Chapter ten: Lament for Théodred

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Note: For OverCastDay.

Niphrediel slept a short sleep, after Rivanon had finally stopped crying. Foolish toothache, Niphrediel had thought, bones should have more consideration. The moment Niphrediel had been certain that the child was asleep; she practically sprinted for her room. In her hurry to sleep, she had stripped to her white shift and dumped herself on top of the bed.

The garden was bright. Green and lush, and untimely familiar. The ancient fountain had not changed; it was still overrun subtly with vines of flowers and moss. The grass was thick and soft under Niphrediel's bare feet, and the alfirins and niphredils were still borne from the soil in forest-like abundance.

Niphrediel parted her mouth, her eyes still searching around her in slight anxiety.

"Aragorn?" Niphrediel's voice echoed again and again, and her hands tightened into fists at her sides. "Legolas?"

Caeleb…

Niphrediel turned her head, the wind of which was suddenly picking up brushing against her cheek like an invisible finger. At first the voice sounded like the one of her mother, and yet as it echoed again and again through the garden, it lowered, to the tone of a male's. Niphrediel frowned. It was familiar.

"Mother?" Niphrediel called out, with a frown. Her face was wiped of its disturbed emotion, though, as she began to watch the greenery around her rot to black, dead plantation with abnormal speed. It was as if a wave of fire had took the air, taking everything in its bath.

Niphrediel's eyes widened somewhat, mouth parting as she watched in a daze between afraid and startled, and unbelieving.

Niphrediel…? Wake up…

Niphrediel cringed, feeling herself shaking…. feeling herself being shaken.

Awake, Niphrediel… Awake…

Niphrediel took a step back, her pupils dilating. "I'm asleep," She breathed, as everything became dark.

"Niphrediel?"

Niphrediel's raw eyes opened, the cold air of twilight making her eyes ache somewhat from the loss of her eyelids to keep the cold at bay.

The strange blur of darkness and shadows suddenly formed shapes, and bright blue eyes acted like a lamp as Niphrediel found them lit, almost directly above her.

Théodred leaned over her, dressed in a rather fresh-looking black and green ensemble. His hair was brushed, styled with casualty.

"What are you doing here?" Niphrediel asked, groggily, rubbing her reddening eyes. She coughed afterwards, to rid herself of the clump in her throat.

"I cannot wait," Théodred said, quietly, like a little boy ashamed of admitted to wanting an unfashionable toy in front of another.

Niphrediel frowned, lifting herself up from her bed and taking her hand away from her eyes. "Shouldn't you be with your party? They"—

"Shhh," Théodred cut her off, with a knowing, sweet smile. Still smiling, he quickly looked Niphrediel over, as one would to make sure another wore the correct clothing. His brow momentarily furred when he looked over the sleeveless shift Nieninquë was wearing. He touched her cold upper arm, shaking his head when it felt like he was touching ice.

"Come on," He whispered, changing the subject completely, and taking Niphrediel's hand with his own, already leading her off the bed before she even had time to agree.

Niphrediel let out a tiny groan, but allowed Théodred to drag her out. He was stronger then she was, anyway. She wanted sleep, but the sooner Théodred did whatever he seemed to want to do, the sooner he would return to the safety of his party.

Théodred led her out of the orphanage, and then quickly picked Niphrediel up to carry her over the harsh stone road that led them to the wheat fields. Niphrediel would have argued, if not for the fact that she was asleep against Théodred's shoulder for the entire time. Sooner, rather then later, as Théodred began crossing over fields, Niphrediel awoke once more and began to walk by herself.


"My brother's consent is essential!" Whined Niphrediel, as Théodred continued to pull her by hand.

Théodred looked over his shoulder, "Then we will just deny this happened if he declines our union. Besides, it is just for fun. For Closure!"

"For your closure, you mean."

"Precisely!"

The two youth's rose over a high field, creating clear silhouettes against the pre-risen sunlight behind them.

"You are sure I will not get in trouble?" Niphrediel asked, trying her hand at a little falsetto.

"We can always deny it!" Théodred looked back, chuckling, before leading both himself and Niphrediel to the field bellow.

"Théodred"—

"Shhh," hushed Théodred, "Look around you."

Niphrediel arced a brow, but did as asked, and looked around. The wheat grew high, almost to Niphrediel's hips, and there were ancient stumps of what may have been walls nearby that now had grape and berry vines growing over them.

As if on cue, the sun's red light began to taint the sky even more so, allowing Niphrediel to see all the more clearer.

"I used to come here when I was a boy," said Théodred, his voice quiet, just for her ears. "The walls were higher then," he pointed.

"Age does that," Niphrediel mumbled, absently, her voice just a clear indication of her insignificant thoughts.

"Age can only do so much," Théodred commented, and Niphrediel was not as much of an idiot as to not know he was not talking about the walls, but rather something more internal. Théodred looked around once more, his stare a smiling one at the small peach tree a couple metres to his left. "I always promised myself that I would be married here."

Niphrediel's head wiped back to Théodred, brows risen at the 'm' word.

"This is just a promise ceremony anyway. Like a marriage in a way except it can be done between friends both of opposite sex and no. It binds two people's spirits in loyalty and friendship, rather then love and matrimony," Théodred assured her, with a chuckle. "Do not worry! Your brother's consent we need, and so, one day, we shall obtain!"

Niphrediel was, by all means, relieved. She was not ready to be married in the near future, either way. Théodred must have known so, for he did not question it, nor say he could not wait until she was ready for that river to cross.

"Besides," Théodred locked her stare with his own, and shrugged. "I told you I could not wait for a binding of some sort," Niphrediel laughed quietly as he spoke on, "Yes, we do not have tents, or really anything for that matter…but…"

Niphrediel's eyebrows clotted together in a rather wry expression, "But…?"

