Chapter nine: The Call of the Vision
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Note: See bottom ^_^ Sorry for any grammar/spelling typos.

It had been long since the elves had left the docks, but Niphrediel still remained. She was now perched on the front end of a small boat, her legs hanging off the edge as she stared off down the river that the Fellowship were paddling through, unseen to her eyesight's reach.

Since not of Elven sort, the faraway expression on her face did not state that she was sleeping, but merely daydreaming. The only sounds that riffled the peaceful silence were the gentle lapping of water against the sides of the boats, and the gentle drumming sound that was made each time the back heel of Niphrediel's boots rubbed against the flank of the boat.

With her hands at her sides upon the edge, one loosely holding the flower, Niphrediel's only other movement was the soft rising and falling of her chest. She seemed drained, calmly unmotivated.

Letting out another sigh, Niphrediel's dry mouth opened, and she slowly began to sing as she continued to daydream of what it would be like to live in a more modern, simpler existence, without such a dark curses like sorcery that plagued the shadows of her earth.

Her voice was more like a steady mumble, since she was, after all, singing on a whim. Niphrediel was no bard, and was not gifted with a terrific singing voice, but she would sometimes hum songs to herself when she was alone, as she was sure many people did. Niphrediel had no idea, though, why she began to sing the particular piece that she did.

The leaves were long, the grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinúviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering.

Niphrediel stopped, pained. Enough about beauty that cannot compete with your sisterly love, Niphrediel thought bitterly. With a frown, she sighed, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. She felt like she was trying to punish herself by reminding herself of Estel's romantic situation. Maybe the silly girl was.

Niphrediel sighed once more, or rather just lengthened the one she was already doing. "Niphrediel you are the unknown sister of Beren!!" Niphrediel exclaimed absurdly to herself, her short-lived laughter only partnered with the sound of departing birds from the trees nearby at the sudden noise.

When silence returned, Nieninquë quickly sobered, and continued to sigh as she continued to do nothing.

That was, until Niphrediel's body seemed to fall back, as if pushed, into the deck of the boat, off the thin railing she was once sitting on.

Too stunned to move, Niphrediel could feel fire storming under her skin, raging against her heart. Was she having a heart attack? Niphrediel's eyes shut tightly, her back arcing as she cried out. With great joy must come great pain, but Niphrediel could never had imagined pain like this.

She could feel her heart. Each time it made a beat; it was like an eruption in her breast, and Niphrediel found she could not breath. The need for breath slowly made her attention stray after a while, and Niphrediel opened her mouth and tried to take a breath in.

Then, suddenly, Niphrediel let out a croaking cry, and after the outburst, she sucked in the bitter air, opening her eyes that immediately became blinded by white. The banging in her chest continued, though slowly became less hot as the white Niphrediel could see began to shape.

Slowly, but surely, the white canvass was slowly splattered with paints of different colours. And that was exactly was it looked like, too; like an animation of a water-coloured painting; blue, green and yellow slowly mixed together, as did pink and white. The blue, green and yellow mingled to create what Niphrediel thought to be nine birds, and the pink and white colours churned into a small mini-necklace that one of the nine birds wore.

Niphrediel took interest in the birds, as they seemed to fly across their artificial sky. One, a large and rather old-looking one was in the front, leading its little group on. Behind it was a rather beautiful-looking dove, practically radiant, and then two normal sized birds and five rather tiny ones, one of the five with more of a distinction created by its slightly larger size, followed it. The pink flower necklace seemed to fade into the background, slowly dissolving, but Niphrediel was too busy watching the birds to really care.

They were beautiful, their water coloured wings flapping with each soar, and despite the pain, Niphrediel smiled. She knew who the nine birdies were, strangely.

She drunkenly held up her hand to touch one. Noticing her for the first time, one of the birds came and began to lightly nibble at her finger, gently so it did not hurt. It was one of the more normal-looking birds. 'Normal' only because there seemed nothing too different about it….

After it's little gnaw, it fluttered over above her head, looking at her face with strange interest. That was when something went wrong…something seemed to have attacked it because it suddenly began to bleed, as did the others. Its ripe, red blood poured from its little chest onto Niphrediel face and mouth. Letting out a cry in shock, Niphrediel felt her chest about to burst at the new occurrence.

Niphrediel turned her head away, tasting the bitter flavour of the bird's metallic blood running down her throat. She brought her hands to her ears to block out the agonising sounds of the dying birds. When she couldn't hear them, she opened her eyes, and when she did so, everything was gone. She could see everything clearly, as she could not have a moment before. She could see she was now lying on the deck of a boat, hands absurdly over her ears.

Niphrediel put a hand to her chest, which slowly calmed down, and tried to take deep breaths as she did while letting out quiet moans with each one.

She slowly rolled onto her stomach when she felt she could, and moved onto her feet. She brought a hand to her mouth. There was no blood. She frowned, continuing to touch the skin around her mouth as well. There was no pain. What sorcery had been done here?

Shaking her head as she quickly jumped out of the boat, Niphrediel felt the pain in her chest sinking to mere memories. Turning, she began to run through the path, gripping her chest as she did.

I'm sick! I'm sick! Niphrediel was only slightly aware that she knew not where on earth she was going, or whom she should go and see about what had just happened.

Turning her gaze to the mouth of a stairwell, Niphrediel quickly contemplating going up it. Where was everybody!! Lorien's population was not low….where in the Valar's name was everyone?

"Herentur, of Lorien."

Niphrediel turned her head, an elf now stood on the stairs she was previously pondering wether to walk up. She shook her head, taking her hand from her chest. "No…Niphrediel, daughter of Arathorn," She corrected; letting out a breath in relief that she had found someone.

Niphrediel scanned the elf's face…..she had seen him before somewhere before…

The elf's face brightened, and he lowered it with a shy smile. He was obviously not as old as the others in this Elvendome…though Niphrediel was only judging by his poise. He was not as poised as the other elves Niphrediel had seen here.

After lifting his head up, the elf shook his head, "No, that is my name; I am Herentur."

Niphrediel lowered her head, biting her bottom lip in slight embarrassment, and still not used to the feeling that came when it did not hurt for her to do so.

"Worry not," Smiled the elf, his voice calling her eyes to look back at him.

Niphrediel nodded, her thoughts beginning to stray from the recent events and more onto the subject of how pretty the elf was. Niphrediel quickly shook her head, banishing her oh-so feminine thoughts.

Herentur waited for the rising blush in the girl's cheeks to retreat before he spoke again. He turned back, to walk up the stairs again, before looking back to her and simply nodded. "Come," He said, "They wish to speak with you."

Niphrediel did not even have to guess who 'they' were. It alarmed her, but even so, she nodded.

"The walk may be a bit of a struggle if you are not accustomed to it," Herentur smiled, before turning and smoothly began to ascend the silver stairs.

If I can conquer Moria, then I shall be able to do this, Niphrediel thought, before following the elf. She did, however, become less cool as time went on, and her muscles quickly began to warm up with each step higher from the ground.

With being more focused on the stair in front of her rather then how high she was getting, Niphrediel did not really notice how large this tree was, but when she looked directly up she could see a room on a high branch, and yet that was not where she was going.

It took less time then Niphrediel thought it would to get to where she was supposed to go. Herentur waited at the top of the stair, and he held out his hand to her, which surprised her a little.

When Niphrediel met up with him, she hesitantly took his hand. She did wonder why she hesitated. Why she did not really want to touch him. Maybe it was because she did not know him well enough…but since when did she think that it was such a personal gesture just to hold someone's hand?

His hand was soft, positively the softest skin Niphrediel had ever felt. Even softer then Legolas's hand, which was probably because Herentur was younger, and the years of archery and other such things had slightly worn Legolas's palm and fingers. But, still, Niphrediel would have rather held the archer's hand then the one of this elf's. Legolas's hands were warm, yet Herentur's were not so. But, Niphrediel had to admit, it was probably just because she both knew and liked Legolas much more then Herentur, and was just making excuses as to why one elf was better then the other.

Herentur smiled and led Niphrediel further onto this platform they were standing on. Niphrediel could see a staircase on the farer end that led to that room in the branches she had seen on her way up. Interesting.

Herentur lead her to a place in front of a dais, and Niphrediel seemed to shrink as elves began to circle around the parameter of where she stood.

Niphrediel looked at each face with a heavy frown, anxiety warming her ears and face. Perhaps her muscles tensed, because Herentur noticed her discomfort, and he just smiled. It was a smile wasted, because Niphrediel did not notice it.

Why are there so many people? Herentur tugged on her hand, making Niphrediel look forward and span from her confusing questions.

When Niphrediel turned, her frown fell short. She brought her hand above her eyes, of which were too accustomed to darker light, as the shining glow of the Lady penetrated into them.

The Lord and Lady stood on a stair from the dais, looking down at her. Niphrediel wanted to hide behind Herentur, or perhaps run away….she could not decide. The Lady's blue eyes pierced into her soul, and Niphrediel could feel it. Niphrediel was standing in front of the Lady completely naked, bared, for her to see it all. And the Lady did see it all.

"Niphrediel…Gwilwileth o Imladris…Hiril o Gwaith lîn," She said, her voice speaking each word as if it were something worth the beauty she unknowingly

Niphrediel frowned, mid-nod. "Hiril? Im ú hiril…" She said, slowly lowering her head and shaking it. "Im avol tíro... Le ped neitha o nin, Hiril edhellen.

Galadriel raised an eyebrow "Im ped ú neitha o le."

Niphrediel shook her head once more, her hand absently rubbing her left temple that was slowly beginning to ache. "I will be no lady. There are others more fitting for the task then I." She looked at her feet, but Niphrediel could still feel the stare burning into her hair clothing her head.

Galadriel slowly, hesitantly, drew her fingers away from her husband's as she began to ascend the rest of the way down the steps her feet had not yet graced.

Niphrediel was very well aware the Lady stood right in front of her, on the very last step. Even with her head still drawn low, the delicately beaded skirt of Galadriel's gown flowed down off the front of the step to a mere centimetre from the top of Niphrediel's boot on the floor.

Niphrediel did not move, her body stiffening as cool fingertips slowly situated themselves evenly on the bottom rim of her jaw. Niphrediel swallowed down a heavy breath, the Lady's touch almost so light that it was almost unfelt.

Slowly, Galadriel raised Niphrediel's face. The child gave no hesitation, but few ever did. Galadriel made Niphrediel look up to her, the pull of the Lady's crystal stare drawing in the child's oceanic one. More then a minute, nearly two, went by, and yet the Lady Galadriel still was not satisfied with what she saw. Her search was not yet done. Galadriel cared not for the mortal's slow uneasiness that she could sense resurfacing once more. She was not yet finished.

But eventually, without warning, the intensity of the Lady Galadriel's stare dwindled, and Niphrediel felt it easier to breath again. The Lady looked at her with sympathy, but for what, Niphrediel could not say. The stories said that the Sorceress of the Golden Wood could see a man's doom…So, could she see Niphrediel's? Could she see Niphrediel's end? Or, since being the Evenstar's grandmother, and knowing Aragorn, did she simply pity Niphrediel because of the loss of Gilraen? If that was the reason, then the Lady's pity came too late. Gilraen had been dead a long time.

"You will," Galadriel said, her voice neither cold nor warm, nor quiet or loud.

Niphrediel frowned, probing Galadriel's stare with her own, quietly pressing for her to say more. She knew things what Niphrediel did not, and Niphrediel suddenly found that scary. The recognition that someone else knew what life had in store for her was terrifying. The future itself was terrifying, at least for someone who knew she could lose so much in a matter of time.

Tell me what you see. Tell me what you see! Is Estel going to fail? Is darkness going to take over our lands? Am I as insignificant as I feel?! By the Valar, say something! Everything! Anything! Niphrediel's eyes pricked with tears and she did not know why. She knew the Lady could hear her. She knew that her pleas were not going unheard. If so, then why was she not being answered!

"What do you see?" Niphrediel barely let out. Her throat seemed to give, and her voice was the occurrence's victim. If she were not in the company of elven ears, her words would have been perceived as a line of croaky mumbles. Nothing intelligible.

