As the company made its way nearer and nearer to the gates of Rivendell, Thorin moved to the back of the group. Red marred his vision. How dare that old fool drive them towards the elves? His enemies!

The dwarf threw out his arm to prevent the wizard from moving and spoke to him, blood roaring in his ears. "This was your plan all along," He snarled, fuming. "To seek refuge with our enemy."

Gandalf looked at him with disappointment and poorly concealed anger. He pushed passed his outstretched arm and continued towards Imladris, keeping a keen eye on young Kili, who cradled the fading princess in his arms. He moved so quickly that Thorin had to jog to keep up with the wizard's long strides. "You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield. The only ill-will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

"Do you think the Elves will give our quest their blessing? They will try to stop us," Thorin argued, raising his voice. Several of the dwarves glanced back apprehensively but did not stop moving.

Gandalf huffed in irritation, annoyed with and tired of Thorin's childish behavior. "Of course they will. But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful, this will need to be handled with tact and respect and no small degree of charm. Which is why you will leave the talking to me."

As soon as he finished speaking, the first dwarves passed under the stone pillars lining the entrance to the city. Sweet music filled the air, although it was a bit faint. A river flowed beneath their feet. Many of the dwarves glanced suspiciously around, as if expecting to be attacked. Several others though, including young Kili, looked around with delight, obviously impressed. Their pleased expressions melted away, however, when a tall elf lord with long brown hair appeared at the top of a staircase before them. He wore a dark robe with a high collar, and he descended slowly, one hand before him and the other behind. His cloak billowed behind him as he moved, although there was no wind.

When he reached the same level as the dwarves, he bowed his head, light eyes focusing on the wizard. "Mithrandir," he smiled, pressing his hand to his heart and bowing.

Gandalf smiled back, clearly pleased. "Ah, Lindir!" As Lindir and Gandalf spoke to each other, the other dwarves murmured amongst themselves in distrust.

"We heard you had crossed into the Valley," Lindir said softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Gandalf waved away his comment, his face grave. "I must speak with Lord Elrond," he demanded firmly. "And our companion needs immediate attention."

The elf frowned as Gandalf turned around, beckoning to Kili to bring Aeyera forward. "My lord Elrond is not here."

Gandalf paled visibly as he took the princess' prone form from the young prince, who handed her over with clear reluctance. "Not here? Where is he?"

The elf lord paled as well, when he saw who it was the wizard held. "Mithrandir, is that—"

An elvish hunting horn torn through the peace of the valley, its clear tune somehow fitting along with the music and the birdsong already present there. A band of armed, mounted elves appeared, quite close to the entrance of the city. Panic filled the heart of every dwarf, and they pressed together in a tight circle, shoving the hobbit and the two young princes into the middle.

"Ready weapons!" Thorin bellowed. The company shifted their weapons to point outwards, each dwarf wearing a snarl on his face except for Kili, whose eyes were glued to the princess in Gandalf's arms. "Hold ranks!"

The mounted Elves arrived reigned their mounts in, encircling the dwarves. The Elves were nearly as wary of the dwarves as the dwarves were of them, although these particular Elves were wiser than their woodland kin. Eventually, they halted their circling as their leader, a dark haired lord with a silver circlet, dismounted and separated himself from the others.

The elf smiled knowingly and made his way over to the wizard. "Gandalf."

Gandalf bowed his head. "Elrond, she needs immediate attention."

"I will go and return quickly." The elf took her into his arms, nodded, and rushed away before the dwarves could react. To Gandalf's immense surprise, exclamations of outrage and anger broke out among the dwarves. He was most surprised, though, to see that Kili was not objecting. The elves surrounding them murmured to one another in their own tongue, some frowning and some wearing awed expressions.

"What is it?" Gandalf asked the nearest elf.

She looked at him with wide blue eyes and dismounted. She bowed, placing her hand over her heart. "Lord Mithrandir, to what are you referring?"

"Your companions look as though they have seen a ghost," he said curiously, mindful of the distrusting glared being sent his way by the dwarves.

The elf stood at the same height as he, so it was not difficult for him to see the flush that lit her cheeks. She brushed her hair over her right shoulder, revealing a long, pale scar stretching from the edge of her collarbone and reaching down to disappear down her back, over her left shoulder. "The Lady Aeyera is the one who inspired my fellow soldiers and I to defend the dwarves of Erebor," she said proudly. She shouldered her quiver and grabbed ahold of the reigns of her restless mount. She frowned suddenly, the action marring her clear future. "Alas, none of us have seen our princess since that fateful day." She lifted her eyes to meet those of the wizard, and her open face revealed her worry for the princess. "And now she is here, and—oh, Mithrandir, is she alright?"

Lindir appeared a moment later, sparing Gandalf from answering. "Your companion is being tended to by Lord Elrond," he said gently. The elf maid remounted and glanced over the company quickly, her eyes lingering a bit longer on the young princes than on the others. "And he bade me show you to your rooms."

Thorin nodded warily as the riders exited the courtyard, some sending worried glances back towards the group. Lindir turned and proceeded up the stairs, leaving the dwarves to scramble after him, still guarding the young heirs. Gandalf walked at the front of the procession, studiously ignoring Thorin's angry glares in his direction.