"But, it should not matter!" Théodred declared, taking a step back and spreading his arms out like wings, his voice becoming loud and clear as if he just realised there was no one but them in the area. "There's our sacred fire!" He cheered, gesturing blindly to the sun, making Niphrediel laugh. "There is our living witness," He pointed to the peach tree. "And here is our ribbon," Théodred took a long line of fine, black, plaited human hair. Long it was, bound at both ends with leather bands.

Niphrediel's expression must have asked the question before her mouth had the chance to, for Théodred spoke once more. "My mothers hair," stated he, with a smile. "Oh! But I did not bring my sword with me! Curse me!" Théodred shouted, angry at himself, gripping the back of his neck a little too tightly.

"That is all right!" Niphrediel assured proudly, taking out Théodred's knife that she still kept at her side at night from its leather sheath in her shift's only pocket. "Here," She said, taking a step forward and giving Théodred the knife.

Shaking his head while looking down at the dagger, Théodred made a sound similar to 'hehe' in obvious excitement. "Very well then. It seems we have everything," He took a deep breath and took a step forward so there was less a metres distance between he and his bride.

He held out one hand holding the hilt of the large knife to Niphrediel, the blade pointing down. Niphrediel bit her lip to keep the butterflies down as she put her hand over his, which was given companionship by Théodred's other hand, and vice versa.

"I, Théodred, son of Théoden, King of Rohan, stand before…." Théodred glanced around him, his smile turning into a sheepish grin as he tilted his head low enough to place itself against Niphrediel's forehead. "Tree and country"—Niphrediel laughed—"to take this woman, the Lady Niphrediel, daughter of…..Arachorn?"—

"Arathorn," Niphrediel grinned.

"Arathorn!….and Gilpain?"—

"Gilraen," Niphrediel said with a bright smirk, kicking Théodred's shin in notice of his purposeful mistakes.

Théodred nodded, with a grin, without reaction to Niphrediel's small kick. "To be my awfully charming and abundantly obeying friend," Théodred winked smugly, his eyelashes brushing against Niphrediel's eyebrows as he did. "I swear on both heart and life to love her and stand by her in support til death……" Théodred stopped, suddenly disturbed.

Niphrediel's brow arced, but before she opened her mouth to speak, Théodred's voice cut her off.

"Til death, and beyond," Théodred said proudly, before adding, under his breath, "Death can only do so much."

Niphrediel smiled, and then coughed to clear her throat. "I, Niphrédiel, daughter of Arathorn, stand before tree and country to take this boy—I mean, man," Niphrediel poked her tongue out at Théodred, who simply chose to smile back at her, strangely amused. "Théodred, son of Théoden and"—

"Elfhild," Théodred said softly, knowing well that Niphrediel did not know his mother's name.

Niphrediel nodded, in quick appreciation, "Elfhild, to be my rottenly spoilt, incredibly demanding friend. I swear on both heart and liver," Théodred stifled a loud laugh, "to stand by him in support til death and beyond!"

Théodred cackled melodramatically, "Now, this is the tricky part," He whispered, taking Niphrediel's hands off knife and bringing its tip to the centre of his palm. Pressing it down, drawing blood almost immediately, Théodred finally stopped when just enough had gathered in a tiny puddle over his cut.

Niphrediel smiled, and snatched the knife off him, then did the same with her left hand. "Done," She said.

Théodred beamed, "Nearly done!" He said, before taking Niphrediel's hand in his, letting their blood mingle. Then, without a word, he slowly tied his mother's braid around their wrists, afterwards content to breath the fresh air of…promised life.

Sooner rather then later, Niphrediel talked Théodred into allowing her to lie down in the wheat. 'Better that or I just collapse' she said, of which made Théodred more alarmed then amused. Of course, Niphrediel had to wait for him to carve an inscription into the trunk of the peach tree. It was their witness, anyways.

Théodred, son of Théoden,

Promised to

Niphrediel, daughter Arathorn,

Upon the day of all days.

Niphrediel knew the last part was just made from Théodred's small attempt to make up for the fact that he had forgotten the date. It was an easy mistake, of course. Niphrediel did not even want to count how many days she had been in Rohan, instead of trying to return to Lothlorien.

Now, though, Niphrediel laid on her stomach, her arm laid diagonally over Théodred's chest and abdomen to where his hand was upon the grass beside his hip. Her head was placed on his shoulder, more out of comfort then affection. The wheat was slightly annoying once it began to get too attached to her hair.

"What if I was never ready to marry?" Niphrediel frowned, her eyelids growing heavy. "Or have an intimate relationship of any kind, for that matter?"

Théodred would have shrugged, "Then we will just have to be the bests of friends."

Niphrediel smiled and nodded, "You would not hate me?"

"Hate? You? I find myself quite incapable to imagining myself doing so," Théodred grinned. "Do not worry, Niphrediel. If you change your mind, I will not be hurt. I will understand, and support your decision. What kind of marriage would I have if you felt pressured to join with me in the first place?"

"True."

Théodred nodded with a smile, "Sleep."

It was only a moment before Niphrediel's eyes closed, and she began to waste away, leaving Théodred to watch from where he lounged back, wide-eyed.

He sighed, at peace. He could see her fading into sleep, and though he wished she were more awake to share in his celebrations, he was content either way. He felt like he could fly, or he had just drunken the most brilliant mead in existence. Happiness like his could not have been completely natural. That was just impossible.

