Since the day before, daring to be within the closest range of the Girdle surrounding the Hidden Valley, the Hunter allowed himself to trek half a day's worth down the Bruinen.

Azog and his pack would not dare approach the High Pass within at least a league before allowing the Elves to sense their invasion. More than that, Lord Elrond of Rivendell would sense it like he did before between Trollshaw and the Ford. Having Melian's blood and the Ring of Air, Vilya, did not help matters.

Yes, he knew Elrond Peredhel was one of the ring-bearers. He knew because, many years ago, he was a part of an assassination attempt on Lord Elrond and his sons, under the orders of his master and mentor at the time. It had been one of the few times he had seen the Lords of Valley all went out together and without their captain, Glorfindel, to 'accompany' them.

He had almost succeeded.

It was, however, due to outside interference in the form of another cloaked stranger. A ragged wanderer.

Due to this sudden intrusion, the Hunter ended up clashing with this surprisingly powerful wanderer, meeting all his strikes in both Power and blades. He had to fight his way out to an escape and retreated back into the wilds with his tail between his legs, leaving the ragged wanderer and the Elf Lords severely injured, but alive and now evidently long recovered.

The Hunter's failure had earned him a severe punishment for his failure, and even more severe training for any future task he would be assigned. Since that day, however, while a formidable fighter in his own right, Lord Elrond hardly left the valley without an armed escort. Neither did his sons, or his daughter, alone. As such, there had never been another chance to attempt an attack on the borders of Rivendell again, least of all after the wanderer's death threat.

Then there was the Lady Galadriel, matriarch of Lothlorien, to consider. A target most certainly next to impossible to get within close range for a clean kill. Though his presence was meant to be hidden from her Sight, it was the power of Nenya that shielded her and those within leagues of her chosen proximity.

She had been a formidable force to be reckoned with. Even before the creation of the Rings of Power, she was considered the mightiest among her kindred, save for Fëanor.

As for the Ring of Fire…like many others before him, he did not know. He and his guild had rumored suspicions that it was someone within Mithlond, likely Cirdan the Shipwright, who had the Ring of Fire, Narya. It was because the last time he had passed around the Grey Havens, sensing a strange depth that stirred closely with his inner power, he had been sailing on a black vessel to and from Tol Morwen. He had been in the very early stages of his service, then. Barely old enough for the hairs to grow on his chin.

At the time, the hunt had not been his for the taking. For thousands of years, the most revered servants of the Dark Lord had searched and hunted for these rings. Nine were already in his possession, and only a few out of seven more had ever been recovered by far.

Azog was one of those who had succeeded in the hunt, and the Hunter was expected to be a successor in obtaining one fo the three. It was what he had been trained for, though it had evidently been too soon to make a move at the time, which had dearly cost them another chance to strike. He doubted that, unless the Girdles of both Elven Realms lowered their defenses, he would get even three miles within the ring bearers' presence and live to tell the tale.

Yet tonight, the rings of power nor their masters were his main focus. Placed under the watch and leash of Azog the Defiler, his new mission was to track down the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. To claim the head of the exiled King of Erebor. But his orders were clear: when found, do not claim the kill. The Pale Orc preferred his prey to be living before claiming his prize, so the Hunter thought to maim and capture him alive as a courtesy to his commander. The rest would receive more merciful fates––by the swift end of his blades.

But things have now changed. The Hunter had to reprioritize his tactics, with his superiors being none the wiser.

"Damn bird keeps a-spinnin' round 'n' round!" He heard the gargling growls of one the orcs nearby, as he approached their perimeter.

The silver falcon above shrieked in response.

The Hunter said nothing. Cold eyes observed the bunch, measuring them.

"We've been 'ere the whole stinking' day, hiding's' from the sun like 'ere rats, and want to move now! The Dwarf-scum could be close by, for all we know!"

"What does the mighty Matum-sorg say?" wheezed another, mockingly baring its fangs. "Has 'ee found our prey?"

Having had the whole night to consider, it was in this moment that he made his decision. Knowing very well how much it would cost him in the long run if found out.

"I found no sign of the Dwarves and the Wizard," the low voice of the Hunter replied. "Fimbul's carelessness has already revealed our intentions. Our prey now knows they are being hunted. I wager the Wizard had taken great care in covering their scent. This will require time and stealth...something you wretched lot clearly have proven incapable of exemplifying."

"Hargh! Strange talk for one so reluctantly reinstated, cur!" The orc said, marching forward with suspicion marring its already marred features. "How d'we know yer tellin' a lie or not? An' what's this, eh?" It made a grab with its grubby, long-nailed hand for the stuffed bear hanging from the ranger's belt, partially exposed from beneath his dark cloak. "A trinket for a worm to try?!"

SLASH!

Everyone froze. The orc's eyes bulged. Throat gaped open with black blood spilling to the ground in heavy splashes.