Galadriel's left hand moved from the base of Niphrediel's jaw, cupping her cheek like what Niphrediel would think she would have done to Celebrían in the days of her youth. Oh, how Niphrediel did not disserve this audience. People more deserving could only dream of being able to bring their eyes upon the body of the Elven Lady, and yet here Niphrediel was, the Lady's skin against her own.

"What do you see?" Niphrediel pressed once more, her voice no longer so garbled. Though Galadriel's stare was lighter, Niphrediel could feel it continuing to probe the edges of her soul through her eyes. And yet despite the knowledge of what was being done, Niphrediel continued to hesitate before allowing herself to blink.

Galadriel moved her stare to Niphrediel forehead, and seemed to study it with soft understanding that Nieninquë saw as quite confusing. Was there something written there? Had Legolas drawn some absurd picture there before he woke her this morn? If not so, then why did the area seem so significant as to be under the Elf Lady's study?

"I see many things," Galadriel said, glancing momentarily back to Niphrediel's gaze as if to confirm that she was listening. There was a long silence, and then Galadriel let out a long sigh, turning her eyes in direction of the earth that the marble floor kept from view. "You see things too, do you not?"

Though it may have been spoken as so, Niphrediel knew it was not a question. Suddenly Niphrediel shrunk more under the towering figure of the elven woman. It did not help that Galadriel was propped up on a thick step, and that Niphrediel was so close to her. She seemed all the more aware of how high she had to lift head to be able to see the Lady's face.

Niphrediel could not even bring herself to lie. Though, she did know she would not do so, even if she had the power to try. Niphrediel nodded, her frown pasted upon her brow furring all the more.

Galadriel nodded at Niphrediel's reaction, her pale lips shifting strangely into what Niphrediel thought to be a smile. Alas, even the Lady's smile was tainted by the bitter sadness of all the things that she had seen and all things she knew. The corners of the Lady's lips seemed almost tied down by the weight of all the grief moulded by the pain and regret of her fading race. But still, it was radiant.

"You have had dreams all your life. Though, never taking notice, you would have never thought them as visions," Galadriel said, her face shifting expression once more, becoming as hard as smooth rock, and as unreadable as a blank page. Yet all the while you have known.

Known what? Niphrediel opened her mouth to speak, but silenced herself when she realised that the Lady's last words had not been said aloud. Instead, the words seemed to have been spoken from the centre of Niphrediel's mind in the depths of her thoughts.

"Known that what you thought, and what you dreamt, were in some ways something that should be feared," Galadriel replied, making a seemingly perfect transaction back to physical speech. As she spoke, Galadriel brought her finger to Niphrediel's temple as if to point, the tip of her finger placed gently upon the skin. "That the things inside here were things that should not be understood because"-

Be quiet, Niphrediel shunned, beginning to fear where the Lady's subject was going. Alas, the elleth did not even pause.

-"if they were, then their occurrence would be more oft, more powerful, and more precarious." Galadriel whispered, words flowing directly from mind and memory, her tone making emphases on each 'more' spoken, bit by bit.

Niphrediel almost thought of taking a step back to cut off the Lady's physical reach with a little more distance, the Lady's touch no longer welcome. But, even before the thought properly registered, Galadriel removed her hands.

"You fear the gift, as Gilraen did," Galadriel said, with slight mourning.

Niphrediel raised a brow, "You speak of foresight? Gilraen did not fear that gift, even if she did not cherish it."

"I do not speak of simple 'foresight'," Galadriel pressed, her lowered hands clasping at her front, statuesque at any position.

Niphrediel sighed, shaking her head in surrender, "Then what do you speak of?"

"Vision."

Niphrediel grew all the more confused, and she took two steps back, seeming to ponder wether or not to just turn back and leave. "Vision?"

Galadriel nodded. Vision. Your mother had it, as did her father before her. Gilraen feared it, as do you now. "You… see things. Naturally, since your bloodline has mingled somewhat, your visions are unclear compared to the ones of your forefathers."

Niphrediel frowned, letting out a cold breath as she thought of the painful daydream she had seen too shorter time ago. Her heart began to thump, and Niphrediel slowly began to drain. There was meaning in my silly dream? Alas, there was only one way to know for certain.

"I had a dream today," Niphrediel began, seeming comforted that after she said the words, Galadriel seemed keen to listen, "there were nine birds flying across a white sheeted sky, ah…."

"Continue," Celeborn said, his presence there suddenly remembered on Niphrediel's part. Glancing for a moment at him, Niphrediel internally scorned herself. She had nearly forgotten about all the elves around her.

"They all…. died," Niphrediel said, simply, joining her hands nervously behind her back. The way she had explained it made the true impact of the experience belittle. Niphrediel could not explain the recognition she felt with the creatures, the sorrow she felt when they began to bleed, the fear of where it was that they were going and the pain she was dealt with each time her heart pumped.

Still, without knowing the great effects that Niphrediel had encountered, Galadriel seemed to take her words gravely. The Lady's eyes dropped to the floor once more, and she seemed almost a vacant vessel as she took a moment to think.

"Milady, I never had a dream like that before," Niphrediel explained dreadfully, her hands tightening behind her as she heard her voice flow out before she had the chance to stop it. "Did I do something to…..trigger it, perhaps? Maybe I came into contact with something I should not have?"

Alas, though her question was directed at Galadriel, it was the Lord Celeborn that answered Niphrediel back. His voice, now that Niphrediel was able to study it, was hard and firm, and yet the way the words rolled from his tongue, there seemed evidence that the firmness could be replaced by words more soft-spoken.

"Its your mother's birthday," He said. "As your mother was given her first powerful vision on her father's day of birth, it is ritual. What year it is that the first vision comes to someone is a thing out of mere Men's control. It is called 'The Call', or at least that is what it is called from the rare information we have on the topic. As time goes on from this day forth, the call's will become more clear and will come more often and, if you learn properly, on command."

"My mother's birthday?" Niphrediel repeated, absolutely lost. She shook her head, making her hair jiggle behind her as she did. "That is not correct, my lord. Gilraen's birthday is not this day, I can assure you that."

Though Niphrediel searched, Celeborn's face gave no response. No shock, no confusion; no nothing. His face was completely unreadable. His lips closed, and he seemed as if he were waiting to be turned to stone in his unmoving form to become a proper statue and not just an elvish impersonation of one.

"That, we will speak of another time," He promised, his silver hair swaying as he turned to regard his wife and lady with a warmer stare.

"Yes, we will," Galadriel seconded, stare remaining caring and unmoving on Niphrediel's face. She hesitantly sighed, the use of slight movement beginning to make it obvious that this meeting was coming to a close. "Was there anything else you saw, Niphrediel?"

Niphrediel shook her head. "No…. nothing else," Niphrediel said, frowning slightly when she could see Herentur stiffen, whilst waiting for her answer, in the corner of her eye. Niphrediel had noticed that as the talk of 'visions' began, that his stare was darker and stronger. She could feel his eyes burning into the side of her face, his gaze seeming almost sadistic in its power.

Galadriel nodded, accepting the answer. "Very well," She said, looking Niphrediel over with an oblivious expression, "I shall let you go. You may wish to change, retire, or no. That is your choice. When you are ready, wither it be in an hour or a week's time, simply make your way back up those stairs and we shall speak once more."

Niphrediel nodded, grateful that her business for the day had come to an end. "Very well," She said, readying herself to walk out and already taking a step back.

"Niphrediel, do not rush out so hastily," Celeborn said, making Niphrediel double back.

Brows raised, Niphrediel gave a soft shrug of her shoulders. "What is it, milord?" Glancing over the elf's tall body, Niphrediel only then noticed that he had kept his hands behind his back for most of the time he had been standing their alone. She knew not why she had noticed that in particular, but alas, she had.

Celeborn, then, brought his hands to his front, and Niphrediel could see that in his right hand, he held an old longsword. It was straight, not arched like Niphrediel's one had been, and was without the elvish perfections that made it also a thing of beauty rather then just a weapon. Though it was old, Niphrediel could just see the tengwa and dwarvish inscription on the broad of the hilt, and upon its thick, black sheath, Niphrediel could tell that beneath it was a long blade of sharp, ageless dwarf-made steel. It was basic, without a mask that made its purpose of creation less clear. It was an instrument of attack and defence. Nothing less.

Celeborn held it out to her, and Niphrediel took a moment before registering that he was giving it to her. It was her gift, and a mighty one at that. "Its name is Alagos, made from two fine weapon-smiths somewhere through the time of the first alliance. Elf-made is it's hilt and sheath, and dwarvish it it's blade. It is old, and perhaps not as grand as many other weapons we have, but I am sure it will do you just fine in the meantime," He said.

Running up the stairs, Niphrediel allowed her hands to sink only a fraction when the weight of the weapon was placed onto her hands. The hilt was heavier then the blade, which would indeed be a profitable thing if the time came. Niphrediel could not help but swing it a couple times as she made her way back to the infirmary that she assumed would be her quarters until further notice. The thick hilt was perfect for the way Niphrediel's hand gripped it and, because of the fact that it was old, meant that the surface of the hilt had been a little warn and thus, the grip was much more secure.

It was a most welcomed gift, and so, Niphrediel changed into more proper attire. Though it may have been an entertaining sight, it was not enjoyable for her to prance around with the sword wearing the green robe with the pyjamas underneath.

She got properly dressed this time, enjoying the ritual of placing on each item of clothing. Alas, her white tunic seemed too hot for the occasion, so Niphrediel simply got a sleeveless chemise instead, of which collared the whistle at her chest quite nicely.

Bodice and briefs, trousers, chemise, tunic and boots; Niphrediel took her time placing on each item. Brushing her hair and tying it back, Niphrediel absently noticed the Rivendell butterfly clip that she had not seen in quite a long while lying on her pillow.

"Legolas, perhaps," She mumbled, thinking aloud as she threw the clip in the base of the plate at the back of her head in case she forgot about it and it became misplaced once again.

After a long search, Niphrediel round a leather belt in the room's armoire and quickly attached it to the sword's sheath before strapping it at the hips of her leggings. Niphrediel glanced at herself in the mirror as she walked out, listening to the sound of leather chafing against leather as she took each step.

Niphrediel reached out for the doorknob, but as she did, the door quickly opened. Niphrediel took a step back in surprise, as she watched the door part to bare Herentur standing in its way.

Niphrediel frowned, a little confused to see him once more, and also slightly alarmed. "Herentur?" She said, as a moment of silence reeked through the space between the door and the wall.

Herentur held something behind his back, and Niphrediel could only ponder what it was, until he parted his lips to speak. "You have no idea what you could have done to me!" He said through clenched teeth, before bringing his hidden hand up.

Alas, whatever it was, Niphrediel did not get a chance to see it. With a blow so hard to the back of her head, all Niphrediel could see was shadow. And, as her senses began to minimize, the last words she heard before completely blacking out were: "Now what do I do?"

Spy!

Niphrediel had found a traitor. Or rather, a traitor had found Niphrediel.

***

Where be your precious Legolas now, Niphrediel? Let alone your beloved brother.

Niphrediel slowly felt herself waking up to the throbbing ache banging against her skull, and when she did, she immediately regretted it. The ache, unfortunately, was too strong for her to try and ignore in the hopes that perhaps she would be able to go back to sleep.

Her eyelids began to prickle, the moister formed underneath them beginning to depart as her eyes prepared to open, regardless of wether or not she actually wanted them too.

Beginning to breath through her nose, Niphrediel smelt mist, or perhaps it was just a strange type of tobacco… It was a poignant smell, almost stinging her nostrils despite that it was only a mild scent.

Even before Niphrediel opened her eyes, she knew she was lying on wood, and probably not in a very comfortable position. Her head was propped on the top of what might have been a wooden railing with her arms also positioned on it, hanging limply over the edge. Her legs and lower body were simply laid on the wooden floor.

As Niphrediel began to soak once more into her own skin, she could feel a thick gag of leather cramped tightly over and in her mouth.

Testing it, Niphrediel lightly gnawed on it, and frowned as what seemed to be her own blood that the material had absorbed tainted her dry tongue.

Spy…

Niphrediel's eyes bolted open, her dark pupil focusing without hesitation in her body's state of shock and hurry.

