Chapter Eight:

"C'mon," Hermione said, tapping her foot anxiously as she glanced out the window. "It's nearly sunset."

"You're too bloody impatient," Ron groused as he slouched down the stairs from the boys' dormitory. "It's the holidays, innit?"

Hermione rolled her eyes and led the way out of the Common Room, clearly still put out by their spat from the day before about dates for the Yule Ball. She wouldn't even tell Harry who had asked her, though she'd seemed apologetic about that, and Harry was starting to regret asking Ron to go with her if he was going to be in this mood for the entire holiday.

They made it down to the Tham Angol camp easily enough, collecting Ginny and Luna in the Entrance Hall while most of the school was trickling in for dinner. As they stepped outside, Harry was glad that she'd worn her cloak and her thickest Weasley sweater; with the sun going down it was growing very, very cold. None of them spoke much as they hurried towards the sheltered alcove which Tham Angol had made camp in.

As they crossed an invisible line outside of camp, the footing changed from snow to firm packed earth, and the air around them warmed considerably. It was hard to tell how much of it was the charms Bronach had mentioned and how much was the large bonfire set before the tent. A large table heavily laden with dishes waited between it and the stable, and instead of the logs that usually were rolled around the fire, a grouping of couches, strange yet comfortable looking, had appeared, where most of Tham Angol was currently relaxing.

"Welcome, welcome!" Bilbo said, spotting them and bustling over. "Here, come make yourselves comfortable, we'll eat shortly. Can I get you anything to drink? We have tea, water, juice, some twilsey, hot chocolate, and a spiced cider that's nonalcoholic."

"Thank you for inviting us," Hermione said, allowing him to lead her over to one of the long couches. "I'm not sure what the appropriate greeting is?"

"There's not a specific one," Fili called from where he was filling a tankard at a keg. "Welcome one and all is sufficient!"

"Lend a hand here and let's get our guests something to drink," Bilbo said, hustling Harry into a seat next to Hermione. "Ladies?"

Harry mumbled out a request for hot chocolate, which was echoed by Ron and Ginny, with Luna choosing the twilsey, whatever that was. Hermione hesitated, and then opted for the cider, which Kili presented to her with a flourish. Fili brought the hot chocolates, and to Harry's surprise, Thorin brought Luna her drink, giving the blonde a tiny smile as she thanked him.

But before Harry could think much about it, a low woof was heard, and a familiar black shape loomed up out of the darkness. Glorfindel melted out of the shadows to rest a hand on the dog's head, leading him over the wardline, and then he ushered Sirius into the Tham Angol tent without more than a cheery wave in their direction. Harry looked to Bilbo, who looked mildly concerned, but before she could ask, Legolas and Gimli appeared, and distracted all of them with holiday greetings.

Sirius padded behind the tall blond, feeling very much as if he was walking into enemy territory. The woman who called herself the Head of the House of Black was the legitimate Head, he could tell by the magic draped around her like a cloak, but that she had come to him, bringing Harry, had set his hackles on edge. But the lure of being close to Harry during the death-tournament was something he couldn't resist, and if it meant he could find out more about this stranger, he would take it.

"This way," the blond said, leading him into a tent that was clearly wizarding in make, but decorated far from any wizarding tent Sirius had ever been in. They didn't linger long though, and he was soon in a side corridor, which smelled strongly of the blond, the twins who had accompanied him, the strange woman, and two other strangers whom he'd never smelled before. Stopping at a curtain marked with a crest, he stepped inside briefly, leaving Sirius to wonder at the symbol of a crow issuant.

He wondered if the strange woman knew that the Order's unofficial symbol was the phoenix issuant, and if her crest was in answer to that. But before he could ponder much further, the blond was back, and gesturing for Sirius to enter.

To his surprise, the curtain fell back into place behind him, leaving the blonde on the other side of it. Sirius looked around, scenting only the woman in the room with him.

A long cushion lay on one side of the room, a curtain drawn back but he could see how it would be let down to hide the cushion from view. Several blankets were piled on it, along with a handful of pillows. The tent floor was covered with rugs: some woven, and others braided. Sirius could feel magic tickling his paw pads as he stood, and he suspected that these were true magical weaves, not enchanted or charmed rugs. He spotted what looked like a spinning wheel in one corner next to a stool, a basket of something fluffy looking next to it.

There was movement, and he turned his head to see the strange woman sitting on another stool, in front of a rounded disk of metal polished to a high sheen.

"Welcome to Tham Angol," the strange woman said, her voice sounding funny. "You are safe on our claimed grounds so long as you bring no harm to anyone they shelter."

