Chapter two: Scars from the Alfirin
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Note:
Muinthel=sister Muindor=brother,
Nana=mother Naneth=mother,
Hên=child Gwilwileth=butterfly
Nin=my
Nieninquë= Quenya for Niphredil. Niphredil (Snowdrop) is a white flower in Lothlorien. Niphrediel is named after 'Niphredil' obviously.
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Aragorn awoke to the sound of soft humming and fingers stroking his hair.
He frowned, and opened his eyes, setting upon the face of Arwen that looked down at him.
"Awake," she whispered. "My father must speak with you." She smiled, and stepped back so Strider could stand.
Aragorn looked to Niphrediel, astonished that her skin was clearing up so well. Her skin was still burnt, but it was no longer swollen and some skin had healed properly. He did know that the damage would have been made on the inside of her skin rather then the outside.
Aragorn stood and yawned, then went to walk passed Arwen who stood stationary, staring with saddened eyes at the sleeping girl, but paused and turned his head and lightly kissed Arwen's temple, before walking out of the room.
Arwen held a book in her hand that Estel had taken from Niphrediel's bedchamber, and placed it on the chair, as she took the nearest candle and used it to light all the others of the room that had been blown out by wind, so the room was bright once again from the hundreds of burning wicks.
She sat down on the chair, her face peaceful, and began to read the story. Gilraen had once told her it had been Niphrediel's absolute favourite ever since she was but a child when Aragorn had first read it to her. Gilraen had read it to her whenever Aragorn was away; it was the only thing that made her calm.
'The Nightingale', one of the most beautifully written interpretations of the Lúthien and Beren love story.
Arwen sighed, before beginning to read, her voice carrying the softness and gentleness of silk.
Aragorn walked into Elrond's grand study full of books and beautiful wooden furniture.
Glorfindel stood looking out the beautiful silver window at the garden's with one of Aragorn's oldest and special friends beside him. Elrond was not there, which was unusual.
Legolas's face was happy yet anxious. He smiled. "Hello, Aragorn."
Aragorn nodded. "Welcome back to Rivendell, Legolas. Do not worry, my thêl will be fine, her will is strong and her health will return."
Legolas sighed. "That is a relief, Aragorn. Death to such a child would be a crime to my higher ethics."
Aragorn nodded, smiling in the corners of his mouth. "My Nieninquë is too strong willed to die."
Glorfindel grinned, his brows raised. "Really? Reminds me of someone I know."
Aragorn lowered his head with a small grin on his lips.
One week later
Niphrediel's eyes fluttered open. It was morning. The moon was out and shone down on her face. She moved her hand to make sure she could move for it stung painfully when she tried to frown.
She could move easily.
She sat up on the bed and looked around the room. She had been moved to her bedroom, and the curtains of her bed had been brought together.
Niphrediel peeled herself out of the blankets and stepped from a space in the drapes, her bare feet touching the cold marble floor.
Her room was unnaturally bright with much more candles then she usually had, and the fire was high and bright which added its glow.
Niphrediel's walked to her bureau. The mirror was large, almost went up to the roof, but it was beautiful.
She stared at herself as she tried to frown at her reflection. She gasped out in pain, and saw a small patch of her forehead begin to redden as the healing skin underneath began to bleed.
Niphrediel tried to smile, but stopped quickly before any skin underneath would be torn.
Niphrediel put a hand to her cheek but took it away quickly. Her skin ached to be touched, as if she had dug the tip of a blade into her flesh. It would take months for that to go away. Her lips stung when she brushed them with her tongue, since the flesh there was so unharmed compared to the rest. They would not heal for months, being such made by such fragile tissue. The ointment could not be put on her lips to prevent it being consumed into her mouth. The ointment was for her outsides, if it came inside it could be fatal, being made from such strong ingredients.
Niphrediel felt something rough on the area of skin on the corner of her jaw and turned her head. The scar was fading, but it would remain forever as a reminder.
Niphrediel felt small beads of water fell from her eyes. The sun had told her she did not belong in the most painful way. She shuddered when she tried to remember the pain. She never wanted to feel it again.
She changed quickly into her bathrobe, a simple white satin robe that trained behind her as she walked.
She walked out into her bathing pool. A small walled-in lagoon made only for her. She could only use this one at night, for it had no roof.
It was beautiful; the moon looked huge and reflected its shinny face into the black water.
She sniffed and lifted her robe up so it would not get wet as she dipped her foot into the water creating a ripple that spread throughout the water, making it look like black silk.
The water was warm. She waited long enough and took off her robe and settled it on a nearby stone bench then edged herself into the water.
