Author's note: This chapter is quite long, so I apologise for that, but I promise you it's worth it. In this chapter, Bridie finally meets her real father, although I'm sure you have already guessed who it is. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Bridie let out a surprised squeak as Merry and Pippin stumbled into her room. She had been in the middle of undressing when she heard their voices at the door. Luckily, the elves had provided a robe to go with her nightgown, so she was spared the embarrassment of revealing something that was not meant to be seen. "For pity's sake, is it that hard to knock?!" she spat at them over her shoulder as she wrapped the robe around herself.

Merry and Pippin had lowered their eyes to the floor and were holding their hands in front of their faces to block their view, crying out apologies all the while. Rolling her eyes, Bridie hurriedly tied off the front of her robe, then turned around to face them, arms folded. "Alright, it's safe to look."

The hobbits seemed genuinely relieved as they slowly uncovered their eyes and saw that the girl was now decent. They opened their mouths to apologise again for having barged in, but Bridie shook her head and held up a hand, indicating that she did not want to hear it.

"Now," she continued, "will you kindly explain what was so important that you were willing to risk seeing me in my underwear?" The hobbits flushed blood red and looked very uncomfortable. They seemed to have forgotten how to speak, as they opened and shut their mouths, looking like a pair of goldfish. Bridie clapped her hands at them impatiently. "Come on, out with it!"

Merry cleared his throat. "Oh, uh…yes. Well, err, we just came to say that, err…"

"Frodo's awake!" Pippin blurted out.

In a twinkling, Bridie's annoyance turned to relief and pure joy. "He is?! Oh, that's wonderful!" She cried, clasping her hands together in delight. "Oh, the blessed elves! They've saved our dear Frodo! Oh, I'm so glad!"

The desire to rush and see Frodo suddenly struck Bridie, and she dressed quickly (after ordering Merry and Pippin out of the room). When she was finally ready, the two hobbits practically grabbed her by the sleeves and dragged her through the house. They led her out to one of Rivendell's many gardens where they found Frodo strolling around with Sam. When Bridie saw Frodo, she wanted to cry. The helpless, wounded hobbit from several days ago had been replaced by a calm, hearty fellow. He walked with gentle, easy steps, as if he hadn't a care in the world, and the bright morning sunshine illuminated his young face. The trio could not contain their excitement any longer and ran to greet him. Frodo's gave the biggest grin they had ever seen as he embraced his friends excitedly, the sounds of their laughter filling the air.

Over Pippin's shoulder, Frodo noticed an elderly hobbit sitting nearby on a stone bench. Immediately, he realised who it was and ran over to him, calling out, "Bilbo!"

"Hello, Frodo, my lad," said Bilbo (for it was indeed Frodo's uncle, Bilbo). The old hobbit rose from his seat and embraced his nephew happily. "Oh, my dear Frodo, it's so good to see you! The elves told me you had come. I would have visited you myself, but Elrond said you had been badly wounded and were not to be disturbed. I am glad to see you have recovered."

"Indeed I have, thanks to the skills of Lord Elrond," Frodo replied. "And I have not come alone. There is somebody I'd like you to meet."

Taking Bilbo by the hand, Frodo led him to where his companions stood. "Uncle, you remember Sam, Merry and Pippin," he said, gesturing first to the three hobbits, then to Bridie, adding, "This is Bridie Butterbur, whom we met in the village of Bree and who cared for us in the wild."

Bridie knelt on the ground, so that she and Bilbo were face to face, and shook his wrinkled hand. "How d'ye do, Mister Baggins? It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise, Miss Butterbur," Bilbo replied, smiling warmly. "I hope my nephew and his friends have been treating you well."

"They certainly have. And they have told me all about you and your adventure. It sounds very exciting."

Bilbo shrugged. "I suppose it was. Well, part of it, at least. I daresay you shall hear many more tales like it at the banquet this evening."

"Banquet?!" Merry and Pippin exclaimed.

