Cold

Dark

Silent

There was noting but grey walls and darkness all around, the air was chilly and yet bore no freshness to lighten her burden.

Trapped

Alone

The cell seemed to shrink and grow around her, how long she was there she knew not... days and nights blend when there is no sunlight to be seen. It felt like ages since she last felt the sun, since the grass last tickled through her toes, since the wind last blew through her hair.

She swore that she was suffocating, that the darkness had finally cracked through her mind and that she was soon to succumb to madness. It was all around her, pressing her from all sides and she couldn't escape it. She held no power over the darkness, the solitude, the eerie droplets of water trickling down a stalagmite in the distance. Her heart was racing, her mind falling blank as panicked overcame her. She began to do the only thing that she could.

She beat herself against the walls, slamming into the cold and unforgiving stone, she took some wretched delight in the way that it scraped her skin, bruised her bones, made her bleed. She relished the pain for it was something, it was something to occupy her mind beside the voices creeping into her head and the darkness pressing down on her, restricting her chest like a vice.

She screamed in agony as her knuckles split and blood poured out, the sharp pain reminding her that she still had a body, that she wasn't a ghost left to rot alone and unmourned.

"Nightwing!"

There was a voice, a voice calling to her... what name was that?

"Nightwing! Stop!"

The voice was yelling at her, ordering her to stop. How strange... usually the voices tell me to split my head... that bashing my skull is the only way to allow them to escape. Maybe I should try that this time.

"Nightwing! You're safe! You're not there. I'm here."

Suddenly, she found a heaviness overtaking her, a weight that pushed down on her chest, but it wasn't the same crushing of the dark... it was warm.

"Awaken, Nightwing. You are free from that place."

The hands of darkness were clawing at her, pulling her back into the dark of the cell. They were tugging at her arms, pulling on her ankles, her hair... they were dragging her back.

Pain... it's the only way to be here, to be alive, to be REAL.

"Nightwing STOP! I'm here. You are NOT alone. Remember! We do not fear the dark, it is the cloak that hides us from them!"

Suddenly, the weight on her chest was familiar and Evelyn awoke with a start. She was greeted with pale moonlight and a warm tongue lapping at her face. It took a few second for her breathing to calm and for her racing heart to slow enough for her to remember where she was. Looking up, she found the worried eyes of Nightshade staring back at her.

"Thank you, my friend," she whispered to the wolf in the way that only they could speak.

"You are hurt," the wolf whispered back, lapping gently at the backs of Evelyn's hands.

The girl took a moment to examine her knuckles. She had split three on her right hand, one on her left. The blood seemed bright in the small amount of moonlight filtering in from the window where it was speared across the elegantly carved wooden bed frame. Several of her fingernails were torn, and she could see where deep gouges laid on the headboard as it seemed that she mistook it for the walls of her cell... again.

Evelyn sighed and fell backwards, Nightshade still sitting on her chest where she would bear down with weight as a way of waking Evelyn when she fell into such nightmares. She allowed the wolf to tend to her hands, licking the wounds until the bleeding slowed to a sluggish trickle. As usual, Evelyn reached down to the old bedsheet that she had stolen several weeks ago, ripping off a strip of fabric and tying it across both knuckles. She then absentmindely stroked Nightshade's soft underfur, far too away to even hope of sleeping any more that night.

"I need to get out," she whispered. "I need to use my wings, to feel the wind once more."

"Then go."

Evelyn looked at Nightshade in surprise. Usually the wolf was oft to scold her for not resting enough... but perhaps Elrond's healing potions had done their task... perhaps she was more healed than she thought. But, Nightshade rose and moved from Evelyn's chest, sitting herself next to the girl and waiting patiently.

With a new sense of resolution, Evelyn sat up and reached for her wounded wing with her dagger. In a moment of utter satisfaction, she felt the sharp blade slice through the sling and her wing remained dutifully in place as she divested herself of the rest of the bandaging. A slow smile spread across her face as she slowly extended the wing, relish the stretch that she had not felt in so long. A sigh of pleasure escaped her lips as she rolled her shoulders and relished the way both her wings moved freely.

"I'll just be gone a little while... just to feel the wing again. Behave?"

"I'll try to avoid eating the pup-slayers," Nightshade replied wryly and Evelyn just smiled.

