AN: Hi all! How is everyone doing? I hope everyone is having a good summer! Having lots of fun and stuff! I saw "King Arthur" the other day. It was pretty good....rather different from the King Arthur story everyone knows and loves. Merlin was about the only character that really upset me. I kind of always thought Merlin was the basis for three of the greatest wizard like characters of all time; Obi-Wan Kenobi, Albus Dumbledore, and, of course, Gandalf. The Merlin in the movie is nothing like those wizards! At one point I mistook him for a tree because he was all brown and green and grimy looking. Anywho, thanks for all your reviews. I mean, you guys are the best ever! You really are! I appreciate every review I get!
et-spiritus-sancti: Thanks for your reviews! I'm very glad you like my little story and I appreciate your complements!
sunni07: I do hope you're better after not sleeping. That sounds really, really, really rough. Yeah, I've been dancing ballet for 17 years. It's kind of an extreme hobby I have. I hope you got some sleep and you feel better!
PixiePea000: I sincerely hope there are not fishnets under his robes. That would be...most uncomfortable. They could visit or their kids could visit but that would have to come later. Right about now, the dynamic duo are very much separated. Mutants will come into and out of this story like a certain elf pops up in theirs. Anywho, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith (the Dynamic Duo are otherwise indisposed and can't go looking for him.)
KapOfDaPipers: Updating right now! I hope you like this chapter!
LadyJadePerendhil: She's a little older then Emma; by a year or so. He's just trying to act the part of the good father because he really has not a clue what to do. Mostly his half answers have to do with the fact that he wants her to be surprised by what is coming. A slight unexpected something for her. I just got my hands on the notebook I wrote Hope's story in. I'm going to try to get it posted as soon as possible.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Aragorn walked to his room on cloud nine.
At first he had thought his ears were deceiving him. She hadn't called him what he thought she had. It was just wishful thinking rearing its head at the most inopportune of times.
Replaying the last few moments of his visit with his daughter had proven his hearing true. She had called him "father," much to his delight.
There was nothing more he could ask from his recently returned daughter at the time. Well, there was one thing but he was not going to press the matter.
Niphredil flat out refused to talk about the family she had once lived with. When that subject was broached, she would shut down or change the topic of conversation. She had no problems talking about her friend Hope- he head heard several stories about her and Niphredil's adventure- or her karate classes. Those stories came easy, flowing like an unobstructed stream.
The family, however, was something she was not comfortable with speaking about. The single time he had pressed the subject, she informed him that their memories would tarnish what she had now and there was no way she was going to allow that to happen.
That much could be allowed and could be expected, considering what he had heard during the period of time in which Legolas, Emma, and Gandalf had tracked her. They had said her life was not a very happy one.
The more he did learn about his daughter, however, the more he came to realize just how different she was from what he had expected.
For some odd reason, he had expected someone more like Emma. They had been raised in the same world, after all. Their experiences should have been quite similar in nature.
Now, though, he decided that he was wrong....
Niphredil was far different from Emma. Those differences were not a bad thing, when one considered everything she could have been. Niphredil was most definitely a warrior, on many levels. She had a taste for sword play and for hand to hand combat. From how she spoke about her training, it was to be expected from the type of teacher she had. It was in his mind to make some time in order to test out those skills. Some juggling of his kingly duties would allow that to happen...eventually.
She had also fought a different battle, a battle not of physical skills. She had become a mental warrior battling against what was said about how she looked or acted or why she had been sent from her birth family. Apparently, that was where Hope fit in. Niphredil's mental battling, her defense of people who were different, had extended to that child as well. Her differences, according to his daughter, were part of something the people in the other world were not yet ready to understand.
She was not a willing princess; he knew that to be true. The day to day running of the court interested her but she wanted no part of them. Crowns and gowns and royal trappings were far from her nature.
Not that he was one to talk about wanting to be royalty. He had run from his rightful calling for many long years before becoming who and what he was now.
He had learned to accept his birthright. Niphredil would have to do the same. He would, however, allow her the time in which to learn to do so. There was no need to rush into things. There would be a proper time to deal with princesses and crowns.
"Crowns and princess," he mused with a laugh, "She will probably fight us on that, too."
There was one thing he was most grateful she wasn't fighting about. More grateful then he could ever express.
