(AN: Please, Please, Please read and review!)
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the extended Dolan family and Hound's Hollow (including all of its subsidiary locations). The rest of this stuff is property of its proper owners. I'm a broke college student who writes to pass the time before classes. (I really do write between college classes. in the halls, in the café, in the labs, and in the library.)
Patrick walked down the main road, following the same familiar path he had taken the first time he had gone to Rivendell. Checking to make sure that he wasn't being watched or followed, Patrick crossed into Middle Earth.
Elrond had once told Patrick that he was always welcomed to visit Rivendell. Patrick had taken advantage of that invitation by coming to visit as often as he could. Usually, he could be found in the vast library reading some ancient looking book. Patrick could, by now, read and write in elvish but he never tried to speak it.
When asked why, he's always respond by explaining how foolish he sounded speaking it.
"That language was mean for far fairer voice," he'd always say.
If he wasn't in the library, Patrick could be found in the stables. After much teasing from Elrond's sons and daughter, Patrick agreed to learn how to ride a horse. It was most certainly a skill that many other wizards lacked but Patrick enjoyed it. Cantering about the valley on horseback was must better than walking.
Upon entering the large complex that was Rivendell, Patrick was hit with a sense that something was very wrong. There was a great deal of tension and worry in the air.
"I hope I didn't come at a bad time," the wizard thought, as he walked.
He took the very familiar route to Elrond's study, trying to figure out what, possibly, could be wrong. He knew that there had been a problem brewing with some kind of dark lord but that was quite far off.
"Near someplace called Mirkwood," Patrick remembered.
He, himself, had never been to Mirkwood. It was to far from any portal he knew of and he had never found a portal that led him there.
Patrick found the door to Elrond's study wide open.
"Quite unusual. He, normally, keeps that door closed," Patrick thought.
He knocked on the open door and, getting no response, let himself in. He found the elf lord staring out into the valley.
"He looks more worried than usual," Patrick mused.
Knowing that the elf heard him enter, Patrick cleared his throat and asked, "What seems to be the matter, sir?"
The elf turned and acknowledged Patrick's presence.
"It is nothing," Elrond replied, sadness tingeing his voice.
Patrick got the sense that the elf lord was not being truthful so he pressed him further.
"There's something wrong here. Either you tell me or I'll ask one of your kids. They'll tell me," Patrick threatened.
A shadow seemed to pass over the elf's face at the mention of his children. Patrick knew that he had hit a nerve.
Elrond sighed and explained, "My daughter is missing. She left around this time last year to visit her grandparents and I have heard nothing from her since. I fear the worst. Elladan and Elrohir have ridden out once more to look for her."
Patrick, feeling sorry for the elf, offered his best wishes. He, then, excused himself and hurried out of Rivendell. There was something he could do to help.
Two portals later, Patrick found himself in Lothlorien. These woods, full of golden trees and unearthly music, had become Patrick's favorite location in Middle Earth. The only downside to visiting the Golden Woods was that the portal opened on to the guard's flet.
The first time he appeared on the flet, he was bounded and taken to see Galadriel and Celeborn by the march warden, an elf named Haldir. Thankfully, he was use to Patrick appearing now.
After a quick chat with Haldir, Patrick was able to gain a measure of the information he was looking for.
Patrick made his way into the heart of the forest. The elf had said that the person he was looking for was, indeed, there and that she was safe. He would not, however, divulge why she had not returned to Rivendell. He had said that it was not his place to give that information out. That was the responsibility of the elf Patrick was searching for.
He went to the location where the guard had said she was staying. He knocked on the narrow entrance and, moments later, found himself starting down at a little black-haired child.
"Who are you?" she asked, looking him over with big dark eyes.
Patrick scrambled for an answer, unsure of how to approach the child. He had been expecting someone much older.
Finally, he said, "My name is Patrick. May I speak to your mother or father?"
The little girl paused, thinking. Then she nodded her head.
She took the wizard's hand and led him inside.
"Mother, someone is here to talk to you!" she called.
The moment he entered the room, Patrick recognized the little girl's mother.