"Yes," Bilbo said with a chuckle. "Now that our dear Frodo has recovered, Lord Elrond has ordered that a great banquet be given, in his honour and yours. But don't lets worry about that now – let us talk awhile. Tell me of all that has been happening in the Shire and in Bree. I daresay there is plenty of news to tell!"

They spent the rest of that morning, and most of the afternoon, wandering in the gardens, sharing news and stories of home. Bridie enjoyed getting to know Frodo's uncle and hearing about the Shire, and was disappointed when they had to return to their rooms to prepare for the banquet. Back in her room, Bridie unpacked the rest of her dresses and laid them out on the bed to decide which one she would wear that night. However, as she looked them over, her heart sank. They were all plain, nondescript work clothes – hardly appropriate for a formal gathering. Added to that, they were all badly crumpled from having been squashed into her bag for so long.

Just then, there came a knock on the door and Arwen slipped in, carrying something in her arms. "Hello, Bridie. Are you looking forward to the banquet?"/span/p
Bridie nodded. "Very. But I haven't anything decent to wear," she said, admiring, with envy, Arwen's elegant gown of glittering white. She looked very beautiful and regal.

Arwen gave the girl a pitying look. "So it seems. Which is why I have brought this," and she held up the item she was carrying. It was a silken gown with long, flowing sleeves, complete with an ornate belt. "This is one of my own, but you may have it for tonight if you wish." Arwen helped Bridie change into the gown, then brushed and styled her hair. Bridie was surprised at how well the gown fitted and couldn't resist giggling as she twirled around in it, letting the skirt fly out. She felt like a princess.

The banquet was held in a large, bright hall on the opposite end of the house. In the centre was a long, wide table that covered nearly the entire length of the hall. Lord Elrond sat at the head, arrayed in his finest robes, with Arwen seated at his left hand and Gandalf at his right, as before. Bridie and the hobbits were also given seats near him. Strider was nowhere to be seen. Besides them, there were many other guests. Most were Elves – tall, slender, people with long, fair hair and the wisdom of many years in their ageless faces. There was also a handful of stocky, armour-clad Dwarves with beards that could put Gandalf to shame, and several Men of strong and noble countenance.

Bridie gazed at all the strange, intriguing folk in wonder. She felt rather insignificant among them, but this feeling was quickly dispelled by the feast laid out before her. After days of scanty meals in the wild lands, the banquet seemed like a most marvellous dream. Soon, she and the hobbits all felt relaxed and cheerful, and began talking heartily with those around them. Within an hour, they had learnt the names of nearly all their fellow diners, beginning with Glóin the Dwarf (who, as it turned out, had been one of the thirteen dwarves to accompany Bilbo on his adventure sixty years ago) and his son Gimli. They also met Legolas, son of the elven king Thranduil, who had come to them from the great forest of Mirkwood. In that time, they heard many tales and songs, and were beginning to feel at home./span/p
Suddenly, Bridie noticed one of the Men looking at her. He was dressed in leather, chainmail and rich fabric, like a great warrior, and on each arm he wore a vambrace adorned with a white tree. His pale brown hair fell to his shoulders and his blue eyes were stern. To Bridie, there seemed to be something of each race in him: he was as tall and fair as the Elves, as strong as the Dwarves and as noble as the Men. For most of the meal, unlike his brethren, he had kept to himself, stony-faced and speaking only when somebody spoke to him first. However, as he looked at Bridie, his expression became like that of one who had seen a ghost. He noticed her looking in his direction and averted his gaze.

Gripped by curiosity, Bridie caught the attention of Arwen, who was sitting next to her, and nodded at the man. "Who is that?"

Arwen followed Bridie's line of vision and replied "That is Boromir, son of Lord Denethor. He came to us last night from Gondor."

Gondor?! Bridie echoed the name in her mind. Instantly, she remembered the story her mother had told her the previous autumn. The story of how her travels had taken her to Gondor, how she had met Bridie's father and given birth to her daughter in that very land. Bridie snuck another look at Boromir. Could he…? No. She shook her head, trying to shake the idea from her mind. As if Boromir could possibly the man of whom her mother had spoken. It was so naïve. Ridiculous, even. All the same, she couldn't stop glancing at Boromir out of the corner of her eye for the remainder of the meal. It made her sockets ache badly, and she was thankful when the banquet finally ended.

