Neniel did not entirely like her first experience of a city of Men. Osgiliath was impressive, certainly, or rather she felt that she should be impressed by it. Every stone was ancient and had its own unique story, and as she walked through the streets she could almost hear the voices of people long past calling out to her, begging to share their experiences. Much construction was underway within the city; Elessar had ordered the city to be restored after its occupation in the War and the task was so intricate and mammoth that it was still underway a quarter of a century later. Hammers and chisels echoed in those largely empty streets, and the shouts of workers clamoured over each other to create the effect of being in a busy marketplace. Then there were the crowds. Moving into the habited part of the city was like being in the midst of the army once again with men, women and children pushing past each other in the bustling streets on their various errands and business, shouting and talking, laughing and arguing, playing and fighting. The effect was overwhelming.

Neniel had remained close by her father for most of her time in the city. Partially wanting to be near him to constantly reassure herself that he truly was alive, she also did not like to venture out among the humans. They were a foreign race to her; before now she had only met the emissaries from Dale in her grandfather's halls. She was surprised at how different they were, how loud. They always seemed to be in a rush, never stopping for conversation or to admire the wondrously beautiful city around them. But then, she supposed, humans were so short-lived. Perhaps this was simply the pace of life they must endure in order to ensure they completed their life's work before it ended. The thought made her sad.

Elessar had given the Elven contingent a wing in the newly rebuilt Great Hall which lay at the centre of Osgiliath. From here she could look out upon the entire city of gleaming white stone without the stares of the humans at her back. It was hard to believe the entire city had been in ruins in only the year of her own birth. It was impossible to tell which parts were original and which were reconstructed so great was the craftsmanship. The Anduin lay close by, sparkling in the setting sun. The Great Bridge also had been rebuilt, that lifeline of defence during the last conflict, the only spot along the Anduin where a large army could cross. While Elessar's personal Company had crossed at the smaller bridge downriver, the majority if the army was now making its way across this bridge, having marched along the banks to get here all day. Their lit torches bobbed along the bridge as they marched like a river of fire, a fire breathing dragon with sharp fangs.

Neniel turned away from the window, suddenly feeling a stab of pain. Flashes of memory came back to her: the fiery land of Mordor, the deathlike cold of Morgul, the bright lights as Celegorm and Curufin slowly but steadily drew out the power within her, sending spasms of uncontrollable pain shooting through her body as she grew ever weaker in her own mind.

She collapsed into a nearby chair and breathed steadily, closing her eyes and clutching her mother's talisman. Do not think of it, she told herself. Do not give it any thought. Forget this.

But she could not. Her body was trembling at the memory. The cruelty of her enemies had not ended with her rescue it seemed. Would it be destined to live with her the rest of her long life?

She tried to turn her thoughts to other more pleasant memories: the sight of the Sea of Rhûn under the stars, the cool breeze that swept through her hair as she walked under the green leaves of Mirkwood, the sweet singing of the birds, the feel of the earth beneath her feet. But those memories too were tainted, for it was in the sanctuary of her homeland she had been taken. And she could now barely recall the feeling of walking beneath trees. All around her for so long now had been stone. Stone was lifeless here. In Mirkwood at least the stone caverns of her home had been surrounded by trees, roots entwined with the stone, the smell of earth and greenery never far. Stone to her was now a dungeon, a trap. She needed to be free of this.

Her father was with Arveldir and the others, discussing matters she had no interest in, preparing for the Council in the morning. He had told her to rest here in this alcove that had been designated her chambers, but she would find no rest here in this tomb of stone.

She made up her mind. She rose from her chair and pulled around her shoulders a dark cloak which had been given her by one of the serving women sent to tend to her. She slipped out of her chambers and silently crept past the room where her father and his advisors were deep in counsel and then descended the spiral staircase as swift as a shadow. A few more moments brought her out into the fresh air of twilight and she breathed a sigh of relief. The Great Hall was situated within a tall wall of stone in the centre of the city, encompassing the hall itself, some adjoining living chambers, barracks for the king's personal guard and their training grounds. She looked around with a frown. Where to go now?

A strange sensation then passed through her body, an irrepressible urge that was pulling her onwards. Ever open to possibility, she had no qualms in following it. It was taking her in the direction of the training grounds where she could sense a crowd of soldiers had gathered. She drew back slightly as she approached, not wishing to encounter many humans like this without her father, but she took of deep breath and continued, feeling something pulling her forwards. She drew her cloak further around her face and managed to slip mostly unnoticed into the gathering.

Upon finding a small gap she saw that the soldiers were looking towards two men circling each other with empty hands poised for a fist fight. One man was large and bulky and glared at the other with undisguised hatred. As the other man circled and came under the light of a torch, she recognised it as Eldarion. She started in surprise.