Feeling awkward, Sirius transformed. "I'll do my best?" he offered, unsure of what the proper response was.

The woman snorted, but didn't say anything so he assumed he was okay. Her back was turned to him, facing the metal disk, so he took the opportunity to look at her in more detail than their initial meeting at the cave had provided.

She wasn't much taller than Harry, he remembered, seeing them walking side by side away from the cave. But her hair had been bound up in a coil of braids around her head then, and it had been an unremarkable brown. Now it hung unbound, brushing the tent floor in long waves, and it was black.

Warily, Sirius shifted his weight, ready to drop into Padfoot and run if he needed to.

"Metamorphmagus," the woman said, and he realized that the polished metal was a mirror, and she'd probably seen him looking her over. Refusing to be ashamed, he tipped his head slightly, questioning without saying anything.

"I have a slight metamorphmagus talent, though nothing like what Andromeda's daughter possesses," she continued. "Mostly I use it to make myself utterly undistinguishable. It's a useful enough gift I suppose."

Before he could process that, she half-turned on the stool, looking directly at him for the first time since he had entered the room. His breath caught as he saw the familiar green eyes watching him from a face he'd seen outside by the campfire as he came across the wardline.

"Hello Sirius," his goddaughter said softly. "I've got a lot to explain."

His mouth felt as dry as if he hadn't drunk in decades. "Yeah," he rasped, swallowing hard. "I think you better start from the beginning."

She laughed softly, and there was a trace of bitterness in it. "The beginning," she said after a moment. "We don't have time for that, not tonight at least. I promise I'll tell you someday, but we'll be missed if we linger too long so I'll stick with what's important."

Seeing her point, and dreading what the long version might be, Sirius dropped down to sit cross legged on the floor of the tent. "Hit me," he said, resting his arms on his knees and looking up at her. He wasn't entirely certain he wanted to hear what she had to say, but he was determined to listen.

"When I was forty years old, I ran afoul of a magical accident that took me entirely out of this dimension," his goddaughter said with a grimace. "Or, at the very least, far, far back in time of which we don't have any records from. I spent the next few centuries there, and made quite a life for myself, and a group of good friends."

She must have caught his startled double-take at the word centuries, because she grimaced again. "I was cursed at seventeen with what is functionally immortality. Call it an old family inheritance. Part of the long story I was telling you about, but the important thing is that I wasn't the oldest person lurking on the shores where I landed. In fact, to most of them I was pretty damn young. But they were leaving, going to the Undying Lands, where only a few mortals had ever set foot."

There was something about her tone that caught Sirius's attention. "You couldn't follow them?" he asked, propping his chin up on his hands.

"For all my immortality, I was born a human, and human I remained, though one that wouldn't shuffle off the mortal coil." His goddaughter looked vaguely wistful. "Eventually there would be none like me left. The elves were leaving, and those that remained were fading, retreating deeper and deeper into their hidden places. Durin had been born again, and his folk fading with each death, leaving just the hobbits and men, few of whom lasted beyond a century and a half."

"Then one night, I dreamed I was in a great mansion, and the Valar sat before me." There was a quiet awe in her voice, and her eyes seemed to reflect the light from the candles in the room. "They had heard petitions on my behalf, and while they could not grant me access for what many had also achieved, they could offer me a singular task to perform, and a year to accomplish it." A grin broke out briefly on her face, making her look more like the seventeen year old she appeared to be instead of the timelessly young ancient she had been when she first turned around. "And a group of companions insisted they come along to help."

"So you came back to do...what? Make sure you survived the Tournament?" Sirius thought he had the scope of it, but there was still something he was missing.

His goddaughter turned serious again. "When I was fourteen, I was taken from the Third Task, and forced to participate in a ritual that returned...You-Know-Who to a body. After that...things got bad Sirius. They let me pick when I came back, and I would have one year to prevent myself from setting foot on the path that led me to the point where I was standing before them petitioning to be allowed access to the Undying Lands."

"Why this year?" he blurted, wondering why she hadn't saved Lily and James, why she had allowed herself to be orphaned. It didn't make sense.

"Because I know how to make sure that the war doesn't start again, and I couldn't do that in 1981." She bit her lip. "Trust me, I sure as hell would have wanted to avoid Privet Drive, but I know where all the pieces to the puzzle are right now, and that's the most important bit."

He didn't understand, not really, but he could tell that she was absolutely certain about her course of action. Lily had been like that, he vaguely remembered from the fog of memories that comprised Before. "So why seek me out?"