One of the black swords hovered gracefully in the graceful arch before the creature fell face-forward on the ground with a lid thud. Black-blood dripped the blade's ebony edge. The Hunter stared icily down at the corpse with little regard behind bone-white surface of his skull mask.

The orcs stared in shocked silence as the Hunter calmly sheathed his weapon. "Remember," he told them, "our master wanted me here, and so I am…but when I say not to touch that which is mine by claim, a price will be paid in full.

"Now, either wait for my signal here in shadows of the trees, or return to your chief by the next setting sun, before he finds you."

He knew Azog and his own spawn, along with the selected few bred from Dol Guldor, had exercised a stubborn resilience to the burning light of the sun. It was partially the reason why the Pale Orc became king among them, for he was both the "Defiler" and the "Sun-stalker" among them.

When the orcs obeyed, the Hunter walked away. His gloved hand gripped the teddy bear tightly at his belt.

He stood near the Bruinen river, staring at his dark reflection.

On either side of him, two tall shadowy shades stood beside him. One on his right and one on his left.

Both dark-haired and eternally grim. Like their swords of which cross his back.

Laying in bed, holding a sleeping Lori, Maia waited for Kyle. Her fingers twisted repeatedly in Lori's soft curls as her gray-blue eyes stared unseeingly up at the high ceiling.

When her brother had run off, Maia had been meaning to put Lori to bed and go after her brother, but other than the fact that she had no idea where he would run off to in the state he was in, Gandalf assured her that Elrond already went after him, and would bring him back before they would have time to worry. Lindir had appeared as though summoned, and with a request that the Dainson sisters be led back their room, the head servant escorted them back.

A heavy dose of sleepiness had evidently snuck up on Lori, who had been pumped with excitement from the new information regarding their father, so Maia had carry her all the way back, wishing the White Council a good night and a thank you, believing that she would be them shortly the next day.

They were assured that they would learn more about their heritage first thing in the morning after breakfast, once the siblings had time to process what has been said. Even with all the information that was thrown in a pile over their heads, it was already well past midnight. It was a miracle that that they had all managed to stay awake after a whole afternoon of combat training with the dwarves. Lori had taken a late afternoon nap after her tour around Rivendell with Bilbo and Glorfindel the golden-haired Elf, which would have messed with her sleep schedule in the later evening. Who would have thought that it turned to work well in their favor for this evening in regards to all they have learned?

"Where did Sparky go, Maia?" Lori had whimpered, as she was carried by her sister back to their room, following Lindir. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine," Maia reassured the little girl, giving her a kiss on the nose. She forced a smile to pressed down the anxious coil in her stomach. "You heard what Gandalf said. Lord Elrond is probably with him right now and getting him to calm down. He's supposed to be a healer, right?"

"That is correct, Lady Maia," said Lindir, glancing back at them. "The greatest healer in all the lands East of the Sea."

"There, see?" Maia nudged Lori with her nose. "And you know how Kyle gets with his mood swings. I think he just needs to sleep it off...and then talk about it, you know?"

"Yeah..." mumbled Lori, pressing her face drowsily at the crook of the older girl's neck, tightening her arms around her neck. "It's just...I don't think he was happy about Daddy being from here."

Maia swallowed, and hefted her a little. "Are you?" she asked softly.

"Mm-hm." Lori nodded, then sighed. "I think I always knew he would be...or maybe, I hoped he would be."

Maia didn't know what to say that. She herself was not entirely sure how she felt about the truth. It was still all too knew to her.

The five year-old was already fast asleep by the time she was laid across the bed.

Maia's head was filled with all that had transpired in no more than two hours. Her overcharged yet exhausted mind could not entirely process what it had just learned. More specifically three things that sounded completely out of their depth.

One: they were called Dúnedain: people who were supposed to live unnaturally long lives. Two: they had Maiar blood; angelic and godlike beings which, apparently, what Gandalf and Saruman were, but in human form. Three: their father was not only from Middle-earth, as they had suspected earlier—using a different name—but he was likely more than two hundred years old.

Holy shit! She still couldn't wrap her mind around the idea of her father being that old. Yes, it was true that Arthur looked…the same over the years since marrying her mother, but she figured that he just shared the same gene their mother did when it came to youthful looks.

He was—or she thought he was—around fifty-five years old, yet he managed to look like he was still in his mid-thirties, save for perhaps a few stray silver hairs that her mother swore he already had when she met him in New Zealand.

Maia inwardly groaned, rubbing her face. What the hell was she supposed to do with this information? How was she supposed to...?

Around twenty minutes later, to her surprise, Kyle walked in their bedroom. He had his backpack dangling from his hand, still packed up. The shadows of the room blotted out whatever expression he had on his face, but he promptly dropped his bag with a thud and took the other side of his sisters' bed. Roughly slipping under the covers, he turned away with his head hitting the pillow, sighing heavily.

She turned her head toward Kyle. He had his back to her, but she can tell he was awake from the tensed line of his shoulders.

"Hey," she whispered. "You okay?"

"Fine," Kyle muttered.

