IDRIL was waiting for Rane when she arrived in Ylle Thalas the next morning, at the entry to the hospital wing. She was making a beeline for her mother before Rane had even cleared the steps, and the fervor with which she threw herself into Rane's arms was alarming.

"'Ama!" she shrieked. "'Ama, 'ama!"

"Babygirl, take it easy," Rane said softly, curling her legs beneath her and sitting on the stone floor, accepting Idril's frenetic affections. She had pulled back and was holding her mother's face in both her hands in her typical fashion, examining her, drinking her in. "I'm right here, love, don't worry."

"'Ama, bad," Idril said, then screwed up her face, as if trying to decide which word to use. She stared at her mother, then placed both small, chubby fists on her temples. "Head, 'ama, 'leep!"

"You had a bad dream?"

Idril nodded frantically at once.

"What was it about, baby?"

Idril shook her head, her lip trembling, then suddenly she burst into tears. Rane scooped her up at once, holding her tight.

"Baby, it was just a dream, don't be scared," Rane said gently, stroking her head. "Don't be scared, baby. Mama's here."

"'Ama," Idril said softly, squeezing her. "'Ama, Idril."

"Your mama isn't going anywhere," Rane said softly, rocking her. "Baby, soon I'll take you home. Soon it will be safe."

Idril sniffed. "'Afe," she repeated, her sobs becoming hiccups. "'Afe."

"Yep. Safe and sound."

"'Afe and sound," Idril murmured. Her breathing was lengthening, and Rane was surprised to notice it. Falling asleep was Idril's trademark stress reaction, and she was doing it not five minutes after Rane had arrived.

"You sleepy, baby?"

"'Leep," Idril repeated, her voice now sluggish. "'Leep, 'ama."

"You go on and sleep, baby," Rane said softly, hugging Idril to her tightly. "I got you."

She was tucking Idril into one of the cots in the hospital wing ten minutes later. Idril was out cold, her rosebud mouth relaxed and her sooty eyelashes fluttering gently. Rane sat at her bedside, watching her, both hands curled in her lap, her face troubled. Most of the rest of the beds were occupied by Elves in various states of injury; most appeared to have been cursed, and a handful wore bloodstained bandages over their limbs or heads. Fiendfyre again, Rane was certain. The Death Eaters weren't pulling any punches, that much was clear.

"Her dreams have been dire of late," said a voice behind her. Rane turned to find Iliwynn striding into the room, looking exhausted but lovely. "She often comes to me in the night, seeking comfort. I give it as I can, but . . . " She sighed. "I only wish I could do more."

"You do plenty, Iliwynn," said Rane, turning her eyes back to Idril, troubled. "Has she told you what she's dreaming about?"

Iliwynn sat beside Rane, her eyes also on the sleeping girl. "She cannot say," she said softly. "Not yet. Mayhap soon."

"Do you think she feels it too?" Rane asked her bluntly. It was no use avoiding the subject; if Wade and Rane felt umbarae's approach so strongly, there was no doubt that Iliwynn did, too.

"I am certain of it," Iliwynn replied. She sat beside Rane, and reaching out smoothed the blanket over Idril's chest. "The eyes of children see much, even when closed. Or so it is said."

She reached out and took Rane's hand in hers, squeezing gently. Rane turned to her, meeting her gaze.

"Now we come to it," Iliwynn said gently. "I know not what now will pass, Rane. We must take heed, and take caution. Do you understand?"

Rane nodded. "Dad told me the same thing."

"Then he told you well."

"What do you think will happen?" Rane asked her softly.

Iliwynn shook her head. "I know not," she said. "Iluvatar has turned his gaze from us. I cannot see. What will follow is up to us. And up to your young friend."

Rane looked at Iliwynn for a moment, struggling. All at once, everything in her was fighting against spilling the whole story to her. It was so powerful that Rane placed her fist over her mouth, her brows descending. Iliwynn, however, smiled at her. The effect of that smile was palpable; Rane felt as if a warm ray of sunshine had fallen upon her.

"Do not speak, nin'mel," she said. "I know well what you would say, and it would do you a disservice. Do not break your vow for such as me."

"You . . . ?"

"I know what the dark lord has done," Iliwynn told her. "For many years now, long and long. For all his discretion, he did not remember those whose eyes see farthest."