He kissed Niphrediel's forehead, telling himself repeatedly not to do anything more, least without her consent and knowledge. Yet, he just could not help it. He leaned over and kissed her unmoving lips briefly, softly, not sure wether he wanted her to notice or not.

She did not move, her breathing was still slow. Niphrediel had not noticed.

Théodred was pleased either way, content to shut his eyes and just feel the tingles her lips gave him when his made contact with them. Ah well, he thought. I suppose she will never know about that one.

"My princess…" Théodred whispered, and then he was silent.


When Niphrediel awoke, she was lying in Théodred's much warmer bed bellow three layers of blankets. She slept alone, though. Théodred was not here, and Niphrediel knew he was no longer in Edoras for that matter.

Lifting her head from her pillow, Niphrediel could see that the only change made to her body was the silver ring on a finger of her left hand, with tiny rubies placed here and there amongst sapphires and one simple diamond in the centre.

It was old, even Niphrediel could tell, and it was both feminine and masculine.

Kissing it once, Niphrediel turned around and went back to sleep.


It had been a long morning, and midday had come with a blaze of sun and gust of breeze.

Niphrediel lay down on the hammock in her room in Raewyn's orphanage. She rested soundly, with Rivanon on his stomach on top of her, his head against her chest.Niphrediel's hand patting down his back as the hammock gently rocked in the warm sunlight, as she stared at the roof in her subtle daydreams.

Until she heard the sound of horses, which meant the company had returned!

"Théodred," Niphrediel mumbled, as if to remind herself. She slowly etched off the hammock and left Rivanon sleeping on her bed as she quietly slipped out.

Shutting the door behind her, Niphrediel walked out into the suddenly dimmed streets. Niphrediel looked at the battle-worn, dirty faces of the lifeless riders that rode pass and Niphrediel already knew something was wrong.

She griped her fine green skirts at her hip before she began to jog to the Golden Hall. Théodred….. Something was wrong. Something had gone wrong. Badly wrong. Théodred….

Niphrediel passed Hama as she pushed through the doors and headed through the hall and doors. She tried to ignore the sorrow in Hama's stare when he looked upon her before averting his eyes away afterwards. It spoke words she did not want to hear.

Niphrediel turned into Théodred's room, surprised when she saw that his door was open.

Éowyn and Éomer already inside that room glanced back at her from the bed, their eyes pained.

Niphrediel frowned, looked to the bed. "Éowyn?"

"Caeleb"—

Niphrediel waved Éowyn's away, walking to Théodred's bed. Niphrediel brought her hand over her mouth as she felt her eyes heat up and heart rip. She could feel Éowyn's arms around her as she bit back a grimace of affectionate touch.

Éomer's head lowered, his hand covering his eyes as he took a step back.

Niphrediel lowered her hand and took a step forward to the bed and kneeled down beside it. "Théodred?" She whispered, her eyes moving down from his face to his neck, then chest, and stomach. She cringed and shook her head. "What have you done to yourself?"

"Ne-fff." Théodred let out after much struggle.

Niphrediel nodded, smiling, "Yes…Hello there." She did not look back as she heard Éowyn and Éomer walk out. Niphrediel felt for the two. What she felt was nothing compared to their pain. They had known Théodred all their lives. Éomer was like a brother to him, and Éowyn like a sister. Oh, how they must be hurting.

Niphrediel wiped Théodred's dirty brow, uncaring of the cold sweat that layered her fingers. "What have you done?" She asked softly.

Théodred's breathing did not comfort her. It was too quick, too shallow, too painful. "O-o-orcs," He said quietly.

Niphrediel buried her face in the blankets at the edge of the bed and cried. "What have you done?"

"He should have died from the beginning, you know."—

Niphrediel turned around, seeing Gríma standing in the doorway. "What?" She frowned.

Gríma nodded to Théodred, "Look at his wound," He said, "He should have been killed on the field from that."

Niphrediel lifted the covers, her eyes tainting in throbbing as they looked, then moved away. Her hands dropped the covers, regretting touching them in the first place.

Gríma shrugged, "He waited for you, Caller," he said, tauntingly, "He deserves peace, don't you think?"

"Get out!" Niphrediel's stare turned into a glare, and venom rose to her tongue as she turned her head to spit another comment back to the pitiful excuse of a man. Alas, when she turned, Gríma was already gone.

The Wormtongue's intention was not true, but this time his words were.

Niphrediel stood up and walked to the door and closed it.

Hearing the sound of wood on wood, Niphrediel turned around and made her way to the other side of the bed and sat down. Théodred looked up at her, his eyes still retaining that warmth that was slowly beginning to die like teardrops on a candle.

Niphrediel put her hand on Théodred's cheek, giving him what she hoped was a comforting smile. "Sleep," She whispered.

Her reply was a drastically repeated shake of Théodred's head. Niphrediel frowned, watching him struggle as he fought his own body for the ability to speak. "N-No." He hissed.

Niphrediel wiped her falling tears on the back of her hand. "Why?"

Théodred closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed deeply, as if to pace himself before he struggled once more through the effort of physical speech. "Because i-i-if I do, I-I-I w-won't w-wake up," He answered, tears of inexpressible hurt forming in the corners of his eyes.

Niphrediel lowered her head as she felt another wave of tears come. This was going to be the last conversation she was going to have with him…how could that be? How could be just… vanish? How could she cry out for him, and yet know that she is crying out to something that could not call back? It was Gilraen all over again. It was that situation all over again. It was that pain all over again.

Niphrediel watched him struggle, knowing he was only holding on for her. Niphrediel sighed and wiped her eyes again. "We are tired," Niphrediel said, her tears overflowing as she spoke. "I think we need to sleep." Her sobs were unbearable as the words flew from her mouth. Niphrediel knew her true meaning, and so did Théodred.

