Reunited

Neniel pressed her back against the bark of the tree behind her and sighed as she felt the roughness dig into her flesh through her thin dress. She stretched out, one leg fully extended along the bough of the oak tree which was currently her perch, the other lazily draped over the side, hanging freely above the ground thirty feet below her. Her hands gripped the bark tightly, as though by doing so she could possess the power within, the purest of lights. Perhaps that would be what would ease her troubled heart and lighten the burden within her.

The two months since her rescue had been filled with days like these. The darkness that had been instilled in her by the sons of Fëanor remained in her mind and heart leaving her icy cold and joyless for long stretches. During these times she could find no light within, and no laughter escaped her lips. She was suffocated by the stone walls of her grandfather's home and longed for the openness of the forest, to feel the soil under her feet and the leaves against her skin. Reluctant to risk her recapture, her father and grandfather had however forbidden her to leave the palace unaccompanied. Dismayed at her sudden change in temperament, they sent her everything they could think of to improve her mood; their most worthy musicians who played the wondrous music of Valinor, poets and singers whose voices were those of the Valar themselves, scores of attending women who tried their hardest to bring some joy through their tasks and conversation as they weaved and crafted the most beautiful of objects. Yet none of it would serve. The only thing which served any relief was the nature that surrounded her. Finally, as he saw his daughter wasting away, Prince Legolas had granted her permission to venture into the forest to restore her spirits, yet only under close guard. So now Neniel sat in a tree, still within sight of the palace gates, a ring of Elven warriors circling the tree like a row of spears embedded within the earth.

It was not perfect, but it would serve.

She thought wistfully of the days when she could go where she wished without a stream of guards behind her. She wanted the freedom she had once had. To run beneath these trees would be a joy unrivalled, losing herself in their shadows, touching each one and learning its voice, bathing her feet in the lifegiving waters of the rivers. Only that could banish the memories which plagued her dreams and waking moments alike. Even now, surrounded as she was with the vibrancy of living things, she began to tremble as she thought of her captivity. Wounds had healed, her strength had returned, but the horror of that place remained with her. She expected at every moment that she would wake to find herself once again in that dark, cold cell, chained and humiliated. There were times when she believed her entire escape had been an imagining, just as she had always thought.

But then, as she always did when such thoughts threatened to overwhelm her, she pictured the face of her rescuer. He had been no dream, despite what she had believed at first. He was real to her now as her own mind. She had shared his thoughts, walked with him in the gardens of Osgiliath, revealed her darkest moments and now she longed to see him again. To see his face, which seemed not quite sure if it wanted to be that of a human or elf, and have it smiling at her again would help stem the tide of evil within her. She closed her eyes and smiled to herself as she remembered the words he had spoken to her, the way he had held her when they were at their most desperate. She ached to feel that safe again.

Eldarion, the son of Elessar, the first human she had truly come to know. His absence from her mind had been painfully clear of late. She had come to miss his being there before she had even noticed how much she had come to rely on it. Only the briefest of moments of shared thought were open to them, the depths of night in particular when she was enmeshed in the waves of sleep which soothed her body and also her mind when he was there. His presence was like the sun to her shadowed soul.

He was coming, she reminded herself excitedly, feeling her heart leap. She knew it for she had spoken to him only a few days before, their first contact in far too long. She could sense him growing closer, every step making an imprint upon her heart. If she could be sure of evading her guards she would fly towards him even now and lessen the hours between their meeting. But as it was, he came to her painfully slow on the Forest Path with the rest of his people. The previous evening they had crossed the Enchanted River which meant they were nearly upon the palace and she was almost trembling in anticipation. What would it be to see him again? Had she overestimated his effect on her? What if he did not wish to see her as much as she did him?

She gazed out over the roofs of the trees, trying to discern which of those he might even now be passing under. A small part of her was afraid at seeing him. When last they had encountered one another, she had been so weak, so defenceless, it was almost embarrassing to try and face him with any dignity. She had depended on him so utterly, clung to him as a child, weeping and believing in fantasies. What must he think of her? She wished to prove there was a different side to her, that she was no burden or maiden to be protected, but could she? When thinking of her despondency of late and the tears and lamenting she had succumbed to she could not honestly say so. It was perhaps a foolish hope to think that his mere presence would help to restore her. It did not, however, stop her wishing to see him.