"How?" Rane could not conceal her surprise.

"The creation of such things resonates," Iliwynn replied. "The magic that surrounds them is something that we can all perceive, if we are clever enough to discern what it means. The fae'ssä are difficult to ignore, even when veiled. I felt their resonance, though in the early days I knew not what it meant. And then, many years later, Albus Dumbledore came to me. He had discovered one, and destroyed it, and sought council."

"Horcruxes," said Rane softly. It was as if a massive weight was being lifted from her shoulders. "That's what you mean. The fæ'ssä, I mean. Horcruxes."

Iliwynn lifted her brows, looking uncharacteristically derisive. "Do you call them so?" she said, sounding vaguely amused. "'Horcrux' . . . An ugly word for an ugly thing, I suppose." She hesitated, then added, "how many has he made? My advisors suspect that at least three exist."

"Seven."

"Seven." Iliwynn closed her eyes for a moment, her mouth downturned.

"Some of them have been destroyed."

Iliwynn kindled at this, looking at Rane with renewed hope. "More than the first?"

"Yeah. At least three of them are gone. Harry's seen to it. That's what he's doing, he's trying to destroy the rest of them."

Iliwynn leaned forward with sudden fervor, her eyes burning. She grasped Rane's wrists tightly.

"And destroy them he must!" she said ardently. "Destroy them he must! And you must help him, should he require it! Do you understand?"

Rane nodded, bewildered.

"Whatever it takes," Iliwynn said. "Whatever it takes. No matter what."

"What do you mean?"

Iliwynn released her, watching her. Her blue eyes were sharp and acute.

"There is no other way to defeat the Dark Lord," she said slowly. "He will resist all other attempts upon his life. And until his greatest weakness is revealed, his followers will continue to amass. For mortals flock to those they perceive as strong, do they not?"

"I guess they do," said Rane hesitantly. She glanced back down at Idril, who was still fast asleep, and passed a hand over her brow, which was cool and dry. "His greatest weakness?"

Iliwynn watched her, her eyes narrowed.

"That you must discover for yourself."

"Iliwynn, Christ!" Rane slapped her knee, her voice low and harsh. "He's killing everyone, is this really the time for -?!"

"It is the time, yes," Iliwynn said, "and you will be faced with a test, Rane."

"That makes no sense!"

Iliwynn looked at her gravely. "Not to us, mayhap."

"Then what can you tell me?"

"That you or I may perish," said Iliwynn frankly. "And so, too, may Harry."

"Harry won't die on my watch," Rane said, her teeth clenched.

"It is not up to you."

"Sure it is!"

"No." Iliwynn shook her lovely head fervently. "We are expendable in this war. And though I love you as my own," she added, placing a hand on Rane's cheek, "I must concede that he must be destroyed, at all costs. At all costs."

Rane nodded. She felt lightheaded, strange.

"For her sake," said Iliwynn. "For your daughter's and your own." She touched Rane's cheek, looking at her solemnly with her bright, strange blue eyes. "Remember the face of your father. Remember. For us all."

Rane nodded, feeling bewildered. Beneath them, on the moors below, the braying of Elven horses could be heard, faint and harmonious on the cool, whistling wind.

THAT night, in bed at Shell Cottage, Rane dreamt.

She rose to her feet, looking around. It was Ylle Thalas; Rane did not doubt her first instinct this time. The trees were tall and vine-strangled, the air was warm, and the wavering grass was shin-high already. In the coming weeks, as late spring turned to summer, it would grow past her thighs, as it did each and every year since Rane could remember. Big, feathery green ferns bloomed at the roots of the trees, wavering gently in the breeze. Through the boughs, starlight shone gently.

"So you've found your way."

Rane turned. There was a young woman sitting there, at the base of a nearby tree, legs crossed Indian-style and hands clasped primly in her lap. As Rane looked, she rose to her feet.

She was tall, lean and lithe, with long dark hair and bright blue eyes. Her mouth was wide, her cheekbones high; her face was unlined, and she smiled. She wore a pair of jeans and a white tunic, open-throated; the leather strings dangled to her midsection.. Her feet were bare as she padded towards Rane.

"Who are you?" Rane said.

The woman laughed. "The first question you ask is not about where you are? How very curious."