She gave the wolf one last grateful scratch under the chin before she slipped out the door and threw herself from the first window that she found. She opened her wings wide as she fell, relishing the slight burn in her newly healed wing as it caught the wind, lifting her upwards and toward the sky, the wind, and freedom.

Nightshade found herself pacing the corridors. She understood that Nightwing needed to fly, that she needed the freedom that it granted her, but she was worried. Usually she would never encourage her person to do something as reckless as flying so soon after an injury... but the pup-slayers had good medicine and her nightmares had become more frequent since taking up residence in Imladris. Her friend needed the freedom of flight and so she encouraged her to go.

Now the problem was the Nightshade was dreadfully bored and had nothing to do. She was pacing up and down, waiting for Nightwing to return when she heard a pair of voices... it was the grumpy-one and the healer-one. They seemed to be having some sort of a disagreement. Nightshade slid closer to the laying down and leaning agains the wall so that she blended in with the shadows.

"Do you think she will leave then... if she is almost healed."

"It would break Glorfindel's heart."

"I know... Are you aware that he's taken to calling her Elenya?"

"I am. Does that upset you?"

"That's not her name?!"

"Neither is Raven. But, Elenya is who he remembers, who he hopes for her to be."

"It's not who she is. There is something wrong with her. Surly you must feel it my Lord."

"I admit... there is something about her..." there was a sigh and the voice continued. "I cannot place my finger on it, but she is more than she appears."

"Doesn't that make her dangerous?"

"Of course, by that logic then Lady Galadriel is dangerous as well."

"She is."

"Fair enough... In truth I am concerned, but we must proceed with caution. I think she fears more than anything."

"Isn't that when a creature is most dangerous? When it is afraid."

"And so we shall be gentle. I don't think she knows herself."

"But her eyes, my Lord."

"I am well aware," the voice grew with a harsh edge that made Nightshade's ears twitch.

"You've seen things," the tone was somewhere between an accusation and worry, Nightshade was growing worried as well.

"Many... I know not which are yet true... but she is so much more..."

As the conversation drew to a close Nightshade slipped down the hall, back towards the room that she and Nightwing shared. They were talking about her person... she knew it. When Nightwing returned, she would have to tell her what she heard... what she now knew.

Evelyn tried her best to suppress a yawn as she followed Glorfindel. She still wore a cloak to cover her wings and thus he had yet to take notice that she removed her bandaging. Thankfully, he also did not notice the new ones that graced the backs of her hands. She was following the maddeningly cheerful elf as he rambled on about how excited she would be when they arrived at their destination. He had come to collect her from her chambers when the sun had just barely touched the horizon. Between her nightmare, midnight flight, and long conversation with Nightshade after she had hardly gotten a wink of sleep.

Now, she was trailing behind Glorfindel who nimble turned and continued to walk backwards, never breaking stride as he chattered on and on about how excited he was. Usually, Evelyn was not one overly fond of surprises... however she figured that she could make an acceptation from Glorfindel. As they walked along, she did her best to ignore the dull throb in her hands and to push the nightmares away. Nightshade gently prodded the palm of her hand, a kind reminder that she was still there.

"So Elenya," Glorfindel suddenly stopped when they were several feet away from a medium sized building placed just up a set of stairs. "I'm going to introduce you to an old friend of mine, Dammorion." Before Evelyn could protest he continued. "Now he doesn't know anything about you, and you don't have to socialize if you do not wish it... but, I can promise that he won't ask questions."

"Why?"

"You'll see!" A large grin slips his face as Glorfindel encouraged Evelyn to climb the stairs with him. Her ankle had recently been removed from the splint and so she was able to climb the steps well enough with only minimal assistance from Nightshade. Evelyn knew that Glorfindel was purposefully moving slowly so as to allow her to take the stairs with care on her ankle, but she still felt rather satisfied that she made it up them at a decent pace.

"Dammorion!" The too cheery elf cried as another elf, this one with straight, dark hair and a smudge of grease on his cheek stepped forward. The new elf nodded briefly to greet Evelyn before turning his attention to Glorfindel who continued to chatter away. "So this is the friend that I mentioned..."

"How can I be of service?" He asked Evelyn politely.