It appeared she had entered into the final stages of the fight. The large man had blood trailing from his lip and the beginning of several bruises on his face. Eldarion however, despite looking largely dishevelled had no obvious wounds. His eyes were fixed on the other man, unblinking.

It was then she felt a wave of an emotion that was almost wholly unfamiliar to her: rage. Eldarion was furious with this man. But there was something deeper, an emotion more powerful and debilitating. It was fear, though not of the man standing before him. This was something far worse.

The other man, who Neniel now inexplicably knew was named Raegon laughed suddenly, though this was no gentle elf laugh, but one filled with low conceit.

"What's the matter, prince?" he demanded, leering at Eldarion. "Lost all your nerve in Mordor?"

Eldarion's face went red with fury and the next moment he had lunged towards Raegon with his fists flying. He was faster than a human, Neniel noted suddenly, fighting with almost Elven strength as he wrestled with the much larger man, driven by his burning rage. Raegon grunted and fell to the ground, Eldarion on top of him. It looked like the fight would continue in this manner, both combatants scuffling and kicking like children in a playfight, but it was not to be.

Eldarion froze suddenly, and then his head jerked around to the side with an incredulous expression on his face. Neniel turned to where he looked and saw Elboron standing on the side-lines, arms folded and wearing a disapproving scowl. Eldarion tilted his head to the side as if listening, though no words had been said.

Neniel realised then that the two were talking. It was the mental communication that the three of them had been using sometimes unknowingly over the last several weeks. How did they do it so easily? She had done it once, in Cirith Ungol. And then again next to the Anduin But how? She could barely remember. It had seemed so natural.

Elboron's distraction was all that Raegon needed. With one last display of strength he had thrown the prince off of him and then pinned him to the ground, leering in victory as Eldarion spluttered. Neniel gasped aloud as she felt the force of that blow. Why was it that she could experience the man's pain?

"Raegon!" Elboron was striding towards him now. "End this. You have won. Leave now. Leave all of you," he said, turning towards the onlookers. "This is no time for prying."

The crowd muttered in malcontent, but obeyed their Captain and departed, Raegon with a triumphant smirk directed at the prone prince. Soon the training grounds were deserted. Neniel ducked into the shadow of a nearby building in order to observe. She did not want to leave. Something strong was compelling her to stay. She watched Eldarion as he raised himself to his feet, utterly transfixed by him. Half man, half elf, he was unique, and he fascinated her. She felt a connection to him she could not explain. She needed to be near him.

Eldarion was scowling however, and she could sense his displeasure. He batted away Elboron's proffered hand and stood to glare at him.

"Why did you distract me like that?" he demanded. "Telling me to stop? That was enough to give him the advantage."

"Just what I planned," Elboron countered. "A knock to your ego will do you some good. Remember what we discussed about your recklessness?"

Eldarion's scowl deepened. "You humiliated me!"

"No," Elboron's voice was harsh now. "You humiliated yourself. Have you learned nothing?"

"He insulted me!" Eldarion said, though Neniel could hear the edge of doubt creeping into his tone. "He has never respected me."

"And he never will with that attitude." Elboron sighed and shook his head. "Eldarion, what's happened these last weeks, it's been difficult, for all of us. But you cannot lose control like that. You are the prince. You have responsibilities."

"I'm perfectly well aware of that," Eldarion said curtly. "You need not remind me."

"Needn't I?" Elboron sounded exasperated now. "He is on our side, Eldarion. Remember that. You will be his king one day. We need to come together in times like these."

"Tell him that!"

"You are the one supposed to do that!" said Elboron. "You are the one supposed to be in charge."

Eldarion was breathing heavily, and again Neniel could sense that deep underlying fear within him. It intrigued her. What could such a mighty warrior have to fear? One so sure of his own abilities? She wondered then if Elboron could sense it too. If he did, he gave no indication. He watched his friend, his lips pursed.

"If your father hears of this, Eldarion …"

"He can't!" Eldarion said, a flash of panic in his eyes. "Elboron-"

"I'll speak to Raegon, and the others," Elboron said, and Eldarion sighed in relief. "But I cannot keep covering for you. Not anymore. You need to remember who you are, Eldarion."

"I'll doubt I'll ever forget that," Eldarion mumbled, and again that fear pulsated within him and within Neniel. He looked back at his friend. "Thank you, mellon nín, for your intervention and your words. It may not sound it, but I appreciate them. And I intend to keep the promise that I will never ask for you to cover for me again."

Elboron laughed drily. "The day that happens, Eldarion, will be the day that the sky turns green."

The younger man strode off, leaving Eldarion alone in the training grounds. Neniel watched him a few moments in the darkening light, still strangely drawn to this strange man. Could he sense her here? How could he not when every one of her senses was tingling and singing out at being so close to him?