"Mithrandir!" The company turned to see a fair-haired elf hurrying towards them. The dwarves stiffened despite the elf's obvious lack of weapons. He stopped in front of Gandalf and bowed, his hand over his heart. His face was pale and drawn, and his hands shook. He still could not believe his eyes. Princess Aeyera, the one who had inspired him to defend the dwarves of Erebor, was here. And she was dying. "My Lord, the princess, she—"

"Is she alive?" The wizard barked.

The elf jumped. "Yes, Lord, but she is very weak, and very sick. Please, Lord Elrond requires your assistance. Will you come with me?"

The company looked on with eyes veiled by mistrust. Kili stepped forward. "Where is Aeyera?" he demanded. "Tell me!"

The elf, who had focused all his attention on the wizard, now turned his bright eyes on the young dwarf. "The Lady Aeyera is being looked after by Lord Elrond," he said in accented Westron. "She is in safe hands, I assure you. Mithrandir, please, you must come—"

"I am coming," Gandalf said, waving for the elf to move. The messenger turned and rushed away, the wizard following in his wake. The steady thump of his staff echoed on the floor as the pair swept away.

Lindir, now distinctly uncomfortable, led the dwarves to their chamber. It was a large room, with many mattresses spread out neatly on the floor, each made up neatly with fresh linens. There were fourteen beds, one for each dwarf and hobbit.

"We're missin' two," Bofur piped up as the rest of the company began seizing pallets for themselves. Several dwarves straightened and began counting the dwarves, making sure no one had been left behind or added to their company. "Where're Master Gandalf and Aeyera sleepin'?"

Lindir straightened and looked down his nose at him with thinly masked distain. "Princess Aeyera will have her own chambers, once she is healed. As for the wizard, he will reside wherever he wishes." He turned to go. "Oh, and there is a large bath beyond those doors. I will send someone to fetch you for dinner later." He swept out of the room, dark cloak billowing behind him as he doors slammed shut.

"Dolt," Gloin snorted, throwing his pack down beside his mattress.

Kili placed his bag down beside his own pallet and eyed the door. He wondered if he could find the wizard, if he tried. The rest of the company began moving towards the other room, muttering something about stink and sweat. Glancing quickly around, he darted for the door, pulled it open, and was outside a moment later.

He had barely taken two steps, however, when his brother's voice echoed through the elven hall. "Kee." He froze, closing his eyes. He was caught. He opened them and turned to see Fili leaning against the now shut door, eyebrows raised. "Where do you think you're going?"

Kili licked his lips, discovering that his mouth had become very dry. "To see—to see Aeyera," he managed. "She jumped in front of me… and she's dying, I—"

Fili held up his hand. "I meant," he grinned. "Where are you going without me?" A matching grin appeared on the younger's face as the elder winked at him. "C'mon," he whispered, grabbing his brother's hand and pulling him down the hall. "They went this way."

The brothers ran side by side down the elven halls, occasionally glancing around to take in the beauty of the elven city. Fat, golden beams of sunlight slanted through the empty spaces where windows might have sat. A warm breeze swept through the halls, carrying the sound of birdsong and the scent of grass and flowers. The river rushed on, and smaller streams wound their way freely through the courtyards Durin's sons occasionally stumbled upon.

Finally, after what seemed like hours to Fili and Kili, they happened upon the Grey Wizard, who sat tiredly on a bench outside a closed door. His hat sat in his lap, and he leaned heavily on his staff. He appeared to be sleeping, but his eyes opened as the brothers approached, and he nodded at them. "I wondered when you two would come," he said, struggling to his feet. "Lord Elrond is attending to the Lady now."

"How is she?" Kili blurted. Fili glanced at him in concern. His little brother's hands were shaking, and he looked pale and clammy. He squeezed Kili's shoulder in a comforting manner.

The wizard sighed. "I am not a healer," he said. "Once, perhaps. I can heal minor wounds, and awaken those who sleep, as well as put to sleep those who are awake. I cannot, however, heal such grievous wounds or bring someone back who has passed on. She is not dead, Kili," he added hurriedly, for the poor dwarf's face had gone ashen, and he looked on the verge of fainting. "But she is dying. Another few minutes, and we might have lost her. You have some strength in you, young one," he smiled fondly. "Not many of your kin would have willingly aided—or accepted aid from—an elf."

The door behind Gandalf opened, and an elven maid with long blonde hair appeared. She was tall, and fair, and old, and terrifying. Kili and Fili took involuntary steps back when she appeared. She smiled at them and bowed her head, speaking silently to them each in turn, then spoke to Gandalf.

"She is fading, Mithrandir. I do not know how much longer she can hold on."

He stood quickly and swept inside, leaving the door open behind him. Galadriel gave the brothers a knowing look before following the wizard. Kili wasted no time but hurried after her, his brother on his heels.

Aeyera lay upon a cushioned table, and blood painted her skin crimson. Her tunic had been cut away, but she was covered so as to prevent anyone seeing her while indecent. The skin that was visible was crisscrossed with white scars, the sight of which stopped the brothers in their tracks. Elrond stood beside her, washing her wounds and murmuring healing spells in a language long forgotten by most in Middle Earth. The air was tinged with the scent of iron. Kili froze, face white, and Fili steadied him as he began to sway. As they gazed on, dazed, Elrond pressed a soggy wad of herbs to the incisions in the princess' skin and held them there. Even as they watched, blood seeped through them and trickled down her stomach and onto the table. Kili closed his eyes, pressing a fist to his stomach. He thought he might be sick.