"My lady!"

Neniel jumped, and looked down on the ground to see Faervel standing below, his pale face small and his dark hair streaming behind him like a waterfall. A messenger stood beside him.

"You are called back to the palace, my lady," Faervel called to her. "The final contingent is due to arrive shortly."

Neniel was frozen in place for a moment. He was here.

"My lady!"

"I am coming," she called back, and with a few graceful movements, she had swung herself off her perch and clambered nimbly down the tree until she stood beneath its heavy boughs. Faervel watched every movement unblinkingly and when she was at his side he motioned to his men to move from their posts and encircle her. Neniel said nothing, but tapped her foot impatiently. Moving around with a ring of warriors was tiresome and constricting but it was a small price to pay for a smidgen of freedom. She could not however shake off the feeling that her father was punishing her in some way, having her escorted everywhere like an unruly child.

At a nod, the party began to move, passing under the trees as swiftly and silently as shadows. Faervel walked at her side, dark eyes flitting form side to side on the look out for approaching enemies, his hand ever upon his bow. She moved closer to him and placed a hand on his elbow.

"You may relax, Faervel. There are no enemies here this close to our realm. You need not try and impress my father with your vigilance."

"I am tasked with protecting you, my lady," he said seriously, not moving his hand from his weapon. "That is what I intend to do. I have no wish to see you retaken."

Neniel smiled sadly. She knew that Faervel had taken her capture badly. At just under two hundred years old, aside from her, he was the youngest elf in Middle-Earth and the two had been close for many years. Her grandfather had assigned him her protector from her youth, and it was he who escorted her on her trips between Mirkwood and Rhûn. Those trips had been filled with laughter and merriment, for Faervel was a joyous soul who lived for poetry and music, singing with a wondrous voice. Of late however, he had been glum and stoic. Neniel could barely remember a time when he had called her 'my Lady' and not by her name. She knew he blamed himself for not being at her side during the battle, though such a belief was foolish considering she had gone in secrecy.

The journey back to the palace was short and as dull as she had now come to expect from her hypervigilant guards. Upon passing the palace gate she found herself enveloped in a world of colour and activity. The normally darkened halls were bursting with light and decoration. Her grandfather was hosting a feast in honour of all the peoples of Middle-Earth gathered here against the Fëarnorians. Elves had been preparing for days, working night and day to make the place come alive. Musicians were playing in every part of the palace, the smell from the kitchens was sublime and the halls were filled with an odd mixture of elves, dwarves and men from Lake Town and now even some hobbits who wandered around half dazed as though in a dream. From what some had told her, the palace now resembled Imladris as it had been in its glory, a house of rest and cheer. For Neniel however, no matter how beautiful the palace, the thing that would give her joy was not yet here.

She was ushered to her chambers by some attendants who propped her up and stripped her of her forest garb, muddied and ripped by her exertions in the rooftops and draped over her robes of purest silk in graduating waves of blue, deepest navy at her toes and white as foam at her shoulders, the material falling like a waterfall down her slender frame and pooling at her feet. Her hair they brushed smooth and left flowing over her shoulders, tying a jewel at her brow and adjusting the pendant of her mother upon her breast. When standing her before her looking glass she barely cast herself a glance. They had already told her that the men from Gondor and Rohan had arrived and were even now preparing for the feast. Her heart beat faster.

The music in the palace had swelled to its peak and Neniel knew now was the time. Attended by her women she descended to the main hall where her father and grandfather awaited her. They smiled at her arrival, and as her attending women filed into the dining chamber they each pulled her into an embrace.

"You look beautiful, iell nín," her father said, resting his hands on her shoulders. "More like your mother every day."

Neniel bowed her head and tried to appear gracious, but the comparison to her mother was less than welcome. Was her father ever going to continue to guard her so closely for fear of her meeting her mother's fate?

"Let us hope tonight's festivities will cheer us all," her grandfather said. He glanced towards the dining chamber from where a low buzz was emanating. Neniel's heart skipped a beat as she looked towards it. "Soon we shall truly be united and strong in the face of our Enemy."

"Let us not think of that tonight, adar," her father said, sidling closer to Neniel. He looked down into her face and grinned widely, and Neniel found herself smiling back despite herself. "All I wish for tonight is some song and merriment to chase away the dark memories of late. I would have my daughter laugh again and be merry."