Niphrediel's hands were on his face to wipe his tears away as they fell. Théodred simply nodded, eyes reddening in sadness.

Niphrediel nodded to Théodred, hesitating as much as she could before she moved to lie beside him. The longer she drew out her actions, the longer he would still be with her. The longer he would still keep her company and talk to her.

Niphrediel laid her head on the same pillow as Théodred, oblivious to the filthiness of his clothing and the blood soaking into her skirt as she rested her leg over his. Resting on her stomach, Niphrediel's brow rested softly against Théodred's temple, her hand still touching his cheek as cold tears continued to fall from them.

Both youths remained eye locked for a long time, both refusing to close their eyes and in doing so bringing things to a finish.

Oh Eru help me… Niphrediel closed her eyes, stiffening into a sob as she did. She could feel Théodred's lashes against her check as he blinked slowly several times before closing them.

Niphrediel moved her hand down from Théodred's cheek, shifting down his arm until she found his hand. Gripping it tightly, and having it grip back, made her struggle unbearable. She almost did not know which one of them was facing the most fearful path: the path of death, or the path of loss. As much as Niphrediel needed Théodred's presence, he must have needed hers too.

Niphrediel began to fall to sleep, even though she did not want to. "Be free," She whispered, the words foreign in the Westron tongue on her lips. Not knowing wether or not Théodred was still there to hear her, Niphrediel tightened her hold of his hand, and slept.

The next day, it was, when Niphrediel's eyelids stirred, and opened. They were red, glassy with fresh tears in sorrow and anguish. Oh, how she did not want to have woken up.

She moved her stare down to the peaceful face of Théodred still touching hers and she moved her hand that was still gripping his now-cold hand and ran the back of it against his cheek as she let out another sob.

Niphrediel moved her face up and kissed Théodred's temple. Then his cheek, and then moved off the bed.

She felt drained, like a ghost, and yet some piece of her was at peace. Théodred's pain was over. Théodred's struggle was no longer. Théodred was with his mother and his….

Niphrediel stopped at the door, and cried against it for a moment before moving away.

Niphrediel was well aware at the blood and dirt stains all over her skin and dress, but she was not, at this time, at liberty to give a damn.


It was five days of constant struggle after Théodred's last. Though Éowyn never spoke to Niphrediel about it, Niphrediel knew that Éomer's banishment was not one of treachery. Saruman was, as Éomer had tried to say, trying to take over the Rohirrim's lands. Gríma, as Éomer must have said, had made a bargain of deceit and selfishness.

Niphrediel was dreaming again. Dreams fill of confusion and fear.

She saw no vision. Nothing penetrated the deep black of her nightmares as if her imagination was too spent to think anything up. Instead, all Niphrediel received, were cursed voices. From the depths of her mind, the voices gave her no rest, no clue, nor any damn mercy.

…It is a tragic love, further it no more!…

…Paint me not into your portrait of tragedy!…

…Love me. Nothing less…

…Stop punishing me!!!…

…I hate you…

…Keep the words unsaid…

…Do not pledge yourself to me…

…Just one time…

…Stop it!…

…Niphrediel!

…Nieninquë…

…Caeleb…

…Niphredil…

…Stop…

…Neph!…

…Stop it!…

…No…
...STOP IT!...

Niphrediel bolted upright, eyes wide and rivering, and mouth open, letting out an almost childlike scream.

Niphrediel's scream eventually fell short, however, when she reminded herself where she was and the tranquillity of Théodred's bedroom quickly calmed her, and her heavy breathing.

Without further hesitation, though, Niphrediel jumped out of the bed and made her way in hurried steps out of the room and down the hall.

Niphrediel knocked on Éowyn's chamber's door, before slowly opening it.

Niphrediel could see Éowyn sitting on her already-made bed, a book in her hands. Her dress was beautiful white, unlike the beautiful dark green and brown one she wore the day before. Her hair fell in golden waves, and a belt of woven gold and silver hung from hip to hip.

Éowyn frowned, looking up at Niphrediel. And yet, as soon as the Shieldmaiden saw her, she already knew what had happened. Niphrediel had another nightmare. There was nothing Niphrediel had to say.

Éowyn stood and lead Niphrediel inside, "Come," She said, her gentle smile a relief as she closed the door behind Niphrediel.

Éowyn moved Niphrediel to the bathroom chambers of her room and ran her a bath, of which she knew would do her well. The blood and dirt only Niphrediel could see was scrubbed from her body, and then Éowyn grabbed Niphrediel an underdress.

Éowyn sniffed as she brushed Niphrediel's hair and then moved off to find her something for her to wear. Niphrediel stood in front of the window, warmed but the yellow sun, as she watched Éowyn look from dress to dress.

"This will look nicer on you then it ever did on me," Éowyn tried to smile, pulling out the dress that she had worn the day before. Looking from her own waist, to Niphrediel's, Éowyn nodded and gave Niphrediel the dress. "It is yours," She said.

Niphrediel would have argued if she had not been so tired. She simply nodded and put the dress on. Its sleeves were heavier then she thought they were, and yet Niphrediel still liked it. Éowyn spared no expense indeed, even when she put the belt of gold with a tinted flower in the centre around Niphrediel's waist.

"There," Éowyn whispered as she stood beside Niphrediel in the mirror. "Look at us! We look like sisters," She smiled, and tilted her head, her eyes finding Niphrediel's eyes on the glass. "We are sisters," She swore, "And as such, we will always be there to take care of each other."

Niphrediel may have stood a couple inches taller then Éowyn but there was no question of who was the elder between the two, indeed. Even if, by some chance, Niphrediel happened to be older in years then Éowyn, Éowyn was older beyond her years.

