you."

Éowyn nodded. She retrieved a nearby chair against the wall and brought it to the hearth, easing into it with a weary sigh, but she said nothing. She sat in silence, contemplating. Finally, she spoke. "The night of her departure, Duvaineth bade me follow certain words. It has been on my mind since."

Éomer leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees, his interest piqued. "What did she say to you?"

"She said…. Well, forgive me, for it has been a fortnight since she told me this and I cannot remember precisely what she said, but it is close. She said, I take my leave, but I ask that you bear no sadness for it. Carry with hope, that you will no longer feel darkness. Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars. You and your people are that star, Éowyn. Show them hope still remains. I know what she meant. Duvaineth means to encourage me to give hope to the people in Edoras and all throughout the Riddermark, mayhap even through my words or actions. It troubles me. I do not think I have the strength or the very hope in my heart to do so."

Her brother smiled benevolently. "I believe Duvaineth's words to be true. Our king sees to the safety of our people. He ensures they are well and away from harm, yet little is he able to give them hope, for he bears such a small amount of it himself. Few, if none at all, do. But you are young, my dear sister, and have wisdom. Our people may yet look to you for hope. I know it stirs somewhere within you. It is hidden. You must unveil it."

"How?" Éowyn asked quietly. "How can I do so for our people when I am uncertain of mine own hope, a light I feel that has long been burnt by darkness?"

"It is a difficult task to bear, I do not doubt," Éomer said softly. "Dark are our days, yet hope is not forever gone. Find what brings you joy, even if it may be temporary. Find it and share it to your people. Search your heart and find your hope. Remember Duvaineth! Endless was her hope though she was beset by foul trials, but it remained. Why, I do not know. How, I cannot answer. But it was there. You must do the same. You looked to Duvaineth and saw she had hope, and so it filled within your soul. If our people shall look to us and see that the Lady Éowyn, niece of the king, has hope, and they too shall have it."

Éowyn quietly weighed on his words. Her eyes were as if no light shined in them, her lips formed into a straight line. She looked up at him. "Do you believe I have the strength to do so, Éomer?"

"I believe, my dear sister, that you indeed do. With all my heart I do believe."

The days came and went. It felt like a blur to Duvaineth and soon a week passed since her return to Imladris. There was not yet word on the Hobbit and his companion, none that Duvaineth heard of, at least. Mithrandir's words were henceforth on her mind and frequently she sought the comforting seclusion of Elrond's library. And then, with no forewarning, a visitor came to Imladris. It was not so unusual a circumstance, but soon after many more arrived; three Hobbits, a Man, and an Elf. Duvaineth scarcely had the chance to see the group of companions but soon learned through Mithrandir that their anticipated guests had arrived, bringing with them more companions than he had predicted. Yet they bore also with them dire tidings, that the one in possession of the One Ring had been pursued by the Nine and had arrived suffering a wound from a Morgul Blade.

"Worry not," Mithrandir was quick to assure the elleth. "He has been healed of his grievances and now rests. He and the Ring are safe at the present."

For how long, Duvaineth wondered grimly.

Regardless, she took comfort in the Hobbit's safety. Yet, she wondered what else might transpire. Her curiosity only grew when more visitors arrived at Imladris, for this circumstance was far more circumspect. Dwarves, Elves, and a lone Man who did not even claim a horse and looked as if he had traveled very far. That evening Mithrandir approached her. "Long have been the days while we have dwelled on many troubling thoughts. We seek answers to trying questions and far do our minds take us as a heavy concern weighs on us. As you may already know, there is a small number that have come to Imladris seeking the very same as we do, and it is why Lord Elrond has thought it expedient and so chose to wright what benefit he can from it. There shall be a council, one where we will come together and unweigh our worries and seek a decision of what shall be done against Sauron's growing threat. Many are welcome to attend if they so desire, you among them, and I believe your presence during the council would be most valuable."

"I thank you for your consideration, my friend," Duvaineth said, "though hardly is it any desire of mine. Nor do I believe my seat would hold any value in assisting the purpose of this council."

"Oh, quite the contrary," Gandalf corrected her. "It was Lord Elrond who suggested you as a guest to the council. I but merely agreed. Your presence would be of great assistance to the assembly of peoples so that they may gather a fuller understanding"

Duvaineth hesitated. What darkness would then come upon her? She knew what fruit the council would bear. And the very presence of Sauron would be before her. What would it do? Would she be able to withstand it? Duvaineth looked at him from the corner of her eye. He hardly appeared affected by their discussion and when he looked at her, though she felt a sense of foreboding, she could not help but feel amused at the unperturbed expression on his face. "My presence would mean little. I would only listen and observe what needs to be said. I would have nothing to say."