Despite everything she had been through and the half truths she had been, Niphredil was learning to accept him and Arwen as her parents. She was not fighting them, becoming hostile and unruly, as he expected she might. Instead, she allowed both him and his wife to say what they had to say before she passed whatever judgment she was going to on them. So far, he guessed, that judgment had been favorable. She had called him "father," after all.
Meanwhile, Niphredil lay back in her darkened bedroom. She wasn't actually tired and she really didn't sleep all that much to begin with. She allowed Aragorn the simple act of tucking her in each night because she knew it made him happy.
She knew he was trying his best to be a good father. Though she suspected he wasn't quite sure what to do half the time. Still, she couldn't fault him for trying.
"Trying, now that's a funny word," Niphredil mused, sitting up a bit further in her bed, "Jay never tried."
There were differences between the father she was biologically related to and the one she had grown up with. To compare them showed Niphredil two things: Jay's shortcomings as not only a father but as a member of the human race and just how lucky she actually was.
Jay hadn't really tried to see Niphredil as his daughter. He made sure she knew from the start that she was just an addition his family. An addition he would have sooner cut away like some kind of twisted tumor.
As soon as the twins came along, everything got worse. He never laid a hand on her. No, no, no that would have caused the neighbors to ask funny questions. It would have brought down the family's reputation and they could never have that happen.
His harsh words, however, stung more than any blow could. They left not physical marks but mental ones. Mental scars that would have taken ages to heal if not for the memories that surfaced whenever Jay's words got to harsh. It was what had kept her sane, kept her from falling prey to despair, during her time in the Muggle world.
Jay had been cold as a block of ice, immovable as a boulder, and about as kind as an old, angry crocodile. Only to her, of course. He was the perfect father to the twins.
True, she hadn't known Aragorn as long as she had Jay. She figured that was what made the differences so glaring. To know someone for such a short period of time and to see such differences was probably a good thing.
Aragorn was trying his best and for that she had to give him credit. Unlike Jay, he seemed genuinely interested in her and her life. Everything she told him prompted more question and those answers prompted even more questions. Her entire life was one large curiosity to him and he sought to rectify that.
Jay had never spent time with her. Not even grudgingly. They'd never come to any of her karate competitions or had seen her move up in rank in her chosen sport. Girl Scouts, she was well aware, was something they came to only because of Jane. Her being there was just incidental.
Her biological father was spending far more time than she'd ever thought possible with her. He was a king and she assumed they were rather busy. Running a kingdom, she figured, wasn't the easies of tasks. It seemed like he was trying to make up for the part of her life he had missed. All in all, she appreciated the effort.
Unlike the incident with Arwen where she had called her "nana" for no apparent reason, calling Aragorn "father" had been very much intentional. She'd been scouring her memory for the elvish word for "father" and was coming up empty. Part of her had wanted to ask Emma but that would have made her seem foolish like she needed help. She knew, either way, her calling him that meant a lot to him. She wanted him to know that his efforts had not been in vain.
Niphredil lay back down underneath her blankets. Something was going to happen the next day that involved her and she wanted to be rested enough for it. No sense in not putting her best foot forward. In the Muggle world, they had said that first impressions were the most important.
With that thought in her mind, Niphredil slipped into a strange sort of sleep. Strange in that it was the light rest normal for most of elven kind combined with the normal sleep of the mortal race.
Someplace on the other side of the citadel, Aragorn finally managed to make it to his quarters in one piece. His wandering feet and mind had led him home.
No sooner had he stepped into his room than he announced, "I have news! Niphredil called me father!"
Arwen looking up from her turning down of the bed and gave her husband an indulgent smile. She laughed brightly and sat down on the half undone bed.
"I assumed she would do as much. She called me 'nana' before we parted today," Arwen informed her husband.
He changed into his nightclothes, considering both his wife and his daughter's words.
"She is starting to warm up to us, don't you think?" he inquired, sitting next to his wife.
"You can see it in her eyes. The part of her that remembers what is was like to live here is growing and gaining strength. She is starting to see us as her parents and I can see you are beginning to see her as your own," Arwen answered with a slight smile.
"That is where you are wrong, my dear. I've loved her since I first set eyes on her, just like you," Aragorn corrected.