Niphrediel nodded, "Very well," She said, with a small sniff. "How are you?" Niphrediel then asked, her turn to be concerned.

Éowyn shook her head, and did not answer. "I must go….see my uncle. If you are still tired, nap away on my bed. You may find it more comforting then the one of my dead cousin." She said, sinking away and leaving Niphrediel in her room.

Niphrediel sunk to her knees when Éowyn closed the door, and sighed. It's all right to be sad, Niphrediel. Théodred is at peace… Niphrediel's eyes opened, and when they did, they were brighter. Niphrediel no longer felt drained, but relaxed and as energetic as she always was.

Maybe Théodred would meet Niphrediel's parents in the afterlife…Maybe Gilraen and Arathorn were sipping tea with him and his own mother at this very moment…

Niphrediel smiled at the thought, and stood up. She looked in the mirror and smiled comfortingly at her reflection before walking to Éowyn bed and laid down.

Perhaps it had not been a good thing for Niphrediel to sleep in the bed of her deceased friend so early after his death. Théodred's presence was still in that room. His everything was still in that room; his diaries, his books, his clothes, his weapons, his toys; everything. That room made Niphrediel's mind somewhat sensitive to the history of its owner. It was too disturbing.

Niphrediel did not shift her position at all, much too exhausted from her loss of sleep during the past five days to really notice anything save her heavy eyelids.

Though, for a long while Niphrediel just lay in that comfortable silence, turning to the white wall in obvious concentration of a daydreamer.

Niphrediel, what do your dreams mean? Niphrediel thought, the voice in her mind somewhat concerned as well as confused. Niphrediel, what are you turning into?

Niphrediel frowned, her left hand coming up against the blankets so her fingers pressed against her lips. Stop it, she thought. Stop dreaming. Stop hearing. Stop listening. Stop calling. Stop.

"I want to go home," Niphrediel whispered, her voice small as it barely reached her own ears. Niphrediel wanted to go home. To her real home: Imladris. She missed Glorfindel, missed Elrond and Ivanneth, heck, even Arwen. She missed home, but more specifically, she missed her family, and, naturally, that was where Niphrediel's home was; with her family.

Niphrediel wanted to go back to Rivendell, and have Aragorn and Gilraen there waiting for her. She wanted Sauron to die. No, more then die, she wanted him to feel the pain of every single person who had been hurt by his forces. Time she could have been with her family had been stolen from her because Mordor's Lord could not just give up.

Niphrediel missed more familiar company, and hearing someone other then herself calling her by her real name. She missed the hobbits, the son of Denethor, and the proud dwarf. And, of course, Niphrediel missed the Elf, a little more so then from what she expected she would, which bothered her somewhat.

Niphrediel felt tears form in her eyes and her stomach churn. Closing her eyes tightly, and placing her spare hand over her stomach, Niphrediel tried to ignore her sudden homesickness by forcing herself to sleep.

The next time Niphrediel opened her eyes; the sunlight that had once poured in from Éowyn's windows had been exchanged for the soft rays of the sunset's red and gold.

Unlike what Niphrediel would have guessed, her nap had made her more tired. Her limps felt heavier then they did before she went to sleep, and both Niphrediel's body and mind felt nothing short of lethargic when she sat up and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes.

"Caeleb?"

Niphrediel frowned, and looked to the door, where Raewyn stood, her face bright in both joy and excitement.

"Raewyn?" Niphrediel said, her voice seeming just as tired and ruffled as her body, "What is it?"

"The Wizard is here!" Raewyn declared, in a loud whisper as to muffle her exclamation.

Niphrediel frowned. "…Wizard?" Saruman…

Raewyn nodded quickly. "Aye, Gandalf. They are with the King."

"They?" Niphrediel's brow quirked up. Gandalf? Alive?

Raewyn took a moment in hasty, but nonetheless deep, thought. "A human man," She frowned. "Gondorian, I would say."

Niphrediel stiffened. There is no way, Niphrediel. There is no chance…

"And a dwarf, Caeleb! A dwarf!"

Niphrediel's mouth gaped open, though her hand quickly covered it.

"Are you well, child?" Raewyn's frown moulded in concern and slight confusion.

Niphrediel nodded curtly, trying her best to restore her self-possession. "I am fine," She blurted. "A wizard, a man and a dwarf? Is that all"—

"Oh!" Raewyn exclaimed, bringing her hand on her forehead as if she had just forgotten something. "They carry a deceased elf with them, love," Raewyn whispered, her voice stung. "Such a beautiful thing."

Niphrediel frowned. "An elf?" Legolas? No. It cannot be."That cannot be, Raewyn. No."

Raewyn's brow arched, but she nodded, "Yes, child."

"You are wrong," Niphrediel insisted, her teeth tightly set together.

"No. I assure you, Caeleb, I am not," Raewyn said firmly, "His body lies at the feet of Théoden's throne…"

Niphrediel's face churned, and Raewyn paused, so very confused. Why was the girl so sad? Raewyn looked over the younger female with pity and concern. "Caeleb? Caeleb, dear, are you sure you are well?"

"What did he look like?" Raewyn identified the dark, almost livid tone in the youngling's voice. Despite the solid, rock-like stance that the young maiden was sitting in, the blue, watery, eyes displayed fragility, hurt, sorrow and desperation.

Raewyn gave a helpless shrug of her shoulders, "Fair haired…ah….fair skinned….like any other elf would be, I imagine. He, apparently, had been attacked or something like such a very long time ago. Death came rather through exhaustion, I'd say/"

Niphrediel shook her head. It cannot be. It cannot be. It cannot be… "No…" She spat, before striding quickly passed Raewyn through the doors.