Her mother, Elrond's daughter Arwen, saw Patrick following the child and managed to turn a whole lot paler. She knew her secret was out.
After taking Patrick to her mother, the little girl bounded out of sight. This left the woman and the wizard in a very uncomfortable silence.
"Hello, Patrick. Please sit. What brings you out this far?" Arwen asked, taking a seat.
Patrick followed suit and replied, "Your father, actually. He's worried sick about you. He wants you to come home right away."
"Did he say why?" she asked.
"Something about a shadow. It either is falling or has already fallen, I'm not sure which," the wizard answered with a shrug.
The half-elven woman nodded, well aware of what was happening in the outside world, but looked hesitant to leave.
Checking to see if the little girl was out of earshot, Patrick, quietly, asked, "Is she yours?"
The half-elf looked at the wizard and replied, "She is the reason I am here. I was scared, Patrick, so I ran. I did not know what else to do."
Patrick was half taken aback by that statement.
"Well, she's very cute. How old is she?" the wizard commented.
"About a year. Her birthday, as you would call it, was just a few days ago," Arwen replied, using terminology more familiar to the wizard instead of her own culture's ideas.
"You do know who her father is, right?" Patrick blurted out before he could stop himself.
It was the question that had been running like a marquee through his mind.
"Of course I do," Arwen answered indignantly, "What do you take me for?"
"Anyone I know?" Patrick, causally, asked, trying to defuse the tension he had inadvertently caused.
"I don't know if you know but I am sure you have heard of him, my brothers and father talk about hi from time to time. He is called Estel, or Strider. His right name is Aragorn," she answered
Patrick thought for a minute and then nodded. He had never met this person but he had heard a great deal about him.
"Speaking of your brother, your father told me that they were headed to find you," Patrick announced.
Then he added, "From what I gather, they may be here by nightfall."
"Nightfall? What am I to do?" Arwen said; panic seeping into her voice and expression.
"As I see it, you have three options. One you go home with your brothers and bring the baby and tell your father everything. Two, you go home but leave the baby here in your grandmother's care. Three, I'll take her to my world and someone there could raise her," the wizard suggested.
Arwen acknowledged that those were probably the three best, most logical choices.
"And I do not have much time to decided," she mumbled.
"That you don't, my friend that you don't" the wizard assured her.
Several hours later, Patrick found himself taking the little girl to his world. Her mother did not feel it was safe for the child to be in Middle Earth. Patrick suspected that was only a part of her reasoning. The other part dealt with having to face her father.
Bother mother and child cried profusely at their parting. Patrick felt terrible but this wasn't his choice to make. All he could do was pick the child up and take her out of Middle Earth.
The portal opened into an alleyway in Muggle London. The Wizarding World was not safe for the little elf either. He decided to leave her in a Muggle orphanage. At least there she would be safe.
Patrick glanced at the little girl. She wasn't overly tall, which struck him as unusual since all the elves he knew were tall, and she had pointed ears, like any other elf. That fact didn't worry Patrick, though. Her ears could be hidden by her long mane of inky black hair.
"Munchkin, what's your name and when is your birthday?" the wizard asked.
"My name is Niphredil," she answered with a slight elvish lilt to her voice. She gave her birth date, on the elven equivalent to it, in her native elvish.
"Great, this is going to be a problem," the wizard thought.
He hadn't realized that the little girl, probably, thought in elvish.
"Niphredil," Patrick began, slowly, "you're a smart little girl right?"
The elfling nodded happily.
"Do you like to play pretend games?" Patrick asked.
Another nodded and the elfling added, "At home, I pretend to be a ranger."
"We're going to play a pretend, alright? I want you to pretend you're not an elf," Patrick explained.
"I am an elf, mother said so," the child answered.
"I know you are, and all elves are special, but pretend you're not," Patrick said, stressing the word "pretend."
She nodded and, as they walked toward the gray stone building, Patrick told her what to do and say.
(AN: I know I'm really messing with Lord of the Rings cannon. Please forgive me, I just write to pass the time and have fun.)
