A/N: First of all, I want to say a big "thank you!" to the people who've reviewed this. You had me floating half a meter above the ground for hours ^___^

Second, I know I talked about "swan boats of Lòrien" in my first chapter. Nèniel is actually from Mirkwood, she and her family just visited friends and kin in Lòrien before they left for the Havens.

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Nèniel poked the last glowing embers of the dying campfire with a twig; it was nearly dawn, and a new day of wandering stood before them.

Thirty times the seasons had turned since they'd first met, and still they were traveling together.

Many had seen them on these journeys, but never as more than two shadows, the one slightly larger than the second. Maglor distrusted humans, and kept himself far from their realms. Therefore, they rarely heard news of the world, and knew not of the great menace that was rising in the east. They still believed it to be living in the north, in Mirkwood, Nèniel's old home.

In the first years of their travels, Nèniel often thought about her family, and of her previous life; sometimes, the memories even drove her to tears. At these moments, Maglor sought away, believing that the best thing for the young elven girl was to be alone with her grief. Now, she rarely thought of them, and when she did, it was like memories of a past life, or of an age long since past. She thought of them with glee, for she believed her family to be happy in Valinor, even thought she knew they must miss her, as she did them. Little did she know of the white stone covered with fresh flowers and marked with her name, or of the grey room, filled with her belongings, that was a part of her family's house in the land beyond the sea.

Neither did she know that her kin in Mirkwood, who had long since gotten the message of her parting with the ship, grieved over her in the same way. Her time with the Maglor had taught her humbleness, and she didn't think of herself as so important now.

Her life merely consisted in journeys, and music. Maglor, who had been one of the most famous composers of the First Age, had taught her to love music, and to consider it as a way to express emotion. This had helped her a lot; and sometimes, when they'd stopped to rest for the night, she would walk under the trees, singing songs her cousin had taught her, long ago, in their homeland.

Of all her kin, it was he, and Alwen, that she missed most. She missed the look on Alwen's face when she told her one of the many tales of the First Age; a mix between excitement and fright. And she missed her cousins amused look when he tried unsuccessfully to teach her how to use the bow. A more patient soul was hard to find, considering the hundreds of times she'd let go of the bow at the same time as the arrow. But, after a while, he'd had to give up, seeing that she made no progress in the six months they'd practiced. So he thought he should teach her how to sing instead. Something in which she was far more talented.

But that was a long time ago, more than half her lifetime; and, she reminded herself, you should not live in memories.

She looked up, Maglor had returned.

"Are we going far today?" she asked.

"No, not farther than we normally do. But we are far from the sea now, and I'd like us to move southwards again."

"Well, you are the one with knowledge of maps; I just follow you," she smiled. "You were gone when I woke, how far did you go?"

"To the outskirts of an abandoned human city, a big one, like I've never seen before. Half of it is on this riverbank, the rest is on the eastern side."

"You sound worried. Why? If it is abandoned, why should we fear it?"

"There is a presence there…I don't know what it is, but it is familiar."
"What kind of presence? Good or evil? You must know that at least."

"Well, there is a sense of evil there, though it is old. But there's something else there, neither good nor evil. I do not know what it is."

"Then we won't go near it," Nèniel smiled, and stood up. She stamped out the few remains of the fire, picked up her few belongings, and started walking southwards. Maglor quickly followed.

They'd walked for two hours when Nèniel first caught a glimpse of the city, far of to the left. It was indeed huge, bigger than the Grey Havens or any other city she'd seen. There was a sense of foreboding over it, like an ancient graveyard, but she felt nothing of the presence Maglor had talked about.

Her inborn curiosity soon brought her to asking Maglor if they could go closer. He was reluctant to, but couldn't see any reason why they shouldn't. So they walked nearer to the city.

They were close to the city gates; big metal doors that might have been glorious in their time, but who now looked pitiful. They were scattered with cracks and gaps, and overgrown by all sorts of climbing plants.

Nèniel peeked in through one of the gaps. She could see abandoned streets and buildings.

"We cannot linger," Maglor said, worried.

"Why? I wonder what is in there. What it is that is causing this…this…" she waved her hand in the air, "this presence you are talking about." she looked at him solemnly, "I'm going in."

"You are too curious for your own good," Maglor said, "but if you go in, then I'm coming with you."

Nèniel gave the doors a little push, and to her surprise, they sprung open. 'This city might not be so abandoned after all,' she thought in excitement. So she waved for Maglor to follow her, and stepped inside.

It was huge, that was the first impression she had. The buildings were larger than anything she'd ever seen before; and the architecture was completely different from what she was used to. It didn't look like the battered houses of the small human villages they'd seen.

Something was stirring in her mind, a memory from when she was young.

*****

"Oh, Nèniel, you're hopeless!" her cousin said in a teasing manner. Then he bent down to pick up the dropped bow.

"Do I have to practice more today?" she asked, "can't you tell me a story instead? Mum and dad are too busy with Alwen, they don't have time to." She looked up at him pleadingly.

He laughed, "Well, I might as well. What do you want to hear then, little lady?"

She giggled, "Tell me a true one!"

"Let's see," he said, "I will tell you of the coming of the men of Nùmenor, and the founding of the realms, Arnor and Gondor."

*****

"Osgiliath," she muttered.

"What did you say?"

"Osgiliath. This is the old capital of Gondor!"

She stood there for a while, as if lost in thought, and then she started whispering:

Tall ships and tall kings

 Three times three,

What brought they from the foundered land

 Over the flowing sea?

Seven stars and seven stones

 And one white tree.