Her eyes adjusted easily enough, to Niphrediel's thanks. She was pushed on the front of a small boat, the river seen in all directions Niphrediel could manage to look at without moving her head confirmed that. The night sky was above her, a thick mist clouding the sides.

Niphrediel looked at her hands hanging low over the edge, nearly touching the water the point of the boat smoothly cut through. Frowning at her wrists, Niphrediel's waking thoughts darkened when she saw the thick, heavy ropes bound around them with unmerciful tightness.

The joint in the middle of each roped cuff swayed in the thick water of the river, and using her fingers, Niphrediel slowly collected it evenly between her two hands and gave it a small tug.

She stopped testing the rope's strength, however, when her ears choose to unblock themselves and give her the missing sense of hearing.

Niphrediel could hear someone behind her as they continued to paddle the boat along. Concentrating on settling her breathing, Niphrediel could not help but close her eyes as shivers tingled down and up her spin like ice.

Spy!

"Ai….what do we do now?"

Niphrediel chocked on a whimper.Look what you have gotten yourself into! Niphrediel's brow furred into a frown. How could there have been a spy in the Golden Wood? How could Galadriel have passed one by and not see?

Herentur glanced down at his captive companion, "Aha, you have awoken," He smiled smugly.

Niphrediel was smart, and remained unmoved. Not to pretend to not be awake, but just not to respond. What was she going to do or say? Her hands were bound together so using some sought of hand signals was out of the question.

Niphrediel felt groggy, her eyelids drunkenly heavy despite her internal alertness. Her head felt like it weighed a tone, and she did not even bother trying to move it. Her limbs and muscles ached, gravity seeming to push down on them with its unwinding force.

"Look," Herentur whispered, eyes turned to his left.

Niphrediel, not seeing exactly which direction Herentur was indicating, had to take a moment to search before seeing what Herentur was speaking about.

Her hopes momentarily soared. Here was her chance! The Fellowship's camp was small and silent, their campfire now without even the glowing embers to mark its place.

Conjuring up all the strength she could muster, Niphrediel brought her leg up to stand. From there she could possibly jump off the boat and swim to the side. Not without splashing about loudly in the hopes of waking the company up to assist her, of course.

But, alas, her plans were brought to an end when Herentur grabbed onto the back of her tunic and pulled her back down onto the boat's floor. As if like lightning, a dagger appeared in his spare hand and he held its point on the flesh of Niphrediel's throat.

"They will not hear you," He promised, his voice reeking with venom as it taunted her with these words that Niphrediel did not want to hear.

"They will not hear you, and they do not see you," Herentur added, sending the camp a poisonous glare as the boat drifted passed it. "The mist, you see," He whispered, looking back to the mortal.

The elf tilted his head to the side, his stare strengthening as he boar into the girl's face with unreadable amusement. Shaking his head, he brought the back of his hand up to wipe away a cold tear that fell from Niphrediel's right eye, despite her strongest efforts.

Herentur did not notice the mortal stiffen at his cold touch, too busy looking down at the sheer bead of salty water that confirmed for him who was the weaker of the two.

Wiping the teardrop on the shoulder of Niphrediel's tunic, Herentur sighed, looking into the distance as he continued to allow the boat to drift along without his help.

"You have to understand," He began, "what you could have done." Herentur shook his head, oblivious to his own thoughts.

"You have no comprehension what it was like for me to build a shield so thick that the Lady's stare would not see through it," Herentur stressed, exhaling as he spoke. "Every day my mind was without piece, never did relaxation faze me."

"That is because you are a spy!" Niphrediel exclaimed, or at least it was what she tried to. It came out as a gargle, muffled by the thick bound of leather shoved into her mouth.

Herentur looked at Niphrediel's gag for a moment at Niphrediel's attempt at speech, and seemed to contemplate taking it off. Of course, alas not being a fool, he dismissed the thought practically immediately.

"And then, here came you," Herentur said, his voice losing its gentleness, "The child who dreams of the future, eh?"

Niphrediel's teeth tightened on the gag, and her hands clasped the rope held in them with more power as they fought back the urge to hit the elf's jaw, held as one.

Alas, Herentur still held the blade at her throat, and almost as if in taunted play, gently drew the tip of it against her skin in multiple patterns as he spoke. Thankfully, he did not press down hard enough to break Niphrediel's skin.

"Everything I worked so very hard to make for myself would all be for nothing because of the makings of your imagination," Herentur spat, his eyes brushing her forehead with unpredictable loathing. "I cannot have you dreaming of my plans, now can I?"

Another question Niphrediel could not answer.

Herentur grinned, his beauty slapping Niphrediel as she struggled to keep face. "Now, you must be thinking 'so, where are we going?', am I right?" He asked; his brows raised in attentive regard, "Now that you have brought me to do this, Lothlorien is no longer a good choice for me to stay. Nor any other elvish dwelling, at that."

At his hesitation to speak, Niphrediel simply nodded, to confirm that she was listening. And indeed, she did listen. It was hard not to.

"So, I am taking you, and most importantly me, to another who can possibly help," Herentur said, retracting his dagger and standing back up. Niphrediel could not help but notice Alagos; it's hilt showing behind the elf's shoulder, on his back.

"Now, you must be thinking…. 'What is going to happen to me?', am I right?" Herentur smiled, enjoying his little game that Niphrediel desperately hoped he would bring to an end soon. "Well at first, I must admit, I thought that perhaps a quick 'finish' would be best, until I started to think."

Picking up his large, dripping paddle behind him, Herentur paused before continuing, "Having something like you may not be a burden," Herentur said, brightly, "We would know what the enemy would plan, what they would not expect, excreta excreta."

Oh in the name of Eru, please no, Niphrediel absently prayed.

"You would be a useful tool!" Herentur beamed, beginning to paddle once more. "Though I hate to seek the help of a man, the worm-tongued fool will give us supplies for our travels."

Niphrediel suspected the last bit was mere spoken thoughts, but, even still, she moulded them into her memory.

"He knows of our trail and that we are coming to him," Herentur said, this time not only to himself. Oh how Niphrediel wanted to swipe the happy smile off his face.

"The Caller shall be with me, I wrote in my letter," Herentur noted, "A young mortal youth, I said, with hair black in colour and eyes of blue, a tiny scar on her jaw. There are not many who match that description where he is," Herentur smiled, "so you will not go unnoticed."

Niphrediel's hopes were brought to a halt once again, and she turned around on the damp floor. Looking at the elf was too painful.

She only looked back to him when he gently through her a small bottled flask.

"Drink," He said, "I shall not enjoy you collapsing in thirst before the sun comes up again."

Niphrediel raised a brow, biting on her gag.

"Oh! Silly me." Herentur laughed joyously, shaking his head as he moved one hand off the paddle to pull the gag down onto Niphrediel's chin. "If you scream, I shall not be merciful," He warned absently, before moving back to paddle again.

Niphrediel looked suspiciously at the flask before beginning to scull all the tainted liquid. Perhaps it was poison… But, alas, Niphrediel would at least die happy, freed from thirst's bite.

Drinking all that could have been drunken, Niphrediel gave the flask back to Herentur before lying back down in a more comfortable position, if that was possible.

Her breath marked the air as Niphrediel's heavy eyelids began to slowly pull downwards.

"Sleep," Herentur ordered gently, and despite Niphrediel's efforts to go against his order, five seconds later, she was sleeping soundly.

Sleeping tonic…Damn it, Niphrediel!

Niphrediel slept for an eternity. But, against her inner hopes, the eternity was not long enough.

Niphrediel opened her eyes that she had almost forgotten she had.

Once more, the night was her dawn. Though, Niphrediel's instinct told her that their had been indeed many a dawn since she had been put to sleep by the spy's treacherous tonic.

Niphrediel was propped against a hard fully packed backpack, her legs laid in front of her body with dirt scattered against her boots. A campfire not too far from her continued to glow in the fiery twilight but Niphrediel could tell it had neglected for an hour at least. Moving her quick stare off it, Niphrediel could immediately tell that they were far from where they had once been.

The camp was situated between two boulders in the centre of what Niphrediel thought to be a humongous, empty field. Field after field was all Niphrediel could see: leagues and leagues of them, practically endless.

Quickly looking down at herself, Niphrediel could tell her skin was by far darker then what she could have ever thought it could ever become. Her tone was bronzed, she could tell, even under the dim light of the nearby fire.

Through all the travel under the harsh sun, it was somewhat a good thing Niphrediel had been asleep through it all. The only way the tan could have made its place would have been through a painful amount of sunburns.

Niphrediel moved off the topic of her own health. Where was Herentur? Of course, if that actually was his name. Niphrediel's jaw tightened as she pushed herself up into a crouch.

Herentur seemed not to be there, at least to Niphrediel's impressions. Quickly, Niphrediel did not allow herself to get too excited. He would be back. That was no question. So, instead, she would have to use this time to her advantage.

Very good, muinthel. Now, always remember: Two hands are better then one, and one hand is better then none. Niphrediel frowned, letting herself only reminisce for a mere moment before beginning to search through the equipment thrown about the camp for something sharp to free her hands.

Kicking bags over forcibly with her legs, Niphrediel held back from letting out a joyous laugh when she found a sharp plank of wood Herentur must have used to tie his flask onto.

Rubbing the rope against the sharp corner, the thick bond of plated horsehair could only hold for a moment or so before snapping.

Niphrediel was free.

Her heart was beating fast, her gut unsettling as Niphrediel felt the need to run bite her on the hide. Which way? It mattered not.

Sparing only a last moment to snatch the filled flask from the top of the stick and throw its strap over her shoulder and neck, Niphrediel began to run.

Seeing something glimmering along her path, Niphrediel lowered her upper body to scoop up Herentur's dagger with her left hand.

It was only a moment or so before Niphrediel knew she was being chased. She could not hear Herentur's footsteps, but she could hear his harsh breathing.

Not now!

Niphrediel forced her legs to quicken. Come now! She screamed, her mind shrinking, You are quicker then this! Run! Run, faster!

Niphrediel tried, at least, and indeed her speed was thus she could probably outrun any man, but, alas, the elf only had to press a little more before Niphrediel knew she would not escape.

Knowing this, Niphrediel ridded the dagger of its small leather sheath and held it tightly. She shrugged off her thoughts of fear and weakness, giving her all to just depend on instinct, that way her morale and fear of death either for her sake, or Herentur's, would not be remembered.

Herentur grabbed her hair and gave it a hard yank to the ground as he fell back, in order to drag Niphrediel down with him.

Niphrediel did not scream, falling with a thud onto the hard, grass-covered hearth, the dagger falling from her hands as she rolled to a stop. She knew not what Herentur was doing, but with her hair then free, she rolled onto her feet and turned to him.

Herentur, alas, had brought his own death, wether or not he knew it. Niphrediel nodded. Yes, Niphrediel. Keep thinking that way!

He already stood in front of her, with Niphrediel's Alagos drawn and held ready in his cold hands.

Weapons? Weapons are not what make a warrior great.A true warrior needs not the power of a sword or spear to spare a victory. Niphrediel shook her head, clearing her mind of Aragorn's voice. Yes, a true warrior does not need a sword to beat another, but when his opposition is swinging one around, he does not have much choice.

Move your feet…. lean in with your shoulder when you punch… straighten your leg when you kick…

Kick…Niphrediel glanced down at the hard top of her boot, then quickly to the hilt of Alagos. Taking into consideration of how the elf gripped the blade, she could only hope.

"Namarië, eglan aphadon o gwaith lin," He hissed, "Ú minuial luithia sen dû." With her smirk taunting her with its proud display, Herentur brought his arm back, bringing it down with enough power to stab Niphrediel right through.

Niphrediel did not realise what she was doing until it had already been done. In blinding panic she brought her leg up to the blades blunt side, of which was pointing to the ground of course. Perhaps there was more Aragorn in her then she realised. The sword was kicked out of Herentur's hands, twirling in gravity's pull as it sailed through the air into Niphrediel's waiting hands. Naturally, of course, Niphrediel had to have jumped to catch it, but that did not change the fact the elf was in range.

The hilt had barely touched her flesh when Niphrediel brought the tip straight through the elf's stomach. Hearing the sickening crunch of braking muscle, Niphrediel finally realised exactly what she had done. Pulling the sword out quickly out of Herentur's body, she could have felt sick from hearing the poignant tearing once again. And yet, she did not.