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the extended Dolan family and Hound's Hollow (including all of its subsidiary locations). The rest of this stuff is property of its proper owners. I'm a broke college student who writes to pass the time before classes. (I really do write between college classes. in the halls, in the café, in the labs, and in the library.)
Patrick walked down the main road, following the same familiar path he had taken the first time he had gone to Rivendell. Checking to make sure that he wasn't being watched or followed, Patrick crossed into Middle Earth.
Elrond had once told Patrick that he was always welcomed to visit Rivendell. Patrick had taken advantage of that invitation by coming to visit as often as he could. Usually, he could be found in the vast library reading some ancient looking book. Patrick could, by now, read and write in elvish but he never tried to speak it.
When asked why, he's always respond by explaining how foolish he sounded speaking it.
"That language was mean for far fairer voice," he'd always say.
If he wasn't in the library, Patrick could be found in the stables. After much teasing from Elrond's sons and daughter, Patrick agreed to learn how to ride a horse. It was most certainly a skill that many other wizards lacked but Patrick enjoyed it. Cantering about the valley on horseback was must better than walking.
Upon entering the large complex that was Rivendell, Patrick was hit with a sense that something was very wrong. There was a great deal of tension and worry in the air.
"I hope I didn't come at a bad time," the wizard thought, as he walked.
He took the very familiar route to Elrond's study, trying to figure out what, possibly, could be wrong. He knew that there had been a problem brewing with some kind of dark lord but that was quite far off.
"Near someplace called Mirkwood," Patrick remembered.
He, himself, had never been to Mirkwood. It was to far from any portal he knew of and he had never found a portal that led him there.
Patrick found the door to Elrond's study wide open.
"Quite unusual. He, normally, keeps that door closed," Patrick thought.
He knocked on the open door and, getting no response, let himself in. He found the elf lord staring out into the valley.
"He looks more worried than usual," Patrick mused.
Knowing that the elf heard him enter, Patrick cleared his throat and asked, "What seems to be the matter, sir?"
The elf turned and acknowledged Patrick's presence.
"It is nothing," Elrond replied, sadness tingeing his voice.
Patrick got the sense that the elf lord was not being truthful so he pressed him further.
"There's something wrong here. Either you tell me or I'll ask one of your kids. They'll tell me," Patrick threatened.
A shadow seemed to pass over the elf's face at the mention of his children. Patrick knew that he had hit a nerve.
Elrond sighed and explained, "My daughter is missing. She left around this time last year to visit her grandparents and I have heard nothing from her since. I fear the worst. Elladan and Elrohir have ridden out once more to look for her."
Patrick, feeling sorry for the elf, offered his best wishes. He, then, excused himself and hurried out of Rivendell. There was something he could do to help.
Two portals later, Patrick found himself in Lothlorien. These woods, full of golden trees and unearthly music, had become Patrick's favorite location in Middle Earth. The only downside to visiting the Golden Woods was that the portal opened on to the guard's flet.
The first time he appeared on the flet, he was bounded and taken to see Galadriel and Celeborn by the march warden, an elf named Haldir. Thankfully, he was use to Patrick appearing now.
After a quick chat with Haldir, Patrick was able to gain a measure of the information he was looking for.
Patrick made his way into the heart of the forest. The elf had said that the person he was looking for was, indeed, there and that she was safe. He would not, however, divulge why she had not returned to Rivendell. He had said that it was not his place to give that information out. That was the responsibility of the elf Patrick was searching for.
He went to the location where the guard had said she was staying. He knocked on the narrow entrance and, moments later, found himself starting down at a little black-haired child.
"Who are you?" she asked, looking him over with big dark eyes.
Patrick scrambled for an answer, unsure of how to approach the child. He had been expecting someone much older.
Finally, he said, "My name is Patrick. May I speak to your mother or father?"
The little girl paused, thinking. Then she nodded her head.
She took the wizard's hand and led him inside.
"Mother, someone is here to talk to you!" she called.
The moment he entered the room, Patrick recognized the little girl's mother.