Eldarion walked off, crossing the open space and passing through a small archway into a darkened courtyard. Neniel hesitated, feeling suddenly bereft of his presence, then quickly followed him, her tread light and nimble as she sped over the ground. She passed through the archway of stone and found herself in a large walled courtyard. Among the stone there sprouted greenery of all sorts, healing roots and plants, fragrant and colourful. The night plants were opening their leaves now and releasing their sweet scent into the air lending the garden an intoxicating atmosphere. She closed her eyes and breathed it all in, feeling the vitality of the life around her, the beating heart of each plant, each blade of grass, and felt a new lightness in her chest. The place was still and fresh, each breath was like a remedy for the soul, sending waves of bliss through her body. She felt as though she could lie down upon the ground and breathe in his scent for hours, lost in the wondrous soporific effects of this hidden garden. She almost forgot she why she was here.

She opened her eyes and saw Eldarion standing close by her, a soft smile upon his face as he watched her.

"I thought perhaps you'd like the garden best," he said, gesturing to the space around him. "My mother loves it here, a hidden paradise in a city of stone. She said that elves do not best thrive away from nature."

"Queen Arwen is quite correct," Neniel said, breathing in deeply once more, and spreading out her arms as though to embrace the garden itself. "I have longed to be back amongst things that grow for too long."

"It isn't quite Mirkwood, but it'll have to do," Eldarion explained. "Men do not often think of nature when building their cities."

"It's perfect," Neniel said, laughing lightly. She looked back at him. "You knew I was there the entire time?"

"No, just at the end, though I suspected," Eldarion said, eyes on her as she strolled around the flowerbeds. "I thought I could sense you, but could not be certain."

"'Tis a curious link we share," Neniel said, stopping down to feel the silky-smooth petals at her feet. "It seems so natural, yet, why were we never aware of it before? And why does it come and go so?"

"I have no explanation," Eldarion said, following her erratic path among the plants. "Elboron and I have thought long and hard and come up with no answers."

"He spoke to you during the fight," Neniel stated, her curiosity awoken once again. "In your mind. How?"

"We've been practicing," Eldarion explained. "We're fairly accomplished now. We're learning to block each other out as well so that we may have private moments too."

Neniel smiled mischievously. "Are you blocking him now?"

Eldarion gulped and then laughed nervously. "I'm not sure. I'll let you know."

Neniel laughed and turned away to examine more plants. She could feel his eyes on her back, and through their link a new curiosity. He, it seemed, longed to know as much about her as she about him.

"I was unable to hear you before," she said, "and I'm not sure I know how to do it. I cannot say how I managed it before."

"It will take practice, and we could teach you," he told her. "Elboron and I know each other well and so perhaps it was easier for us."

"If we get to know each other as well, perhaps we could communicate too?" Neniel said, finishing his unsaid implication. "The thought does appeal to me. I would like to use this link as more than just a means for determining feelings and sharing injuries. I think I would like to get to know you better."

"So should I, princess," he said, and she smiled and turned away.

"What is this plant?" she asked suddenly, crouching to the ground. "I have never seen its like before."

"It is tithenlas," he explained, coming closer to see. "It is used for the staunching of wounds. Very useful in battle."

"It has a lovely colour," Neniel said, examining it more closely. "And a fragrance my people would tell stories of."

"I suppose it does," he said, crouching beside her. "I've never noticed before."

"Then you always see the world in terms of battle?" Neniel asked, turning to him, head tilted. "Do you disregard beauty?"

"No, but I've had little time for it," he admitted, not looking at her. "It's never seemed very important."

Neniel laughed at the absurdity. "Why ever not? That seems foolish to me," she stood and looked around the garden. "Life is about beauty and pleasure, not about battle and killing."

"For elves perhaps," he said, "who have centuries to appreciate the colour of a flower or the wonder of a waterfall, but humans do not."

"Then all the more reason," she said. "If your life must be so short and full of toil, should you not try to appreciate as much as you can?"

He was silent a moment, watching her. "Very true."

Eldarion hesitated and walked away for a moment before suddenly turning. "What could you sense from me?" he asked suddenly. "When I was fighting, you said you felt … emotions?"

She nodded. "Anger mostly, which I do not understand. Human arrogance baffles me. But also fear, which confused me even more."

Eldarion closed his eyes and moaned slightly. "Then Elboron felt it too. How weak I must look."

"Why weak?" she asked, genuinely bewildered. "Is fear not a natural thing for humans? What had you to be afraid of?"

Eldarion avoided her gaze for a moment. "It's … just …" he sighed, and wrung his hands together. "I'm not sure. Fear of letting my father and my kingdom down, I suppose. So much rests with me. I fear I cannot live up to my duty." he looked at her again. "Do you never feel thus, with your own kingdom?"