She lied back in it, letting herself float as the pure water caressed her body, and looked up at the sky.
She let herself float, just thinking. She washed herself with perfumed lotions and washes, and quickly stepped out and back into her robe.
She quickly did up the silk clasps that began from the middle of her chest and flowed right down. The robe was snub at the top except for the large flared sleeve that came down passed her fingers if she let her arms fall straight down; it could be worn over a gown, though it was not its purpose.
Her scalp ached if she pulled on her hair a little less then gently, and fell down behind her dripping onto the train. She noticed that her neck and chest stung only when poked or touched roughly or hard.
Her face, neck, and chest were damp and shinny in the light as she slowly made her way back to her room.
"Niphrediel?"
She stopped, and turned her head. "Ivanneth!" She yelled. Ivanneth was a close friend of Gilraen and was also an elf. She was once Gilraen's only handmaiden who cared for her throughout the painful years.
Niphrediel's mother was Gilraen and that was what she called her, and Ivanneth was 'naneth' or 'nana'. Ivanneth was like an aunt who was like a mother to her, and since she was an elf Niphrediel gave her the tittle mother in Elvish while she called Gilraen mother.
Though, none could compare to Gilraen, Niphrediel loved Ivanneth much.
Ivanneth smiled and quickly walked to Niphrediel and gave a caring embrace.
Ivanneth frowned as she let the child go. "Why are you so wet? You are late as it is, young one." Ivanneth looked at Niphrediel's attire and beamed, bringing her hands to her mouth in shock. "And you wear a gown! Oh, never can my old memory ever remember seeing you in a gown!"
Niphrediel shook her head. "No, Ivanneth! I just finished a bath and this is not a"-
Ivanneth shook her head and pulled her along. "It matter's not! We have no time."
"Have no time for what?" Asked Niphrediel, trying to rip her hand from Ivanneth's grasp but not daring to be rough with her own naneth.
Ivanneth rose to the door and opened it, blinding Niphrediel by the great light of the hall.
Niphrediel took her hand away. The gigantic hall was polluted by about twenty people, which was more then was usually present. There were even dwarfs! What fascinating creatures they were, Niphrediel knew they were not really the correct species for her to have an obsession with, but they were so fascinating. Their tales were always grand, she had read most.
Her hair still dripped and she wished to brush it so the curls fell straight and the dripping stopped.
Ivanneth smiled back. "Come on!" She said.
Niphrediel shook her head. "No nana, I have only been awake for an hour or so, leave me be."
Ivanneth shook her head. "No my love, not today. A lot has happened since you fell asleep."
Niphrediel would have frowned, but did not even dare to try. "Like what?"
Ivanneth smiled, beginning to walk away. "Ask your brother! Or at least find him!" She yelled back, leaving to talk to a couple elderly people sitting at a table laughing and talking.
Niphrediel wanted to wipe the water off her face, but was not that stupid. She turned and went to walk out.
"Niphrediel!"
Niphrediel quickly turned as Glorfindel ran to her. She so wished to smile, to show her happiness, but her eyes showed it though she did not know that.
Glorfindel embraced her and twirled her around as if she weighed nothing.
Niphrediel was used to it, and hugged him back, careful for her cheek not to touch his.
Glorfindel let her stand on the ground and beamed. "Are you alright, child?" He asked.
Niphrediel nodded. "Yes. What is this about?" She asked, indicating the small party.
Glorfindel smiled. "A small group just to discus more of the happenings of the council with Lord Elrond. It has been quite interesting."
Niphrediel groaned when she tried to frown accidentally and Glorfindel looked at her strangely.
"You are sure you are fine?"
Niphrediel nodded. "Yes." She searched the ballroom. "Where is Estel?" She asked.
Glorfindel smiled. "At the balcony, chatting with Mithrandir." He replied. "Come back and talk to me when you are done."
"Okay." She said, and began to walk to the balcony.
As she dodged a human man, she saw Gandalf slowly walk in through the door.
She had only heard of him in books and stories, she had never seen him before.
He stared at her, with caring weariness and kind curiosity as if she were just a wonder as he was to her.
Niphrediel slowly turned her head, and walked out onto the balcony.
She looked to one side, then to the next and crossed her arms and began to walk to her brother who leaned against the railing, looking over the early-night view of Imladris.
"Good morning." She said, walking in beside him and leaned on the railing with her crossed arms.
Aragorn turned his head and smiled. "Hello." He said, and went to kiss her forehead.
Niphrediel dodged it. It made Aragorn frown obviously hurt by her action.