As the table was cleared, Bridie pleaded a headache and asked to be excused so that she could get some fresh air. Elrond gave her his blessing, and even offered to get her a cold compress and essence of lavender to help the pain. But Bridie declined, and left the hall as politely as possible. Once she was out of sight, she picked up her skirts and hurried away down the long corridor, compelled by the inexplicable need to get away from the other guests as quickly as possible. In her haste, she took a wrong turn down a short, narrow passage and stumbled into, what appeared to be, a library.

In the grey evening light, with only a few candles and the moon shining in from the gaping archway leading outside to illuminate the place, it seemed more like a cave. The dim light accentuated every shadow and dark corner, giving it a rather gloomy appearance. It was so desolate and silent, the soft tap of Bridie's feet on the tiled floor rang out like a bell. A great bookshelf at one end of the room covered an entire wall, filled with countless leather spines, both old and new. There were a handful of desks set up near the shelf, scattered with quill pens and scrolls. A wide stone staircase took Bridie up to a balcony, where several tapestries adorned the wall. One in particular interested Bridie: it showed a tall, dark figure looming over a soldier who lay on a heap of bodies that were, no doubt, his comrades. The soldier wore a determined expression as he held aloft a broken sword, preparing to face his opponent. Directly opposite to the tapestry was a pedestal covered by a blue velvet cloth. Upon it sat a sword, broken near the hilt, with the shattered remains of the blade arrayed around it.

"Those are the shards of the legendary sword, Narsil."

The voice made Bridie jump. She turned around to see Boromir standing halfway up the stairs. Bridie gasped and put a hand up to her chest, as if attempting to still her thumping heart. How long had he been there?

"You gave me a fright!" She told him.

Boromir smiled and climbed the rest of the way up the stairs. "My apologies, my lady," he said with a low bow. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Boromir of Gondor, but the Lady Arwen has probably told you that already."

Bridie nodded. "She has. And you needn't call me 'my lady': 'Bridie' will do, or 'Miss Butterbur', if you're feeling especially polite. I'm not a lady."

"No?" Boromir asked. "But you look like one. When I saw you in the banqueting hall, I would not have been surprised to learn you were an elf maiden."

"Well, Sir! You do know how to charm a girl!" Bridie teased. "Is that why you were staring at me at the banquet?"

"Ah, yes," Boromir said, fidgeting a little. "About that. I apologise if I have made you uncomfortable, And I hope you can forgive me enough to let me explain my behaviour."

"That won't be necessary, Sir; I think I already know the reason for it. My mother lived in Gondor for a short while and, since folk say I look like her and Gondor is your home, it's likely you met her once and thought I was her."

Boromir raised his eyebrows. "Your mother used to live in Gondor?"

"Aye," Bridie replied. "In fact, that was where she met my father and gave birth to me."

"But, if you were born in Gondor, how is it that I have never seen you there before?"

"My mother and I were banished from the land when I was little. We have lived in the village of Bree ever since."

Boromir gave Bridie a sympathetic look. He lifted his hand to place it on her shoulder, but quickly changed his mind, fearing the gesture would be unwelcome. "It must have been very difficult for your mother, having to leave her home with a young child. And very hard for your father as well, to lose his wife and only child. He must be worried sick about you."

"I doubt it, Sir," Bridie replied. "He was not there to see us leave. He probably thinks we're dead. And he wouldn't be far wrong either; my mother died last winter." At this, Bridie's head dropped slightly and a tear rolled down her cheek, falling to the floor like a glistening raindrop.

Boromir had witnessed plenty of crying women and children mourning for their dead fathers, husbands and brothers, but the sadness in this girl nearly shattered his heart, like the blade of Narsil. The name of the legendary sword gave him an idea.

"Have you ever heard the story behind this sword?" he asked, nodding towards the pedestal before them.

Bridie gave him a confused frown and shook her head. "What is the story of the sword?"