"Did Lord Elrond find you?"

"Yup."

"...Okay. Did you guys talk?"

"Yup," confirmed the boy softly. "It was...a lot." He shrugged. He was quiet for a long while.

When he didn't talk any further into it, Maia pressed him, trying not to show her frustration. "So, how do you feel now? Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what? About the fact that Dad lied to us?" came a terse reply. "About, possibly, everything? And then he ditched us before he could ever tell us? I'm freaking pissed!"

Maia suddenly regretted not waiting until morning to deal with this. Least of all while Lori was sleeping between them. "Kyle, c'mon..."

"Don't tell me that you're not mad too!" Kyle snapped.

Maia groaned, head slamming further into her pillow, feeling a headache coming. "I am mad, Kyle," she insisted, firmly, eyes glaring up at the high ceiling. "Believe me, if I had the energy, I am possibly just as pissed as you are now! But it's super late and I'm just too tired to deal with you getting so worked up over this every single time our father is so much as mentioned!"

Kyle turned around to face her across Lori's slumbering head, gray eyes flashing furiously. "You're the one who asked!" he accused.

"Well, now I'm sorry I did," she snapped, feeling her exhaustion and frustration take hold. At least they managed to keep their voices down, mindful of Lori sleeping. "Look, I get that you need to rant, and after what we just heard, you and I have every reason to...but this is getting old, Ky! It's like watching you revert back to square one, before everything had happened, getting worked up over the same thing and letting it take control of your life!"

"Funny. Lord Elrond said something similar."

"Oh, good! Then I agree with him," Maia retorted. "But if you really want to know, I honestly really can't bring myself to start roasting Dad while he's out there and still missing, not able to defend himself. Not anymore. Not until he shows any sign that he's alive!"

Kyle scoffed. "He had plenty of time and opportunity to do all that, Mai!"

"Yeah, but now he could be dead for all we know, or worse!" Maia turned her head to look him in the eye again. "So as much as I am still angry with him, and even more so for keeping so much from us, I'm still scared, Ky!" Her voice cracked, feeling her throat choke up with tears. "I'm more terrified of the thought that something happened to him that night in the farmhouse, something worse than what happened to our mom, and that we were only just having an idea now, ten months later! It was orcs, Ky! Literal monsters dragged him away, and we still have no idea how or why! So I'm more concerned about whether our father is alive or not, before we can get the chance to be angry with him, all right?"

The anger on Kyle's face was already twisting with agony, to the point when tears started to shine in his eyes as his sister spoke.

He furiously wiped at his eyes, but Maia didn't stop there, struggling to keep her own tears back. "Maybe I'm not being fair," she said firmly, "maybe I'm wrong and this likely something you don't want to hear, but I just for once wish that, at least for Lori's sake, you would show a bit more concern about what happened to him rather than pretending that you don't care!"

Kyle sobbed a little. The sound made Maia instinctively sit up in alarm.

She reached over, around Lori's sleeping form, to stretch across the pillows and wrap her arms around her little brother's shoulders, pressing her forehead against his hair. To her relief, he didn't push her away as he shook, truly breaking down into tears for the first time in a year (excluding Lori and Kili's near-drowning incident).

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he wept softly, sniffling in her arm. "I just...I can't help it. I-I...I'm just s-so scared, but I also just feel so angry. All the fucking time." Maia quickly glanced down at Lori, who was thankfully too deeply asleep to hear her brother curse. "I do care. I-I do, Mai, I...I just don't understand why! Why did he leave us? It's already bad enough that he did it without warning or r-reason or even so much a shitty note—but no, of course that's not all!"

He both sobbed and snarled, and Maia kissed the top of his head to calm him down, like their mom used to. "H-He didn't even bother telling us why he did it…o-or if it is even the reason at all! H-He didn't tell any of us who or what he really is! What we are! He could've warned us, or—or help us understand how he came to our world or why he even bothered having us to begin with...if he knew that we were going to end up different!"

Kyle's voice cracked at that as he cried. Hot tears landed on his sister's arm, running down his nose. Maia shushed him and rubbed his shoulder, letting him cry.

"Instead, we ended up here," he continued once he found his voice again, "in an entirely different world! With nothing to go on, but vague clues from his so-called 'fairytales'! Instead, we ended having to hear about him from someone else, when it was already too late! That we're, w-what? D-Descendants from gods or something? Demi-gods? Angels? And that we might live hundreds of years after everyone we know is gone?"

A small gasp left Maia. The hollow ache in her chest seemed to grow. That last part had honestly never occurred to her until Kyle said it aloud. Her brother's words now made more sense the more he spoke, and her own suppressed anger started to simmer from the pit of her stomach. God.

Kyle then pulled away and sat up. Maia propped herself on her elbows when he turned to face her. Even in the dark, she could see his tear-filled eyes widening at her, so vulnerable and sad, and still angry as ever. "How could he do this, Mai?" Kyle said hoarsely, mouth trembling. "Was he ever planning on telling us? Why did they have to tell us and not him?"

