"Faramir I left at Gondor. He was most eager to go, to prove his worth to our blinded father. Fara tries so hard, but his reason greys with his years."

"Denethor had always been like that. Fara should just forget about it."

"You've never been my father's son."

"No I haven't. But it lets me see things that you would particularly miss."

"Hn, you're right."

The wall against Habren's back felt cold as she talked with the man from Gondor. In the chambers of Narsil, the broken blade gleamed pale upon the marble maiden's arms. Against their backs was a mural of that fateful fight: Isildur versus Sauron, right before the Third Age began. It sent a foreboding feeling upon the both of them especially when she found Boromir eyeing it with intense interest.

They went silent until Boromir spoke, approaching the elleth closer, leaning against the wall behind her. "How?" he asked.

"How what?"

The lines upon Boromir's brows drew together and it made Habren starkly aware of his age. "How are you here alive and well? Standing right before my eyes?"

A grunt sparked from her soft voice. "News of my plight spreads for Gondor as well."

Habren felt his familiar hand upon her shoulders as he shook his comrade gently. It was as if he was checking to see if she was still real. "Habren, it's been more than twenty years since everyone thought you dead. Fara and I were devastated."

Habren shifted awkwardly away from his grasp in her silence.

Boromir shifted a bit as well, thoughts deep in memory. "Remember when my brother and I snuck out of the city? I was eighteen and Faramir thirteen. My pride was at its peak. We traveled so far we had a run-in with orcs, nowhere near the size of an army, but a good handful. I told Fara to flee as I kept them at bay. I was losing strength and I was badly wounded. I thought I was going to die. I was about to give up, when I saw a small bird, bright like candlelight. It drifted closely, growing into the size of a hawk and engulfing our foes in brightness that could have overwhelmed anyone. Then you came riding, stolen one of Father's horses! Everything went by fast as you sped around and dispatched all the orcs one-by-one. You fainted right before my feet when they were all dead. You were one person but it didn't matter that they outnumbered you. You never thought of giving up on us."

Habren watched as her memories reawakened within her mind.

Boromir continued. "We have never told a soul of your power. Something told us you didn't want anyone to know. It was what little gratitude we were capable of before you left so suddenly. If it weren't for you… We wouldn't be alive." His sigh rolled with a spout of laughter. "I have not properly told you how thankful I am. This has been decades delayed."

Habren could not withhold a tiny smile. From all the wrong she had been doing it was nice to be reminded of the good she was still capable of.

"I'm glad you're alive." Boromir said.

She felt her muscles continue to ease. "And I'm glad you're well. And that I was given this chance."

Boromir laughed. "We should catch up more often."

Habren laughed lightly with him, patting the man's shoulder as she peeled herself away from the wall. "We should."

A puzzled look was on Boromir. "Where are you off to?"

"We have a quest long enough to fill in for all the catching up. I must run some errands for my uncle."

She felt guilty leaving Boromir like that but as she descended the stairs, she reminded herself that if she were able to understand her powers in a safe environment it would be in Rivendell. She would've called Gandalf, but she figured her mentor had other things he could worry about. She didn't want to call on anyone else, for the fear that should her powers run wild again, someone was bound to get hurt. She sneaked into a place where no one but her and her cousins knew about, where the waterfall met the river, under a very wide stone bridge. She recalled the disaster in the Bruinen, cringed, then exhaled.

Slowly but surely, she raised her open palm upwards, a pillar of water synchronizing with her movement. Nothing odd happened. She lifted her other arm, raising another pillar that towered over the other. Still nothing. Habren was still in control, albeit the exhaustion grappling at her already. Testing them deeper, she urged the water more confidently now, sending arches rushing at an incredible speed. The way she controlled it was not through her hands now, she controlled it all mentally, counting on the pace of the air that was entering her body as she inhaled, the water building up into a replica of the bridge above.

By then, Habren felt spent. The bridge stayed still until it lightly wobbled under her control. But before she could let it go, things went wrong. The curves of the intricate designs sharpened, the railings spiked up like the last time. Now that she was more aware, she practically saw it fly out of her grasp. It was draining her quickly, her mental connection to the water broken, and it tore asunder into nine figures. Violent slushing sounds replacing their cries, crystal clear forms of shrouded thralls. An unwelcomed chill crawled through Habren's veins as the Nazgul surrounded her full-circle. Desperate to regain control, she peaked her power even higher, resonating into the Nazgul as their forms shook like leaves in the wind. Cold sweat crawled underneath her tunic, finding a way to stop.

Something warm landed on her shoulder, and versus all her reasoning, the Nazgul dispersed in a daggered frenzy with Habren barely avoiding the tendrils. She felt her weight shift downwards, and anticipated to collide with the water were it not for the firm arm that secured its grip around her waist. Absentmindedly, she held onto it as she allowed her senses to recover. Once she was at ease the arm around her became alarming.

But the arm dragged her offshore, gently laying her down unto the ground. Her head shot up to find a face, meeting with deep, stormy eyes. She remained there frozen, half due to shock, half due to the cold sweat. Before she could react violently, she swallowed. "Thank you, milord. Saved my dignity again."

Legolas sighed. "It did not occur to you to ask someone to accompany you?"

"You made to the party."

Guilt weighed her brows down before she could continue, the ellon had a cut on his lower jaw. No doubt from the dispersion of the watery Nazgul. He found her starting. "It's only a scratch." He insisted.

"It could've been worse."

"But it isn't, right?"

"Agh, are you always this insistent?"

Legolas moved in front of her to sit and meet her face. "I do not mean disrespect, but I've seen you do it; make that bridge. It was beautiful, possibly one of the greatest feats I have ever seen. I have not seen Mithrandir do it himself."

"He is bound to the Istari. He cannot flaunt his power."

"It was amazing. It's dangerous, but amazing."

Habren laughed somberly. "I could agree with that."

Habren felt herself smirk but quickly lost it. She stood up and dismissed Legolas's assistance, urging him to believe that she was fine. She made her way slowly towards the riverbank as she unwrapped her sash, dunking it into the water before calling the ellon to her side. "Let me clean the wound."

"Milady, it is alright."

"Please, mellon nin. I am not giving you the liberty to object."

Legolas paused. He nodded and allowed her to dab at his jaw in silence. The tension was evident till she could bare it no longer. "Habren."

"Milady?"

"We'll be going on a quest together and I hate formalities."

The ellon smirked, ignoring the sting the water made as it touched his wound. It felt like it was quickly healing, anyways. "Legolas."

Habren turned to look at him, back into his eyes. "Your eyes." She blurted.

Legolas raised a brow. "Pardon?"

"They're like a stormy sea." Like a fragment of her that stems from her power. The one thing that seeks to take over her. "It feels so strong that it scares me. You—you scare me."

Legolas frowned. He halted the hand that dabbed at the vanishing wound and brought it down to rest on his lap. "You don't have to be." This startled her and he could see it in the glimmer of her brown eyes. She slightly nodded in recognition. "We hope for the best. And stop calling me milady."

Legolas grinned. "Habren it is."