"Bring me more Athelas and cloths, quickly!" Elrond barked. An elf ran from the room while another scrambled for bandages. The latter brought them to the elf Lord hurriedly, and then rushed to wash the soiled ones.

"Kili, Fili, come here." The brothers started when the wizard said their names but inched closer all the same, their eyes glued to the princess' prone form.

"I need to stitch her wounds closed," Elrond said tersely, cleaning the blood from around one of the jagged punctures marring Aeyera's skin. "I need you to hold her down, in case she awakens."

Kili blanched, and Fili paled. "Sir?"

"Do as I say," he snapped, seizing a needle and thick thread. He pressed a small, fresh clump of boiled Athelas into the incision and took a deep breath, pressing the tip of the threaded needle against her skin. He glanced up at them, and each brother took careful hold of one of her shoulders and arms, holding her down as gently as possible. "Alright," he murmured. He began sewing her flesh back together, and Kili closed his eyes as vomit rose in his throat. He would not be sick—especially because there was nowhere to be sick. Fili's grip tightened on her arm as she flinched in her sleep. He had suffered many injuries, as had his brother—but none so gruesome as this. Chunks of skin and flesh had been torn away as if she had been a deer set upon by a wolf. He could see the white glint of bone, in some places, and he had to look away.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Elrond sat back, mopping sweat from his face with a clean rag. It was nearly sunset, and warm light streamed through the windows. The dwarves had never wavered, although they had not been able to look at the patient throughout the procedure.

"It is done," he said, his voice exceedingly tired. The elven princess' breath had evened out, and although her face was still pale, he knew she would be alright. Both brothers relaxed their hold on her and stepped away. The elf observed them carefully. Both were pale and sweaty and had dried blood on their clothes. The younger one was shaking. Elrond stood and faced the brothers. "You did well," he told them. "Please, go clean yourselves. You deserve rest and food, both of which I will provide."

At that moment, the doors burst open, revealing a livid Thorin. His hair was still wet, and damp patches marked the blue cloth on his shoulders. His eyes darted around the room until they came to rest on his nephews, who shrank back slightly. The only ones remaining in the room were Elrond, Gandalf, Aeyera, Fili, and Kili.

Thorin stormed over to the group, jaw locked in anger, but before he could say a word, Elrond spoke, crossing his arms over his chest in a placating manner. "Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain."

Thorin blinked, and his eyebrows lifted in surprise. He shifted uncomfortably, and his anger gave way to wariness. "I do not believe we have met."

Elrond looked him over, unconsciously cleaning the blood from his hands with a damp towel. "You have your grandfather's bearing. I knew Thror when he ruled over the Mountain."

Thorin blinked and gazed back at him arrogantly. "Indeed, he made no mention of you."

Ignoring this insult, Elrond turned to Gandalf and spoke softly to him. "Calm the prince," he said. "And later you can explain to me how you came by the princess of the woodland realm, for no word had been had of her in nearly two centuries."

Gandalf nodded wearily and stood, placing his hands on the shoulders of Fili and Kili. "Follow me, both of you," he grumbled. "You two get cleaned up while Lord Elrond tends to our Princess." When Kili tried to hold back, the wizard tightened his hold. "Come, master Kili," he muttered. "She'll be fine."

Finally he relented and allowed Gandalf to steer him and his brother from the room, Thorin following behind. He led them back to their quarters, where the rest of the company waited nervously for their arrival. When the king and his heirs arrived, the other dwarves visibly relaxed and allowed them to pass through the room to bathe. The wizard left them then, saying that he would be back to escort them to dinner.

Kili sighed and pulled of his outer tunic. Only he and his brother remained in the room; the others had left to explore the grounds. He sank down on the edge of the bath, resting his pounding head in his hands. How had he let this happen? If he had been quicker, moved faster… if he had quicker reflexes, then maybe…

"Stop it, Kee."

He looked up to see Fili watching his in concern. "Sorry?"

The elder shook his head as he sank beneath the water. "You're beating yourself up over what happened to Aeyera. It wasn't your fault."

"But…" he stopped himself. It would do no good to argue.

His brother gave him a searching look, then shrugged. "Besides, the elf—Elrond—he knew her. I'm sure he'll take care of her. He just spent the whole day healing her, didn't he?" Kili nodded reluctantly. "See? She'll be fine, Kee. Trust me." Fili grinned and splashed Kili with water. The younger allowed a small smile to cross his face as he jumped in as well, dousing the elder. By the time someone thought to check on them, water was seeping under the door, much to Lindir's dismay, and had completely soaked the bathroom.

The brothers dressed quickly and followed the rest of the company to dinner. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and the sky was ablaze with different hues of pink and gold. That was the only brilliant part of dinner, at least to the dwarves. The food, to the dwarves' dismay, was naturally grown fruits and vegetables—no meat whatsoever, as was the custom of elves.

Several members of the company picked forlornly at their lettuce, and Dori was vainly urging his younger brother to try his food. "Just a mouthful," he coaxed.

Ori pouted and crossed his arms over his chest. "I don't like green food."

Kili picked up a radish and nibbled on the end, then made a face and quickly placed it back on its dish. Dwalin dug through his bowl of leaves for the third time as if meat might have miraculously appeared there since the last time he checked. "Where's the meat?"

"Have they got any chips?"