Rane glanced around her again at the firefly-choked forest. "I've been here before. The night Sirius died, when he . . ."

The woman nodded. "Visited."

Rane looked at her, silent, scrutinizing her. The woman laughed again, a deep and reverberating sound.

"Am I dreaming?" Rane asked.

"Close!" the woman looked pleased. "Close enough, anyways. We might continue with it, I suppose." She continued to watch Rane, her expression curious. "Am I not familiar to you? I'm most interested in what you see."

"What I see? What do you mean?"

The woman spread her arms. "What do I look like to you? What form do I take?"

Rane was bewildered by this question, but the sincerity of the woman's curiosity was all over her face. She looked her up and down.

"You look like me. Except for the eyes, I guess, yours are blue."

"How curious!" the woman looked intrigued; a smile played about her mouth. "The eyes! But it almost makes sense. Something I cannot understand. How very curious."

"Okay, so why do you look like me?"

"Perhaps it's you who looks like me?" said the woman, her eyes twinkling.

"Who are you?" Rane asked again, feeling a touch of exasperation.

"I have many names," the woman replied, clasping her hands behind her back, her face becoming solemn. "The Eldar, they of your father's blood, call me Elbereth, or Glithoniel, when they wish to evoke me. But you are not of the Eldar, so I tell you now my true name, which is Varda. It's this you may call me, if you would."

Rane stared at her.

"Varda. The Ainu."

"So we are called by some," Varda said, nodding. She paused, looking puzzled. "Though I don't know if I would call myself such now. I've been here on this plane with you since you were kindled. It's all very strange, and I don't fully understand all of it. None of us do. But I do know that I was an Ainu before I came to you, and I may yet be among the Ainur once we are no longer together, when our song is finished."

"Wait, you're - so you're not Varda, the Ainu, or -?"

"I am," said Varda, nodding. "Or I was. Am I? I don't know. I know my purpose, and my name. Much of it is difficult to describe. What was, and what will be, the intricacies of these things are always difficult to describe, I'm sure you'd agree."

"So you're . . . You've been . . . I'm sorry, I don't understand." Rane clutched at her head. "How have you been here since -?"

"You know of the prophecy," said Varda.

Rane dropped her hands. "The prophecy?"

"Dally not, Rane Roth, I've been with you from the start, and I see your mind as I see all else," said Varda, her voice suddenly stern. "You know of what I speak."

Rane took a step back. The idea that she was in the presence of an Ainu, one of the creators of all existence - a being so legendary and fabled that their very names had become creed among the Elves - was harrowing, frightening, filling her with a sort of religious terror she had never experienced before. Had her father been present, Rane had little doubt that he would be prostrate with his face in the dirt, weeping at this woman's feet. Iliwynn had prayed to Varda in council meetings, for crying out loud.

"I'm sorry, this is all a little . . ." Rane pinched the bridge of her nose between her finger and her thumb for a moment, squeezing her eyes tightly. "This is a little overwhelming. You're throwing a lot at me all at once."

Varda reached out and grasped Rane's hand in one of her own. "I understand, and I am sorry. I sometimes forget. It's been a very long time since . . ."

She stared off at a point behind Rane for a moment, seeming to ponder. Presently she gathered herself and clasped her hands before her again.

"I have brought you here to speak to you," Varda said, with an air of getting down to business. "You know of the prophecy. Your father has spoken of it, your people have spoken of it, and you have spent a great deal of time thinking on it. Though you would not speak on it with your friends if you can help it, they know, and you know. So let us tarry no longer on it."

Though it wasn't a question, exactly, Rane sensed that she was waiting for affirmation, so she nodded.

"The Peredhil is the Ainu reborn," said Varda. "And so we are one, until our time here is finished. Do you understand?"

"No, but . . ." Rane sighed. "Are we the same . . . person?"

"No," said Varda gently, "but we are one. You are my fana, and I am yours. Do you know the word?"

"Body. Aspect."

Varda nodded. "And as we are so twined together, if one of us should leave, the other would not survive. So I have protected you, protected us, for many years now."

"All those times I couldn't control the power," Rane said suddenly, "that was you?"

Varda hesitated. "Yes and no," she said. "That power derived from me, but it grew and multiplied within you. It belongs to us both."

"But it was you controlling it?"