Niphrediel shook her head. "No," she said, "It stings when I touch my face, it aches to speak." She said, rushy.
Aragorn then smiled, relieved. "Oh."
Niphrediel stopped herself from frowning, seeing he had his sword on. It was a sword he hardly used, but it was the prettiest, made from hard metal with a gold hilt imbedded with diamonds, rubies and other such gems.
She leaned back on the railing and took the sword out. Aragorn did not complain or move, he did not even react for he knew the way her mind works and it was harmless anyway.
"Have you eaten?" He asked, watching her move away and hold the sword out, point up.
She shook her head. "No." She replied, practising a swing, twirling the heavy sword around slowly with familiar skill.
Aragorn smiled. Just like me.
She practised stabbing. "How long have I been asleep?" She asked.
Aragorn shrugged. "Not too long. Over a week." He pushed off the railing and looked back. "Come on, let's get something to eat."
Niphrediel shook her head. "Can you get me a plate? I shall be five minutes, I want to change." She said.
Aragorn nodded. "Carrots?" He asked.
Niphrediel nodded. "Yes please."
"Alright." He gently replaced his sword and walked out.
Niphrediel quickly walked from the hall and marched to her room to dry herself.
She did not like being damp, she could feel water from her hair trickling down her back.
She was careful when she dabbed a satin flannel across her face, even then she wanted to cry out in pain, but her skin did not bleed or redden from it.
She put on some dark ruby-coloured leggings and matching tunic. The tunic had black silk clasps from the top of the square-neckline to the bottom, at the bottom of her stomach. The sleeves were flared and came up to her wrists.
She simply brushed her hair, tied a bit up into a casual bun and shoved on some boots before walking out.
Aragorn waited at the table for her and she quickly sat down and they ate in silence as they always did.
There was nothing wrong with silence. It was peaceful. They never spoke when they ate a meal together; it was almost a ritual. As soon as one would sit down to eat the conversations between them would stop.
Niphrediel finished quickly and sighed.
She licked her lips. "Would you like a drink?" She asked, seeing Elrond talking with Gandalf in the corner of the room.
Aragorn chewed. "Yes please." He mumbled.
Niphrediel picked up their two empty goblets and began to walk to the small fountain at the corner of the room, where all the carafes of ale were filled. Instead of water, the fountain served ale.
Niphrediel filled up the goblets and noticed something new on the wall. She put the cups down on a stone bench and walked over to the decoration hanging on the wall.
It was a rather nice dagger.
Niphrediel took it down from its hook and played with it. It was pretty sharp, she balanced the sharp tip on her index finger, making sure the point would not break her skin to dangerous expertise. If Estel had seen her doing such games she would be scorned, he remembered the wounds she had gotten to become so good.
She flicked it up and caught it by the hilt.
She turned around and her took the goblets back to the table. Glorfindel had joined them, sitting beside Aragorn and both talking quietly as they ate.
Niphrediel gave Aragorn his goblet and sat down.
There was a short silence as they settled down and began to eat the rest of their meal.
It hurt so much to chew. Her jaw was wrenched in agony. Niphrediel gave up and a maid got her some soup.
She sighed and ate it slowly.
Afterwards she, Glorfindel and Aragorn talked with regular sips of their ale.
"What happened at the council, Aragorn?" Niphrediel asked, fascination evident in her dark eyes. "Your hobbit healed well?"
Aragorn nodded. "Yes, Frodo is fine and awake." He answered her last question; he then chuckled. "You would have hated the council, gwilwileth. Arguments and more arguments."
Glorfindel laughed and nudged Aragorn's arm. "If she had been there the moment Boromir contradicted you, she would have jumped up faster then Legolas ever could!" Aragorn and Glorfindel cracked up laughing.
"But what is going to happen about the Ring?" Niphrediel asked.
Aragorn sighed sadly and Glorfindel was suddenly silent.
"I am to help Frodo and eight others that make up our Fellowship travel to Mount Doom to destroy it." Said Aragorn.
Niphrediel's eyes widened in excitement. "Really?"
Aragorn nodded, his eyes sad. "Do not think of such a thing grandly, muinthel. It may be a perilous quest. Something may happen to me!" He nagged like an old crone, but a smile still on the corners of his mouth.
Niphrediel sat back, playing with her fingers. "You have had too much ale for one night, muindor."
Aragorn yawned. "Yes, I may have. The night unfortunately for me, has come to an end." He looked to Niphrediel. "Oh, yes, I will get you tomorrow to come to a great banquet in honour of the Fellowship."