Niphrediel could hear Raewyn calling out her name behind her, and the older woman's footsteps beginning to trail hers as she pushed open the doors to the armoury, and then headed to the end of the room.

Niphrediel burst loudly through the doors, the silence of those on the other side making her entry seem louder then it really was.

The Golden Hall was not empty, indeed it was not. A mature, though not necessarily old, man sat on Théoden's throne, with Mithrandir sitting on a stool at his side. Gandalf? It can't be! Oh, but it was. Éowyn stood by two children at a table, eating broth or stew out of their bowls.

And, there, on another table, was a sight Niphrediel had been secretly praying to see since the first day the Fellowship had left the docks of Lothlorien.

Aragorn stiffened, his precious pipe falling from his limp grip onto the floor with a thud. Though, he did not exactly seem to notice. He waved a hand a Niphrediel, turning to Éowyn with a bright smile, "This is your Bree-native Caeleb?" He beamed. "She does not look 'sick' or 'bed-stricken' to me. Though, she does not seem much of a 'snowdrop' either," Aragorn grinned, commenting on both the translations on both names.

Niphrediel glanced at Éowyn, catching her rather sorrowed look. Éowyn had hoped that Caeleb was not this Niphrediel girl that Aragorn had spoken of.

"So, Caeleb is not your name, then?" She said, with a sad, somewhat uneasy, sigh.

Niphrediel shook her head. "My name is Niphrediel, daughter of Arath"—

"Aragorn."

Niphrediel glanced at Aragorn, her eyes wide in sudden confusion. "Pardon?" She frowned.

"Niphrediel, daughter of Aragorn," Aragorn said properly, his lie without fault and manner unruffled and smooth.

Lies? Why? Niphrediel's lips parted, and yet she refused to contradict this fiction with her other numerous questions and inquiries in front of Éowyn and Théoden.

"Daughter of Aragorn…" Éowyn repeated quietly, her complexion dimming as she looked from Aragorn to Niphrediel. "She is your daughter?" Her brows rose, waiting impatiently for Aragorn's reply. Niphrediel could tell easily what answer Éowyn was hoping for.

Aragorn nodded. "Aye." Niphrediel could, also, tell that Aragorn's answer was not it.

Éowyn's stare lowered, enigmatic and almost sad. "She walks in your nobility. In your likeliness," She mumbled, tone blank, before looking back at Niphrediel. "Did Théodred know, Cael—Niphrediel?"

Théoden looked downwards, his stare both sad and regretful as he hid his mouth behind his raised fist.

"Yes…. yes, he knew." Niphrediel nodded.

Éowyn took Niphrediel's answer with a sigh in relief. "Good," She turned back to Théoden, "Uncle, Cael—Niphrediel is a friend of both Théodred and myself. Niphrediel, though his form may be somewhat differed, this is Théoden, King, and my uncle; Théodred's father."

"And Gandalf, of course," Mithrandir beamed, his stare warm and so very knowing.

Niphrediel bowed her head to both, wiping a little tear from the corner of her eye when faced with the kind smile of the old wizard she had never thought she would see again. Naturally, the child could not wait too long before jogging up to the throne, and giving the old wizard a good, long hug.

"I'm sorry for not reaching you, Gandalf," Niphrediel whispered, having to kneel on her knees to be a correct height to give the wizard her childish embrace. She could hear Mithrandir chuckle and pat her head from its place on the material covering his beating heart.

"I do not remember everything from that time, lass," Gandalf said slowly, gently pulling Niphrediel away and patting her cheek with the velvety surface of his palm. "But I know for certain that nothing that came from my demise was your doing," he smiled, eyes wide in earnest.

"Now, come and sit by me, child," Gandalf said, gathering Niphrediel's hands in his, and moving her over to sit beside him on the stool.

Niphrediel beamed, and did so with childlike satisfaction. She could barely stop herself from giggling in glee, and had the strangest feeling Legolas could tell when he coughed back a laugh from his place of silence against a pillar.

"Where's mama?" Niphrediel looked at the little girl, her face turned up from her half-empty bowl. She frowned, wishing those present had a better answer to give the child then 'shh'.

Niphrediel's frown did not dwindle, either, when she looked at the dwarf, to her 'father', and, then, to the elf. Where in the world was Boromir? Where were the hobbits?

Once again, she interrupted the circle's conversations, and turned to Gandalf.

"Where is Frodo?"


The Fellowship had failed. The Fellowship had broken. Frodo and Sam were off to Mordor, Merry and Pippin back home to Hobbiton (or so Niphrediel assumed), Legolas, Aragorn and Gimli to Rohan, and Boromir… to honour in death. Niphrediel hoped Gilraen would take good care of him, too.

Gandalf had come back. The Valar had blessed him with an even more powerful incarnation, and though there were some holes in his memory, Mithrandir's kindness was as evident as always. Saruman had poisoned the mind of Théoden via Gríma (who had been banished rightfully from Edoras or any other Rohirric dwelling) and thus the soil of the Riddermark had been tainted one too many times with the hated feet of Mordor's servants.

But for some strange reason, Mithrandir left Rohan soon after the company had arrived, his stead a blaze of white that Niphrediel's eyes could not rightfully focus on. Thus was the speed of the white horse—or some other creature with the body of a horse and the speed of light itself.

Niphrediel was nothing short of ecstatic to be with her Aragorn again, even though she did not exactly want to wave goodbye to one of the few remaining Fellowship members that were still around her.

She had not realised that the feeling of being protected was something she had been without until her meeting with Aragorn again. The air smelt sweeter and her insides felt warmer, for she mentally knew that absolutely nothing could penetrate this bubble of protection and comfort that surrounded her as long as Aragorn was around.