"Save for what you have told me and what knowledge you possess. The choice is yours. Lord Elrond will not force you, but he will welcome your presence all the same."

Duvaineth remained silent. The only sound that could be heard was the echoes of their footsteps in the empty hall. The elleth dwelled heavily on the Wizard's words and her own discomfort on the matter. At length, she spoke. "Very well. If it is the will of Lord Elrond, even if but a request of his, then I will come. If I may at all assist in the war against Sauron, then gladly I will."

"Good, then." Gandalf nodded firmly. "Lord Elrond will be pleased. I know it brings you little joy to hear that which concerns the Dark Lord, and even less desirable are the thoughts I know that plagues your heart." He regarded her with tender eyes, his features glowing warmth; a grandfatherly look that soothed away the troubles of her heart. "And I hope it shall be brief at the council that you must hear these unpleasant, and perchance dark, tales and tidings. Such should not even be uttered in Imladris, for oppressive they are to those who seek peace. But great is the matter that all must hear these things. Rest well tonight, Duvaineth, for come a matter of a couple of days there will be feast in the honor of our guest's recovery. Your presence would be welcomed!"

Duvaineth could not argue with the Wizard, for when she returned to her chambers that night, she felt exceptionally tired. However, before she could think about retiring to bed, her eyes fell on the nightstand at her bedside. A lit candle sat there, the fire burning dimly. Next to it lay a folded piece of paper with her name written in a neat, bold, and very familiar handwriting. Duvaineth's eyebrows furrowed together. She recalled neither the candle nor the parchment being there before, nor did she recall retrieving the candle and lighting it while the day still burned brightly well before evening came. Duvaineth crossed the room and retrieved the parchment and, with great curiosity, unfolded it. It was a note, yet it gave no hint as to who had written it. But she needed no hint, for she knew immediately who it was.

Duvaineth, one who I call Meluiwen,

I was told you have returned to Rivendell. Joy fills me that cannot be expressed to know you are well, though it grieves me to have learned of the injury you suffered. I would have come sooner, but important affairs needed my attention first and when I was at last able to visit you, you were long in slumber. May it be that we will see each other soon, if not until tomorrow evening, then. I trust you will be at the feast for a small Hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggins? He is indeed fine company. He would lift your spirits should they be in such need.

I look forward to our meeting. There is much to be relayed, I am certain!

Duvaineth smiled to herself. Much, indeed!

"You are quiet, Mithrandir."

"Hmm? Oh, pray pardon me, Duvaineth. I did not sleep very much last night."

"That comes as little wonder. Was your nose again buried in Lord Elrond's library?"

"You could say that," Gandalf answered with a smile. "With much on my mind, but yes."

"I thought as much."

"Oh? Is that so? Pray tell, how did you come to suspect this?"

"You had a distant look in your eyes. It is one I have borne in mine own eyes many a time. I would be a blinded fool to not recognize it."

"Was it truly that evident?"

Duvaineth smiled. "Quite."

"Ah," Gandalf chuckled lightly. "You must forgive me. Any thought about the Ring has not left me. I am afraid it has left me dwelling on it for many days prior to your return to Imladris."

"Alas, that is the strength of Sauron's power. I take it your thoughts have been none too pleasant?"

"Indeed they have not been," Gandalf answered gravely. Duvaineth nodded but said nothing. The Wizard soon spoke again. "I am only mindlessly mumbling. I should not speak of such things tonight, for it is this evening that Lord Elrond bids us all to feast and enjoy ourselves with lightly burdened hearts. Yet I feel even the feast will not lie to rest the concerns that are heavy on my heart, nor would I believe he expects that of many, if any at all."

"My friend!" Duvaineth laughed. "When have you been known to have a still mind?"

The hall of Elrond's home was not empty, as expected, but Duvaineth was surprised to see the number of guests. It was filled with many; Elves for the most part, though there were a few guests of other sorts. Dwarves and Men, and even Hobbits, Duvaineth noticed. Elrond, as was his custom, sat in a great chair at the end of the long table upon the dais and next to him on the one side sat Glorfindel, and on the other side was an empty chair, soon to be filled by Mithrandir. There were still several seats available for those who had yet to arrive. "Well," the Wizard chuckled as he turned to her. "Does this not look familiar to you? I believe something of the sort occurred many years ago."

"Indeed, and I still think it was unnecessary," she said, inciting a laugh from him. "A kind and gracious host Lord Elrond was to me. All I could think was to return his benevolence, though needless I felt his kindness was."

"You healed from a wound that nearly left you paralyzed to darkness. That is no small feat, or painless."

"I was mostly asleep—"

"Where we were, yes," Gandalf said, his voice low and his eyes turned downward at her sternly. "But beyond where we could reach you, it was not quite so, now was it?"