"I don't know, Kyle," Maia breathed, shaking her head, trying desperately to pull herself together for her little brother. It was too much to process, too much to handle…so she focused on the smaller issue of the many, the one she could deal with. Her fingers ran deeply across her scalp. "All my life, I could never fully understand what was going through our father's head. I don't know whether he had been planning to tell us, or whether he had been planning to leave us the whole time...but I refuse to believe that our whole life had been a lie! Like our friends! Like our grandparents! Like our mom!" She insisted, looking at Kyle, but her brother only bit his lip and looked away. She leaned over to catch his eye. "You know, just because we didn't know about our father's past doesn't mean we didn't live a life of our own with the rest of the family. A life we're still trying to get back to. Back to Grandma and Grandpa, back to Mom––"

"Yeah, that's another thing I'm wondering!" Kyle cut her off. When he wiped his nose, his voice became stronger now that he was no longer crying, his eyes sharper. "About Mom––do you think she knew about Dad? About his other name? His whole freaking childhood!"

"God, Kyle, I don't know, all right?" She threw her hands up in frustration. "I'm just as stumped as you are, and I hate that we had to find this out this way! From people we only just met and—barely trust, to be honest. But that's even more of a reason why we need to go home! To hopefully get some answers, when Mom wakes up, and maybe even some from Grandma and Grandpa, if they knew anything about Dad that they decided not to share…"

As Maia said this, her anger only grew. A part of her hoped she was wrong, hoped that her entire family had not been keeping up with this lie if Arthur Dainson had shared a secret as big as this with them. She honestly wasn't sure what she would do about it if they did. What any of them would do about it.

Maybe they were getting worked up over nothing, but...like acid on the brain, the thought began to fester and the possibility became impossible to ignore.

That being beside the point, how was one supposed to accept a life-changing truth about oneself that they didn't have plenty of other years to prepare for? How was one supposed to accept living in a world where you were the only ones who could outlast everyone you knew and loved more than two times over...save for one person who already has?

Even if their father had stuck around, if he had been planning to tell them the truth, it didn't matter whether or not they would have ended up in the world of Middle-earth, accident or not. Their lives would still be forever changed, sooner or later.

They would lose their mother and grandparents. They would lose all of their friends.

If they did stay in Texas, or any other state or country in their world, they would very likely end up spending their entire lives on the run, avoiding suspicions on their identities and how they were still alive and young. Like that family in Tuck Everlasting.

They would grow old, eventually...but not for a very long time, with no way of knowing how or where they would end up.

To Maia (and evidently to Kyle) it sounded like a nightmare. Lori was too young to understand the reality of their dilemma, so there was no way of knowing how she would handle this change as she grew older and more used to the idea.

She only just passed the twelfth grade, for crying out loud! She was only just stepping out into the world to discover her true self! She was only just finding a dealing with real romantic love a kind and handsome man—no, a kind and handsome Dwarf—however inevitably doomed it felt!

Maia must have been silent for a long time as such anxious thoughts consumed her, because Kyle groaned and fell back against his pillow, bringing his hands over his head. Miraculously, Lori slept through their entire conversation, eyes flickering as she dreamed.

"This sucks!" Kyle hissed, still burying his palms into his eyes. Finally he dropped them down with a slap, looking exasperatedly exhausted. "I don't know how Lord Elrond dealt with this kind of crap!"

"Lord Elrond?" Confusion nagged her. "Wait, what does he––What did you guys talk about?"

Kyle deadpanned. "Long life story short: his parents ditched him and his brother. All of them. His biological and his adopted."

Maia's blinked. "Wait...what?" Elrond was adopted? was the first and only thought that managed to sink in the first few seconds, followed by He was abandoned twice over?

"Yeah, and for incredibly stupid reasons, too. You wouldn't even believe me if I told you. Yet somehow, he still managed to forgive them all. I personally wouldn't have, but he did it." Kyle scoffed bitterly, before muttering, "At least one of them managed to come back and earn it. According to him, at least. The rest of them, not so much!"

"Oh...my God..." Brain numbed with this sudden information about their host, Maia's tired mind buzzed with more questions that thankfully had nothing to do with their own history.

"Yeah, tell me about it." The rings under her brother's eyes made it apparent that he was too tired to discuss it further. Kyle sighed, and flipped his hands away. "You know what, you're right! To hell with Dad and his lies! I'm done! I'm just gonna let the wizard and his friends tell us everything we need to know. I don't care. At this point I don't think there's anything bigger than that they can surprise us with."

Maia shrugged half-heartedly. She was just glad that Kyle seemed to be recovering his old dry and carefree self. "Yeah, I don't know," she drawled. "Lady Galadriel did say they would tell us more in the morning. About Dad's family, you know. Our Dúnedain family."