Evelyn froze... she didn't know what to do. The elf in front of her seemed friendly... but looks could be deceiving. He wore an old and stained tunic of thick burlap with a slightly beige color. The elf was not quite so tall as Glorfindel, but his shoulders were broad and his muscles were visible through the folds of his tunic in a way that Evelyn had never seen an elf develop.

"Dammorion is the finest smith in Imladris," Glorfindel, still beaming like a child who has just won a footrace declared. "Anything you want! New arrow heads, new blades, new knives... anything at all he can create for you!" When Evelyn continued to give the elf a blank look he further explained. "Remember... remember that time I told you that I would take you to a smithy in Imladris... I promised that I would get you anything that you asked for."

Evelyn didn't quite know what to say. Very vaguely... she recalled a conversation where Glorfindel had promised just that... but he spent so much time rambling while they were in that cave that she had tuned most of it out.

Dammorion, sensing her hesitation smiled as he stepped backward, allowing them better access to what was obviously his showcase or selling room. The entire room was filled with shelves stacked with swords, knives, daggers, arrows, and all manner of contraptions. There was even a table filled with small hair ornaments made of twisted metal.

"Perhaps if you are unsure, I can view whatever blades you currently carry?" he offered gently. "Do you..." he hesitated slightly before continuing, "carry a Lhang?"

Evelyn remembered her braids and what they would mean to most elves. She didn't know how to respond and so just shook her head before pulling forth the twin blades that she kept strapped to her belt beneath her cloak. She handed them over without fear of them being recognized as she had long ago scraped off the elvish inscription along the blade's edge and even longer ago replaced the leather bindings on the handle.

The smith took the blades with great care and examined them thoroughly. He checked their edge, felt their weight, swinging them both through the air a few times to feel the way he moved. Finally, he paused his inspection and returned his attention to Evelyn and Glorfindel, shaking his head slightly.

"My my my... these are all wrong." He seemed a bit dismayed by the chips that had developed in the blades over time. "Silvan make no doubt... they'll get the job done, sure... but these aren't built to last. See here," he pointed to a tiny, dark spot near the handle of the blade. "This is a contaminating metal. I'm not sure what it is... but if something got in it during the forge that wasn't burned out... either their forge wasn't hot enough or they're mixing the wrong sorts of metals." He further went on to point out another few spots, becoming more flustered with each one. "Also, the size is wrong for you, if you'll excuse me saying my lady. These blades are too wide and weighted too much in the center. They are meant for an Ellon. You need a bit more weight at the tip and less in the middle to get a proper swing going. Would you mind?"

He held out a piece of string and Evelyn realized that he was asking for permission to take her measurements. She nodded stiffly and stood with her arms outstretched, allowing the strange elf to bustle about her, measuring her arms, torso, shoulder, wrist, palm, and even fingers. She swore that the majority of these were unnecessary to forge a blade, but she decided to humor Glorfindel this once.

Dammorion then made a series of scribbles on a piece of parchment before interrogating Evelyn on her favored shapes and uses for blades. Apparently, the answer of "whatever is sharp works" was not correct and he insisted on finding the perfect blades for her needs. In the end, he settled on a few designs which he promised to sketch out whilst he sent her to browse the sample arrowheads on a shelf. Glorfindel insisted that she get a set of special, custom arrowheads.

"Is this... expensive?" she asked, suddenly struck by the thought that this private meeting with the smith was likely not so common.

"Exorbitantly so," Dammorion replied, not looking up from the paper that he was scribbling away at.

"It's no matter!" Glorifndel declared cheerfully. "I have years worth of salary saved and very few needs. This is far less than I could ever owe you."

Evelyn, figuring it not worth the effort, returned to examining the arrowheads. They were beautiful pieces, polished and shining... each one as decorated with etched patterns and engravings that she couldn't read. They looked like tiny pieces of art.

In the end, she selected a cross between a tri-pointed star arrowhead, and a leaf-spear shape. Glorfindel placed an order for 40 arrowheads as he assure Evelyn that some are always inevitably lost and thus she should have extras, a new pair of twin blades, two daggers, and a series of small throwing daggers that Dammorion assured her would fit her hand perfectly. All this Glofindel absolutely insisted on purchasing, handing the smith several sacks of what Evelyn could only assume to be gold, before they left the building.