Niphrediel took a drowsy step back, drunk on adrenaline. Adrenaline to kill. She felt no fear, only the unbearable desire to kill without remorse and second thought. Her head felt like air, heart racing at inhumane speeds as she gasped for quick breaths when suddenly her body became hungry for more.

Herentur stood still, in a daze. His eyes were wide, unbelieving. This could not have happened. There was no way the girl could have done this. No way at all! His plans always worked. Always. This one insignificant little twit could not have succeeded into bringing an end to his strong existence. He had the power to deceive the elves of the Golden Wood. He had won the Lady's shifting trust. He had the ability to kidnap the Caller right underneath Haldir's nose. There was no way in all forms of reason, that Niphrediel could have beaten him.

In his delusional denial, the pain was a secondary care. Herentur took a step forward, his face churning like rotten milk as rage overthrew all else. Tears of anguish shone brightly under the moonlight as he brought his hands out to hit Niphrediel, and his mouth opened wide as he began to cry out his last cry of war.

Niphrediel was oblivious, clenching her teeth as she dropped onto her knees, dodging the dieing elf's numerous strikes. Instinct overruled sense as Niphrediel put a fist on the ground and gave a quick sidekick, hitting the back of the elf's knees and tripping him up onto his back. Still on her knees, Niphrediel brought herself down upon Herentur's body, Alagos held in front of her heart with both hands; it's point facing out. Hitting flesh and pushing down with all her weight and strength, Niphrediel let out a scream in defiance and animal satisfaction as she felt the body underneath her go limp.

Still intoxicated with this sudden adrenaline of self-assurance and physical power, Niphrediel gave herself no time to calm down. Playing the part of a warrior or deadly assassin she imagined herself to be in her own mind, Niphrediel rolled off Herentur and frisked his back strap that had Alagos's sheath belted to it and put it on her own back, the straps holding it up like the straps of a bag. Shoving Alagos in the sheath, now on her back, Niphrediel grabbed her necessities and ran into the darkness, making her footsteps light in her new fantasy of living amongst the wilderness like a Ranger, able to overcome anything and anyone.

Niphrediel was free, though she did not know where on earth she was supposed to go. There were no people for her to ask directions from, and there were no objects around to be a marker Niphrediel could use to make sure she was not just walking around in circles.

Endless fields, endless green and almost yellow grass. Niphrediel frowned, feeling the sun come up behind her. You need a horse here, she thought, among other things, What are you talking about? You need a horse everywhere!

Niphrediel travelled by foot for two days, or so she thought, before collapsing in total fatigue. Wether it was two days or no, it seemed like she had been running forever without rest. Two days was what it felt like, but Niphrediel knew that the affects from her drugged-induced sleep would have made time all the more longer to pass. For all she knew, she could have only been travelling for two hours. Nevertheless though, the desire for sleep, wherever it had to be made, was just as strong.

***

"You just….found her?"

"Aye, that we did."

"There were no others with her?"

"Not that we know of, no."

"Why is she not in the infirmary? This is no hospital bed."

Niphrediel felt the dapping of a watered flannel upon her brow, making her frown. From underneath her eyelids she could feel her eyes stinging, rousing from her fulfilling rest. Perhaps her movements, though only slight, were a mistake.

"Behold, Théodred! The girl awakens."

At the predicament rightfully made, Niphrediel's eyes fluttered open, stare in full alert. Her upper body quickly moved to straight up, but the young man on the left of the bed she laid in forced her back down onto the white sheets and simple pillows with his hand over her mouth.

Théodred, son of Théoden, could not help but smile at the girl's vigilance, and did his best to sooth her. Sincerity was in his blood, and thus he did not find it such a daunting task, which was surprising. "Fear not," he whispered, brows high in earnest, "You are safe."

They were simple words, but its affect was strong. Niphrediel's body was no longer tense and stiff, and eyes no longer wide in fear and alarm. Though she was still suspicious, Théodred felt the moment well enough for him to remove his hand, and so he did. On his knees beside the bed, he did not have to stand just yet.

Niphrediel looked down at where she lay, then around the room she was situated in. She was far from Lothlorien now, or from any other elvish dwelling. She was now in the realm of men, she was certain. Gondor, perhaps? Niphrediel's eyes narrowed at the different ornaments that decorated the bedroom. There were foreign maps hung on a wall, and a large banner on another. This was no infirmary. This was someone's personal bedroom, and from the obvious battle-like things inspired by war and weapons, it seemed indeed not the chamber of a female.

Niphrediel's stare rested upon the shelf on the northern wall, brushing briefly over the tiny horse figurines mounted on them. They were a young boy's toys, and a young man's treasures. She moved her head to the others that were in the room with her. Not so much the dark-haired man perched beside the bed, but the other man, of whom she had not yet passed judgement on.

Unlike the raven-haired young man, the other's head was the base of golden tendrils, of which fell down about his shoulders. He was a soldier of sorts, Niphrediel was absolutely certain. His physique was one of hard labour and many battles. His face was handsome enough, the beginnings of a healthy beard about his chin and upper lip.

Niphrediel looked back to the dark-haired man, of whom she could not imagine being much older then herself. He, too, looked fit for battle in his homeland's name. Whatever his homeland was, of course. His hair was darker then hers, and his face was softly featured in youth's generous beauty he had been given. Niphrediel imagined he had a beautiful mother.

"Where," Niphrediel paused to cough, clearing her throat of the lump lodged there. "Where am I?"

Théodred looked up to his cousin beside him, if only for a moment before turning back to the girl. The golden-haired, looking back at his younger relative, grew dark at the realisation that he had never seen this one of his kin look at one of the fairer sex with such hidden tenderness. It disturbed him, to say the least. Théodred was cold, though only from his silence, and nonchalance with the female race. He still respected the complex species, but he had no fascination with it. Théodred's heart was pure but his overconfident characteristics, though addictive to be around, made him seem somewhat arrogant at times. His attention was warm, above it all, as well as most of his intentions.

"You are in Edoras, Rohan." Said the golden-haired, before Théodred had the chance to speak the words himself, "And my name is Éomer, sister-son of King Théoden. Can you tell us your own name, girl?" He asked, his tone relishing in some sympathy for her. Wether it be forced or no.

Niphrediel was calmed at the man's words, but her suspicion could not be helped. Thinking quickly, she gave an answer that perhaps she should have thought out first. Searching memory and mind quickly, she said the first thing that came to mind when she thought of her situation. "Caeleb," She said. She did not know these people, or their true intentions. She could not trust them with her name just yet.

"Caeleb," Éomer repeated, with a civil nod in approval. "When we found you, lass, you were armed with sword and sheath. It is only presumed that you are some sort of Shieldmaiden?"

Shieldmaiden? Niphrediel frowned, shaking her head, "Perhaps if I knew what a Shieldmaiden was, I would be able to give you an appropriate answer, my lord."

"Éomer, please," Éomer smiled very briefly, before continuing on, "Shieldmaiden….a woman who takes up arms in combat, setting aside the life of womanhood to move through the boundaries of the world of men."

Niphrediel slowly nodded. Shieldmaiden…. Interesting title. "Yes," She said, carefully and slowly, watching Éomer's expression very closely to spot any hint that perhaps she had not answered correctly. Thankfully, his face brightened ever so slightly, and so Niphrediel, also known now as a girl named Caeleb, knew she had given the right answer.

"We found you along our borders," Said Théodred, clear and blank, "Do you…remember what you were doing there? Where are you from?"

A silence fell upon the three at that question, and Niphrediel's hair hid the affects of them as her ears slowly reddened. What can I say? Niphrediel thought quickly, always finding some glitch in an idea someway or another. Deciding on something smart, she chose to take on Aragorn's Ranger-self's history.

"… Bree," Niphrediel said, trying to ignore the expressions of surprise on both the young men when she actually answered. Her hesitation had been so long that they doubted she would do so. At least using 'Strider' as her source of information, Niphrediel's lies would have no problems in terms of her remembering certain things.

"Bree?" Théodred's eyes widened, "That is indeed far from where you are today."

Éomer nodded with Théodred's words, his stare growing dark with concern as her brow wrinkled into a frown. "How did you come to be here, lass? As Théodred says, you are far from home."

Niphrediel decided on using no lies with this question. "I was brought here against my will," She began, her tone more strong now that she was speaking truth, of which was more comfortable for her. "I escaped the company of the man that took me from my home and ran in any direction hoping to perhaps find a place more populated then your land's endless leagues." Niphrediel thought it best to not speak of Herentur as an elf.

"Well then, it is indeed a great relief that Théodred and his scouts found you," Éomer said, letting out a breath while rubbing the back of his neck with a hand. He was indeed generally relieved.

"Indeed," Mumbled Théodred, unconsciously, under his breath.

Niphrediel slowly nodded, looking down at herself. The garment she wore were not from the waist down something she would want to prance about in front of two men, so she did not move out from the blankets.

Noticing her movements, Théodred quickly moved to speak. "Ah, do not worry," He said, "Your clothing has just been taken out to be washed."

Niphrediel slowly nodded, "Yes…that is excellent, but what am I supposed to wear in the mean time?" Her dry humour seemed to be amusing to the Rohirric prince. He laughed, the sound thick and soothing, and most of all: addictive. Niphrediel felt herself lightly grin at his response.

Éomer have a brief 'hmm', but did not seem to dwell too long on any complications. "You are very close of frame to my own sister," He said, with a shrug, "You could perhaps wear one of her own dresses until your own can be provided."

"Terrific idea, cousin," smiled Théodred, moving over and patting his older relative's shoulder.

"I shall be off to get one," Éomer smiled to his cousin, but spoke to both he and Niphrediel. "Caeleb, you can just wait in here. Théodred"—

"I will just run along," Théodred grinned, finishing Éomer's sentence with a hint of sarcasm. Bowing his head to Niphrediel, Théodred slowly began to walk backwards towards the doors on a sidewall. "Farewell, Caeleb," He said casually, before turning and walking through the doors, his presence quickly just a memory.

"I shall send someone with a suitable dress," Éomer said slowly, following his cousin out and closing the doors behind him. Now, Niphrediel was truly alone.

Sitting up on the bed, Niphrediel took her time to absorb all that had happened to her. She was robbed from the Lady Galadriel's net, and then had murdered her kidnapper. Collapsing in her exhaustion after travelling blindly on foot, she had been brought to Rohan…What on earth? Did she have nine lives like a cat?! Boy oh boy was her luck immense.

"Oh Valar," Niphrediel let out, bringing her hands to her forehead as she felt her stomach flip. What was she to do? Niphrediel quickly stumbled out of the folds of the heavy blankets. After tripping over her own feet and falling down onto her behind on the floor, Niphrediel made a mental note to take it more easy. Her strength had not fully returned……obviously.

Slowly standing back up, Niphrediel took a moment before heading anywhere when she felt her legs sway on the spot. Eventually though, she slowly moved through the room, inspecting everything with her eyes, but not hands.

"Rohan….." Niphrediel slowly let the word roll off her tongue before sighing. How was she supposed to go back?

Niphrediel cursed herself when she got a shock when she heard the sound of the door knocking. Bringing her hand to her chest for a moment while letting out a deep breath, she moved over to the doors and opened one of them, poking her head out the gap to inspect the person on the other side.

The woman on the other side of the door slowly nodded, a fair-haired brow rising. "Hello?" She said slowly, gripping the folded dress under her arm.

Niphrediel's train of thought temporarily unfocused. This maiden was lovely. One of the fairest of the fair, in Niphrediel's humble opinion, but fair in a cold, untouched way. Soft, pale hair cascaded in waves about her shoulders and the dress she wore was blue with a belt of silver and gold. Her face was pale, with features strong, yet gentle in its shape. Her beauty was one of strength and pallor, of which was the most eye-catching to someone such as Niphrediel.

Mortal nobility in its very word, the woman waited in comfortable silence as Niphrediel nodded to her a shy greeting. "My name is Éowyn," She said. "I believe you have met my brother already. Éomer is his name."

Niphrediel nodded, "Aye, that I have. My name is N—Caeleb."