Neniel stood on her toes and kissed her father on the cheek. "That is all I wish for too, ada," she said truly, and gladly accepted the arm he held out to her. They bent their way towards the dining chamber and with every step Neniel's heart grew lighter. Just beyond those doors.

The herald went before them and announced them in a loud voice, immediately commanding a respectful silence. "Thranduil Oropherion, King of Mirkwood, his son Prince Legolas and his granddaughter Princess Neniel."

The doors swung open and the three of them stepped into a room already warm with the heat of many bodies and echoing with music. Tables were burdened with the weight of a lavish feast and crowding the tables were dozens of men, elves, dwarves and hobbits, each one with their face turned to the three royals. But there was only one face that Neniel sought.

She knew he was here; she could sense his presence. It was a warmth that was creeping its way inside her, wrapping itself tenderly around her aching soul. It was familiar and gentle, kind and caring and she opened her mind to it, longing for it to wash over her and surrender herself to it.

She and her family reached the dais on which they were to sit for the feast and when she turned and sat herself on the chair next to her father she finally allowed herself to search the assembly for that face, the one she had filled all her thoughts of.

She found it immediately.

Her eyes met his, and suddenly, everything was well.

"You're going to spill your food in your lap if you keep going like this," Elboron said to him with his mind, and Eldarion jumped. He realised he had been sitting with a spoon hovering dangerously above his plate, forgotten on its way to his mouth as he gaped across the room.

Elboron chuckled. "You're making yourself far too obvious."

Eldarion cursed and sat up straight, tearing his eyes away and focusing them on his food, trying to force his thoughts to do the same. But he found the task next to impossible. The majesty and wonder of the Elvenking's hall had escaped him even as the Company he arrived with admired them in awe. From the moment they had entered all he had thought of was seeing her again, and he had not been disappointed.

Their parting had only served to make him aware of how much he longed to have her by his side. As their eyes had met, a peace had fallen over him and a lightness sprang to life in his heart. It was almost as if her very presence was a balm to the worries he carried with him. He had almost forgotten her beauty, or at least he had never fully appreciated it until now when seeing her restored from her emaciation in captivity, her cheeks fuller and her hair and body clean, clothes befitting her royal status fetchingly draped over her pale skin. She looked healthy and glowing as all elves do, yet a shadow was upon her face that made Eldarion want to weep in desperation. How he longed to go to her and chase it away.

Her eyes had lingered on him for a long time, yet too short, for they had been obliged to look away and attend to the people around them. Any meeting between them would have to wait, but Eldarion could not stop himself from staring at her every few minutes. If only he could speak to her …

"Why don't you?"

Eldarion frowned at Elboron, who shrugged. "If you do not take the care to shield your thoughts, can you blame me when I hear them?" He himself looked at Neniel. "Have you tried to speak to her?"

"Yes," Eldarion responded, sinking in his chair. "Sometimes she can talk to me, like in Cirith Ungol and by the Anduin, or even a few days ago when we were on the road. Yet at other times she either cannot hear me or does not know how to respond."

"We took a long time to get accustomed to it," Elboron said sensibly. "I suppose she will too; after all, she has had no one to practice with, unlike us." He winked at Eldarion. "And I'm sure you'll enjoy teaching her."

Eldarion wanted to deny it, accuse his friend of rumour mongering and tell him to mind his place, but instead he found himself grinning and soon both of them were laughing openly, not heeding the strange looks they were receiving at apparently laughing at nothing. Eldarion noticed then that Neniel had turned to look at them then, and her face lit up at the sound of their laughter. He smiled at her, longing to be closer so that he could hear her laugh too. Was it as joyous as he remembered?

"I'm sure it is."

"Stop that Elboron!" he yelled, nudging his friend in the ribs yet laughing at the same time. "Give me some privacy at least!"

"Block those thoughts then!" he said, dodging another elbow to the ribs and grinning. "Then I only hear what you want me to hear and see what you wish me to see."

"You'll still know what I'm feeling though," Eldarion said, rolling his eyes. "No matter how much we practice shielding we cannot entirely eliminate our ability to sense each other's presence and our state of mind, as well as any injuries we have."