"'Dúnedain'…" Kyle scrunched his nose. "I still think it's a weird name. What did the lady say it meant again? 'Men of—"

"'Men of the West,'" Maia finished alongside him. "More interesting information about this island they lived on, apparently. This kingdom." Maia tilted her head thoughtfully. "I don't know about you, but I would personally like to know more about them. Sooner or later. Because, if we really are descended from them, then…then we'll be learning more about our heritage. It's really strange, but I feel…re-assured, somehow, more grounded when learning about who we really are, if it would help understand a bit more about ourselves. About Dad."

Kyle grunted at the back of his throat, though it didn't necessarily sound like he disagreed. "Whatever. I'm going to sleep." He turned back the other way. "Goodnight."

"Good-night?" Maia automatically responded, staring at his back, starting to wonder if seeing him break down into tears less than five minutes ago had been real. Then she sighed, rubbing her sleepy eyes.

He was right, it was late. Likely well past midnight, if she checked her watch. Hopefully they will have a fresh, clear mind once they slept it off. There was a lot they needed to discuss.

With self-reassurance, the eldest Dainson shuffled back into sleeping position and turned to wrap around around the slumbering Lori, who was still sleeping with her mouth parted open.

Letting out a breath through her nose, it didn't take long before Maia let a peaceful wave of sleep pull her under…

A blood-red sunrise. A blinding white light.

Muffled voices formed in a beautiful sequence of Elvish, yet heavy and sharp with anger and urgency.

Shouting. Screaming. Weeping.

Small children crying.

A dark-haired woman in a white gown stands in tension at the ledge of a tall arched open window, facing the sunrise peeking from the horizon across the vast, glittering sea. Her feet were bare as she climbed on the ledge, practically clawing her way up with one hand, while the other cradled against her breast a blinding globe of pure starlight.

So bright was the light, full of glittering white splendor, that the woman's face revealed little more than the contorted lines of fear and desperation in her seemingly delicate features, making her seem flawless and divine in the radiance of the star she cradled.

The light itself was a epitome of divine beauty, whose blinding radiance was addictively alluring in sight and sound…humming with a harmonious sound more eerily divine than the loveliest voice of a mortal singer.

Thrumming. Whispering. Pulling them outward, where the ocean faintly called to safety, away from the horrors and tragedies of the blood that shed and fires now spread.

From to land unclean to the land unseen.

The voice, small and pure, neither male nor female, yet full of many all at once, sang in the air.

Innocent. Lovely. Pure. Irresistibly so.

Take us to the sky…fly away with me…

"Nana! Nana!"*

A young child crying out. The young woman's eyes widened. Darted back and forth, beyond the opposite end of the balcony.

A looming shadow covered her. A raspy voice quieting. Pleading. Growing in urgency.

Fly away! Fly away! Away Away AWAY!

The whispers grew louder.

With a sob, she straightened up, perched on the ledge of the window, back facing the sunrise bleeding across the sea expanse. Her black hair whipped wildly with the wind, across her pale, tear-filled face, which had slowly grown cold and vacant as the heavy seconds had passed. Her hand lifted the star to her lips, whispering to it repeatedly as she shut her eyes to all around her…

"Elwing…ecë…" The voice of a man, deep and raspy, wavered as it begged. The long shadow on the floor reached out to her. "Inqunan! Ecë!"*

"Nana?"

But the child's voice seemed like a deaf-tuned noise behind the song-filled air. Undeterred, the woman—Elwing—gave the speaker a soft smile. A chilling one, cutting through the light of the star, to reveal hauntingly skeletal features matching with fey-filled gaze, in the place of what was once a face full of radiant beauty. It was horrifying to look at.

"Bwa,"* she whispered. "Nindë!*

Then, with a sigh, with a flutter of her white gown, she fell backwards…

It's mine!

"Maia!"

Maia gasped, eyes flying open. Then she blinked awake, squinting blearily at the ceiling, when hearing a voice hiss across the room, followed by a few knocks.

"Psst, Maia!"

Turning her head, she noticed the bedroom door was cracked open. Through it, a blue eye and beaded beard peaked through. "Maia!" hissed the familiar speaker. "Maia, wake up!"

"Fili?" Sitting up, she turned to notice Kyle and Lori still sleeping next to her, before flipping the covers off herself and walked across the room to meet Fili at the door. Confused, she opened the door a little wider, squinting at him through sleepy eyes. "What are you doing? Kili?"

Kili waved at her from behind Fili with a slight smile, who took a step back, suddenly to shy to look at her completely. "Sorry, but I couldn't enter a lady's room while she's likely indecent…particularly in bed…" he muttered, "but we had no other way to wake you."

Maia gave him a deadpanned look. "Fili, you already saw me in shorts," she said patiently. She was only wearing yoga pants and a tank top. "Seeing my shoulders is not going to make it any more scandalous." After managing to get Fili to look up, she sighed. "What's up? It's still dark out…" She slept for only, what, an hour? Two, at most? After staying up so late, learning a whole essay of secrets about her heritage, she at least hoped to sleep in until noon!