Éowyn smiled, "Caeleb? A fair name. It suites you well." She was not saying these words to flatter Niphrediel, but nonetheless Nieninquë was happy her fake name was unbelievable for her character.

"Éomer said you were a Shieldmaiden of sorts?" Éowyn said slowly, sharp eyes of blue connecting with Niphrediel's own. "Rohan has naught many Shieldmaidens at all, so it is an honour to meet another. From another land, also, to say the least."

Niphrediel could not help but smile. "Thankyou," She said, turning around to regard the room behind her. "Your home's hospitality is too kind."

Éowyn slowly nudged for Niphrediel to open the door. Rather preferring the company of a woman, Niphrediel had no problem at all with being willing to comply. Opening the door, and leaving it for Éowyn to close behind her when she entered, Niphrediel walked over to a stranger's bed and sat down upon it.

"This is Théodred's room," Éowyn said, "I am nothing short of surprised that he would allow another to use it, much less his own bed."

Remembering quickly who Théodred was, Niphrediel nodded. "He is not always so generous, then?"

Éowyn shook her head, "It is not that he is not generous, but rather he would give someone passage to the house of healing before considering the wounded sleep in his own bed."

Niphrediel nodded once more, Éowyn's point taken into short regard.

Éowyn stopped in the middle of unfolding the carried dress on a small table, looking at Niphrediel with a kind, but chilling stare. "I like you," She said. "I do not know you well, but your presence is soothing."

Niphrediel beamed, unable to keep the smile kept inside. "Thankyou," She said, "The same for you, save that your presence is more obvious then I imagine mine to be."

Éowyn slowly shrugged, a shroud of cold breeze appearing like a group of clouds across a blue sky. "Perhaps," She said. "I do not relish myself in many friends, but those very few I have are dear. I can very well envision your name one day counted among that short list. Why? I cannot say for certain, but you seem genuine enough to me."

Before Niphrediel could reply, Éowyn turned and gestured to the dress. "It is not a gorgeous thing, but it will do for now," She said, managing a small smile as she slowly moved back towards the door. Turning back, hand on the doorknob, Éowyn's brows slowly lifted. "When you are done, just move around til you find the armoury. Your sword is kept there, and so I expect you will most likely want it back," and then, with her final words spoken, Éowyn left the room with Niphrediel quietly standing inside it.

Taking the Shieldmaiden's words to heart, Niphrediel moved over to the dress and held it up before her to take a quick inspection. It was made of simple materials, of that Niphrediel was certain. It seemed to have two layers; a white underdress made of cloth and a brown overdress made of a material Niphrediel thought to be quite close to thick wool.

Éowyn was right, it was not a gorgeous thing, but Niphrediel was impartial. Niphrediel doubted that she would let a stranger wear one of her more glamorous dresses if it was asked of her, so she really did not mind. Éowyn was generous enough to clothe her, and Niphrediel was thankful.

Niphrediel found her boots that had been thrown into a corner and quickly put them on, relishing in the feel of something familiar worn on her body.

After quickly brushing her hair self-consciously with her fingers, Niphrediel quickly made her way out of the room into a long, empty hall. Niphrediel's brows rose as she took a moment or two to regard the hall with a quick examination before moving on.

The hall was larger then she thought, but Niphrediel was not in too much of a rush. She was only mildly aware that her hand grasped the width of her whistle as she made her way through into a large hall. Surprised at the stature of this 'complex' she stood in, Niphrediel looked up to the wooden panels on the ceiling before she heard the familiar sound of steel against steel.

Turning her head, her eyes rested upon the form of Éomer's cousin. Niphrediel thought for a short moment…. If Éowyn and Éomer were brother and sister, that also meant that Théodred was Éowyn's cousin as well. Wow, Niphrediel. You used your brain!

Théodred held Alagos in his hands, looking down at its blade that he had pulled out from its sheath about to its halfway point. He was staring at the elvish dialect written right down the centre of the sword to its deadly point, of that Niphrediel was quite positive. By his transfixed expression, Niphrediel guessed that Elvish was not spoken in Rohan. She could have been wrong, but she doubted it.

"Its beautiful."

Niphrediel nearly jolted when the sound of the young man's voice echoed through the hall to meet her ears. She cursed herself under her breath, her ears lightly turning pink under the layers of tendrils that covered them and fell to spill over her shoulders.

Though Théodred's words were not directed anywhere in particular, Niphrediel knew they were for her.

"Thankyou."

Théodred glanced at her lightly, letting the sword slip back into the embrace of its black sheath. "It is elven made," He said, in a mixture of curiosity, suspicion and something else Niphrediel could not foretell.

"Yes," Niphrediel began, carefully. "I spent many a-year under the roof of the Elvenhome of Imladris," She said, once more choosing to speak truth. "The sword was given to me by….ah…" Niphrediel suddenly stopped, hurryingly searching her mind for a reasonably end to her sentence. Her ability to lie was atrocious.

"Ah?" Théodred grinned, his dark brows rising, "Interesting name, indeed."

Niphrediel smiled, but carried on quickly. "The sword was given to me by my father," she blurted out, without thinking. Afterwards she scorned herself, but Théodred took her answer with a calm nod. Niphrediel scorned herself again. Why did she have to try so hard? Grrr!

"A fair weapon," Théodred commented, not meaning to flatter. "A man's weapon also, some may say."

The grin on Théodred's face was probably all that prevented Niphrediel's eyes from shifting into a glare, for it showed that his words had not been for her to take literally. She lowered her head slightly, letting out a quiet chuckle. With a shrug of her shoulders, she said nothing.

"Are you sure you know how to handle it?" Théodred continued on, his grin never seising to wane. Like an endless night or day, it was constant and warm.

Niphrediel slowly opened her mouth to reply, the slightest hint of a smile appearing on the outer edges of her mouth. "I"—

"Théodred, do tell. Who—oh who!—is this mysterious woman before us?"

And from the ashes slithered a snake; were the words that came to Niphrediel's mind when she turned to look at the person of who had last spoken. It was hard for her to keep from grimacing. The man, if he were indeed just that, stood with hunched shoulders and sickening pasty skin. His eyes were round and beady, the colour of them pale and lifeless. His hair, oily and black, was swept back, and on his stooped body was worn robes of the same colour.

Indeed, his image could have driven the lightest of heart to vomit at its vile display, and Niphrediel slowly noticed that from his entry, a shadow descended upon the hall with him. Niphrediel could almost smell the tension between the vile man, and Théodred.

"Caeleb," Answered Théodred, after much hesitation; in his voice an obvious hint of automatic protectiveness that Niphrediel felt comforting indeed. She did not want to seem alone in front of this…. man? "Of Bree."

The sickly grey eyes of the stranger narrowed onto Niphrediel's face and she felt its scorching intensity positively repulsive. It took all her willpower to not take a step back, to perhaps build just a little more distance between the man and herself.

"Caeleb," Théodred continued, gesturing to her with a hand, "This is Gríma, a counsellor to my father."

"Caeleb," Gríma repeated under his breath, the way the name rolling of his tongue making Niphrediel bite her lip to keep from wavering on her feet.

Niphrediel nodded quickly, by means that perhaps the sooner the introduction was over, the sooner Gríma would leave. Scorning herself, Niphrediel felt horrible for her thoughts. She did not know this man…perhaps his beauty was not in the skin, but in the heart underneath it. Though, judging by the way Théodred, of whom Niphrediel was certain was quite a good-hearted man, looked at him, Niphrediel doubted Gríma's authenticity.

The venom in Théodred's stare did not soften, nor would it ever. His jaw slightly tightened as he waited patiently for the humanoid beast to make his observation and leave, but his patience began to wane very quickly when he found the way Gríma was peering into the girl's face quite alarming.

If Théodred were not so shyly spoken, he would think himself almost jealous…

Opening his mouth to speak, Théodred was cut off by Gríma's own voice.

"That's a lovely…scar you have there," Gríma said softly, moving his eyes from Niphrediel's jaw to Niphrediel's eyes. Oh, how he could practically smell his own intrigue, let alone his ever-building curiosity that he could not help but show in the tone of his droning voice.

Niphrediel's hand automatically flew to her jaw, rubbing the rougher skin there for a moment as she considered a reply. "Thank you…I think," She said, looking to Théodred as if asking for help.

"You say you come from Bree?" Gríma said, without any hesitation to prolong his light pry. He had to wallow down the images of strapping the girl down to a table and forcing out every single little secret the youth had ever kept with the use of his own enjoyable torture techniques.

Niphrediel nodded, "Aye."

Gríma smirked. A young mortal youth, with hair black in colour and eyes of blue, a tiny scar on her jaw, Gríma almost let out a cackle. Oh, Saerion…you clever, clever elf.

"Do you not have business to attend to, Gríma?" Théodred barked, a brow high. Niphrediel could see that the Rohirrim prince seemed to grip her sword a little too tightly.

Gríma grinned at Théodred's annoyance, with his own amusement. His expression was the depiction of content as he slowly nodded. "Yes….yes, I do," He said, before turning back to look at Niphrediel once more, his stare much less polite as it lingered in certain areas, without care or consideration to make it even a little less obvious.

"We will talk again, Caeleb," Said Gríma, before moving away to leave. But, just before walking through the opened doors, he turned back and smiled. "Sweet dreams."

And then, he was gone.

Niphrediel's eyes could not widen more. Now, she knew! Herentur—

"He is such a vile creature," Théodred mumbled, his words cutting off Niphrediel's train of thought. Suddenly, his eyes grew misty and lowered to the floor. "All can see that…except my father."

Théodred abruptly turned, so that Niphrediel could only see his back.

"Where is your own father, Caeleb? I would hate to imagine the worry he must have to find his prized daughter missing," Théodred said, a sadness in his voice that conveyed for Niphrediel that his heart was not at peace, but in pain.

"My father is dead," Niphrediel said, her tone remaining casual as to not ask for anyone's pity. Once again, she did not lie. She did not want to lie. It did not make it easier that she was beginning to like Théodred. He seemed of terrific character from what she had seen so far.

"He died a long time ago," Niphrediel smiled, ere Théodred turned around to say an apology.

Théodred nodded, an apologetic smile curving his lips. "And your mother?"

This was not such a casual topic, but nonetheless Niphrediel was fine. "She followed him some years ago."

Théodred frowned, his dark in concern and absolute worry. Niphrediel was totally taken back at his ability to take other people's problems upon himself.

"No brothers? Sisters? Cousins? Uncles? Aunts? Grandparents, perhaps?" Théodred pressed.

Niphrediel hesitated before shaking her head. "Nay." Her answer made Théodred seem stung, and Niphrediel could only watch. It could have almost been if he was the one she was speaking of, rather then herself. But, then again, Niphrediel did have a brother so she was not totally alone, but Théodred did not know that.

Théodred frowned, "No family at all?"—

"That just means we shall have to try and substitute, Théodred."

Niphrediel turned with a smile to see Éowyn standing at the door.

Théodred smiled at the presence of his cousin, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Oh, Éowyn!" He exclaimed, in mock-seriousness. "Behold Caeleb, my voice of reason has arrived!"

Niphrediel just stared. The love of this small family was overcoming. The presence of having two or the entire three together made each one of them better people.

Éowyn seemed accustomed to Théodred's humour, for she just brushed him off with a wave of her hand. "Well some one must give you reason, Théodred. You have none without them." Her words were spoken without any hint of sarcasm or irony, but Théodred knew his cousin well enough to understand which words she spoke were false or true, forced or no, serious or sarcastic.

Théodred laughed, and Niphrediel just smiled.

"Where is Éomer?" Théodred asked, his laughter now only memory.

Éowyn raised a brow. "Where he always is," She said, and though Niphrediel had no idea to where she was referring to, both Éowyn and Théodred did.

"Aye, silly me," Théodred smiled, shaking his head. "I should have known that."

Éowyn's brow remained arced, as she looked from Théodred, to Alagos, and then to Niphrediel. "Does something distract you from your memory?" She asked, her stare upon her cousin a sly, unreadable one ere it left Niphrediel's face.

Théodred lowered his head to hide his small smile, catching Éowyn's hidden meaning Niphrediel did not rightfully hear. "The same thing that robs me of my eyes, cousin," He said, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in slight nervousness.