An Elf maiden, who inadvertently reminded most of the company of Aeyera, played a harp in the background. Kili shifted his gaze back to his plate. He could feel the elves watching him; he knew they were angry with him for allowing their young kinswoman to come to harm.

"She'll be alright, you know," Fili whispered to him.

He jumped, banging his knee against the table. "What?"

"She'll be fine. Elves're tougher than we give them credit for. You'll see. She'll be back to challenging us to duels in no time," he joked.

Kili nodded and looked down at his food, too queasy to eat.

Meanwhile, Elrond and Gandalf walked through the halls of Rivendell. They paused in the next hall from where the dwarves ate, speaking softly so as to not be overheard. Aeyera had been tended to and now was sleeping steadily. She would make it, although she would carry the scars as a reminder of her actions for the rest of her life.

"Kind of you to invite us," Gandalf told the half-elf good-naturedly. "I'm not really dressed for dinner."

Elrond smiled. "Well, you never are." They both laughed, but quickly turned somber. "The princess had been struck with a blade even I have little knowledge of," Elrond said. "And she has endured more torture than anyone can imagine. More than she should have been able to survive."

Gandalf paused and leaned heavily against a railing, suddenly feeling his age. He had walked Middle Earth for thousands of years, but death and pain never became easier to deal with. "How is she still alive?"

The elf lord shrugged, lifting his hands as if in supplication. "Strength. It is possible that love carried her through, though the love was for her brother or for someone else, I do not know."

"She will live, though?" The wizard asked.

Elrond nodded. "Yes. She is stronger than most—she will heal."

They arrived at the courtyard where the dwarves were eating, ending their conversation. Kili stood and crossed over to the pair, ignoring the thirteen pairs of eyes on his back. "How is Aeyera?" he asked. "Is she…?"

Elrond smiled grimly and placed his hand on the dwarf's shoulder. "She's alive," he said. Kili sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping. "However, I found several things when healing her that need to be discussed."

"What? What are they?" he asked impatiently, voice urgent. His eyes widened in fear.

"That is not a conversation to be held here," the elf replied, glancing over at Thorin, who eyed them warily. "I will speak with you later on."

"But—"

"Kili, c'mere," Fili called, hoping to distract him. Kili glanced over his shoulder, giving Elrond the opportunity he needed to slip away to the head of the table and sit down. Kili returned to his seat beside his brother, keeping an eye on the elf at all times. Elrond had barely time to straighten his robes before he was presented with the two swords Gandalf had discovered in the troll hoard. He looked first at the blade belonging to Thorin. He gazed at it in wonder, drawing it from its sheath and reading the runes near the hilt. The torchlight glinted off the burnished steel, dancing off the walls. "This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West—my kin. May it serve you well," he finished, sheathing the blade and handing it back to Thorin, who accepted it with a nod of gratitude. Kili eyed it curiously, noticing that the king did not seem as loathe holding it now. Elrond then examined Gandalf's sword, a look of pride upon his face. A smile graced his lips. "And this is Glamdring, the Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for goblin wars of the First Age..."

Kili looked away as Bilbo pulled his sword out, holding it across his lap. He glanced over at Elrond, trying to decide whether or not he should show it to the great elf in the hopes that it would be some great and famous blade. Balin, smiling gently, dashed those hopes. "I wouldn't bother, laddie. Swords are named for the great deeds they do in war."

Bilbo looked over at the elderly dwarf, smiling bemusedly. "What are you saying, my sword hasn't seen battle?"

Balin grimaced, shrugging. "I'm not actually sure it is a sword; more of a letter opener, really." Bilbo frowned and looked down at his sword again, disappointed.

Elrond spoke again, handing the sword back to Gandalf with awe on his face. "How did you come by these?"

Gandalf smiled, accepting the blade. "We found them in a troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by orcs."

Elrond raised his eyebrows, glancing between the wizard and the dwarf king. "And what were you doing on the Great East Road?" Thorin frowned, a guarded look crossing his face as he clenched his fists under the table. "Master Kili," Elrond said, standing suddenly. "Might I have a word with you?"

The young prince all but leaped from his seat. "Of course," he said, breathless. Thorin frowned, but Fili winked at him before returning to picking at his salad.

The two walked together from the hall; the dwarf's head barely reached Elrond's elbow. Unlike Aeyera, this elf stood at least two feet taller than Kili.

"How is she?" Kili asked. Moonlight poured through the halls, bathing the marble in a blue-white glow. Crickets and bullfrogs chirped and croaked, lighting up the night with their music as effectively as the stars did with their light.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" He answered, stopping at an oaken door. He paused, fingers resting on the handle. "You should know this first. She carried many scars before I received her into my care; many more than someone so young and pure should ever have to bear. There are traces of a dark magic that linger about her; of such a kind I barely remember."

Kili frowned. "'So young?'" He repeated. "How old is she? I thought all elves were near the same age, just centuries and centuries old."

He smiled at the dwarf's naivety. "No. We are not all the same age. I, for instance, have lived on this earth since the first age of Middle Earth."

"The first age…?" He repeated, awestruck.

"Yes," He said, smiling sadly. The weight of the ages pressing down upon him was easy to see, and it made the young dwarf prince wonder how long his own princess had been alive in this world. 'His princess?'

"But what of Aeyera?" He pressed, "You said she was young. Does it mean that she is young for an elf, or compared to you, or…?"

Elrond chuckled. "She is very young compared to me, but still quite a bit older than you."