Niphrediel never went to banquets; they held no interest for her regardless of the kind people attending. "But"-
"Do not insult me so to not come. How shall I feel that my own blood will not give up one night to eat and dance in my honour?"
Niphrediel shrugged, lowering her gaze.
Aragorn reached over and patted her hand. "Come on, Nieninquë, do come. I will be gone a long time, let us treasure the time we have now."
He was making her feel guilty, as he had meant to.
Niphrediel sighed, but nodded.
Aragorn smiled and stood. "Good night Glorfindel, Niphrediel."
Glorfindel smiled and they both watched Aragorn stride out of the hall and turn left once he stood in the hall.
Niphrediel and Glorfindel talked for a couple more hours before they both retired. Niphrediel let Glorfindel go, she knew he was tired.
Niphrediel walked back into her room and changed back into a comfortable robe. All of her robes were the same, though the colours of them varied.
She walked out onto the balcony and leaned on the top of the silver railing. Though the night was upon the world of Rivendell, lights twinkled over the valley of the city. It was beautiful at night, but Niphrediel knew that it would be breath taking with the sun rather then the artificial lights. But she could only wonder.
It would be a long time before she would consider going out again. She no longer had the confidence to put her life in the hands of her cloak.
Niphrediel wondered if Aragorn had slain the riders. Niphrediel nodded, of course he would have.
She looked to the sky. The sun would rise in a few hours, which would be all Glorfindel would need to face the day ahead.
Niphrediel turned and walked back inside, her eyes blank.
Niphrediel awoke to the sound of music, the sun gone but the moon was still low in the sky. The band down stairs must have been practising.
The song was light hearted and melodic, making Niphrediel wish to do someone active today.
Unfortunately she was anything but a morning person. It seemed her short fuse seemed to be cut in half in her first hour of the morning. It was truly horrible, since Niphrediel did not exactly like being harsh to people who did not deserve it.
She got off her bed and discarded her nightgown and donned the robe she wore the night before and went to the lagoon to wash.
When she walked back to her room, damp with water, she almost gasped when she saw two handmaidens and Estel waiting for her.
She looked from Aragorn, to the two handmaidens, and back to Aragorn again. "What devilry is this?"
Aragorn smiled. "This was not my doing, I fear Elrond wishes to portray the lords and maidens of his house in respect."
Niphrediel's face felt worse then before, the water had this time not helped, but Niphrediel knew that it was better that she had cleansed them again. Aragorn could almost see the pain, his face sympathetic.
"Do not fear!" He said and reached into a sack in a brown bag slung over his shoulders and got out a blue tinted glass bottle, the thick dark blue liquid kept inside by a thick calk.
He held it out to her, his face bright. "It is from Mithrandir! He brewed it last night, which was why he left the dinner so early. He says that the calmer you are the stronger are the effects, so do not get angry." He held it out to her. "Unfortunately Gandalf warns that the taste may not be complementary, but it will take the pain away, he says, as long as you do not touch the skin. At least then I will see you smile. I fear that this price will also mean that it will heal slower."
Niphrediel took the bottle and looked at it. "What must I do? Is it lotion or a potion?"
Aragorn nodded. "Potion. Just scull it down, muinthel."
"Now?" Niphrediel twisted the calk and pulled it off.
Aragorn nodded again. "Down it all." He said.
Niphrediel took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, and brought it to her lips.
It felt like she was swallowing slime, thick like oil Unfortunately, it tasted just as bad also. It was the most sour thing she had ever tasted.
She held the bottle high so she did not have to struggle to swallow it. She felt like she wanted to gag, there was so much of it, but Niphrediel remembered some other horrible things she had eaten, like once when Aragorn tried to make an elvan stew, and suddenly the oil did not taste so horrible.
"Quickly Niphrediel!" Aragorn yelled, making Niphrediel's drinking speed quicken in haste.
Niphrediel closed her eyes and felt something inside her chest begin to heave, but she swallowed it down. She had not drunken so much just for her to let it all out.
She took the bottle down; taking deep breathes when no longer did the vile liquid fall from the bottle.
A handmaiden held out a golden goblet of grapes and Niphrediel nodded at her and ate all the grapes. At that time they were the most delicious things she could have ever tasted.
She was amazed, as the pain seemed to fade away till it was only a light sting in all places but her lips. She could smile, though not a large one, but it hurt just as much as ever to touch them.
Niphrediel laughed in wonder, pulling on her hair and touching her cheek.
Aragorn smiled broadly. "Well I shall leave you to prepare my own attire." He turned and walked out, leaving Niphrediel.