Her mother, Elrond's daughter Arwen, saw Patrick following the child and managed to turn a whole lot paler. She knew her secret was out.
After taking Patrick to her mother, the little girl bounded out of sight. This left the woman and the wizard in a very uncomfortable silence.
"Hello, Patrick. Please sit. What brings you out this far?" Arwen asked, taking a seat.
Patrick followed suit and replied, "Your father, actually. He's worried sick about you. He wants you to come home right away."
"Did he say why?" she asked.
"Something about a shadow. It either is falling or has already fallen, I'm not sure which," the wizard answered with a shrug.
The half-elven woman nodded, well aware of what was happening in the outside world, but looked hesitant to leave.
Checking to see if the little girl was out of earshot, Patrick, quietly, asked, "Is she yours?"
The half-elf looked at the wizard and replied, "She is the reason I am here. I was scared, Patrick, so I ran. I did not know what else to do."
Patrick was half taken aback by that statement.
"Well, she's very cute. How old is she?" the wizard commented.
"About a year. Her birthday, as you would call it, was just a few days ago," Arwen replied, using terminology more familiar to the wizard instead of her own culture's ideas.
"You do know who her father is, right?" Patrick blurted out before he could stop himself.
It was the question that had been running like a marquee through his mind.
"Of course I do," Arwen answered indignantly, "What do you take me for?"
"Anyone I know?" Patrick, causally, asked, trying to defuse the tension he had inadvertently caused.
"I don't know if you know but I am sure you have heard of him, my brothers and father talk about hi from time to time. He is called Estel, or Strider. His right name is Aragorn," she answered
Patrick thought for a minute and then nodded. He had never met this person but he had heard a great deal about him.
"Speaking of your brother, your father told me that they were headed to find you," Patrick announced.
Then he added, "From what I gather, they may be here by nightfall."
"Nightfall? What am I to do?" Arwen said; panic seeping into her voice and expression.
"As I see it, you have three options. One you go home with your brothers and bring the baby and tell your father everything. Two, you go home but leave the baby here in your grandmother's care. Three, I'll take her to my world and someone there could raise her," the wizard suggested.
Arwen acknowledged that those were probably the three best, most logical choices.
"And I do not have much time to decided," she mumbled.
"That you don't, my friend that you don't" the wizard assured her.
Several hours later, Patrick found himself taking the little girl to his world. Her mother did not feel it was safe for the child to be in Middle Earth. Patrick suspected that was only a part of her reasoning. The other part dealt with having to face her father.
Bother mother and child cried profusely at their parting. Patrick felt terrible but this wasn't his choice to make. All he could do was pick the child up and take her out of Middle Earth.
The portal opened into an alleyway in Muggle London. The Wizarding World was not safe for the little elf either. He decided to leave her in a Muggle orphanage. At least there she would be safe.
Patrick glanced at the little girl. She wasn't overly tall, which struck him as unusual since all the elves he knew were tall, and she had pointed ears, like any other elf. That fact didn't worry Patrick, though. Her ears could be hidden by her long mane of inky black hair.
"Munchkin, what's your name and when is your birthday?" the wizard asked.
"My name is Niphredil," she answered with a slight elvish lilt to her voice. She gave her birth date, on the elven equivalent to it, in her native elvish.
"Great, this is going to be a problem," the wizard thought.
He hadn't realized that the little girl, probably, thought in elvish.
"Niphredil," Patrick began, slowly, "you're a smart little girl right?"
The elfling nodded happily.
"Do you like to play pretend games?" Patrick asked.
Another nodded and the elfling added, "At home, I pretend to be a ranger."
"We're going to play a pretend, alright? I want you to pretend you're not an elf," Patrick explained.
"I am an elf, mother said so," the child answered.
"I know you are, and all elves are special, but pretend you're not," Patrick said, stressing the word "pretend."
She nodded and, as they walked toward the gray stone building, Patrick told her what to do and say.
(AN: I know I'm really messing with Lord of the Rings cannon. Please forgive me, I just write to pass the time and have fun.)