"How—"

"She is one hundred and ninety-six years old," Elrond said. "And you are, if I am not mistaken, in your mid seventies?" Kili nodded. "She is an elfling by most standards, and considered even more so because of her size and looks."

"So she would not know of this magic," Kili thought aloud. "But you do." The elf remained silent and stared at the oak door before him. "You do remember," he urged. "Surely you could not have forgotten if this magic has disturbed you so."

He looked Kili up and down. "You are quite sharp, for a dwarf," he said, and Kili knew he meant it as a complement. "There are few among men, Halflings, or your own race who could have guessed this. Yes, I remember, though the last time I sensed such darkness was nearly three thousand years ago. Yet this is not important now," he said, ending that particular conversation. "What is important is that the princess will live. She will, however, carry a burden none of you have to bear."

Kili frowned as anxiety clenched his stomach. "And what is that?" He asked.

"She has been wounded by a Morgul blade," Elrond relented.

Kili glanced around as though the answer were about to leap from thin air. "What does that mean?"

"Her wound is one that can not be healed."

Fear clutched at the dwarf's heart. "What will happen to her?"

"She will live on Middle Earth until she can no longer bear her burden. Then she will set sail for the Undying Lands with the rest of her kin."

"She… she's leaving?" He stammered, horrified.

"Not yet," Elrond told him, placing a comforting hand on Kili's shoulder. "She has grown fond of your company; I could not keep her here if I tried. However, someday, she will leave, and you will be unable to stop her. You will have to let her go."

"And…" he licked his lips nervously, "And if she doesn't go? If she chooses to stay?"

Elrond gazed at the dwarf gravely, and Kili could see pools of grief shimmering in his eyes. "I hope you never have to find out."

He turned to the door and pushed it open quietly, motioning Kili inside with his hand. He moved inside, expecting the elf to leave, but he stayed inside and moved to the princess' bedside after shutting the door. Kili followed slowly, still trying to process the information he had just been told.

Aeyera lay upon a bed, her torso wrapped in bandages and her lower body covered by sheets. Her dark hair was spread like a mane around her head, and her wound was uncovered. Kili was shocked at what he saw: the gruesome wound had closed, and angry red scars lay where there had been torn flesh a few mere hours ago.

"Stand back," Elrond said, moving closer to her and placing his hands over the scars. Kili became aware of a sharp, fresh smell in the air coming from a pan of boiled water next to the elves. Elrond pulled a bundle of what looked like weeds from it and pressed it to her skin, murmuring a song-like incantation as steam filled the room.

Kili sat in a chair beside her bed, staring at his hands. The elf's words mingled with the mist on the air, and the dwarf realized with a start that the language he spoke was as old as Middle Earth itself. He listened raptly until he finished nearly an hour later. Elrond straightened, exhausted. The scars on Aeyera's skin were now a faint pink, and the princess was still sound asleep.

"She will be fine," he said. "Because of her lineage, she will heal quickly—much more quickly than a man would. She should be able to travel within a week." Kili nodded gratefully, unable to speak. Elrond led Kili out and back to where the rest of the company rested, promising to fetch him when the princess woke up. Kili fell asleep as soon as his head hit the mattress, and his dreams were troubled and dark.

I awoke feeling refreshed and confused, staring up at a paneled ceiling of a room that looked strangely like my own in the Greenwood. My torso ached, and as I lay still the memories came rushing back. I gasped and pushed my way upright, determined to find the company. The room was empty. A glance down revealed that where a gaping wound had once been, only scars remained. I had to look away—I couldn't stand to see the scars from the whips and blades of a century ago mingling with the new bite marks on my skin.

I tentatively stood, knees shaking. A light, green robe was draped over the back of a chair beside the bed. I grabbed it, slinging it around my shoulders and gently easing my arms into it. I wore light leggings underneath, and was barefoot.

Taking a deep breath, I made my way out of the room and into the twisting hallways of Rivendell. Moonlight streamed through the pillars, lighting up the elven city. Stars shone overhead, and their light soothed me even as my wound throbbed. The paths led down, and the sound of a thundering waterfall filled the air. The sound of voices reached my ears, muffled by the sound of rushing water but still audible to my ears. I froze behind a column, listening.

"So this is your purpose, to enter the Mountain."

I blinked as Thorin's voice joined the first, and I started forward again until the group came into view. I paused in the shadows, reluctant to reveal myself just yet. "What of it?"

The elf who first spoke held out a map to Thorin. He was tall and regal, and a silver circlet rested upon his crown. "There are some who would not deem it wise."

Thorin snatched the map away, holding it as though it were about to crumble to nothing.

Gandalf turned to the elf, "Who do you mean?"

The elf looked at Gandalf, wisdom shining in his eyes, and I became aware that this was the Lord Elrond whom I had tried to see so many times before. "You are not the only guardian to stand watch over Middle-earth." He turned and strode away. The wizard turned back to gaze at the moon, lost in thought.

Elrond passed by me and paused, watching my hidden form. "Lord Elrond," I called weakly, stepping out of the shadows and bowing as much as I dared. "It is an honor, my lord."

Elrond bowed back. "The same, my lady. You are much better than you were before. I am glad. May I ask you something?"

"Of course." He held out his arm for me to take, and I accepted it gratefully. He led my back to my room. Any elves that we passed bowed to us, murmuring salutations before passing us by, but never stopping.