"Is Kyle in there with you?" Fili searched her gaze. "Lori?"

"Yeah?"

"Good, because they need to know, too. We're leaving."

The word jolted her fully awake like a bolt of lightning.

"Leaving?" She repeated. "What––Now?" She then noticed for the first time that the brothers were fully dressed, weapons and all.

Kili nodded. "Aye, the Company's gathering what we need as we speak. We need to hurry before they leave without you!"

"But I thought we staying for a few more days!" hissed Maia in panic, quickly looking back at Kyle and Lori's sleeping forms.

Fili shook his head. "Thorin and the rest are convinced the Elves are planning to stop the quest from happening," he said urgently, "unless we hurry out before they are given the order. Gandalf managed to pass that on some time earlier today. This is our only chance!"

"Gandalf said––" Maia gritted her teeth, fighting the urge to groan. Why didn't the wizard warn them? And what about all the information she and her siblings were supposed to get? About their history? About their father? About the possibilities of finding a way home?

On the other hand, the way to Erebor might just be their ticket to home, or hopefully one that leads to a portal. If the Company left without them in Rivendell, they would lose their chance to travel to Erebor, and possibly their chance to go home!

"There's no time to argue," whispered Fili, looking over his shoulder. "An Elf could overhear us if we don't hurry, but we didn't want to leave without letting you know. Or…or at least to say good-bye!" Pain filled his blue eyes as he stumbled out the way, and the revelation that Fili was leaving her speared through Maia's heart.

She opened her mouth. "G-Good-bye? B-But…"

Kili was watching the exchange with pained sympathy, but watching Fili's own struggles was worse. "I know…" he was panting through gritted teeth, looking down at the floor. "I know that by rights, by logic, I have no right…no right to dissuade you from staying. You, Kyle, and Lori most of all…you're safe here! It would be absolutely ludicrous of us to bring children, or a woman, along on this quest, especially when it might get worse as we go…but…"

No no no no! Not now! This can't be happening now! Maia felt her eyes fill up, mouth parting wordlessly.

"But it would not make sense to sneak off without at least giving you a choice!" Fili said hoarsely. He looked up at her, gazing lovingly at her face. "To stay here and find a solution among people, who are likely older and wiser than we mere mortals are…or to come with us, and see this to the end, and help us reclaim our kingdom…and perhaps find your own way home in the process!"

Conflict warred within her like a raging storm. It was all happening way too fast. To be honest, it felt tempting to stay here in Rivendell. And more than that it would be the smart thing to do. It had already been a high risk on its own to bring Lori, and even Kyle, on a journey across a land where they had no idea what could hit them. They had already faced off the wild, a raging river, giant trolls, and a pack of orcs, and they weren't even halfway through yet! Who knew what other dangers they would have to face out there! Dangers that could potentially and very get them killed!

Bringing Lori with them, especially, as opposed to staying here in safety and security of Rivendell, surrounded by beauty and Elves and peace—and possibly the best way to find answers––would be nothing short of insane!

And yet…and yet…

"I––"

"We have to go, Fili," whispered Kili, looking down the hallway. "I think I see a peak of sun coming through."

"Right," Fili nodded, before backing away. His eyes never left Maia's. "Just know that I understand if you…decide to stay…but we have to go. I'm sorry."

A stream of curses filled her head.

"Fili!" Maia said quickly, and desperately, as he began to leave. She grabbed his arm. "Fili, wait….Just, wait!" She bit her lip, thinking fast as Fili and Kili stared at her. She then promptly made her decision.

"Okay, okay….just give us five minutes, okay?" She began to turn, rushing over to grab her bag. "Five minutes!"

She stumbled around, still in her yoga pants and tank top, her hair a complete bed-mess. Oh, my God! Oh, my God! she kept thinking, hopping on one foot to get her boots on (her new Elvish ones). She then hastily made sure all her spare belongings were back in her bag. Within a minute of the rush, she half-stumbled to the bed to shake both her brother and sister urgently.

"Kyle! Lori! Wake up!" Maia hissed loudly. "Right now! Get up! Now!"

"Mmmmm...!" groaned Lori, rolling away and frowning her sleep. Kyle was no different as he grumbled, "Go 'way..."

"Guys, seriously! Get up!" Maia whispered loudly, shaking harder. "The dwarves––they're leaving without us!"

Kyle's eyes flew open, red-rimmed and shadowed. "Wait, what?!" Bolting upright, he stared at Maia, black hair tousled and pressed from the bed. "Now?! Are you serious?!" He gaped at her in horror.

Maia nodded. "Dead serious! Fili and Kili are right outside the door. We gotta hurry!"

"Holy shit!" Kyle kicked off the covers with his legs and practically dove off the bed toward his backpack, which he had thankfully carried from his room hours ago, having never unpacked it since they arrive. "You gotta be kidding me!" Unzipping it, he hastily dug up his trousers, kicking off his pajama pants in the process, too much in a hurry to worry about changing in front of his sisters.