Varda shook her head. "No. Well . . ." Again, she looked puzzled. This was certainly not the ethereal, omnipotent deity Rane would have pictured. "The bottom of your mind, the animal part, that was what cast my power out during those times. As the body fights a virus, so yours fought what it felt to be a threat. Neither of us had a say. Both of us were put to sleep beneath it."

"So - so you can't control it -?"

"Neither of us had control over it," said Varda. "And both of us do."

Rane groaned, dragging her hands down her face. "What?"

"Think of it this way," said Varda, waving one hand. "The sea . . . If you were to take a bowl, and scoop up the water, you would control that water, in your bowl. But the rest of the turf does as it pleases. You control the sea, and yet it controls itself. Do you understand?"

Rane shook her head, aggravated. Varda, however, nodded, looking satisfied.

"But, when I was a kid, sometimes it would -"

"Rane." Varda's voice was stern once more. "We've more important matters to discuss. That's passed."

Rane felt a surge of resentment. "I've been dealing with this all my life, you expect me to just forget about it? Now that someone can actually answer my questions?"

Varda looked at her for a moment speculatively.

"I have been with you since the beginning," she repeated. "I've felt your pain, the same as you. And could I answer your questions, I would. But these things . . . This power that you possess . . . Though it derives from me, and my kin, I do not understand it. Only one understands it, and that being is beyond us for now."

Rane fell silent.

"What have you come here to tell me?" she asked.

For the first time, Varda looked sad. The change around them was abrupt. The wind suddenly picked up, blowing icy cold against Rane's bare arms, and the boughs above them wavered within it, dropping greenish-gold leaves all around them.

"You are strong." said Varda. "And you must be strong for what comes next."

Rane looked around herself abruptly; the trees, the cloudy night sky, the turf. It didn't feel like a dream.

"This is real," she said softly. She bent, grasped a handful of soft black earth, crumbled it in her hands. The roots of the tall grass, thin as hairs, stood against the dark soil, white as snow. Rane looked at Varda. "Isn't it? isn't it real?"

Varda knelt, grasping Rane's hand. Her eyes met Rane's.

"I have come to love you so," said Varda, and her eyes were suddenly brimming, overbright. "So help me. Would that they knew how very much. You are all that we should have been, and so delicate, and so tender, all that the Eldar never knew. I watched you fall in love with him, with Sirius Black, and I watched you lose him. I watched Idril, kindled against all odds, and you holding her in your arms, scarcely an hour old. I watched you weep, and laugh, and take your repose, and fight, relentlessly. I watched you so very often, Rane, so much. And I came to love you so, as my own. We have shared bed and board and bottle, and we are one, so we are. So we are."

Rane watched her, silent. They knelt together, mirror images, Varda grasping Rane's hand in both her own, her mouth downturned.

"May I ask you a question?" Varda asked.

Rane nodded. "Of course."

"Do you fear death?"

Rane shook her head. "No. I fear life."

Varda squeezed her hand; the tears in her eyes spilled down her cheeks.

"As do all who are wise enough to know its horrors," she said, nodding.

"What have you come here for?"

"I came to herald the end," said Varda. "To us all, perhaps. It approaches, very quickly now. We must fight, and the war must end, one way or another. I know not what will come of it, but I know that. And that death comes."

"Who?"

Varda shook her head. "I know not, nor does any man or Elf or Ainu. Nor, perhaps, Iluvatar Himself, though I have often wondered. I believe that fate is greater than us all, and that we must obey its call." She touched Rane's face gently. "Your own call will come, and very soon. You must heed it. It will be soft, no greater than a dove's call, but you must heed it. Do you understand?"

Rane shook her head. Suddenly, she was aware that she could see through Varda; the trees behind her were visible, faintly, wavering through her fair face.

"Varda -?"

"I cannot linger," said Varda. "I must go. We may meet again, Rane Roth, indeed we may. Though I do not know. I do not understand much."

"Varda!"

The wind was rising, and Rane's hair whipped about her face. She reached out to Varda, but her fingers were not there any longer. Now only her eyes, bright blue, lingered in the growing mist.

"I do not understand, but I have grown to love you so," Varda's voice came again, now faint. "I have grown . . ."

And then she was gone, and Rane was enveloped in the white fog, falling.