Arwen blushed and stated, "Get in bed. You have much to do tomorrow and I can not promise it will all be pleasant. I am unsure what he is going to say after speaking with her."
Aragorn gave a shudder, trying not to think about that meeting. It was something that could drive the need for sleep straight from him.
It was enough he was going to have to deal with it the next day.
et-spiritus-sancti: Thanks for your reviews! I'm very glad you like my little story and I appreciate your complements!
sunni07: I do hope you're better after not sleeping. That sounds really, really, really rough. Yeah, I've been dancing ballet for 17 years. It's kind of an extreme hobby I have. I hope you got some sleep and you feel better!
PixiePea000: I sincerely hope there are not fishnets under his robes. That would be...most uncomfortable. They could visit or their kids could visit but that would have to come later. Right about now, the dynamic duo are very much separated. Mutants will come into and out of this story like a certain elf pops up in theirs. Anywho, GOLLUM and watch out for Agent Elrond Smith (the Dynamic Duo are otherwise indisposed and can't go looking for him.)
KapOfDaPipers: Updating right now! I hope you like this chapter!
LadyJadePerendhil: She's a little older then Emma; by a year or so. He's just trying to act the part of the good father because he really has not a clue what to do. Mostly his half answers have to do with the fact that he wants her to be surprised by what is coming. A slight unexpected something for her. I just got my hands on the notebook I wrote Hope's story in. I'm going to try to get it posted as soon as possible.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in college. All I own are Pointe Shoes.
Aragorn walked to his room on cloud nine.
At first he had thought his ears were deceiving him. She hadn't called him what he thought she had. It was just wishful thinking rearing its head at the most inopportune of times.
Replaying the last few moments of his visit with his daughter had proven his hearing true. She had called him "father," much to his delight.
There was nothing more he could ask from his recently returned daughter at the time. Well, there was one thing but he was not going to press the matter.
Niphredil flat out refused to talk about the family she had once lived with. When that subject was broached, she would shut down or change the topic of conversation. She had no problems talking about her friend Hope- he head heard several stories about her and Niphredil's adventure- or her karate classes. Those stories came easy, flowing like an unobstructed stream.
The family, however, was something she was not comfortable with speaking about. The single time he had pressed the subject, she informed him that their memories would tarnish what she had now and there was no way she was going to allow that to happen.
That much could be allowed and could be expected, considering what he had heard during the period of time in which Legolas, Emma, and Gandalf had tracked her. They had said her life was not a very happy one.
The more he did learn about his daughter, however, the more he came to realize just how different she was from what he had expected.
For some odd reason, he had expected someone more like Emma. They had been raised in the same world, after all. Their experiences should have been quite similar in nature.
Now, though, he decided that he was wrong....
Niphredil was far different from Emma. Those differences were not a bad thing, when one considered everything she could have been. Niphredil was most definitely a warrior, on many levels. She had a taste for sword play and for hand to hand combat. From how she spoke about her training, it was to be expected from the type of teacher she had. It was in his mind to make some time in order to test out those skills. Some juggling of his kingly duties would allow that to happen...eventually.
She had also fought a different battle, a battle not of physical skills. She had become a mental warrior battling against what was said about how she looked or acted or why she had been sent from her birth family. Apparently, that was where Hope fit in. Niphredil's mental battling, her defense of people who were different, had extended to that child as well. Her differences, according to his daughter, were part of something the people in the other world were not yet ready to understand.
She was not a willing princess; he knew that to be true. The day to day running of the court interested her but she wanted no part of them. Crowns and gowns and royal trappings were far from her nature.
Not that he was one to talk about wanting to be royalty. He had run from his rightful calling for many long years before becoming who and what he was now.
He had learned to accept his birthright. Niphredil would have to do the same. He would, however, allow her the time in which to learn to do so. There was no need to rush into things. There would be a proper time to deal with princesses and crowns.
"Crowns and princess," he mused with a laugh, "She will probably fight us on that, too."
There was one thing he was most grateful she wasn't fighting about. More grateful then he could ever express.
Despite everything she had been through and the half truths she had been, Niphredil was learning to accept him and Arwen as her parents. She was not fighting them, becoming hostile and unruly, as he expected she might. Instead, she allowed both him and his wife to say what they had to say before she passed whatever judgment she was going to on them. So far, he guessed, that judgment had been favorable. She had called him "father," after all.