To his surprise, she blushed and looked away, biting her lip. "Because something that I never thought I could have was offered to me, and I accepted," she murmured, toying with her sleeve. "And the only family I have is sitting outside around that campfire, and in here with me." She seemed to realize that he wasn't managing to make any sense of her words, and looked up with a shy smile. "I'm getting betrothed tonight Sirius, and I wanted your blessing."

Betrothed. He was going to have a mental breakdown later about this, but for the moment he focused on the happiness in her expression, how she had softened from the cool, professional woman she'd been ever since she'd approached him.

His goddaughter had become a formidable woman, and somehow managed to find a partner while she was at it. Sirius could absolutely be happy for her now, and figure the rest out later.

"So, who's the lucky one?" he asked.

"Ones," she corrected, twisting her hands in her lap. "Elladan and Elrohir, the dark-haired twins that were with me the other day.

Twins. He had heard that twins often ended up in magical triads, had heard that the Prewett twins were looking in that direction before their deaths, but it was still surprising. Glancing at his goddaughter, he realized that she was nervous about his reaction. "Did you leave me any room for the shovel talk?" he asked pathetically.

She looked startled, and then smiled. "They've faced down horrors enough, but I think the only thing that's going to terrify them is their mother's reaction when she finds out that they got betrothed without her being present." Pausing, she added: "Or their grandmother's."

"Formidable women?" he offered, not really knowing what to say to that.

"Their grandmother certainly is," she replied immediately. "I did not know their mother; she sailed long before I set foot on those shores. But she missed their sister's betrothal and marriage, and I doubt she would be keen to hear that she had missed that of her sons as well."

"Why not wait?" he offered, wondering why they had chosen now if that was the case. "You said it's only a year."

"Because I will have no family on those shores." There was a deep, deep ocean of sorrow in her eyes. "Because if we announce it here, I can have those I care about witness. Betrothals, in the customs of their people, last at least a year, and we will have six months with their family before that year is over."

"Do I need to do anything special?" he asked, so many more questions that he wanted answered but knowing that they were likely running out of time. "Say anything?"

"Your presence at the announcement will be enough," his goddaughter said briskly, hiding away her emotion with a skill Sirius envied. "That is, if you approve?"

"How could I not?" he asked rhetorically. "They clearly make you happy. I hope you'll let me stick around so I can find out why." He also knew that he had no real right to disapprove, given how she was practically a stranger, for all that she was his goddaughter.

She smiled, and he realized that she'd never told him what to call her. He knew that the Tham Angol student was Bronach nos Arnor, thanks to the Daily Prophet copies he'd taken to stealing from bins, but he didn't know if that was her name. "What do I call you?"

Looking startled, she replied: "Bronach. It's the name I've come to feel suits me best."

A rustle at the flap that served as a door, and Sirius shot back into his animagus form, the change instinctual after so long on the run. It was only the blond who had led him in, and he bowed politely. "May I accompany you?" he asked politely.

His goddaughter, Bronach, glanced between them, and smiled briefly. "I think I have an escort," she said, rising from her stool. "Besides, I know you're not technically related, but you know them best, and I'm sure they'd be honored to have you standing by their side tonight."

The blond bowed deeply. "You honor me," he murmured as he swept upright. "They're about to take their places."

"We'll follow in a moment then," Bronach waited for the tent flap to fall closed, and then she turned to look at Sirius, looking much like her younger self had at the cave. Sirius flowed back into his human self.

"Everything alright?"

"I'm getting betrothed," she breathed, almost hesitantly.

"Only if you want to?" he offered, not really certain what emotion she was struggling with. He didn't want to assume anything and possibly wreck the trust she'd offered him by telling him the truth.

She looked at him as if he was crazy. "Of course I want to," she snapped, hands fisting at her side. "I just…" biting her lip, she looked down, and aside. "I never thought it could happen."

Oh. He knew how to deal with this. "The day your parents got married, your dad said the same thing," Sirius couldn't always remember much about the good days, only fragmented memories of Before, but he could offer her this. "He was so terrified that it was all a dream, that your mom wouldn't be waiting for him at the altar. Moony and I had to practically march him down the aisle when it came to it, he was so afraid."

A soft laugh slipped from her lips, and Sirius couldn't help but grin, reaching out to rest his hand on her shoulder. "You deserve this," he told her, knowing it to be true in his bones. "You deserve to be happy and loved, and if those two are the ones you want to do it, then you'd best get out there and tell them that."

She straightened her spine and nodded, confidence restored. "Thanks," Bronach said, stepping towards the door. "You'd better transform again; I don't have the camp wholly warded against unwanted intrusion, but the tent is invitation only."