"Hm?!" Half-asleep and half-alarmed, a messy haired Lori automatically sat up, eyes still half-dazed within her alarm. "They're leaving?" She seemed to be aware enough to process what she heard. She sounded distressed.

Now in her boots and wearing her backpack, Maia hurriedly lifted Lori onto the edge of the bed and helped her pull on her boots, even while still in her pajamas. "Not without us, they're not!" she told her little sister, tugging her boots on. Once that was done, Maia hurriedly found Lori's little backpack and shoved whatever things she had lying around back in the sack.

Their Elvish dresses were likely still in the closets, or stored away for cleaning, but there was no time to go find them. Even if they did, it was very likely the Elves' would have sharp enough hearing to know they were moving around the building and start to wonder why they were up so late in the night...or rather so early in the morning.

The last thing they needed was to alert all fo Rivendell that they were leaving, since they would likely be stopped at the entrance if the word got out, and there no time to feel guilty about it.

"Hurry up!" She heard Kili hiss through the doorway.

"Okay, okay, we're ready!" Maia quickly said, strapping Lori's backpack with her own, and then lifting the little girl up. On the other side of the room, Kyle almost tripped over the rug in his haste to pull on his own new boots. With his tousled appearance and reddened face, he looked absolutely furious in his sleep-deprived state.

"I don't freaking believe this!" the boy kept growling. "Two hours! We only got got two short hours of sleep! Now what do they try to do, leave us behind?"

Once the haggled siblings stumbled out the door, meeting Fili and Kili halfway down the hall, Maia carrying a dozing Lori hastily down after them, Kyle gave them the blackest glare of all. "Once we're out of here," he gritted, as he half-ran with them, "I'm going to give Thorin-Frigging-Oakenshield a piece of my mind!"

The bright light of Arien started to rise slowly over the mountains, catching the colors of flowers and vines growing around the albaster pillars of the pavilion. The gleaming streams of the Ford cut through the valley where they fell over the dells in like white-foamed mists. A beautiful picture to an ugly confrontation that Gandalf knew now was unavoidable.

Only ;ess than a handful of hours ago, the Dainson siblings were given information that even Gandalf himself had not be privy to. His own mind still reeled from what he had just learned.

Descendants of Melduin Peredain, Lord and Founder of House Laurnárë. A half-Maiar Man who was said to have lived from the end of the First of the First Age and throughout most of the Second Age, up until Númenor's downfall. Gandalf had not met him personally, having not been officially made a public appearance until the beginning of the Third Age, but he had gotten to know some of his descendants throughout the centuries of his time on Middle-earth.

He had thought Melduin's line had perished with Ragnór's death and his young son, Aravír's, disappearance...but that had evidently proved to be wrong. He wondered how he had not seen it before. Though in his defense, the children did not carry the same dark cloud in their spirits that their previous ancestors had.

And there was still so much of Melduin's background that even he did not know, except for that he was the son of a mysterious woman called Sîrlindë Amarthiel (quite an unfortunate second-name, Gandalf always thought), that from her he was apparently blood-related to all the noble houses of the Edain from the First Age (like Elrond and Elros were), and there was mention of his unrecorded marriage to Isilmë, the youngest daughter of Tar-Elendil and the sister of Silmarien and Tar-Meneldur. That was all.

Whatever mysteries that surrounded Melduin Peredain were kept under lock and key in three Elvish locations: Rivendell, Lothlorien, and the Grey Havens.

"Tell me, Gandalf, did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?" asked Saruman, who was seated across the other Istari from the center table.

Gandalf, who already looked weary, straightened up. His thoughts of the Dainson siblings and their origins were placed aside in favor of the problem currently being presented. "Unnoticed?" He looked around in confusion. "No, I...I'm simply doing what I feel to be right," he tried to protest.

"The dragon," Galadriel softly contemplated, "has long been on your mind."

Gandalf nodded. "That is true, my Lady. Smaug owes allegiance to no one. But if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect."

"What enemy?" demanded Saruman. "Gandalf, the enemy is defeated. Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength."

Gandalf leaned forward, eyes lit with seriousness. "Does it not worry you that the last of the Dwarf rings should simply vanish along with its bearer?" he demanded. "Of the seven Dwarf rings, four were consumed by dragons, two were taken by Sauron before he fell in Mordor. The fate of the last Dwarf ring remains unknown. The ring that was worn by Thrain."

"Without the ruling Ring of Power, the seven are of no value to the enemy," Saruman argued. "To control the other rings, he needs the One. And that ring was lost long, long ago. It was swept out to sea by the waters of the Anduin."

Elrond, who had been listening from the nearest pillar, finally spoke up. "Gandalf, for four-hundred years we have lived in peace," he explained patiently, gesturing his hands, "a hard-won, watchful peace."

"Are we? Are we at peace?" Gandalf demanded, looking at the members of the Council. "Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages, destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road."