Duvaineth pressed her lips together. "No," she sighed, "it was not. I was wrought in a world that was not mine of many terrible dreams – nightmares, I should say. Each one knew my weakness and sought to destroy me."

"And that, my dear Elf," Gandalf smiled, "is no small feat."

"Hmm." Duvaineth heard but said nothing else. Gandalf then turned away and left her to her thoughts and took his seat at the side of Elrond. She glanced at the long table where many sat. She recognized a few faces, but there were so many she had never seen before. "There are many unfamiliar faces, indeed," Duvaineth noted out loud. "Yet still, I wonder who all has come."

"I cannot say, but I hope you will find at least one friendly face!"

Duvaineth turned around in one quick motion. She was startled, not in a way where she was briefly frightened, but surprised. Her wide smile could not be contained, for the one she gazed upon filled her with the greatest joy. "Aragorn! Thia non lúguil mi thî ah ir din cennin medui!"

The Man smiled fondly at her. "It has indeed been some time, mayhap too long!" Aragorn then went forward and pulled the elleth into a tight and loving embrace. "Sweet Duvaineth! How happy am I see you return, and so well!"

"I was beginning to wonder if you were here in Imladris," Duvaineth said, pulling back, "for your name was mentioned, but I had yet to see you. And here you are!"

"Do not forget! You heard from me."

"Ah! So I did. But I know very little with you. You can be here one hour and gone the next," Duvaineth said with a soft laugh.

Aragorn grinned. "And it is such movements that keep me safe from mine enemies. I am here and I will remain here for some time, as I suspect you will too. Come! Let us join Lord Elrond and his guests and sit with them so that we might enjoy this evening and fill our stomach well with food, and that you may tell me all that has happened. I heard you were in Rohan for the duration of your travels. I am very curious."

It was not long after Aragorn and Duvaineth joined the rest at the table that platters and bowls of plentiful and delicious food were set before them and Elrond greeted and welcomed all, blessing the feast with words of kindness and encouragement so that they might be filled with delight and hope. Many gladly took part in the chatter that circulated around the table as they dined. The Men roared with laughter and many tales of their home and exciting battles to follow; the Elves spoke to one another of their kin and a handful of Men, but their particular interest were the four small Hobbits that were present tonight. Even the Dwarves allowed themselves to partake in storytelling and simple talk, though to whom they spoke were of a few number, for very wary they remained among the Elves and they too return the unfriendly gesture. The Hobbits, however, were a very kind and peaceful folk. They knew no difference between the Men, Elves, and other Dwarves. Their awe and curiosity was far too great to even have the thought to divide themselves as the Dwarves did. Even so, they would not understand the need to. They were innocent, vastly shielded from the scars of war and unfriendly pasts.

Like her kin, Duvaineth's curiosity was on the Hobbits, though her interest also remained trained on the Dwarves as well, for she had never seen them before and they were most peculiar.

Aragorn noticed her interest and leaned forward, whispering to her so that only she may hear. "I do not know if Gandalf has mentioned to you of my recent travels, but with me on my return to Rivendell were four Hobbits. The first one to the left is Peregrin Took. He is...very interesting, I will say. Clumsy a bit, but he means well. To his side is Meridock Brandybuck. He is sharper than Peregrin, and is quick on his feet. To the far end on the right is Samwise Gamgee. He is a Hobbit with a stout heart and the love that he holds for his friend, most certainly his close friendship with the one at his side, is undoubtedly strong. He has strength in him. And there, at his side is Frodo Baggins. He carries the heaviest weight out of them all, as I am sure you know. Already his strength and will has been tested, but he has prevailed strongly thus far. I believe him to be a strong Hobbit of incredible resistance, though that has yet to be tested."

"Will it?" Duvaineth asked.

Aragorn shared a solemn glance with her. "Do you know of the council that is to assemble?"

"I do."

"Then I shall say this to you with all honesty and sincerity – I believe the decision of the council that determines what shall be done will bear no good just as it bears evil. What shall be decided, alas, I cannot say. I do not think even Lord Elrond himself knows. Either way, I fear for Frodo."

"Or worse. What he now bears with him is no mere trinket. It is as if Sauron is in his hand and he will use all power through the Ring to persuade him from his path."

"Indeed," Aragorn sighed.

Silence fell upon them but it did not last long, for Duvaineth let out a light chuckle. Aragorn looked at her, an eyebrow quirked. "What do you find amusing?'

"To think barely three weeks past I stood in the great halls of Théoden King in attendance to his feast."

His lips twitched, threatening to smile. "How did you find it to be?" Aragorn asked.

"It was most gracious. I should not forget his kindness unto me," she answered, "but little did it do upon my troubled soul, I am afraid. Yet I enjoyed it, nonetheless."