"The White Council is meeting," he said solemnly. "You alone of all the elves have seen the rifts between it which have grown as of late. You saw them once as a child; you can discern them again, should you be present when they appear. I would ask that you join our meeting while you are in Imladris."

"I do not understand," I told him.

"Once as a girl you saw what happened when the dwarves were attacked. You were the first to try to help."

"The first? I thought I was the only one to help," I replied, eyes wide. Had someone else gone to the dwarves' aid?

"Some of your people followed your lead, my lady. They were banished, as you were, and live here now. You have seen the evil that divides us, Princess." I nodded. "Come explain to the council, please."

I opened my mouth in surprise but bowed my head all the same. "I would be honored, my lord."

He smiled gently at me, and the starlight made his fair skin glow. "I will have your garments and weapons returned to you before the meeting," he told me. "Although I recommend you not bring your weapons to a peaceful gathering."

I smiled back softly as we reached my room. "Of course."

He turned to leave, and I suddenly remembered the strange weapons I had found in the troll hoard. "My lord, wait!" I exclaimed, reaching out and catching the edge of his sleeve. He turned back as I opened the door. "I found several weapons in a troll hoard along the Great East Road, could you identify them for me?"

"I already have," he said, smiling gravely at me. "I do not know how they came to be in your possession, but your should hold onto them carefully. The arrows are woven with an ancient magic; they will rarely miss their target if the heart wielding them is true. The knives and sword are unlike any others I have seen, but from what I have found, they seem to be the weapons of Turgon, the ancient Elven king of the Noldor." I gripped the doorframe, nearly falling over in shock. How had these blades come to me? "They have been lost for many an age; I know not how you came by them. However, it seems that his weapons desire to be found, as the sword Glamdring, which also belonged to him, was found by Mithrandir in the same cave where these weapons were found." I nodded mutely, and the elf lord stood. "Rest now. I know that at least one of your companions desires greatly to see you," he said, departing.

I closed the door and crossed back to the bed, heaving myself onto it and lying on my back. I thought back to the events from before. Kili… was he alright? My eyelids grew heavy, and I dropped off to the elvish form of sleeping, blending starlight and moonlight and dreams into one as the night lengthened.

"Wake up. Brother, wake up, quick!"

Kili groaned and opened his eyes, shoving his brother away. "Fee—stop it—"

"She's awake, Aeyera's awake!"

Kili's eyes snapped open and he sat bolt upright. "What?"

Fili grinned from ear to ear and pulled him out of bed. "She's awake! She's alright, come on!" Kili started for the door, then stopped. Fili turned, confused, then crossed back over to him, a look of understanding passing over his face. "It wasn't your fault, Kee."

He hung his head. "She jumped in front of it to save me," he said miserably. "It's my fault she almost died."
_

I hurried towards the room the dwarves shared, holding my skirts up past my knees to prevent my tripping over them. My bare feet pounded against the smooth floors as stands of hair blew back from my face. I stopped in front of the door, heart pounding against my ribcage. My side and chest ached, but considering what horrible shape I had been in the day before, it was nothing. I took a deep breath, butterflies filling my stomach.

I pressed my hand against the door, ready to push it open, but paused when Fili's voice reached my ears. "It wasn't your fault, Kee."

A pause followed. "She jumped in front of it to save me," Kili said, his voice hushed and miserable. "It's my fault she almost died. What if… what if she's angry with me? What if she hates me?"

I pressed my hand against my mouth, letting the hem of my dress fall to swing around my toes. He thought I hated him?

"She doesn't hate you, Kili," Fili said firmly. "C'mon." Without warning, the door swung open. I stood frozen, gazing with wide eyes at the two brothers. Fili looked just as surprised as I did that I was standing there. Kili looked terrible. His eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep, and his hair was in complete disarray.

"Hi," I managed. Kili's eyes widened, and he took a step back, looking afraid. My heart broke, and I rushed towards him. He lifted his arms as if to protect himself, but I brushed by them and threw my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. He stiffened, but hesitantly returned my embrace. Fili smiled at me from over his brother's shoulder. "Thank you," I said, my words muffled in his shirt.

He pulled away. "W-what?" Wonder filled his voice. "Why would you thank me?"

Still standing with my arms around his neck, I tilted my head. "You saved me," I said, eyes widening. "I would have died if you haven't gotten me here." I pulled away and curtsied, wincing as the raw skin on my stomach stretched uncomfortably. "I owe you my life, Prince Kili."

He pulled me to my feet, shaking his head. "No. You saved me, and I helped you afterwards. I owe you my life. But—" he held up a hand as I tried to interrupt. "If you won't except that, then I guess we can say that we're even."

I nodded, relief flooding my features. "Alright."

"My Lady!" I turned in surprise as one of my kin appeared in the doorway. "I have been looking everywhere for you. My Lord Elrond asked me to lead you to the great hall, he says there are some peoples he wishes for you to see."

I nodded and followed after a hasty goodbye to Fili and Kili. He led me through twisting paths and passageways, taking respites when I needed to catch my breath. When we reached the doors, I expected him to leave, but he remained by my side, a smile on his lips. He removed his silver cloak, revealing the hunting gear of a woodland elf. My mouth opened in astonishment, but before I could ask him my question, he winked at me and slipped inside the doors.