Despite her hopes of being somewhat independent, Niphrediel realised that she did not want to be without that sense of being safe. She still wanted to be that childlike figure. She was not ready to be an adult. She still needed a parent, and Niphrediel would be damned before she lost another one. Now that she was in the presence of her Estel, there was nothing on this world or the next that could possibly hurt her. Not one damned thing.


"By order of the king, the city must empty!" Hama shouted, "We make for the refuge of Helm's Deep! Do not burden yourself with treasures. Take only what provisions you need."

Niphrediel sat on a step of the Golden Hall's balcony, watching the scared expressions on the Edoras resident's faces as they listened to Hama's words and then quickly rushed into their houses to gather their supplies.

Niphrediel gave comforting smiles to the (surprisingly) many people who looked at her sitting there. She could not have been aware that every single person of the city had known of Théodred's affection for her well before she did. How could Niphrediel have known she was thought of as the Prince Théodred's widow despite the fact that they had not actually married?

Niphrediel dressed in the style of clothing she had adorned when she had first arrived. It felt strange to wear her leather trousers, since in Rohan all woman were expected to wear dresses in one form or another. Niphrediel would not have admitted it, but she had gotten used to wearing gowns and the like; something her younger self had promised to never do. She wore her chemise over a bodice and the like, Alagos strapped to her back with Herentur's back sheath and a dull black belt around her hips carrying Théodred's knife. And, of course, Niphrediel wore her old, comfy boots.

Niphrediel caught the rather surprised and shocked expressions some people gave her to see her wearing the attire of a warrior. Of a fighter. Naturally, having seen her looking all lady-like every day since she arrived, it would have been quite a distinction of styles indeed.

Niphrediel's thumb played with the back of her ring as she waited for Gandalf, Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas to come back from the stables.

"Come here, Rivanon," She called, clapping her hands to get the little boy's attention.

Rivanon turned around, dressed in a warm brown uniform of wool with bear fur about his little collar, and shoved one tiny fist in his mouth. The other hand, however, opened up wide towards Niphrediel as Rivanon ran as quickly as his little legs could take him, to his Niphrediel.

The boy did not like to speak too much, even to Nieninquë. But, as Raewyn had said, he was fascinated with any person with dark hair, and, of course, Niphrediel was his 'favourite'.

Niphrediel picked him up and planted him easily on her lap, making sure he was facing her so she could rain kisses on the soft little bit of skin he had under his jaw (which Niphrediel had discovered, was his weak spot). The little boy squealed out giggles and his hands moved to hold the two braids hanging behind Niphrediel's two ears.

"Who is this little lad here?" Asked a voice, much to smooth to belong to a mortal or any other creature. Legolas set himself down beside Niphrediel, giving the babe somewhat of a sidelong look.

"This is Rivanon," Niphrediel smiled, watching the child on her lap cling to her with his thumb in his mouth. He was afraid, and, to say the least, Legolas found that absolutely hilarious.

"Mae Govannen," Legolas said quietly to the boy, reaching out with a hand and caressing Rivanon's cheek with the back of his hand. Watching Rivanon push himself even more so against Niphrediel's chest, Legolas pulled back and grinned, "I think he adores me."

Niphrediel laughed, moving Rivanon on her lap to allow his legs to fall off her knees. "Yes, well, you are the first elf he has ever seen."

"He is the first babe I have ever touched," Legolas said, with a little more gravity, though with hidden interest.

"They are fascinating creatures, are they not?" Niphrediel chuckled, moving her arm so Legolas could get a better look, as if they were talking about a painting or some other such piece of art.

"Indeed," Legolas grinned, giving Rivanon a little wink. "I wish I had seen you when you were a baby," He said, casting a laughing gaze at Niphrediel for a quick moment before looking back to Rivanon.

Niphrediel's eyebrow rose, "Oh? Why?"

"No reason, really," Legolas shrugged, smiling at Rivanon's obviously growing intrigue when he noticed Legolas's pointy ears. "Aragorn showed me a portrait of you when you were a child," Legolas looked to Rivanon and chuckled, "All we have to do is throw a couple black curls on this little creature and there you are!"

Niphrediel laughed, setting Rivanon on the ground when he began to squirm for freedom.

"Come on, Rivanon!" called Raewyn from the door of the orphanage. "You can play with Caeleb later!"

Niphrediel waved to Rivanon as he waddled away, and also to Raewyn who gave her smile in thanks before ushering the little boy inside. Rivanon only knew Niphrediel as Caeleb, so Niphrediel thought nothing of the fact that Raewyn had mentioned her as such.

"Have these people taken good care of you?" Legolas asked, rubbing his hands together has if he were cold.

Niphrediel nodded, "Aye, they have taken good care of me."

Legolas nodded, once, before turning to regard the mountains on the horizon. "You are much darker then you were when we left you."

Niphrediel nodded brightly, "Aye, I know!" She said, quite excited about the topic, though, as a totally different subject came to mind, Niphrediel quickly sobered. "Legolas?" She asked.

Legolas frowned, casting away his smile for a moment. "What, Niphrediel?" He replied, somewhat curious as well as confused.

"Why did Aragorn say he was my father?"

Niphrediel doubted that Legolas perceived that as the question she was going to throw his way. His eyes immediately averted hers, falling to the heart at his feet. He shook his head, a gesture displaying clearly that he was not at liberty to say. Or, perhaps, he just did not want to.

"Legolas, please," Niphrediel somewhat begged, letting out a long sigh as she spoke.