He could see her pleading look as he shut the door, leaving her with the handmaidens.
Niphrediel said nothing. She allowed the two handmaidens to do what they would with her hair, pulling it slickly away from her face, in reasons Niphrediel wondered was to make it clear she was a human, and styled it into a messy bun adorned with no decorations and three long braids falling straight down her back from under it.
Then they put on some totally unneeded silver circlet onto her forehead that joined at the bun. It was lovely, beautiful perhaps, but it did look unsuited on a human girl. It was made for an elvan maiden, Niphrediel recognised it as one of the circlets that were being made for Arwen.
It looked out of place, not only because it was on a human, but because it was on her. Niphrediel never adorned any trinket of such sorts, unless Elrond wished her to wear something upon her brow on oh-so rare occasions.
The handmaidens looked proud whereas Niphrediel looked like she was about to gag. She disliked looking so very feminine; there were too many prissy maidens in this world as if none wanted to be unique but her. It looked wrong; Niphrediel did not like it. The hair was fine, she sometimes wore it that way herself to keep her hair at bay, but the circlet was too much. It was only a banquet, not a wedding.
She drew the line when the handmaidens held up a gown.
Niphrediel smiled and told them that she already had a gown. When they insisted Niphredil brought in the guilt, telling them that it was her mothers gown and that she wished her to wear it on a special occasion.
Every citizen of Rivendell knew of Gilraen, and of her death, and immediately came sincerest apologise from the handmaidens.
Niphrediel pretended to be slightly hurt and ushered them out of her room, promising them that it was fine.
As soon as she shut the door, the pained expression was off her face and an unimpressed one came on.
She tried to take off the circlet, but could not undo the thin chains of it entwined in the hair of her bun.
She cursed and then searched for something to don.
White or black? White or black? White or black?
The woman in Niphrediel had come, the one that worried about the colour of a garment she wore. Niphrediel didn't like her, she was too frustrating; she was the half Gilraen had enforced lovingly, and the larger half, the one that dominated the other and motivated Niphrediel most of the time, was the presence borne by none other then Estel.
Niphrediel swore, a little too loudly, a word that would've made Aragorn's eyes pop from their sockets in shock that she even knew of it, and she grabbed the white suit, changing into it as quickly as she could.
Made of white velvet, with a V-neck and arched collars, and snug sleeves that came a little looser from the elbow down. It was just another of her garments, they were all the same. And of course, her black boots.
Niphrediel walked out the door, banging straight into Estel.
Aragorn cursed, stepping back.
Niphrediel raised an eyebrow, looking at Aragorn's attire. He, to, was adorned by a band of sliver twine on his brow. His face was freshly shaven, hair washed, brushed and shinning. He wore a beautiful grey tunic, dark grey leggings and two black leather wristlets on his wrists with faint silver markings.
Niphrediel blinked a couple times. She had seen him dressed so rarely, what happened to his casual-yet-sometimes scruffy, tough ranger look he fit so well.
"Do I look that horrible, muinthel?" Aragorn chuckled.
Niphrediel glanced at him and did her best to smile. "No, it is just a shock to see you so . . . . ." She tried hard to find the word.
"Formal?"
Niphrediel nodded. "Precisely."
Niphrediel watched as a helpless smile came to his lips. "Do not get used to it." He said. "It feels rather strange in such attire."
He was slightly confused when she smiled, and gave him a tight hug.
He frowned, rubbing her back. "Are you ill, child?" He asked.
She let him go, her face at peace. "Course not." She said. Niphrediel was rarely ill.
Aragorn smiled. "Good." Aragorn's face was sadly dark as he noticed the scar on her jaw that would never fade. He sighed sadly.
Niphrediel frowned. "What did you do to those riders?" She asked.
Aragorn offered his arm, she took it, and as they began to walk, answered. "What could I have done?" He then realised she did not know of the true identities of the riders, she still thought them evil. He turned to Niphrediel as they walked into the great hall. "Niphrediel, they are not"-
The music of the musical ensemble drowned out his voice and he watched as a joyful Glorfindel rushed Niphrediel through the groups of people.
The hall was humongous, and round, without walls but only gigantic silver columns that held the roof up high.
Niphrediel looked behind her, noticing that Aragorn was not following her and frowned, then paused. It had stung; perhaps the potion was wearing off its strong affects.
Niphrediel chose to be careful, keeping her face firm and unmoving.
She held on to Glorfindel's hand tightly as they walked to the grand high table at the end of the hall. Lord Elrond sat on the grandest chair on the centre with Gandalf the Grey beside him and the Lady Arwen on his left side with the Lord Adviser beside her.