Niphrediel raised a brow, but remained quiet. She was almost positive that they had been talking about her, but she could not have been certain. The same thing that robs me of my eyes? Niphrediel repeated the words again and again in her head, and yet there seemed to not make sense that Théodred had been referring to her.

Niphrediel was not fair enough to be referred to so… favourably. For one, she was usually surrounded by elves so, of course, she was not becoming in the eyes of an Immortal. Two, she was too young for romance in any case… Three, the way she looked…well…

Men seemed to like women full, curvaceous, with tiny waists like an hourglass. Niphrediel's body, alas, was pretty straight. Yes, like most other young women, she had a curve at the waist and hip, but she was probably too lean for the shape to be truly noticed. She was tall, yes, so like any other tall person, she was bound to have long limps, but still that was sometimes not satisfactory for young men who liked to feel like the protectors of their woman friends. The last, and probably most embarrassing, aspect of Niphrediel's body was her bust. Due to her lean, rather then full, physique, her breasts were just small of ideal. Ideal in Niphrediel's eyes anyway.

Unknowing of her exact age, Niphrediel was still complex about the fact when she would notice sometimes that she was still growing and her body still changing. A year before last she was an entire head shorter then what she was now. The questions did not seem to stop.

Éowyn smiled briefly at Théodred, before shaking her head. "Caeleb?" She said, turning to Niphrediel. "Will you be staying with us for some time?"

Niphrediel thought for a moment before nodding slowly, "If I am welcome to, yes," She said. Niphrediel could not just get up and walk away. She needed to prepare. Get her things together to be sure that her journey would not be a perilous one.

"Of course you are welcome," Théodred said, very quickly.

Niphrediel shrugged, "Then I shall stay until I am more prepared to head off home." By all means, Niphrediel was so grateful. She failed to imagine what could have been happening to her if someone else had found her.

"Terrific," Said Éowyn, her eyes twinkling in a smile her face could not express. "Have you ever been to Rohan, Caeleb?"

Niphrediel shook her head. "No…never."

"Grand," Éowyn said, her smile growing such that Niphrediel doubted a sunrise could be fairer.

"Take her for a look around, cousin," Smiled Théodred, putting Alagos back down in a thickly walled chest. Turning back to both young women, Théodred lightly shrugged under his black and dark red tunic. "I will go to my duties and meet you after."

Éowyn nodded, with a sly grin. "Try not to hurry too much, Théodred," She said, "We will be moving slowly, there will be no need."

Théodred raised a dark brow, "What makes you think I would do that, oh dear cousin of mine?"

Éowyn let out a quick laugh, "I know you too well, alas."

Théodred shrugged again, his smile like a constant star. "I will try," He said, before beginning to walk away. "Take care, Caeleb," He said, before passing his cousin and turning into the hall.

Niphrediel gave a short wave, before Théodred left, the absence of his presence making the room seem much more quiet.

Éowyn watched her cousin leave, before turning back to Niphrediel. "Come," She said, giving a wave before leading Niphrediel out of the hall and through into another corridor

"A great many of us are a generation of orphans," Éowyn mumbled quietly in front of Niphrediel, as she turned into another corridor.

Niphrediel continued to follow, her brows now high. "Really?"

"Aye," Éowyn said. "The children pay for their parent's errors."

"Errors?"

"Well…." Éowyn sighed, "That is what some like to call it."

Niphrediel nodded, as Éowyn lead her through a large, golden hall from a door on its left side. Looking around quickly, Niphrediel noticed the pillars on each side of the hall, and the large chair at the end. Niphrediel could imagine a king sitting on that throne, but turned away when Éowyn quickly opened the doors that lead outside.

The light of the day was not too bright, to Niphrediel's delight. The breeze was strong, and rather comforting as it stroked Niphrediel's face as she made her way onto the stone stair that overlooked the entire city.

Niphrediel stood beside Éowyn for a long time, as if in a trance. The townspeople did what they wished, seen inside their homes and out. Fair-haired children played under the watch of their mothers on a large road that twisted down the mountain that Edoras was built around to another block of streets and houses at the foot.

"Come," Éowyn said, after their long silence, before beginning to lead Niphrediel down the stairs and through onto the street.

Niphrediel stuck close to Éowyn as they walked, glancing at people as they stopped to watch them move passed. They stared at Niphrediel strangely, with curiosity and weariness. Niphrediel could only give a small smile and keep on moving, not letting herself be too affected with being the outcast.

"Where are we going?" Niphrediel asked, letting out a breath while speaking the words.

Éowyn made no reaction to her question, but eventually answered. "The orphanage," She said. "It is seldom the children there are visited. By someone from another land, no less."

Éowyn looked over a shoulder at Niphrediel, "Unless, of course, you do not want to go"—

"No! I think that is a good idea," Niphrediel nodded, "It will be a joy to bring a touch of happiness to children much like I was."

Éowyn nodded, her relief unnoticeable as she continued on her way. After passing only a few large houses, Éowyn pointed to the next one. "This is it," She said.

Niphrediel nodded, looked up at the board above the door.It was initially difficult to read the words written on it, but with some luck, she eventually did.

Éowyn walked to its lebethron door and opened it. Looking back behind her at Niphrediel, Éowyn simply gave a nod of her head before walking inside.

Niphrediel grabbed onto the door a moment before it could close, and quickly walked through it. The smell of home cooking slapped Niphrediel on the cheek as soon as she took a step inside. Hmm…sweet smelling chicken with piping hot potatoes…or maybe syrupy tomato soup with some kind of beef stew.

Boy oh boy, Niphrediel was getting hungry.

The first rooms of the Edoras homes seemed to have a certain pattern. A small or large hall at the front with the bedrooms built around it. Niphrediel thought the concept quite clever.

The room was full with about thirteen children, most about five or so. Every piece of furniture looked old and worn, but cosily so. The air inside was cool and sweet smelling, the scent of all the things that make a happy home.

The children were all lying down on a huge, thick rug at the back of the room, with blankets and pillows shared evenly between each one. It was probably their naptime or something.

Somehow, children look so much more beautiful when they are sleeping. 'Serenity in its most beautiful form', was how Gilraen used to describe that emotion she used to feel when watching Niphrediel sleep when she was a baby. Niphrediel missed those days…

Some children who not yet totally asleep, but heading in that direction, looked up at Niphrediel with heavy eyes and blank expression. Even though they were half-asleep, Niphrediel could tell that they were rather taken back by the way she looked.

Niphrediel was quite perplexed. Was it the hair? Surely, it must be…. right?

"My lady Éowyn," said a kind, healthily rounded woman to Éowyn's left.

She was perhaps in her late thirties, early forties, and the wrinkles on her face conveying years of laughter and happiness, or perhaps years of pain, or maybe both. Her hair was beginning to mingle with grey, and her eyes shone a dark mixture of green and blue. Short she was, the top of her head coming up in line in the middle between Niphrediel's shoulder and elbow, but nonetheless not without physical power.

Éowyn gave the woman a bow of her head. "Raewyn," She smiled, "How do you fare today?"

Raewyn shrugged, wiping her hands on the apron wrapped about her waist like an overskirt. "Tiresome," She smiled, nodding to the sleeping children, "But, then again, it is always so. What brings you here this afternoon?"

Éowyn let out a short sigh. "Just a visit," She replied, her hands clasping together at her front as she turned to include Niphrediel. "Raewyn, this is a friend, Caeleb, of Bree. Caeleb, this is Raewyn, the matron."

Raewyn and Niphrediel nodded to each other and smiled in unison.

"How have things been?" Éowyn asked curiously after a brief silence, crossing her arms.

Raewyn shrugged again. "Normal, I suppose," She began, "Two more lass's have come looking to help out with the children as of late. Their contribution has made things so much easier the past week. The more hands we have, the better."

"This is Eadren and Rowena you speak of?"

Raewyn nodded, "Aye."

Éowyn seemed pleased. "Aye, that is good news. Unlike other things I have heard as of late. That is indeed a sunset to a cloudy day."

Raewyn smiled sympathetically, patting Éowyn on the back with her soft stare. "There are many cloudy days in a season," Raewyn said, "But a season always changes into another."

"That it does."

Raewyn smiled again, but it slowly dwindled when the loud cries of a child from another room were heard. Raewyn sighed and shook her head.

Éowyn's brows rose. "Rivanon still causing trouble?"

Raewyn nodded, whipping her brow with a hand.

Niphrediel frowned, her nostrils beginning to sting. Her sense of smell, like Aragorn's, had always been very, very acute. So….that would mean…. "Is something on fire?" Niphrediel asked, turning to the bedchamber door where the smell came from. Strangely, it was also where the child's screams where coming from.

Raewyn frowned, and went to answer, but not before Niphrediel quickly took it upon herself and moved quickly to the side door and opened it.

Niphrediel's eyes widened in horror.

One of Raewyn's assistants, either Rowena or Eadren perhaps, of whom must have been watching the child inside, looked as if she had passed out some time ago on the bed at the end of the bedchamber. A well-built crib, positioned by the far circular window was undoubtedly where the child was crying. But that was not what horrified Niphrediel. What did was the fire that was quickly creping further and further up the wooden piece of furniture.

Niphrediel could hear Raewyn scream behind her.

"Water!" Niphrediel yelled to Éowyn, who quickly nodded and moved off, while Niphrediel hastily made her way over to the cot.

The child inside it lay on its back, the fire and hot smoke underneath seeping into its little back. It screamed; eyes squinted as hot tears poured from them. 'What is happing?!' would be what the babe must have been thinking. It did not know what was happening. All it knew was that the pain hurt, and he wanted it to be stopped.

Niphrediel did not give a moments hesitation before bringing her hands down to pick the child up. As the flames hugging the cot licked Nieninquë's hands, Niphrediel let out a cry, but her movements gave had neither pause nor stop at any given time.

Niphrediel lifted the child up, careful to keep her hands onto on the sides of the babe's body, under the young one's armpits, in the means as to not disturb the fresh burn the clothed the child's left shoulder blade.

As Niphrediel moved the child away, Éowyn came into the room with Raewyn and four of the more older children of the orphanage with large buckets of water in their hands. Alas, Niphrediel did not even think of the fire as she searched for a place to lay the child down.

When she spotted a flat bed-like bench, Niphrediel moved to the side of the room where it was situated. Niphrediel assumed the piece of furniture was probably used to change the baby's diapers and such, as she lay the child down upon its stomach on the sheeted surface of it. Her eyes watered in the graveness of what she was doing as her hands moved over the back of the gown the babe wore.

Her eyes lingered over the weeping flesh of the baby's shoulder blade as she ripped the material that the fire had not yet beseeched, and threw it over her shoulder when she had firmly taken it off him. Aye, now that Niphrediel could tell a little clearly, the child was indeed a boy.

Niphrediel turned around, frantically looking to one of the children as she walked up to the cot to throw another bucket of water onto it. Niphrediel had not even thought to regard the soaking remains of the cot, but she could tell it was well put out.

"You!" Niphrediel pointed, her voice's sudden authority immediately making the girl turn.

Niphrediel desperately waved her over, her obvious desperation making the girl's nervousness all the more evident. "Bring me your bucket!" Niphrediel ordered.

The girl nodded and rushed over to Niphrediel's side, the bucked held by both left and right hand.

"Is the water cold?" Niphrediel asked quickly, not really caring wether it was or not, as she took the handle of the bucket with one hand and lifted it up by the bottom with her other.

"Iced," was the girl's reply, as Éowyn moved her back.

Éowyn's expression was blank as her eyes looked over the boy's body. Shock was swallowed down as Éowyn quickly turned to Niphrediel, "What can I do?" She asked.

Niphrediel did not immediately answer, as she began to pour the cold water over the baby's welting pink back. "Do the Rohirrim carry a weed called Yarrow?" Niphrediel asked Éowyn as she calmly dowsed the infant's shoulder blade.

Éowyn frowned, bringing her hand to her brow as she began to search her memory. "Yes," She said, after her short pause, "It's uncommon, but Raewyn should have some, at least in powder form. Would that be acceptable?"

Niphrediel nodded. "That would be perfect," She said, as the water buckled at the halfway point.