I could here whispering and laughter from within, and my heart swelled. I took a deep breath, pulling at a stray curl. I was suddenly very nervous. If these were my people—and I was suddenly very sure that they were—shouldn't I greet them as a princess? The answer came immediately. No. They followed me and were exiled with me. They waited for their fellow soldier, not their princess.

I took a step forward and pushed open the doors. The bright light blinded me for a moment, but my eyes adjusted quickly, and I covered my mouth as tears sprang to my eyes. Several hundred elves stood inside, all in their hunter's garb from Mirkwood. Most of the faces I recognized but some, like the one who led me here, I had never met.

The room fell silent as the doors swung shut behind me. "Aeyera." I knew that voice. He had been my brother's best friend, once, and I had known him my whole life, loving his like my own brother. He was a captain in my father's army, and he stepped forward, bowing. "It has been too long." A smile crossed my face, and I ran into his arms, laughing and crying as he spun me around, embracing me.

"Aicanar!" He placed me on my feet once more. "What are you all doing here?" I looked around the room in awe. "Lord Elrond told me that some stayed behind, but—"

"When you rushed to the aid of the Dwarves, you joined the ranks of all those who wished to fight for them. Unlike us, you did not fear the reconciliation from your king. When you rushed to defend them as Thranduil turned his back, we came to fight with you. We saw Legolas carry you off and knew that we could do nothing for you if we wished to save the dwarves, so we did what we had to."

I smiled as tears of joy fell down my face. "Do not apologize," I told him. I knew in my heart that if they had taken me, I might have avoided torture, but I pushed the dark thought aside. "I am glad you stayed. All of you!" I turned to face the rest of the soldiers that had followed me to exile. I bowed to them. "I owe you much."

"My lady," a she-elf with raven-black hair said, stepping forward. "You owe us nothing."

"You were exiled because of me," I said, the knowledge weighing heavily on my mind. My shoulders sagged. "It's my fault."

"Aeyera," Aicanar said gently. "Our choices remain our own, and we would not change them. We are happy here. Do not let your heart be troubled on our account, my friend."

Tears filled my eyes, and I nodded, wrapping my arms around him once again. "Now come, my Lady," the raven-haired woman said lightly, taking my hand. "There are many who want nothing more than to meet you!"

The night was full of laughter and light, with new friends and old. I saw so many faces I had nearly forgotten, and my heart was glad. We danced and sang and spoke from dusk until dawn.

When the sun rose once again, all but Aicanar and Gwenithil, the raven-haired elf, departed. Their families had travelled here with them long ago, and my heart was both gladdened and saddened that this was their home now and not the Greenwood.

The two walked with me back to my room, and it was then that I noticed the matching bands on their fingers. My eyes widened as a grin spread across my face. "You are wed?" I asked.

My old friend smiled at the new, who wrapped her slender, white arms around his. "Yes." He bowed. "We take our leave, my Lady. I hope to meet again soon." With another smile, the pair left, and I entered my room once more.

Barely had I closed the door than a knock sounded on it. I frowned and opened the door to reveal the Grey Wizard. He smiled down at me, although his eyes were wary and guarded. "My lady, the council is about to meet. If you would gather your things and leave them with the dwarves, it would have you much time later. I will wait here."

I nodded, confused, and shut the door. Rushing around quickly, I changed into a different gown but tugged my boots and leggings on under it. I began throwing different supplies into a pack by the door. Several tunics and leggings, my cloak, a canteen and lembas, a blanket, medicine and bandages for my wounds, and my armor were packed quickly and precisely. One of the most horrible things about what had happened to me was that I was unable to ever have children. The only good thing that came from that was that I did not have to worry with the… messy side of my time of the month. My weapons were already in the care of Kili and Fili.

I donned the pack and threw open the door. The wizard nodded, gave me a nearly imperceptible wink, and led me to the dwarves' quarters. Dodging questions, I handed over my pack to Fili and Kili, who still guarded my weapons, and told them to bring it with them should I be unable to depart at the same time as they. Without giving any answers, I darted out the door and joined Gandalf as we hurried towards the pavilion the council was meeting. Elrond appeared beside us as we walked, and he and Gandalf began to speak quietly as we walked. Rivendell was not yet awake, and the sun was just peaking over the horizon as we entered.

Gandalf raised his voice angrily. "With or without our help, these dwarves will march on the mountain. They are determined to reclaim their homeland. I do not believe Thorin Oakenshield feels that he's answerable to anyone. Nor for that matter am I! Or the princess," he added as an afterthought.

I raised my eyebrows in surprise and confirmation as Elrond glanced to me, face grave. Elrond turned back to Gandalf. "It is not me you must answer to."

I froze, then turned and saw a tall, beautiful elf standing framed against the rising sun. She slowly turned around to face us, her face as serene as her movements were graceful. "Lady Galadriel," Gandalf addressed her, awestruck.

"Mithrandir." She smiled gently, eyes glittering. "It has been a long time."

"Age may have changed me," Gandalf said in Elvish, voice swelling with an emotion I could not identify. "But not so the Lady of Lorien." Galadriel smiled almost bashfully, eyes crinkling. "I had no idea Lord Elrond had sent for you."

A voice sounded out of the darkness, making my skin crawl. "He didn't. I did." I took a deep breath and turned to see Saruman the White.

Gandalf bowed to him. I did not move. "Saruman."