He nodded, and let Padfoot take over.

Elladan found himself fidgeting, which he knew was beyond unusual for him, but he couldn't quite help it.

The others were helpfully entertaining their guests, while he and his brother waited for Glorfindel to bring Bronach out. With every moment that passed, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd changed her mind.

"Just breathe," Elrohir advised softly, bumping his shoulder as he shifted on the couch that Bronach had transfigured from their usual logs. "She's not going to change her mind. Nana will still kill us, but she'll love Bronach enough that it won't matter that we took this away from her."

Anything Elladan might have said was driven completely out of his mind by the tent flaps moving, admitting Glorfindel, and then he caught his breath when nobody followed the legendary warrior.

Glorfindel circled quickly to them and stepped between Elladan and the rest. "She's coming," the elflord murmured, just loud enough that Elladan could hear him. "Bronach said that I should stand with you in place of your parents."

Oh. Oh. Elladan started breathing again as his lungs started to protest the lack of air. He hadn't thought about that possibility, but it made so much sense. It was so much like Bronach to offer them Glorfindel's presence in place of their absent family.

"But who's standing with her?" Elrohir asked, reaching the realization that Elladan had just managed far quicker.

"You'll see," Glorfindel's mysterious smile only lasted for a minute before the tent flap stirred again, and then Elladan found himself shooting to his feet, only vaguely aware of his brother following suit.

Bronach stepped out of the tent, clad in a gray gown that was fit for a queen, even if it bore none of the jewels or embroidery that any of Arwen's dresses had borne. It brushed lightly against the hard packed earth, but most of his attention was on her hair.

He'd seen it worn up in a thousand different ways, half out of its braids and caked with gore, so muddy he couldn't tell what her hair color was supposed to be. But today she wore it down, the ends nearly brushing the middle of her thighs, the weight of it pulling out what had to be wild curls into long waves. As far as he knew, there wasn't a single braid in her hair, and it was the black that he knew it was supposed to be originally.

Heart in his throat, he swallowed hard. She had come, against all his fears, come to them as she was without any pretense to the many titles she'd borne over the years, clad in the same shade as their eyes.

She stopped an arm's length away from them, and met his eyes for the first time since she'd exited the tent. His breath caught for a moment when he saw the vibrant emerald he almost never saw unless her guard was completely down. Opening his mouth, he searched for words to say, some way to ask if she was certain she wanted to be so bold in front of her friends and younger self, but she caught his glance and brushed her fingers across a pendant she was wearing, the only jewelry she wore.

Elladan nodded briefly, connecting the dots. She had a glamor anchored to the pendant, something that would shield her truth from those not in the know. Then he turned to Oakenshield, who by the sheer merit of not being officially related to either of them and being the highest ranked had been pressed into officiating their little declaration thanks to Bilbo's pointed urging.

"Glorfindel nos Mallos," he rumbled, looking only mildly put out, which was a vague improvement over his usual brooding, "who do you bring before me?"

"I bring the children of my heart, of the house of Elrond Peredhel and Celebrian, his lady, Elladan and his brother Elrohir who are of one heart and shared soul." Glorfindel glanced at him fondly, and Elladan grinned back, remembering how the ancient warrior had been ever-present in his life since he could remember, an uncle to replace the one who had passed through Mandos' Halls.

Oakenshield nodded regally, and turned to Bronach, who had rested her hand on her godfather's furry head. "And who does the House of Black bring before me?"

"I am Bronach nos Arnor, and I come before you," Bronach declared, and the animagus at her side huffed in agreement.

"What do you announce here, House of Black and House of Elrond Peredhel?" Oakenshield asked of them both.

"The betrothal of Elladan and Elrohir of the house of Elrond Peredhel to Bronach Ruinil nos Arnor is announced here this night," Glorfindel said, joy ringing out into the night. "They have come before representatives of their family who find no fault in the union and now declare it to the community at large." They were absolutely taking some liberties with the usual way of things, mostly for the benefit of Bronach's family and friends who would not be expecting such a casual announcement, but Elladan had to admit that Oakenshield's role as officiant added something to the process.

"Do you have tokens?"

From his pocket, Elladan produced the small cloth-wrapped bundle which Gimli had pressed upon him after the dwarf found him sketching possible designs. He suspected that Elrohir had also been bullied into letting the Lord of Aglarond do his best work for their bands, and was interested in what the dwarf had come up with.

"Exchange them in front of witnesses to seal your betrothal," Oakenshield ordered regally, and Elladan exchanged a look with his brother.