"What was that?" Maglor looked at her in surprise.

"A poem I learned as a child. But that's not the point; I think I know what you are sensing. Come on!" she waved him further into the city.

It took her longer than she thought to reach the city center - nearly one and a half hour – but finally, they could see the remains of the Dome of Stars.

It would've looked like a normal house - if, indeed, there were houses of that size – if not for the giant oval of glass that was it's roof.

Although the city had been abandoned centuries ago, the roof had stayed whole, thanks to the hard work of craftsmen from Minas Tirith. It was an amazing sight, but Nèniel had other things on her mind at that moment.

She went first and gave the doors a push. They fell backwards with a dull thud. Inside it was dark, except for a small source of light further inside. Without caution, she ran in.

The light was coming from a staircase.

"Wait Nèniel! Don't!" Maglor yelled after her, but it was too late; she'd already gone up the stairs. A cry came from above, but it was not a cry of terror; Nèniel had found what she was looking for.

He quickly ran up the stairs, and entered a giant hall. At the center, Nèniel was bending over something; it looked strangely like an altar. It was about one foot across, and in the middle, there was a perfectly round hole, like if it had been holding a large sphere of some sorts.

The presence was stronger here.

Nèniel grinned up at him, but when she saw his confused look, she stopped smiling, and looked up at him in wonder.

"Do you not know what this used to hold?"

"No, but the presence is stronger here."

"It used to hold the greatest of the palantìri!"

"The palan-! But I thought they never left Valinor!"

"They were given as a gift to the house of Elendil; back in the time before Nùmenor perished."

A look of shock, then wonder, appeared on Maglor's face.

"But where is it?"

"It disappeared long ago; I don't know where it went, but the humans haven't got it."

As they stood there, the sun went down, and darkness fell over the world.

In another part of the city, fell creatures was pouring out of an old storage building. One of them soon gave a cry in delight; it had found fresh footsteps in the sand…

"We cannot stay here," Maglor said, "night-loving creatures often dwell in abandoned cities."

But it was too late. Even as they were running down the stairs, they could hear horrible voices outside.

"Orcs!" Maglor sounded surprised, "does those wretched creatures still roam this world?"

Nèniel was speechless. Orcs… Even in dark Mirkwood, they were only a foul memory, not easily spoken about.

"Run!" Maglor insisted, "I might be able to hold them off."

"But…"

"Run!"

She reluctantly backed out the door, and ran around the nearest corner. If it was luck or fate that saved her, she didn't know; for the orcs ignored her and went straight for the Dome. In the doorway, she could see Maglor standing, proud as ever.

What was going to happen, she already knew, for he had no weapons. Still, the first blow struck her as hard as if it was she standing there, not him. She could see him falling to the ground; his eyes straying past hers for a moment, and then they were closed forever.

"No," she whispered, tears appeared in her eyes, "no, NO!" She flung herself forward, and was stopped. Someone had laid a hand on her wrist.

"You can do nothing for him now," a voice said in her ear, "stay here."

The last thing she saw before she fainted was the shape of a man, running forward, and assaulting the orcs from behind. Then she faded off to darkness.

*

She woke.

It was cold and dark. Must still be night, she thought.

"Ah, you're awake!" a voice came from behind.

"Maglor?" she said, then, "oh, no, he's gone."

"So that was the name of your friend? Curious."

"What is?" she said. Why am I so emotionless?

"A Noldo, and a young Silvan maiden, traveling together. And the Noldo's name is Maglor, of all things!" he looked at her, his eyes gleaming in wonder, "why were you here? This land did rarely see elves before the Last Alliance, and almost never after. And a Noldo! Who was he?"

"He was Maglor."

"Yes, but of what house?"

"You seem to know quite a lot about elves, I'm surprised you haven't heard of Feanor and his sons."

'He was my only friend for over thirty years! Why am I talking about him like I barely knew him?' she thought.

"I have, but I couldn't believe it! It's told he disappeared thousands of years ago!"

"So did they tell in Mirkwood too; but it seems he didn't." She looked at him intently; "I saw you running towards the orcs, were you able to-" she trailed off.

"Save his body? Yes, but the orcs had mistreated him so badly; I didn't know how you would react when seeing him." He turned towards a small collection of trees. "I buried him beneath them."

Nèniel got up. She swayed a little, and the man stood up and supported her.

"Who are you?" she asked, "you are a human, if my knowledge of this world aren't deceiving me. But still, you speak our language fluently. Tell me, what is your name?"

"I was raised by elves. As for my name; well, I have many, but you can call me Estel."

"Estel?" she raised an eyebrow, "that is a strange name."

"Really? May I be as blunt as to ask for yours?"

"Nèniel," she said, "my name is Nèniel."

They were close to the trees now; Nèniel could see a pile of newly dug earth, close to one of the oaks. She slowly went over, and sat down by the grave.

"Lennmaer," she whispered, "lennmaer, nîn meldir, lennmaer"

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I am no expert in elven languages, not at all, actually, so that last line is probably wrong. It's supposed to be goodbye, my friend, goodbye.

I could find no Sindarin word for goodbye, only the Quenya one, Namarie. And it would seem weird for a Silvan maiden to speak 'elvish latin,' so I put together journey (lenn) and good (maer). Nîn means my (or me, mine), and Meldir means (male) friend (not to be confused with boyfriend ^_^)

It is probably horribly wrong, and if anyone with a little more knowledge of this could correct me, feel free to ^_~

And anyone with their wits with them have probably guessed who her cousin is ^_^  But I won't say anything before the next chap, or the one after that.

Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, not mine ^_^