"You've been busy of late, my friend." The wizard's smile did not reach his eyes, which remained cold and calculation, like a serpent's. We took our seats. The wizards and I sat at the table, Galadriel remained where she stood, and Elrond paced back and forth worriedly.

"Tell me, Gandalf, did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?" Saruman asked venomously. I narrowed my eyes at the White Wizard almost unperceptively, and then glanced over at the Lady, who already watched me. I had the sense that another presence was invading my mind, and I focused my thoughts to two distinct points. The Lady's eyes widened a fraction, and she nodded slightly.

"Unnoticed? No, I'm simply doing what I feel to be right," Gandalf replied, his tone biting. I had the sudden realization that I sat before two of the Maiar, and I suddenly wished nothing more than to leave.

"The dragon has long been on your mind," Galadriel said, reading his thoughts. So she was the one invading my mind.

"This is true, my lady," Gandalf relented, turning to her. "Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect."

Saruman scoffed, and I felt my dislike for the wizard growing stronger. "What enemy? Gandalf, the enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength."

Elrond agreed, turning to the wizards. "Gandalf, for four hundred years, we have lived in peace. A hard-won, watchful peace."

Gandalf leaned forward, and I leaned back. "Are we? Are we at peace? Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road."

Elrond spread his arms, clearly exasperated. "Hardly a prelude to war."

Saruman took the floor again, waving his hands around. "Always you must meddle, looking for trouble where none exists."

Galadriel turned sharply, glaring at the wizard. To my surprise, he fell silent. "Let him speak."

"There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug, something far more powerful. We can remain blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen living there now call it 'Mirkwood.' They say…" Gandalf trailed off, unsure of how to continue. I stood sharply and strode to the edge of the pavilion, crossing my arms over my chest as my scars began to ache.
Saruman interrupted, mocking him. "Well, don't stop now. Tell us about the woodsmen's sayings!"

I turned around and faced the wizard myself, fury causing my hands to shake. I kept my hands folded behind my back to conceal them. "They speak of a Necromancer living in Dol Guldur, a sorcerer who can summon the dead."

Saruman did not bother mentioning that I had spoken out of turn, but contradicted me instead. "That's absurd. No such power exists in the world." Anymore, I thought bitterly. The lady started in surprise, as I had allowed her to read into my memories as I listened to the White Wizard spew his rehearsed propaganda. "This… Necromancer is nothing more than a mortal man. A conjurer dabbling in black magic."

Gandalf continued where he left off. "And so I thought too. But, Radagast has—"

Saruman turned on the Grey Wizard in disgust. "Radagast? Do not speak to me about Radagast the Brown. He is a foolish fellow."

Gandalf smiled, though I had the sense that the kind wizard wished nothing more that to smack his fellow Maia over the head with his staff. "Well, he's odd, I grant you. He lives a solitary life."

Saruman waved Gandalf's comment away. "It's not that. It's his excessive consumption of mushrooms. They've addled his brains and yellowed his teeth. I warned him, it is unbecoming of the Istari to be wandering the woods…"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring Saruman's glare, and looked to Gandalf, who lifted the package from Radagast, which he had in his lap, and placed it on the table. It let out a dull thud.

The others drew closer to it. I backed away as icy fear gripped my heart. I grasped the column at the edge of the pavilion as sweat beaded on my face despite the cool air. "What is that?" Elrond asked.

Galadriel glared at it, eyes bright with an inner fire. "A relic of Mordor."

Elrond, who was reaching out to unwrap the package, drew his hand back suddenly. Bracing himself, he then reached for it again and opened it, revealing the short sword Radagast had taken from the spirit in Dol Guldur. The White Council members looked upon it in shock.

"A Morgul blade," Elrond said, unable to take his eyes from it. My knees shook, and I leaned against the pillar as my legs gave out. My eyesight grew fuzzy, and I shook my head to clear it.

Galadriel spoke, her lovely voice filled with horror. Her words echoed with memory. "Made for the Witch-King of Angmar, and buried with him. When Angmar fell, men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed in the High-Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried them, in a tomb so dark it would never come to light."

Elrond shook his head in denial. "This is not possible. A powerful spells lies upon those tombs; they cannot be opened."

Saruman turned to Gandalf. "What proof do we have this weapon came from Angmar's grave?"

Gandalf looked down, but I could see his fist clench even as his tone remained humble. My own hands shook so badly that I would have been completely unable to hold any sort of weapon in a fight. "I have none."

Saruman sat up straighter, haughty. "Because there is none. Let us examine what we know. A single Orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen. A dagger from a bygone age has been found. And a human sorcerer, who calls himself the Necromancer, has taken up residence in the ruined fortress. Not so very much, after all. The question of this dwarvish company, however, troubles me deeply. I'm not convinced, Gandalf; I do not feel I can condone such a quest. If they'd come to me, I might have spared them..." Saruman's voice faded away as Galadriel again focused on my mind. For the first time, I heard her words in my head, calming my troubled thoughts.

"They are leaving."

"Aye, my Lady," I replied, looking up at her.

An amused smile wormed its way onto her face. "You knew."

I nodded. A step was heard, and we all turned around; Lindir came up and bowed. "My Lord Elrond; the dwarves, they're gone."

Galadriel's eyes flitted to mine once more. "Go. Join them. Mithrandir will come soon."

I bowed my head, eager to leave. "Yes, my Lady." I stood and left the pavilion, heading for the Company, headed straight for the Misty Mountains.