On their way back to the main house, Evelyn and Nightshade both fell silent as they listened to Glorifndel's happy chatter about his plans for three evening hence. Apparently, he had plans for a nighttime picnic, that way they could visit the Bruinen when no one would be there. Evelyn, only half heartedly paid attention and nodded in agreement. Without the distraction of the wonders of the smithy, her mind was drawn back towards her nightmare and what Nightshade had told her after.

Right when they arrived at Evelyn's door, Glorfindel hesitated a moment.

"Elenya..." he fumbled, reaching into his pale green tunic and pulling forth a small bundle. "I must admit... that I had this piece commissioned when I first returned to Imladris from your care. I hope that you will accept this now... as a token of my friendship."

He handed the little pouch to Evelyn who carefully opened it, dumping the contents onto her palm. On her hand sat a gold hair clip. She brought it closer to her face and found a beautiful scene wrought into the gold. It was a golden flower, the symbol of Glorfindel's ancient house, and bore several chains made of finely woven mithril from which hung golden feathers. Evelyn found herself smiling, the tiny, shining piece of jewelry suddenly felt like so much more. She thanked Glorifndel for the gift and used the clip to pull her braids to the back of her head.

She slipped into her room, followed close behind by Nightshade as Glorfindel was off to his duties as Captain. Aragorn would not be stopping by that day as he apparently had to prepare for a guest, thus leaving Evelyn with the rest of the day to herself. Once alone however, she finally had a chance to think. Nightshade's discovery concerned Evelyn deeply.

If Elrond and Erestor thought her a threat... which they were right to think... then perhaps it was coming on time for her to leave. Despite the hesitant trust that she had in Glorfindel and the twins, she was not willing to put so much faith in elves... especially not suspicious ones. It was after all, a suspicion which placed her in a mess to begin with.

More concerning yet... was what Elrond had seen. She knew that he held the gift of foresight... but she also knew that the gift was treacherous and could present falsehoods as easily as truths. If he saw something that he didn't like though... how would he act? Did he know of her dreams?

"We need to do something," Nightshade warned.

"I know... can we trust him?"

"The healer-one?"

"Yes."

"I don't know... I think he seeks what you know."

"That's what I'm afraid of... I cannot give him what he wants."

Evelyn's mind was briefly pulled back to the throne room of Mirkwood... to Thranduil's voice as smooth as silk and deadly as steel... stalking her like a she was prey. He asked questions, demanded answers, and she had none for him. Now, the elves of Imladris were becoming too comfortable around her. They too would soon demand answers... answers that she couldn't give... and she wasn't sure what the consequences of such would be.

"Lorien!" a rather furious voice called out, soft footsteps echoing along the corridor.

"Ah, Yavanna... how may I assist you," his voice was slightly strained as he wilted beneath the glare of the Giver of Fruits.

"Why? Why must you plague the child so?! Has she not been through enough?!"

"It is out of my control."

"Speak plainly."

"What is the meaning of this?" Varda, looked between her fellow Valar, a decently unimpressed expression on her face.

"I must agree with Yavanna," Nienna, Lady of Mercy, stepped forward.

"What are we agreeing on?" Varda looked between the three feuding parties.

"I fear a coldness is settling in the child... I fear that memories plague her with too much pain... I am not sure how well she can continue. There is ice creeping in her soul." Nienna's voice was filled with worry, and the other Valar all blanched. The child was too important to their plans to fall to darkness and if the Lady of Mercy feared that one would fall... they would take her fears incredibly seriously.

"And the nightmares further this?" Varda asked. It was Yavanna who replied with a nod this time. "Then you must cease them, Lorien. As Master of Dreams it is surly in your power. I know of the rules of interfering... but this is a time when it is appropriate." The Queen of the Stars spoke gently, but with steel behind her voice.

"I wish that I could stop the nightmares... end the hauntings weighing down on her soul... but I cannot," Lorien's voice fell to a whisper of despair. "She is not... she is not within the range of my control. I cannot interfere to her mind... it blocks me out."

Yavanna grew pale, raising a shaking hand to her forehead she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

"If the nightmares continue, if she finds no relief," Varda questioned slowly. "Which path will she take?"

The look that Lorien gave was enough to shake the faith of all the Valar present. There was a silence which demented upon the scene, a silence that was dark and nervous.

"We must rely on the Golden Lord," Yavanna spoke softly.

"And if he fails?" came the reply from Varda.

"Then I know not if Eru will intervene," Nienna replied.