Glorfindel sat on his chair, on Elrond's left, showing his importance as a Lord and his acquaintance with Lord Elrond.
Niphrediel searched for Elrohir and Elladan, but could not see them in the crowds as everyone made their way to their tables.
Niphrediel gave a small smile to Aragorn as he sat down on the chair in between she and Glorfindel. The chairs were placed in a type of order of rank, which was why she did not sit between Glorfindel and Aragorn like she usually did.
Ivanneth walked with such grace many stopped to watch her sit down beside Niphrediel.
She was like Elrond, neither young nor old. Her caramel gold hair seemed to float when she walked and her blue eyes twinkled with all the light of elenath. She was lovely and tall, her beauty faring most.
Now that Gilraen had gone, Ivanneth took upon herself to take care of Niphrediel as a mother would, for she loved Niphrediel dearly as if she were a second child. Her own daughter, Dúliness, was already grown and waiting in peace in Valinor.
She looked to Niphrediel with disturbing worry. "I was finally told how you were hurt, hên." Her voice was firm, but on the last word her tone turned as gentle as the softest feather. She frowned, as if in pain, as she ran her thumb on the rough skin of the scar.
Niphrediel shrugged. "It could have been worse, naneth." She turned, looking back to the people of the hall that looked upon them all, waiting for Elrond to make his awaited speech, and sighed deeply.
Ivanneth nodded. "That is true, nin hên. Let I just thank Eru for that. Mistakes are made every day."
Niphrediel frowned, immediately turning back. "Mistakes?" She was cut off by the sounds of by the sound of a silver horn, and she whipped her gaze back around to the entrance.
She caught her breath and leaned onto the table to get a better look as a line of a small group of male dwarfs walked in, heads up high. They walked to the table and kneeled on their right knees, lowering their heads in respect to their table.
Niphrediel gave a quick glare at a table of elves that scorned the dwarfs in silent words. They were not quiet until Aragorn heard them, and looked at them with great disagreement.
Niphrediel watched at the dwarfs stood. Then it was their turn.
She had done this many times before to knew people and quickly sat up straight so her head was inline with everyone else's save Elrond, whose chair was higher. The table simultaneously lowered their heads down, showing respect back to the dwarfs for all who sat upon the table were all from the House of Elrond and were important people of Rivendell. Elrond did not lower his head, but not to disrespect, he'd give them a small nod in the end.
Elrond smiled his kingly smile at the dwarfs, the table's heads still bowed. "Welcome to this feast, Master Dwarfs, in honour of this quest."
Then the table raised their heads back up, in chorus with each other and Elrond gave a slow nod to the dwarfs before they moved away.
Niphrediel liked doing it, it made her feel important or something. She watched the dwarfs walked to their table.
"My dear it is strange how affectionately you think of those creatures." Ivanneth whispered softly.
Niphrediel sighed. "You do not understand, nana, you have never read any of their stories and I doubt you ever will. Not only that but you are an Elf, that helps your stubbornness to see grandeur in a race like them."
Ivanneth nodded, she agreed with every word. "My you are getting smart, hên."
Niphrediel smiled and looked at the door.
There was silence. Niphrediel turned to Ivanneth. "What are we waiting for?"
Ivanneth took one of the braids from behind Niphrediel's back and let it fall down her shoulder lovingly. "The group of men from Gondor," she saw Niphrediel's eyes brighten at the sound of the place; she turned to Aragorn but saw he stared blankly at the entrance. She said nothing, but she knew he knew already.
"And elves from Mirkwood." Ivanneth finished, but Niphrediel was no longer listening, she was too excited about the mention of Gondor, though her face looked sad rather then glad.
Niphrediel sighed, looking down, deep in thought.
Ivanneth looked over at Aragorn, then back to Niphrediel and held back a chuckle. Their expressions on their independent faces were the same and were both lowered. It showed Estel's influence from all the years of Niphrediel's growing; their similarity.
Both of the human's heads shot back up when the horns blew again.
The men of Minas Tirith stood tall, power and nobility radiating from their keen faces. They were used to having dinner here, but this must have been the first party they had been to here for they looked around with fresh awe.
Then again came the bow and Elrond saying, "Welcome to this feast, Lords of Men, in honour of this quest," and heads were back up again.
Niphrediel sighed, slouching in her chair.
Aragorn looked back at her, and his eyes flashed as if he remembered something. "Niphrediel, you know about the riders, the ones that gave you"-
"I do not have amnesia, Estel." Niphrediel said, a smile in her voice.