"I hope he knew so, for very strangely do you express yourself, my friend!" he jested, but then he grew serious and urged her eagerly. "Tell me of your time there. I wish to know."

And so Duvaineth relayed her tale to him, from the very beginning when they parted from each other to her encounter with the Marshall Éomer, nephew to Théoden King of Rohan, and her long recovery that followed. When she finished, Aragorn was astonished. "Little kindness do they speak of the Elves, if even a morsel is spared to be uttered from their lips. To be wholly welcomed in the home of Rohan's king, that is a favorable gain, one that will not be easily forgotten. That is a fair deed to accomplish, Meluiwen."

"Nay! Do not commend me. I need it not. I have done nothing to earn it. His House spared my life. All I did was give my best to my host, for he was indeed gracious and kind. He was deserving of all respect and so I gave it, no less than any of mine own kin would have done."

"That may be so," Aragorn said, "but you as well have shown a quality to the Men of Rohan they thought not the Elves have. Wary they may have remained-"

"Their reasons amusingly so."

"Perhaps," Aragorn laughed, "but they have not had dealings with the fair folk and only know of them through rumors that are spoken more rancorously than truthfully. The character that you have shown will leave an impression upon them of your kin henceforth. May they openly welcome you, or if not, may they inwardly think differently as they mayhap first thought, but that is unknown. I believe now they have at least a mere glimpse of a true Elf, who hardly mirrors what the tales say."

"It is a pity, though, that I did not come across one in the forest before I came to Enedwaith," Duvaineth said, as she leaned back in her seat and took a sip from her goblet of wine.

Aragorn smiled. "Is that so? Pray tell, why is that?"

"Admittedly..." Duvaineth trailed off as the thought entered her mind. She looked at him and grinned. "As wary and fearful as they are for the rumors to be true of Elves possessing the power to place whomever they desire under a dark spell, I would have enjoyed far too much a game of frightening them as they camped for the night."

It was not long after a silence fell between them and Duvaineth had shifted her attention to the chatter around her, listening to the tales and memories of old shared by those that had them. Many who sat among them had once or numerously before heard most tales, Duvaineth herself included, but there were a few she had yet to hear and she listened attentively. From the corner of her eye she saw two of the Hobbits present were listening eagerly, leaning forward in their seats and their eyes wide and full of awe. But as the tales came to an end, the elleth took notice that one of them – Frodo Baggins, she believed it was as she recalled Aragorn's quiet introduction – now had his eyes upon her and was looking at her with genuine curiosity and wonder. It was not until she turned her head and looked at him that the Hobbit realized he had been caught, and flushed.

A smile threatened her lips. "Who do they call you, small one?" she asked.

He gazed at her again and was silent, as if his tongue had been tied. "Frodo Baggins," he said at length, the color of his cheeks having now returned to a normal color. "Forgive my staring. I don't believe I have yet seen you before."

"No, you would not have, for I had returned before your arrival. It is a pleasure all the same to make your acquaintance, Frodo Baggins. I hear you bore an ill and heavy wound upon your arrival. How do you fare?"

"Better, I will say, though I still remain a bit sore," Frodo answered. "I feel very much at peace in Master Elrond's home than I have been for a very long time, it feels."

"Good. That is well to hear."

Brief was their exchange, though it left Frodo wondering. He hummed quietly as he munched on a fruit, his eyes cast down on his plate. He felt the elleth's eyes on him as if they were piercing through to his very soul, but he could not find the strength to raise his own to her. The feeling soon passed, but his eyes remained on the table in front of him. Duvaineth left him to his thoughts and soon turned to her own, every now and then picking up a piece of a story that was being told. Laughter throughout the hall, loud and joyful, and the chatter just as much so, if not mayhap louder, showing no sign of coming to an end. The night was still young. Duvaineth wondered what it might hold for them all, and as she looked around her, she felt very certain it would be far from dull.

Author's Note:

I wanted to address a quick note in the chapter. I know you may have cringed at the conversation between Duvaineth and Gandalf where she agrees to come to the council. First and foremost, she is NOT and will NOT be a mary-sue. I have ready many stories where a female character attends the council without any purpose or reason. Duvaineth does have a purpose. With the little information you have about Duvaineth and her past – which will be revealed more and more within the next few chapters – her own experience with Rohan is worthy to be noted in the council, I would like to believe. The ill influence of Théoden King and the danger Rohan is actually in should Saruman succeed in what he is trying to do is a big issue, and will eventually lead to the main plot. I understand how Duvaineth will look attending the council, a risk I am willing to take, but do know that Duvaineth is not attending it simply because I want her to or that she is a mary-sue. Far from it!