Neniel shook her head immediately. "Never," she said. "Responsibility for the Rhûn and Mirkwood kingdoms rest with my grandfathers and I do not trouble myself with it. I never intend to inherit after all."

"But do you do nothing?" he asked incredulously. "You really have no role?"

"None that I made for myself," she replied. "I travel between my homes at my whim, but ever my grandfathers ask me to carry some missive, to persuade one to the other's way of thinking, to reason with the other."

"So … you are a diplomat?"

"No, I refuse to take on such a role," Neniel said, surprised by the strength of her voice. "I just wish to live my life on my own terms. I detest being caught in the middle of their feuds."

"But surely if you can do something to end their disagreements, it would be the right thing to do?"

Neniel was silent a moment, watching a small rodent burrowing its way into the garden. "I am not suited for such a role," she said. "I am too heedless, too erratic. I have always been told so. My mind flits so quickly from one thing to another I would be hopeless as a diplomat."

"Perhaps it is simply your youth?"

She laughed again. "I am older than you, son of Elessar," she said, shooting him a side-glance. "Though I take your point. I am below the Elvish age of maturity. It seems however my grandfathers are not prepared to wait. So, caught in the middle I remain."

Eldarion was following close behind her now. She could hear the beating of his heart.

"I have never lived my life as you do," he mused, "moving from one thing to the next with no thought for the future. To be so determined to be unrestrained and free … the thought is tempting." He laughed shortly. "It would never do however. I know my role, and I accept it willingly."

Neniel turned and smiled at him. "Then I am glad for you. It is a noble thing to take on such a fate. The Kingdom of Gondor is in safe hands. I only hope you can bear the weight of such a burden for as long as needed. That your fears will not overcome you."

"I doubt they shall when I am surrounded by such excellent advice as given to me by yourself and Elboron," he said. Already his face seemed lighter, and Neniel was pleased at the effect she'd had on him. Then his gaze grew more serious. "And perhaps one day you will find a role for yourself in your own kingdoms."

Her eyes fell from his and she turned away her face, a new heaviness in her heart. "I sought to create myself a role," she said softly. "I thought I knew best how to serve my kingdoms and then was captured by darkness. I will not make such a mistake again."

She avoided his gaze as she felt the suffering she had endured when she thought of her father's fate resurface. Why was she telling him these things? And why was he speaking of them with her? What was it about this man that made her want to share so much of herself? She was no longer so sure it was simply the link.

He took a step closer. "And why did you do that, Neniel?" he asked. "Why sneak into your father's patrol? You wanted to protect your home, and that is admirable. Do not give up hope that you will never find a way to serve your kingdom on your own terms, or accept the ones given to you. Do not let one bad experience destroy your faith in your own destiny."

She met his eyes once again and found herself fixed to the spot as she regarded them. So young, yet filled with the wisdom of one much older, despite his rash actions earlier that evening. There was more to this young human than met the eye.

"The darkness still remains with you," he said to her in Sindarin. "None of us have been left untouched. But we will rise again from under it, Lalaith. That I promise."

Neniel laughed at the sound of her new name, liking the way it rolled off his tongue and the way it summoned up images of her happy past. He laughed too and they remained in silence in each other's company. From across their link, Neniel could sense nothing but warmth from him. Open and honest were his thoughts and she knew she could trust him. He was a man whom she could believe, a man whom men would follow in years to come. The little she knew of his father led her to believe he was already more than worthy of being his son.

A sound startled them both and they turned their heads to see Elessar himself walk through the archway almost as if summoned there by Neniel's thoughts. He froze at the sight of the two of them, and Eldarion hastily took a few steps backwards out of the close proximity they had just been sharing. Neniel immediately sensed a wave of embarrassment coming from the man, though she did not understand why. Was Eldarion embarrassed about his earlier fight? Surely nothing here could be the cause?

Elessar's eyes travelled between the two of them, his expression unreadable. He appeared not to have expected to find them here.

"Lady Neniel, your father is searching for you," he said, finally resting his gaze on her. "Your absence alarmed him."

Neniel's eyes widened. She hadn't thought of what would happen if her father were to discover her missing. How he must have despaired!

"I was just showing her the gardens," Eldarion said quickly, still sending out tendrils of embarrassment to her.

Elessar looked upon his son. "Apparently," he said. His eyes narrowed slightly, and Eldarion withdrew his gaze.

"I will go to my father now," Neniel said, and with one last look at Eldarion she hastened across the garden. Elessar stepped back to let her pass, giving her an extremely curious look as he did so.

She tried to ignore this as she headed swiftly back to her father. Humans were far more difficult to understand than she had thought.