"They are not"-
He was silenced by the horns, and looked up desperately to the entrance.
Niphrediel stared at Estel with a frown on his face and slowly her gaze moved to the ones walking in.
She glanced at them all casually; she did not really have much interest in them apart from the fact they were from Mirkwood. She was surrounded by elves; they were a race familiar to her. If they were elves Lothlorien then it would be different though.
Niphrediel sighed, until she turned her gaze to the elf in the centre and her entire body tensed.
"Um." (Evil) She gasped so quietly Estel struggled to hear.
Aragorn felt her freeze and quickly turned to face her, his hand on her arm to turn her to him. Her eyes were wide in fear and did not stray to Aragorn despite his efforts. Her gaze was a mixture of disbelief, confusion but most of all fear.
She was so afraid Aragorn watched as a cold tear fell from the corner of her eye. "Niphrediel? Niphrediel!" He hissed, quietly so that no one else could hear. "They are from Mirkwood. You mistook them for the riders and for that I take full responsibility for even telling you of them." He watched as she closed her eyes and waited a moment before opening them. Her eyes pleaded with him, her gaze wondering.
Her skin seemed to be freezing; the hand he held was colder then ice.
Aragorn smiled sadly. "It was a mistake, Niphrediel, that was all. A great mistake and a great misunderstanding." He watched the transformation of her expressions. "That is Thranduilion, Legolas. He is a very old friend of Glorfindel and mine. He is not evil, I assure you."
All traces of fear were gone, now he could see nothing. She was blank; like a canvas without paint. She lowered her face in utmost shame.
How stupid could she have been?
She coughed nervously and stood from her seat. She walked as calmly as she could to get out from the hall through the back. "Niphrediel?" She heard Mioniel call quietly.
Once she stepped onto grass she sprinted, running as quickly as her legs could carry her.
She collapsed onto her knees and hands beside a tree and rushed to a bush and began to vomit with vile gasps and heaving of her back.
Her vomit looked black in the light. She fell backwards onto her back and gasped, taking quick and deep breaths to refill her deprived lungs.
"My dear"-
Niphrediel instantaneously twisted onto her stomach and held herself up by her arms, her left leg up against the grass and ready to push her up. She looked at the tall figure in front of her.
Gandalf smiled. "Are you quite alright?"
Niphrediel's body immediately relaxed. She sighed and slowly stood up.
Gandalf noted how tall she was for a maiden, only a couple inches at the most shorter then Aragorn. He frowned; she had his eyes. He looked closer; she did not have his blood.
Niphrediel nodded. "Yes, I am fine. Just thoroughly shamed, my lord."
Gandalf took in her words and smiled. "I am sorry for that." He pointed to the rumbled bush. "I forgot to tell Aragorn about the affects of my little brew."
Niphrediel frowned. "I was supposed to have"-
"Yes!" Gandalf beamed. "It leaves in all the goodness and gets rid of everything the potion doesn't need."
Niphrediel sighed; relieved she was not sick. "Thankyou for the tonic, either way Mithrandir." She said.
Gandalf smiled and patted her head, telling her it was all right without the use of his voice. He looked at her pale face. "You are very young aren't you, child." It was not a question
Niphrediel nodded. "Aye."
Gandalf frowned. "Then how could you have been borne to Arathorn if he were killed before your conceiving?" He asked.
Niphrediel answered casually for it was a question she had been asked a couple times. "When my father died my mother was just pregnant with me, she unfortunately angered an elvish healer," she chuckled, remembering the tale, "and the elvish healer jinxed my mother, fortunately it did not harm her since the healer was not very skilled, but it slowed her pregnancy to such extent that . . . " She indicated herself, giving her explanation. "It took so very long. My mother also said that I aged very slowly as a child. That must have something to do with the jinx also, I suppose."
Gandalf spent a moment just staring at the girl. She believed every word she had spoken.
Oh Gilraen how could you not tell the poor girl? He asked inside his mind sadly.
Gandalf sighed. "Well, you should clean yourself up and I will tell the party why you ran out so suddenly; because of my awful remedy, then you can come back and have something to eat with your brother."
Niphrediel shook her head. "I think not, grey one, I do not think I am in the mood for company."
Gandalf smiled. "I insist, young one, I think people would very much like to speak with you again before the night is out." He said, retreating. "I shall not take no for an answer or I shall send Aragorn to get you!" He laughed.
Niphrediel watched him go and cursed when she finally took in that she had to go back.
She cursed again and again as she made her way to her room and cleansed her mouth and teeth thoroughly out so she no longer tasted of the vile sour oil.