Boromir offered her his arm. "If you would care to walk with me, I shall tell you." The girl became hesitant at this, so he added, "I don't bite, I promise."

Some of Bridie's smile returned. Linking her arm through his, the two of them wandered across the gallery and down the stairs as the story began.

"Many years ago, even before I was born, if you can believe that," (Bridie giggled at this) "the Dark Lord Sauron sought to conquer the races Middle Earth and establish himself as their ruler. The races of Men and Elves joined forces and fought for the freedom of their people. The army of Men were led by Elendil, High King of Gondor, and his sons, Isildur and Anárion. During this terrible war, Elendil and Anárion were slain. Enraged by their death Isildur fought Sauron and defeated him, thus avenging his father and brother, and finally ended the war. Unfortunately, shortly afterwards, Isildur was slain by orcs. Meneldil, his nephew, continued the line of kings which saw its end with the disappearance of Eärnur, the thirty-third king. The rule of Gondor was passed to the Stewards, who govern the realm to this day."

With that, the story came to an end. By now, they had descended the stairs and passed under the arch, into the garden. Bridie stared up at Boromir, enthralled by what he had just told her.

"Goodness!" she breathed. "That is quite a tale!"

"Indeed it is," Boromir agreed with a nod, "and an important part of history."

"It sounds like one of the tales my mother used to tell me. She was rather a gifted storyteller herself, you know."

"Was she now?" Boromir said thoughtfully. "May I ask, what was your mother called?"

"Well, until recently, I thought it was Bertha because that's what all the Bree-landers called her. Before that, folk used to call her Ruindis because of her red hair. But her mother and father named her Lothuial."

Boromir's heart skipped a beat and he gasped as he froze mid-step. His eyebrows shot up and his jaw dropped.

"Sir? Is something the matter?" Bridie inquired.

Boromir quickly composed himself. "I'm alright," he insisted. After a pause, he asked "May I tell you another story?"

Bridie nodded slowly, wondering where he was going with this.

"When I was a young man," Boromir began, urging them onward, "I had a wife and daughter. My wife was a wonderful woman, and a skilled healer and archer. She was always the one who tended my wounds after I returned from a battle. I never let any of the healers do it. Within a year of our marriage, my wife gave birth to our daughter. We named her Annúngil, which means 'west star' and she was the sweetest, most beautiful child we had ever seen. She had her mother's red hair and my blue eyes, and she was our whole world. But…" He sighed and looked down at the ground sadly, and Bridie could have sworn she saw tears in his eyes. "But I lost her and my wife sixteen years ago."

"I'm so sorry to hear that," Bridie said. She noticed how eerily similar Boromir's story was to her mother's, and was almost afraid to ask her next question. "What was your wife's name?"

By now, they had reached the end of the garden. A low wall lined the edge, and over it they could see the surrounding valley bathed in the indigo hue of the night, its waterfalls glistening silver in the moonlight. They came to a stop and Boromir gripped the edge wall, avoiding Bridie's gaze. The only sounds the girl could hear was the rushing water and Boromir's shaky breathing.

Finally, Boromir straightened up, looked Bridie in the face and uttered a single name: "Lothuial".

And just like that, all the pieces of the puzzle came together and Bridie understood who it was that was really standing before her. Her mouth formed the shape of an 'O' and she drew in a gasp as she held onto the wall, as if she might faint.

"F-Father?" she stammered.

Boromir took a step forward and raised a shaking hand to her face, cupping her cheek in his palm. His eyes became wet with tears and his lower lip trembled as the corners of his mouth lifted into a smile.

"Annúngil. My Annúngil," he whispered.

"My father!" Bridie cried, choking out a sob.

Boromir could not contain himself any longer. Gathering the girl up in his arms, he pulled her into a tight hug, resting his chin on her head. Tear streamed down their faces as they sank to the ground, locked in a warm embrace. Boromir brushed his daughter's hair back and placed a kiss on her forehead, tickling her with the stubble on his chin. For the first time in a long while, he felt truly happy. After so many years, he finally had his daughter back, and he wasn't letting her go any time soon.