"I suppose that will be a good thing in the end. It could be useful." Elboron glanced around the hall and frowned. "That Dale boy for example, I can sense he's nearby and that he's bored. But I cannot see him. Can you sense him?"

Eldarion had to think for a moment; Neniel's presence was so strong in his mind it was difficult for him to sense Elboron, let alone anyone else.

"Yes, I sense him. He is but a child though. He must be in other part of the palace."

"I wonder what he will be like," Elboron mused, but Eldarion's attention had waned. The young prince of Dale held little fascination for him at present. His eyes were fixed once again on Neniel, willing her to hear him reaching out to her, but she did not respond.

The feast passed quickly, and Eldarion remembered little of it, save that the food was generally said to be excellent and the conversation merry. At the close of the feast, a great many musicians began to perform, singing beautiful songs of cheer and goodness. The effect was almost soporific, and Eldarion felt his eyelids drooping. His Elvish blood was not serving him well here. The next moment however and he was awake in a flash.

Neniel had moved from her position on the dais and come to stand in the centre of the room. All eyes were upon her, standing still as a pond, her dress of rippling blue seeming to shimmer by the light of many candles. Another elf came to stand with her, the one he remembered from their escort on the road, carrying a lyre which he then proceeded to play, answering for Eldarion how he had come to recognise the man as he was evidently a friend of Neniel's. The sound of the solitary lyre echoed around the cavernous hall, sweet yet sad and as one the room leaned in closer, as if by doing so they could partake even more of the melodious beauty. The lyre alone was enough to keep the room in a harmonious rapture, but then Neniel opened her mouth and began to sing and Eldarion forgot all else.

Never before had a song so wholly enthralled him, kept him so completely engaged and hanging on every note. The only thing that had ever come close had been the singing of his mother in his youth as she related tales of Valinor in her clear high voice. Yet now, Neniel far surpassed even those wondrous performances. Her voice was wonderfully pure and soft, not powerful, but filled with emotion, each note lingering in the air as a bittersweet memory. Her tone was mournful, yet beautiful and each word was sung with such fervour she might have been alive at the time of the events she was relating, singing as though each word was painfully personal to her. He recognised the words, even as uneducated as he was, his father and mother both sang this song with frequent abandon, so dear was it to them. It was the Lay of Leithian, a particularly notable choice of song considering its subject matter being the Silmarils.

"Behold! the hope of Elvenland

the fire of Fëanor, Light of Morn

before the sun and moon were born,

thus out of bondage came at last,

from iron to mortal hand it passed."

She sang of the moment when the Silmaril was placed into the sky by Eärendil, bringing hope to the scattered people of Middle-Earth and promising salvation. At this, her voice subtly changed, and Eldarion felt his own hope resurface and his dread of the Silmarils vanish in the face of this new hope. She turned her face towards his and he knew then she was singing for him and him alone.

The song ended, and the room was jerked out of its trance all at once and the two performers were met with rapturous applause; even those unfamiliar with Sindarin were able to feel the effect of the song's message and they cheered loudly and wiped tears from their eyes.

Eldarion did not take his eyes from Neniel as she smiled and bowed to the room before taking her place at her father's side once again. Other musicians performed after her, but Eldarion took no notice of them, nor did many others.

Her eyes were on his and Eldarion focused all his attention on their link. He could sense that she was overjoyed at his presence and she wanted to speak to him, but none of her words were coming to him. Instead, he focused on sending his own.

"You sang beautifully," he said, praying that the message would reach her.

A second later, her eyes went wide and she flashed a dazzling smile at him. A feeling of excitement and gratitude came through their link then and Eldarion knew she had heard him.

The private conversation was ended abruptly by a sharp kick to his shins from Elboron. He rounded furiously on his friend, only to see him looking pointedly at him.

"Your father is watching," he said. "No, don't look!" he cried, rolling his eyes as Eldarion had tried to do just that. "He noticed the two of you gazing at each other with moony eyes. You have to be more careful, Eldarion!"

Eldarion cursed his luck and after a few more moments looking at Elboron, subtly turned his head and saw from the corner of his eye that his father was indeed staring at him.