She put her face into the sink of water, thoughts plaguing her mind. She carefully dried her face save her lips.
She searched her room quickly for anything that she could use as an excuse to be unsocial and took a small hardback book the story of Lord Gil-Galad and put in under her belt.
She walked tall, her hands hooked into the back of her belt to keep her from fidgeting, back into the hall. Everyone was chatting and talking, the music was light, quiet and upbeat.
She was lucky no one even noticed her slide back into her seat.
Aragorn looked at her. "Are you well, Nieninquë?"
Niphrediel looked down at the bowl of delicious smelling food before her and nodded. "Yes." She mumbled, and ate the food slowly, almost lazily.
In the hall of chatters she and Aragorn were the only ones at the table who ate in silence.
After the food came and went, the musicians began to play and people began to dance.
Niphrediel smiled as Aragorn was whisked away by Mioniel and onto the dance floor, she could see Arwen laughing and smiling as she watched also.
Glorfindel noticed her and moved onto Aragorn's seat. "Hey," he whispered, patting her shoulder. "Are you all right, hên? You rushed out too quickly for me to notice clearly."
Niphrediel sighed. "Yes, if only I could bang my head against a rock in the hopes that I will go to sleep and never wake up." She mumbled.
Glorfindel laughed and took a swig of the juice in his goblet. "Well let us dance!"
Niphrediel's barriers came up the moment he began to say the sound of d-
"No." She said immediately, getting out her book and relaxing against the back of the chair.
"I wish to dance." Glorfindel nagged.
Niphrediel glared up at him. "Then you dance with another, Glorfindel!" She laughed. "I have no skill there, my friend. Do not be so content to watch me embarrass myself yet again on the same night."
Glorfindel snatched the book from her hands quicker then her eye could catch, and he put it on the table, too far for her to reach and before Niphrediel opened her mouth to speak, he took her hand and hulled her up.
"Glorfindel no!" Niphrediel hissed, slapping his hand with her free one.
Glorfindel pulled her along until he found a place he liked and turned to his friend.
Niphrediel glared at him. "I hate you," she promised.
Glorfindel winked. "Love you too," he said, and began to dance with her in such a way that it was obvious that they were but friends to all whose eyes had narrowed if they had seen Glorfindel touched her face, but the main reason Glorfindel did that, apart from the fact that he thought of acting so lustfully towards Niphrediel was absolutely disgusting, was because it was dangerous to his health. Aragorn would kill him; she is only a child, though even if she were older Aragorn would still kill him.
Niphrediel listened to the elvish song a maiden sang. It was in Sindarin so most attending would understand.
Niphrediel had been raised around the language, but she had also been taught Quenya, also, as a child so she would have a wider range of vocabulary as wished by Elrond. She loved Quenya more then the common Elvish only because less people now spoke it, and fewer still learnt it. She and Aragorn would speak in it whenever they were walking through Rivendell and not too many people would have known one word they had said unless they were much older then they seemed. It was sad, though, the language was mostly used in songs and spells now and it had been so long that Aragorn had spoken it that Niphrediel doubted if he could even remember.
The facts were still in him, though. His memory just needed to be freshened.
After one dance, Niphrediel rushed from Glorfindel and was happy that Mioniel had unwillingly taken her place.
She noticed the four halflings, sitting and eating at their table. She recognised the darker-haired one as the halflings that had been injured weeks before.
Niphrediel walked back to her seat and took her book back, sitting down on her chair and read. She had read this story a million times.
She looked up once and found she was staring at someone. She frowned but she could not drag her gaze away, she was too startled. Her eyes flew back to the book when the person turned around to see her looking.
Niphrediel was not embarrassed and she hid her fear well. She was caught; the best she could do was act natural.
Niphrediel looked back up and the elf nodded his head in a swift greeting and seemed to wait for hers. Niphrediel nodded her head, which was all she was giving, and turned back to her book.
The elf had almost killed her and had given her first permanent scar. Her outlook on her life changed the day she was beaten.
She wondered if it was for the better of worse.
It could have been for the better, for it reminded her that she should be more careful, and that she was not invincible as she sometimes thought she was. Or it could have been for the worst for no longer would she be able to be relaxed under any cloak or . . . . .or . . . . .there were many more reasons for either better or worse, but she could not think clearly enough to discover them.
She did not blame the elf at all; he defended himself. She should have waited; she should not have taken off from Glorfindel.
She frowned, and felt her scar begin to ache.
Logic over intuition was the way she was taught, and she knew she could no longer pretend that she was normal, for doing that would eventually be her death. In some ways, it already had been.