Éowyn moved off, as Raewyn crouched beside her apprentice, waking her up with rough shakes. Niphrediel glanced the Rohirrim women's direction for a mere moment before turning back to the baby. She paused a couple times, to move the boy's head from the growing puddle of water. His throat sounded like it had been shot from all his crying, but still the infant continued to do so.

Who ever thought that watching the junior apprentices in Imladris would have been such a blessing, let alone the chores of having to learn a little of herb lore long ago as a child while Estel controlled the subjects of her schooling. Still, Niphrediel had only a mild idea of what she was doing. Watching someone treat such a burn would have been more complementary then reading about it.

"Here, Caeleb," Said Éowyn, as she placed a bowl of the regarded powder down upon the bench. "I knew not that you were a healer," She said, taking a step forward.

Niphrediel put the bucket down on the other side of the bench, dipping her hands in the remanding amount of water at the bottom. "I am not a healer," She said, as she began to mix the bowl's contents, the dampness of her hands making the powder turn almost clay-form as it did.

"Then where did you learn these things?" Éowyn asked, her brow itching to rise.

Taking a handful of the mixed ingredients, Niphrediel began applying it to the pink flesh of the child's back. At first the impact of something against such a sensitive area was met with the sounds of the child's cries, but as the herb began to sooth and calm the pain, the cries did not last long.

Layer after layer, Niphrediel applied the thick ointment til there was no more in the bowl. "My…ah...father," Niphrediel answered, rinsing her hands in the water of the bucket afterwards.

"Rowena! How could you have been so foolish?!" It was hard not to hear Raewyn's exclamation from the bed.

"Forgive me, mistress. I must have passed out! Please believe I would not have done anything with the knowledge that it would, in any way, hurt Rivanon!" Rowena cried.

Niphrediel shook her head, her action making the conversation behind her muffle as her attention shifted elsewhere. Without having to even ask, Éowyn handed a long piece of cloth, most definitely a sheet. Niphrediel tore a large line of it, and wrapped the long piece over and around the boy, as to cover the entire skin of his back but leave his arms out to be able to allow him to move them.

Niphrediel let out a breath when she was done, and lifted the boy into Raewyn's arms.

Raewyn held the child in her motherly arms, and brushed back tears. Looking up at Niphrediel with reddened eyes, Raewyn shook her head, her gesture oblivious. There was nothing she could say to express her gratitude either way. "Hath you a place to stay, Caeleb?" She asked.

Niphrediel thought of a reply. 'Well, kind of. In your prince's bed.' Perhaps that actual truth could be spent for just a moment. "Uh, no, actually."

Raewyn nodded, taking her answer into regard as she brought a hand up to wipe a tear away. "Well, you are always welcome here," She said quietly, her voice seeming to just cut off as she tried to speak.

Niphrediel beamed and nodded, turning to Éowyn behind her who gave a warm stare in place of a smile to her in response. She smiles not to you, Niphrediel. She smiles to Caeleb, the girl from Bree. Niphrediel turned back to Raewyn, her thoughts suddenly less mirthless.

"Thankyou," Niphrediel said, her tone almost shy, "If you have no room, then that will be understandable. You do not have"—

"I know I do not have to," Raewyn interrupted subtly, as the child in her hands began to reach out to Niphrediel, its blue eyes upon the dark-haired maiden's face with an expression close to fascination. When Raewyn finally noticed, she noted that it was only the expression that rather 'outspoken' child wore when watching the Riddermark horses trot passed.

Raewyn jiggled the boy in her arms before looking back to Niphrediel, "I will be able to house you at least for a week. If you need to remain for longer still, that should not be a problem."

Niphrediel's eyes widened, "Really?"

Raewyn nodded, "Of course. You may have to help with the children, but I do not think that will be much of a problem for you."

Niphrediel shrugged, rather flabbergasted. "Ah, very well then."

Éowyn nodded at Niphrediel's side, "Aye, shall you be able to have things ready for Niphrediel in a couple days, Raewyn?"

Raewyn smiled at Éowyn, the wryness of her mouth making her answer rather obvious. "Of course," She said, moving the baby's hands down as they tried to reach out to Niphrediel. Looking down at the babe, Raewyn sighed, "I think this one should sleep at least. I doubt there is anything else the busy healers in the Healing House could help with much more."

"Alas, that is too true." Éowyn sighed, taking hold of a small piece of Niphrediel's sleeve between two fingers and giving it a soft tug. "With your quest to attend to, I think both I and Caeleb should leave you both to your duty."

"Ai, that would be best," Niphrediel seconded, and Raewyn, also agreeing, lead the youths through the now living throng of children to the door.

"Éowyn?" Niphrediel frowned, leaning against the back of the door as Éowyn began to move on. At her call, Éowyn doubled back, her hair swaying like pale gold as she did.

"Why are there so many orphans?" Niphrediel asked.

Then, there was a long silence. Éowyn's stare lowered down, and in that moment Niphrediel saw the lightest smudge of swallowed pain. For long still, the silence remained, and it was only brought to an end by Éowyn's footsteps as she began to move away, back to what Niphrediel guessed was the home of the 'royal family' of this quiet city.

Niphrediel supposed, with thanks, that their walk was brought to an end, and thus followed Éowyn back to the Golden Hall of Meduseld. There they talked 'til the day was utterly spent, and the time of day faded to sundown.

Later in the evening, inside the walls of the dining chamber, Niphrediel was invited to dine with the tight-knitted family of sorts. Though it was almost unbearable to be seated opposite Gríma, Théodred's quiet exchanges with her took her mind off it. Niphrediel also met the gorgeous girl Rowena, and Théodred and Éomer's good friend Bowdyn. Alas, Niphrediel had no opportunity to say hello to the fellow for his time was mostly spent flirting sweetly with Rowena whilst sipping his broth. It was quite a surprise when Niphrediel, or Caeleb rather, found out that it was the first time they had met.

After being healthily feed, and after the exit of King Théoden, escorted by Gríma, the conversation lighted ever so slightly. Niphrediel tried not to not seem perplexed at the way the King looked…. his body was old and skin flaked; as if he were long dead but his mind did not know it. She could not help looking from Théodred to Théoden wondering…how?! She could never speak those things allowed…she noticed the small things Théodred would do to try and get his father to speak. They never seemed to work, and Niphrediel could see Théodred's shoulders sink in defeat every time. The sight itself was secretly heartbreaking.

It was long in the night when the group of young people began to feel the pressures of sleep, and Niphrediel was quite sure that after a mere one day of being in this place her social circle had grown somewhat. Alas, sooner rather then later, Niphrediel began to feel the pull of the thought of bed, and just like the rest of the young few, retired to bed.

Niphrediel was sent back into the prince's room, having been assured that Théodred was going to take homage on the floor of Éomer's chambers. There was quite a long discussion that took place before Niphrediel agreed to sleep there, for she could not help but feel horribly guilty.

Niphrediel's imagination was too tired to dream, so instead her mind was given the gift of temporary blankness. The sweet sensation of forgetting what would be her future perplexes was indeed a rare treat, so Niphrediel lapped it up in peace.

Niphrediel turned in the blankets onto her right side, the night in bloom and darkness such that she could see that outlines of objects in the room from the light given by the full moon shining through the window. Éowyn had given her a nightgown, so Niphrediel was clothed in the foreign clothing once again, of which she was grateful.

Niphrediel's eyelids began to stir, yet remained closed, and a short sigh left her words as her rest was anonymously disturbed. With one hand under the puffy white pillow that her head lay on, her other slowly moved under the pillow unused on the side.

As the creaking of wood accidentally spoiled the sound of ruffling blankets, Niphrediel's hand shot out from bellow the pillow, with the knife she held with it, in a rapid swing made to strike something that stood behind her. Niphrediel's eyes bolted open, widened in hurry and anger.

Before Niphrediel clearly saw the person standing over her with his dark shadow, his hand clasped onto her wrist before the blade in her hand had the chance of connecting with his flesh.

"Caeleb! Caeleb!" A voice hissed quickly, startled and anxious.

Niphrediel's grip on the knife loosened, and she felt its short hilt begin to dangle as her fingers numbed. "Théodred?!" She questioned fiercely, trying to hiss yet voice sounding more soft then what she would have preferred.

The convicted bent over her and nodded, and then brought under the light of the moon, Niphrediel could see it was indeed the silly youth.

Niphrediel gaped, eyes still wide though now depicting a much different set of emotions. Niphrediel shook her head, abolished, and pulled herself up onto her knees before quickly slapping Théodred on the back of his head. She cursed herself afterwards, of course, for her foolish reflex.

"What are you doing?" Niphrediel barked quietly, checking the door just in case their exchange had been louder then intended.

Théodred let go of Niphrediel's wrist to bring his hand to the back of his head as he stood silent for a moment, quite shocked at his subtle punishment, yet also biting his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing.

"Éomer's snores would disturb a deaf man's sleep," He said quickly, eyes wide as if to show his honesty. "I did not think I would disturb you." He glanced at his knife still limply held in Niphrediel's hand. "How"—

"I found it on your desk." Niphrediel pointed. "Just…. in case."

Théodred raised an eyebrow, "Right." He moved off and began to toy with a large, long banner that was hung about two metres left of the bed. He pulled the top down, and attached the latch on the end with a rope tied back against another wall to make something absurdly resemblant to a hammock.

Théodred whistled as he strolled to a cabinet on the other end of his room and pulled out a spare blanket and pillow, and made his way back to his sleeping place and threw the objects on it. "Go back to sleep," He said with a grin to Niphrediel, knowing fully well that she would not be able to get back to sleep for a while indeed.

Niphrediel lay back down on the pillows, though sat up a little more against them with the blanket tidily lined over her stomach. She sighed, rubbing sleep out of her eye as the content Rohirric fellow jumped on his hammock and looked up at the roof a little way at her side.

Niphrediel sighed in lightly shamed frustration and rolled onto her stomach, her bar arms bent with her hands in tiny fists on either sides of her head. Usually, she would have rolled onto her other side away from Théodred, but alas, this was her preferred side. If she was going to try and sleep, she would have to be as comfortable as possible, darn it!

Her little plan seemed to work, until she heard someone else laughing.

Niphrediel's eyes opened, her glare transfixed on the older boy who had his hand over his mouth as he looked at her. Her brow arced, as she lifted her head off the pillow. "What?" Did she have something in her hair?

Théodred shook his head, his laughter fading as he tried to speak. "It just looks strange to me."

Niphrediel frowned slightly. "What does?"

Théodred brought his fist over his stomach, perhaps trying to stop the source of his giggles. "Seeing a woman lying in my bed. It looks strange."

Niphrediel bit her lip to keep from laughing, as she rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at the prince's head. "Well, do not fear," Niphrediel grinned, settling her head back down against the pillow, still keeping eye contact as she spoke. "The woman Raewyn at the orphanage said I would be able to stay there when she prepares a place for me to sleep."

"Oh?"

Niphrediel nodded, yawning. "I helped with something, so she thought it would be a nice gesture to thank me," She said, shortening the facts in thorough modesty. "As long as I help with some things like Eadren and Rowena, I suppose."

"Ai, Rowena," Théodred mumbled, beginning to change topic. "I predict she shall be a bride within the year!" He declared with a boyish smile.

"Bowdyn?"

"Aye," Théodred nodded. "They will probably become engaged within the next two days."

Niphrediel could not help but show her surprise. "But had they not just met tonight?"

Théodred nodded again, letting the hammock swing gently like a crib to the music of an unheard lullaby. "Aye, they had. But engagements are made quickly nowadays about the topic of marriage."

Niphrediel's brow rose at that. "Why is that?"

Théodred shrugged, showing obviously that things about such a topic were not necessarily important to him. "Things have not been very fortunate with the Rohirrim's business with fiends riding through our lands." Théodred grinned wryly, "I must say you are probably the finest thing from distant lands that we have seen for a fair while."

Niphrediel would have laughed, but instead just smiled, remaining disturbed by the first part of Théodred's answer. And yet, with only a moment of silence and a sigh, Niphrediel let her questions on that subject go, and instead she chose something else to ponder on.

"What happens in a Rohirric wedding?" She asked curiously, brows high in earnest.