The feast came to its conclusion shortly afterwards, and everyone began to file out of the hall, as they did so, they stopped to bid goodnight to their hosts. As they approached, Eldarion felt his heart beating faster. His father spoke a few words to King Thranduil, embraced Legolas warmly and fell quickly into conversation with them both, making the necessary introductions of his Company, most of whom had never left the South. Eldarion bowed to the king when his name was mentioned, and observed that Thranduil was scrutinising him with piercing blue eyes, lips pressed tightly together, as if not sure what to make of him, though his greeting was entirely proper and gracious.

"I understand it is you I have to thank for returning my granddaughter to me," he said, eyes still fixed on him. "For that you have my eternal gratitude. My son was right to name you Elf Friend. You shall always be welcome in my realm."

"Thank you, hîr nîn," he said as he bowed. "But it is Princess Neniel who should take the credit. It is testament to her strength of character that she survived so long in such a place, and also that she found it within herself to heal me of my wounds. Without such intervention we would have both been lost."

Thranduil's expression softened and he glanced at his granddaughter. "She certainly has a strength within her, one that had not until now been tested. Hopefully now it need never be again. She shall never again be placed in such danger. She will always be kept safe here."

Eldarion frowned as he experienced a wave of disappointment and embarrassment hitting him. His eyes flicked to Neniel, and he saw a shadow flicker behind her eyes. She felt belittled, constrained, and above all ashamed.

"I am sure that Princess Neniel is glad to back safe with her family," his father said. "I am thrilled to see her so well recovered."

"Yes," said Thranduil, "well recovered indeed." As he said this however, he and Legolas exchanged glances.

"It is thanks to Eldarion," Legolas said, smiling at him. "Like father like son."

Eldarion smiled back, but the old anxiety had flared up at the mention of such a comparison, and instead of feeling proud he felt instead unease.

"Yes, very heroic of him," Thranduil said. He then turned to Elboron, eyes hard. "You however … you ran away, did you not?"

Elboron froze under the harsh glare of the Elvenking, and sent forth streams of blind panic into Eldarion's mind. He opened and closed his mouth like a fish.

"Elboron was acting under my orders," Eldarion interjected, bringing the king's attention back to himself. "We needed reinforcements, and Elboron was the only one fit enough to take the opportunity of escape. He flew bravely into known danger, facing the giant spider herself in order to bring us aid. He is as much to be thanked as I."

Elboron shot him a grateful smile, but Eldarion knew he was embarrassed. The Elvenking raised his eyebrows and cast the young man another look. He looked away after another moment, unimpressed.

"Can he not speak for himself?" the Elvenking said to Legolas in Sindarin. He obviously assumed Elboron knew no Elvish, and was blind to the flushing of Elboron's cheeks. Eldarion immediately felt a rush of anger towards the king. He could easily say the same of the king himself. He had only just now spoken of Neniel as if she were not there.

"I am grateful to all who assisted in our escape from Mordor," Neniel said, stepping forwards before the king could say another word. "I am thrilled to see you both again. The darkness of Cirith Ungol which we banished with our combined power has forged in us a bond which never shall be broken."

She grinned widely and went to Elboron, taking his hands and kissing him on the cheek. When she pulled back Eldarion saw a new lightness on his face, the humiliation of a few moments before vanished. Then Neniel turned her attention to Eldarion, and he felt his heart and breathing all but stop as her warm hands took his and her soft lips brushed his cheek. Her hands lingered in his a second longer than they had with Elboron's.

"We bid you goodnight then," his father said, sharp eyes not missing that extra second and the company made their way out of the hall to allow for the next round of guests. As he passed Neniel, he felt a spark of melodious harmony in his mind and a voice ringing through, high and clear.

"Goodnight, son of Elessar."

He stopped in his track and laughed softly as a thrill of excitement shot through him. "Good night, Lalaith."

He met her eyes and saw them twinkling with amusement and joy. He knew those eyes followed him all the way out of the hall.

"Good night from me too, though I doubt either of you care."

Eldarion burst out laughing at Elboron's voice, and could hear Neniel doing the same from the other side of the door, no doubt prompting strange looks from her father and grandfather. He hooked his arm around Elboron's shoulder and pulled him close. At the present moment, he was happier than he had any right to be in a time of war.

A/N: The extract from the Lay of Leithian is Tolkien's, not mine!

Sindarin Elvish

iell nín- My daughter

ada/adar- dad/father

hîr nîn- My lord