Meanwhile, Niphredil lay back in her darkened bedroom. She wasn't actually tired and she really didn't sleep all that much to begin with. She allowed Aragorn the simple act of tucking her in each night because she knew it made him happy.
She knew he was trying his best to be a good father. Though she suspected he wasn't quite sure what to do half the time. Still, she couldn't fault him for trying.
"Trying, now that's a funny word," Niphredil mused, sitting up a bit further in her bed, "Jay never tried."
There were differences between the father she was biologically related to and the one she had grown up with. To compare them showed Niphredil two things: Jay's shortcomings as not only a father but as a member of the human race and just how lucky she actually was.
Jay hadn't really tried to see Niphredil as his daughter. He made sure she knew from the start that she was just an addition his family. An addition he would have sooner cut away like some kind of twisted tumor.
As soon as the twins came along, everything got worse. He never laid a hand on her. No, no, no that would have caused the neighbors to ask funny questions. It would have brought down the family's reputation and they could never have that happen.
His harsh words, however, stung more than any blow could. They left not physical marks but mental ones. Mental scars that would have taken ages to heal if not for the memories that surfaced whenever Jay's words got to harsh. It was what had kept her sane, kept her from falling prey to despair, during her time in the Muggle world.
Jay had been cold as a block of ice, immovable as a boulder, and about as kind as an old, angry crocodile. Only to her, of course. He was the perfect father to the twins.
True, she hadn't known Aragorn as long as she had Jay. She figured that was what made the differences so glaring. To know someone for such a short period of time and to see such differences was probably a good thing.
Aragorn was trying his best and for that she had to give him credit. Unlike Jay, he seemed genuinely interested in her and her life. Everything she told him prompted more question and those answers prompted even more questions. Her entire life was one large curiosity to him and he sought to rectify that.
Jay had never spent time with her. Not even grudgingly. They'd never come to any of her karate competitions or had seen her move up in rank in her chosen sport. Girl Scouts, she was well aware, was something they came to only because of Jane. Her being there was just incidental.
Her biological father was spending far more time than she'd ever thought possible with her. He was a king and she assumed they were rather busy. Running a kingdom, she figured, wasn't the easies of tasks. It seemed like he was trying to make up for the part of her life he had missed. All in all, she appreciated the effort.
Unlike the incident with Arwen where she had called her "nana" for no apparent reason, calling Aragorn "father" had been very much intentional. She'd been scouring her memory for the elvish word for "father" and was coming up empty. Part of her had wanted to ask Emma but that would have made her seem foolish like she needed help. She knew, either way, her calling him that meant a lot to him. She wanted him to know that his efforts had not been in vain.
Niphredil lay back down underneath her blankets. Something was going to happen the next day that involved her and she wanted to be rested enough for it. No sense in not putting her best foot forward. In the Muggle world, they had said that first impressions were the most important.
With that thought in her mind, Niphredil slipped into a strange sort of sleep. Strange in that it was the light rest normal for most of elven kind combined with the normal sleep of the mortal race.
Someplace on the other side of the citadel, Aragorn finally managed to make it to his quarters in one piece. His wandering feet and mind had led him home.
No sooner had he stepped into his room than he announced, "I have news! Niphredil called me father!"
Arwen looking up from her turning down of the bed and gave her husband an indulgent smile. She laughed brightly and sat down on the half undone bed.
"I assumed she would do as much. She called me 'nana' before we parted today," Arwen informed her husband.
He changed into his nightclothes, considering both his wife and his daughter's words.
"She is starting to warm up to us, don't you think?" he inquired, sitting next to his wife.
"You can see it in her eyes. The part of her that remembers what is was like to live here is growing and gaining strength. She is starting to see us as her parents and I can see you are beginning to see her as your own," Arwen answered with a slight smile.
"That is where you are wrong, my dear. I've loved her since I first set eyes on her, just like you," Aragorn corrected.
Arwen blushed and stated, "Get in bed. You have much to do tomorrow and I can not promise it will all be pleasant. I am unsure what he is going to say after speaking with her."
Aragorn gave a shudder, trying not to think about that meeting. It was something that could drive the need for sleep straight from him.
It was enough he was going to have to deal with it the next day.