Elrond shook his head, stepping forward with hands clasped behind his back. "Hardly a prelude to war."

"Always you must meddle," Saruman accused Gandalf, "looking for trouble when none exists."

"Let him speak." Galadriel's soft voice cut through the exchange like water distinguishing a little flame before it would spread. Her gliding pace around the pavilion served to abate the tension in the circle, a constant reminder to the men of her pondering presence serving to throw them off-guard.

Grateful for her interference, Gandalf took this as his cue to continue, "There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can remain blind to it, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen who live there now call it Mirkwood. And they say…" Here is where he faltered.

Saruman raised an eyebrow. "Well?" He said. "Don't stop now. Tell us what the woodsmen say."

Finally, Gandalf leaned a little closer, speaking quietly as if afraid to be be overheard by lingering ears on the outside. "They speak of a Necromancer living in Dol Guldur. A sorcerer who can summon the dead."

"That's absurd!" Saruman dismissed immediately. "No such power exists in this world. This Necromancer is nothing more than a mortal man. A conjurer dabbling in black magic."

"And so I thought, too," admitted Gandalf. "But Radagast has seen––"

"Radagast?" Saruman's face twisted with distain. "Do not speak to me of Radagast the Brown? He is a foolish fellow!"

"Well, he's odd, I grant you," Gandalf nodded patiently, trying to smile in defense of their brown Istari companion. "He lives a solitary life––"

"It's not that," Saruman cut him off. "It's his excessive consumption of mushrooms. They've addled his brain and yellowed his teeth. I've warned him. It is unbefitting one of the Istari to be wandering the woods…"

Saruman's lecturing words continued, but drifted away when Gandalf felt the heavy presence of another voice enter his mind through ostanwè.

You carry something.

Gandalf tilted his head in Galadriel's direction behind him.

It came to you from Radagast, she said, curious now, as she prodded for the images laid bare willingly in his mind. He found it in Dol Guldur.

Gandalf did not deny it. Yes.

He felt her gaze heavy and demanding behind him.

Show me.

"—listen to me. I would think I was talking to myself for all the attention that he paid. By all means…"

While Saruman continued his lecture, Gandalf wordlessly dug in the sleeves of his robes and pulled out an object wrapped heavy in fabric. Saruman stopped speaking.

Elrond frowned at mysterious wrappings. "What is that?" He asked softly, reaching out for it.

"A relic," said Galadriel in warning, causing her son-in-law's hand to pause, "of Mordor."

With that now in mind, the Lord of Imladris used the tip of his fingers to carefully flip the folds of the fabric, mindful not to touch whatever lay underneath. And low and behold, when the ebony metal revealed itself in the growing light of the early morning sun, its presence alone seemed to suck away any warmth or joy maintained in Arien's fiery flare.

Elrond sucked in a breath, stepping back slightly. "A Morgul Blade."

"Made for the Witchking of Angmar," said Galadriel, her voice deep and foreboding, "and buried with him."

The White Council stared at the blade as one, recalling the days of when such a weapon served as one of the deadliest weapons the Enemy of the Second Age had wielded against the peoples of Middle-earth. The temporary usurper of one of the lost Dunedain kingdoms. They recalled the Witch-King with ill clarity, he whose name was lost in the passings of time, in an unknown past, with little clue of who he once was still a legendary topic among few others.

"When Angmar fell," continued Galadriel, "the Men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed it within the High Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried him…" Her eyes were wide with recollection, haunted by the deeds that had been done, "in a tomb so dark...it would never come to light," she whispered.

"This is not possible," murmured Elrond, gravely. "A powerful spell lies upon those tombs. They cannot be opened!"

Yet still, Saruman would not easily be moved from his previous point. "What proof do we have this weapon came from Angmar's grave?"

Gandalf sighed. "I have none."

"Because there is none," the White Wizard pointed out with a scoff. He leaned back, looking almost smug. "Let us examine what we know. A single Orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen. A dagger from a bygone age has been found. And a human sorcerer who calls himself 'The Necromancer' has taken up residence in a ruined fortress. It's not so very much, after all.

"The question of this Dwarvish company, however, troubles me deeply. I am not convinced, Gandalf. I do not feel I can condone such a quest. If they'd come to me, I might have spared them this disappointment. I do not pretend to understand your reason for raising their hopes…"

They are leaving.

Yes.

You knew.

"…No, I'm afraid there is nothing else for it."

Once more, Saruman had just been finishing the final decision when suddenly Lindir approached the entrance of the pavilion. His eyes were were wide with such alarm that he forgot to greet them properly.

"My Lord Elrond!" He exclaimed. "The Dwarves––the children––they're gone!"

Sindarin Translation:

*Mommy! Mommy!

*No. It's mine.

Quenya Translation:

*Elwing…please...I beg you…Please…

I honestly could not find a translation for 'please' and 'I beg you' for either Quenya or Sindarin. I'm not even sure if I translated 'It's mine' is correct.

This final scene is a chapter quoted from the movie.