You go first, Elrohir indicated, so he stepped forward, unwrapping the tiny bundle. "Accept this ring?" he asked softly as he presented the thin band to Bronach.

"Put it on my finger?" she said, offering her right hand.

Swallowing hard, he slid the thin silver band, set with stones he suspected came from Aglarond, upon her finger, surprised by how incomplete it looked. Impulsively, he bowed to brush a kiss across her fingers before stepping back to let his brother step forward.

Elrohir slipped the band on her finger without asking, also bowing to kiss her fingers, and then Bronach was pulling a small bag from a hidden pocket in her dress.

"Accept this ring?" she asked Elrohir, who offered her his hand in exchange. Elladan couldn't get a good glimpse of the ring before she bent to kiss Elrohir's fingers as he had hers, but as she rose, she turned to him and all thoughts of Elrohir's ring flew out of his head.

"Accept this ring?" she asked as she stepped toward him, and he numbly held out his hand, feeling the cool brush of metal over his finger, followed by the huff of soft breath as her lips brushed his finger.

"Seal it with a kiss!" one of Oakenshield's nephews shouted, likely Kili, and Elladan couldn't help himself. Closing the distance between them, he bent slightly, feeling her shift to rise up on her toes, and then his lips were pressed against hers, her hands coming to rest on either side of his face…

Only the realization that they were in front of the entire group, and his brother deserved time with their betrothed, made him pull away, and Bronach was already reaching for Elrohir, drawing him down into a kiss as Elladan fought to catch his breath.

He'd kissed others before, experimentally, particularly after one of Aragorn's ancestors discovered feminine charms during his young adulthood and wanted to discuss his discoveries with Elladan. The experience hadn't been bad, but it also hadn't been as exciting as the young man had carried on about. But kissing Bronach felt like the heady Dorwinion that Thranduial served on feast days, going straight to his head and warming his blood. She stole his breath away, and he itched to pull her close again and see if the second kiss matched the first.

Wolf-whistles from the ever-rambunctious princes broke apart Elrohir and Bronach, and then Glorfindel was approaching, the animagus at his side.

"My joy at your betrothal knows no bounds," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Elladan's forehead just as he had when Elladan had achieved some milestone, much as his own father had from time to time. Then he was moving on, and Elladan was staring into the deep gray eyes of the large black dog that he knew to be Bronach's godfather.

The dog's stare was piercing for a moment, as if he was taking Elladan's measure, but then he gave a dog-smile, tail wagging, before moving on to greet Bronach. That seemed to be the cue for the others, and Oakenshield passed by briefly with his congratulations, Bilbo on his heels with far more words and fond squeezing of hands. The princes dutifully said their bit under Bilbo's watchful eye and then ran for their fiddles, bringing music to the night air. Legolas and Gimli were more sedate, but none the less heartfelt, and then the Hogwarts students were sidling over, looking well out of their depth.

"Congratulations," Hermione said with a smile, taking in all three of them. Elrohir and Bronach had migrated so that Bronach was between them, Elladan wrapping an arm around her waist at some point, not even realizing it until after the fact. "I hope you'll be very happy together."

"Thank you," Elladan said, and then he was face to face with the woman he loved, only at the age of fourteen and miles away from being the woman at his side.

She was so young. So young and so frightened and so heartbreakingly strong. He knew that she was ages away from being the woman he loved, and the relative innocence in her eyes made it easy to separate the two.

Harry Potter was a child in need of protection and a loving home.

Bronach was the adult who that child had become without either.

He hoped desperately that the child standing in front of him would never become the woman he loved, hoped that she would know far more happiness than Bronach had experienced at her age.

"I'm happy for you," Harry Potter said, looking up at him with the same green eyes that had just met his after their first kiss, but there were worlds of differences between them. "Congratulations."

"Thank you," Elladan said. "I wish you happiness as well."

She looked at him oddly, but Luna shuffled her aside, beaming. "Well met and blessings on your union!" the girl chirped, and Elladan found himself startled into a smile.

"Well met indeed," he replied. "Thank you."

"Don't worry," she continued, lowering her voice with a wink. "You can't step in the same river twice and end up in the same place. There's a wind blowing, and the nargles aren't going to be able to hold on the way they once did."

Before he could say anything else, the rest of the students paraded through, and then Bilbo and Kreacher were shuffling all of them to the feasting table, seating the three of them at the head in a position of honor.

Later that night, as he spun Bronach around the fire blazing on Midwinter's night, he looked up to the stars and prayed to Varda that his good fortune would continue.