Théodred took a deep breath before beginning. "Well…" He began, "Most betrothals would have been made a couple months earlier, though that has been changed as of late, as I had said. Most weddings are planned by the bride and groom's weddings, or at least the ones I know of."

"On the day of the ceremony the bride and groom go to their desired place with their separate escorts and the bride is taken to a tent set aside for her. She is dressed and kept away from her groom who probably paces anxiously outside, no doubt! She usually wears treasures of her family to show her status, and the colours those of her family and clan, as well as the groom. The ceremonies are usually set in either the afternoon or the evening, when the groom and his and the bride's families have welcomed all their guests and such. A close male relative fetches the bride from the tent and take her to where the groom would be waiting by a sacred fire of sorts, usually.

"The bride and groom make their oath beside the fire with their hands on top of the hilt of the groom's sword. Then this sword is used for the ritual cutting of…" Théodred held up his arm to point at his hands and wrist, "to make the union of their blood. A ribbon's then woven around their wrists to join them, either by the bride or her mother…whatever. It's supposed to be lucky the longer bride and groom manage to keep the ribbon tying them together in place."

Niphrediel smiled, imagining watching the happenings as Théodred explained, ignoring the tone of his voice that confirmed that he did not think much of what he spoke of.

"After the feast, the couple are sent to their tent under rather humorous encourages," Théodred laughed.

Niphrediel laughed, too, even though she tried to stop herself from doing so. Taking in a breath, she idly decided she was going to have a Rohirric wedding if ever put in the choice.

"Will you?" Théodred asked, amused indeed.

Niphrediel made a quick 'huh'. Had she spoken aloud?

Théodred shrugged when Niphrediel did not answer, "An excellent choice. Weddings here are wonderful things." Maybe he did not think so lowly of them after all…

Niphrediel inwardly laughed. No, Niphrediel. You? Married? My dear, those two things just do not connect in even the lightest way.

Niphrediel and Théodred talked about many silly and serious things, until the sun rose and tinted the room in dreaded sunlight as they began to feel fitting to finally sleep. Laughing to each other that they would both finally be ready for the day at noon, Théodred made his last joke before both he and Niphrediel forced themselves to sleep.

After the third day of staying in Edoras, Niphrediel stopped counting. After another two days after that, Niphrediel's ideas of leaving began to dwindle as she found herself beginning to cling to the city and its people. Galadriel has her mirror, she thought, she knows where I am.

Niphrediel moved into the spare room of Raewyn's orphanage, her only task she had to deal with in return for board being to keep Rivanon happy, which was not a hard thing to do at all since she was the only person that the child actually liked.

Niphrediel's days were spent with Éowyn, of whom had made Niphrediel aware that she had a gift of making the Shieldmaiden smile, which seemed to be indeed a rare gift. She also spent time with Théodred and Éomer, keeping her distance from Gríma who chose to stare at her whenever they stood in the same room. What could Niphrediel say? The man made her skin crawl.

As Théodred had predicted, Bowdyn and Rowena were wedded secretly in no time, as were four other young couples. Indeed, the youth of Edoras seemed much enchanted with the idea of marriage, giving themselves no time to think the consequences out before diving headfirst into a life they may easily end up regretting.

Niphrediel smelt the change of season almost as much as she felt the change within. She was growing up. Being around these people who did not think her a child made her feel more of an adult, even if she was a young one. The common public treated her well, like a noble. Niphrediel just had to ignore the rumours that flew around about her and Théodred, and she could walk down the street most jovially.

Théodred…Niphrediel was a little confused on that subject. Strangely enough, he had become a close friend to her, as close, if not more, then Éowyn. He made her laugh, and treated her kindly with patience. He tested her intelligence and wit, and always seemed to be there to beckon her away when Gríma sought to start a conversation with her. Perhaps Niphrediel was oblivious to the stronger way Théodred felt about her, or perhaps she simply ignored it…

***

"This is where my forefather lie," Théodred pointed to the lands coaxed with the white flowers. "And where I will one day," He added, with a proud grin.

Niphrediel bent down and plucked a flower from the grass. Alfirin.

"Its called Simbelmynë." Théodred said beside her, seeing Niphrediel looking at the flower with an expression that he had thought of as confusion.

Niphrediel pretended to have not known that fact, and smiled at Théodred with a curt nod. She lowered herself onto her knees, looking about at the flowers before her. She breathed their scent in, laughing internally at whom she was reminded of when she did so. Legolas! Ha. Niphrediel's expression dulled as she tried to imagine what, perhaps, the elf was doing at that exact time. Was he doing well? Niphrediel hoped so.

Niphrediel inwardly sighed, looking up to Théodred who was staring at her with a rather daunting expression. She still had not gotten used to it, and rubbed her hands against the thigh of her gown as she did.

"What is it?" Niphrediel asked, biting back concern.

Théodred raised an eyebrow, almost in a suspicious way. "Will you marry me?" He asked.

Niphrediel dropped back onto her behind in instant shock. "Excuse me?" She exclaimed, rubbing her ears as if perhaps they had played a trick on her.

Théodred shrugged. "You heard," He said, simply.

Niphrediel's eyes widened all the more, her features so very shocked while Théodred remained coolly calm. "Are you…mad?" Niphrediel shook her head, making her hair tidily brushed about her shoulders sway.

Théodred grinned, letting out a short giggle. "I hope not," He said quietly, biting his bottom lip, which was the only indication that he was even the tiniest bit nervous.

Niphrediel shook her head. "No, you most definitely are," She blurted, waving her hand in the air as she spoke.

"Why?" Théodred laughed loudly, not seeming daunting in the least, which made the pit in Niphrediel's gut began to disappear as something bright filled it. How could it feel like excitement because of the way he was responding? Niphrediel was confused.

"Well…." Niphrediel shrugged expressively. "I don't know! You just are!" No, Niphrediel. He thinks you are someone you are not to begin with. Secondly, you are a child! What would Aragorn say when he found out?! The boy does not know your name! Your lineage! Besides, he is just your good friend….and….and he does not even know you…and you do not care for him that strongly. You have not even thought about him in such a manner once!

That was true. But, then, why did Niphrediel want to say yes? Foolish young girl.

No, Niphrediel. Do not taint this place more then you already have.

"Théodred," Niphrediel began, her mirth fading very quickly, "I….You….We….You do not know me!"

Théodred shrugged, walking to her, "I will."

Niphrediel shook her head furiously, "You do not even know my name." Niphrediel's heart skipped a beat in fear as she prepared herself for the harsh sting of rejection.

Théodred was then crouching down in front of her, and as the meaning of her words soaked into him, she watched his expression become blank. "Caeleb…."

Niphrediel shook her head, "Niphrediel."

Théodred frowned, his dark eyes shadowing. "Nif-fred-de-elle?…"

Niphrediel shrugged, not really caring of his pronunciation, "Niphrediel, daughter of Arathorn and Gilraen. I have an older brother named Aragorn…aiya…" Niphrediel cringed, and stopped speaking. There was nothing she could say.

"Why did you lie?" Théodred frowned.

Niphrediel sighed, shaking her head. "Once I started, I found I needed another lie after another to support my story and so on and so forth. Once I threw Caeleb out there…. I found I could not take her back."

Théodred sighed, rubbing the back of his hand against his brow. That was usually not a good sign. "Anything else?"

Niphrediel paused before shaking her head and lowering it as she leaned down the ground with her hands gripping the grass in front of her skirt.

"You are Gondorian?"

Niphrediel nodded, happy at least that she was not crying. She hated crying. It was so…. so stupid; so very weak and so very stupidly feminine.

Théodred's hands gripped the ends on her jaw as he made her look up whilst talking. Niphrediel watched his hands return to his sides a little too quickly. "You lied."

"I am sorry!" Niphrediel whispered with a surged nod.

Théodred smiled and shushed her, "Its all right, is all right! Stop changing the subject, now."

Niphrediel froze and stared at Théodred in bewilderment.

"I am not stupid," Théodred began, "I know your path will lead you away from me. I know you will end up leaving my home, wether it be for a week or a year. But I know I will be waiting here for you, and that if you promise yourself to me one day then you will come back to me sooner or later."

Niphrediel's lips parted as she listened so confused and yet with thoughts so strangely clear.

"I know you are young," Théodred assured, a certain amount of desperation as he tried to get his points through, "And I know that things like romantic relationships are things you are not acquainted with. Though I am no master in the same sense, I am patient. I would never, ever rush you. Lo! I would wait twenty years for one kiss on the check if you made me do so."

Niphrediel held back a laugh.

"Well?" Théodred pondered, brows high, hopeful.

Niphrediel decided to act unknowing. "Well what?"

"Will you marry me?"

Niphrediel looked suspiciously into the lad's eyes, as one would to test another for lies or truth. Then, not without thinking, and not without wryness, did she answer. "Very well," She said, cautiously, and strangely casually, with a shrug of her shoulders.

Niphrediel ignored her conscience, allowing her faux peace to come when she felt herself being held back with the same amount of intensity.

Théodred cheered loudly before running up to Niphrediel and picking her up into a tight embrace. Niphrediel did not laugh, but her smile was lit like a small, yet blazing, candle.

Théodred took that response joyously, and kissed Niphrediel's temple as he held on to her to keep himself from falling over. "I be with you til the end," He mumbled, almost as a reminder to himself of how long he was going to love her.

Niphrediel patted the back of Théodred's head. "Very well. Just remember my brother's consent is an essential." They laughed.

That night, the news was declared, and a very rare celebration took place. It was a night of music and temporary joy. But even that had to come to an end.

And, it did.

The next morning, Niphrediel had to wake up early to get Rivanon dressed and washed before meeting Éowyn on the balcony of the Golden Hall to watch Éomer, Théodred and many other Riders of the Riddermark as they rode away.

Niphrediel waved to the dark horse and his rider that seemed more hesitant to go, and lowered her arm only when Éomer's beckoning eventually lured Théodred away.

"Are you afraid?" Éowyn asked beside Niphrediel.

Niphrediel shifted Rivanon on her hip; her left arm around him and hand arced under the thigh of his leg against her stomach. "Not really," Niphrediel said, looking to the maiden beside her. "But ask me when I have to wait for someone to cut my hand or my wrist and we shall see."

Niphrediel held back her fear of what was going to happen as the land's of Rohan grew more restless. Niphrediel could not bite back this horrid feeling in the pit of her stomach, as if she were a mixture of sick and dirty. Niphrediel did not want to listen to her body. Its signals were not good ones, and that was what she needed.

Éowyn smiled, "I will."

Niphrediel nodded, and then both Éowyn and she walked away.



Note: Want some reasons for why things have happened? Here's some.

Vision? What the hell?? Well I always had that plot stir in this story in mind, but I didn't know exactly where to put it in. Then, with the creation of the Herentur/Saerion character, I thought of it as my chance to slot it in somewhere.

Why did I make Éowyn have such an automatic liking to Niphrediel? Well, I figure, Niphrediel's a lot like the (very) younger, happier version of Aragorn in a way, or at least an adaptation of a certain aspect of his mind at that stage. She's curious, naïve, intelligent, trust-worthy and genuine. Éowyn takes to Aragorn like a fish to water when she first meets him, and so, I figure, since Niphrediel's presence would not be much unlike his, Éowyn would very much take a liking to her in the same manner. Though, since Niphrediel is female and such, Éowyn's hopes of relationship with her would be only in friendship.

Oh! I'm –so- bummed I'm gonna have to cut bits and pieces out to get the story rolling, but I've got heaps to get out, with not too much room. Why mostly movie verse? It just makes it a little easier for both reader's and me, myself. Yes, I have read the books, but I mean that in a way that I would rather compete with Peter Jackson's 'interpretation' then Tolkien's for some way. Why is that? Because it makes me feel less guilty about changing the story to fit around our Neph! ^_^

Thanks for the reviews everyone! And thanks (NOT!) to my professors who have been giving me mountains of assignments lately because they're bitches: I hate you all, except the lovely Miss Jones. Oh! And while I'm acknowledging some people, I'd like to say thankyou to everyone that has reviewed, again! I'd list down all your names but I should upload this thing, yes?

R&R, Constructive Criticism, ya'know the deal.

AND: Our special group return in the next chapter. Aragorn! Legolas! Gimli! Hurray!