Legolas slowly stood, brushing a feather off his shoulder as he readied himself to return inside, "Perhaps he does not think the Rohirrim will believe that an elvish curse could rid you of right to grow and mature properly."

Legolas lied, cursing himself as he did so superbly. He watched a smile appear on the mortal child's face, and watching her nod, obviously agreeing to the motive he had chiselled gently into her head.

Without another word, the elf turned and moved back up the steps, without a sound to accommodate his leaving. He did not want to say anything else, at least not at the moment. Perhaps when they set of for Helm's Deep. But, then again, Legolas had his own mission, and would probably stay at the front of the line to make sure the path was safe.

Niphrediel sighed, jumping onto her feet. "Legolas! Wait for me."

Entering once more into the cold corridors, Niphrediel went off from room to room in a quick search for Aragorn. Yes, Legolas has answered her question with an answer that was would most probably be the same one Aragorn would have given, but Niphrediel wanted to hear it from the horse's mouth; or, in this case, Aragorn's. But, at the same time, Niphrediel really did not care too much about it. She just wanted to see Aragorn, really.

"Aragorn?" Niphrediel opened the door to Théodred's room, having a quick look inside the room for a moment. She stiffened a moment after, however, when she moved to turn back and head back out the room.

The odds were…she might not see this room after this day. She may not live to see a lot of things after this day. Théodred had fallen, why not Niphrediel? Why was she so special? Fate was fickle, why would she choose to rid a young, brave, honourable prince of a country in need and spare little Niphrediel with a mother and father already waiting for her on the other side where not even elves could foresee, but without any merits nor titles to match or justify.

Fate was fickle…. "No Niphrediel," Niphrediel said, bringing her hand up to the tight plate at the back of her head and taking down the butterfly clip she had still kept through her fickle adventures with fickle fate along her fickle round. Moving briefly over to the bed, and seeming to almost tower over its perfectly made simplicity, Niphrediel slowly took her butterfly and carefully placed it on the face of Théodred's pillow."Fate is stupid."

With that, Niphrediel took one last long inhale of the room and its deceased owner, before turning and walking out, turning left at the fork of two halls—one leading right, the other right. Niphrediel tightened her fist in momentary frustration before swirling left.

"You have some skill with a blade."

"Ara—?" Niphrediel brought her hand over her hand for a moment to quieten herself, as she turned into the door of the hall. She leaned up against the doorframe, shifting her arms into a warm cross as she said not one word whiles watching with both gut-wrenching discomfort and confusion, and swallowed down amusement—of which had mingled itself within her confusion in a rather painful mix.

Niphrediel could not see Aragorn's facial expression, since he had his back to her, but she could clearly see Éowyn's. And, to say the least, it bothered her. Her eyes were wide, as if she were startled, frightened or angry—or perhaps some strange mixture of two or all three emotions—and her stare, well…. Niphrediel doubted she could look away even if she tried. Never had Niphrediel seen her look at anyone like that. Not ever.

"Women of this country learned long ago that those without words may still die upon them," Niphrediel watched Éowyn speak, cold and without the warmth that she showed towards Niphrediel so regularly in the past. Éowyn sheathed her sword, her movements swift and quick, and as cold as her intonation and manner. "I fear neither death nor pain."

Niphrediel frowned, tightening her arms around herself. How could someone not fear death? How could someone not care so about the unknown: the one thing in life's stages that had no explanation. Niphrediel could not understand, even if she tried.

Death was something she feared more then anything, and yet not in a way that would be expected as the norm. Niphrediel was not afraid of dying. She was afraid of her loved one's dying.

"What do you fear, my lady?" Estel asked, in a tone that Niphrediel had always thought was something saved specially for her. That was her voice. That was the voice he would speak to her with when she was a young child no higher then his knee—Niphrediel could remember clearly.

How dare he use it on someone who did not happen to be Arwen? Yes, Niphrediel would rather him not use it on anyone else at all, but at least with the Evenstar, his reason was justified. It did help, too, that Niphrediel actually missed Arwen.

"A cage," Éowyn said, "To stay behind bars until use and old age accept them. And all chance of valour has gone beyond recall or desire."

Niphrediel wanted to turn away; she wanted to walk away. Then, why did she not?

She loves him. Niphrediel shook her head, suddenly becoming uncomfortable and taking her stare directly off Éowyn's face. The ground was a more comforting place to look at the moment for her, it seemed. She is smitten, Niphrediel. Théodred's cousin has been caged and she does not even know it.

"You are a daughter of Kings; a Shieldmaiden of Rohan," With the sound of chaffing leather, Aragorn replaced his dagger at his belt. "I do not think that would be your fate." That was all he had to say, and within Éowyn's eyes bore tears of unreadable emotions, as Aragorn turned and headed out the door.

For that moment or so, Niphrediel totally forgot about her discomfort and the reasons for its existence, and smiled at her pseudo-father, of whom tipped his head in response with his own smile shinning back at her before giving her a quick hug as he paced.

Niphrediel smiled, relishing his attention and affection as she always did, and could only widen her smile even more so when kissed the top of her head before moving away.

Then, there was silence.

Niphrediel's eyes remained on the floor, and Éowyn simply turned away, as if to hide that she wanted to look at Niphrediel as much as Niphrediel wanted to look at her.

Niphrediel knew what Éowyn felt, and Éowyn seemed to take the vibes of uneasiness floating off Nieninquë's skin as obvious confirmations of that.

"I…..ah….." Niphrediel choked on her own words, her cheeks churning pale in the chill.

"Caeleb, you do not have to say anything," Éowyn sighed, before taking a long moment to notice her mistake. "Niphrediel, I mean," She added, looking over her shoulder with an apologetic look.

Niphrediel nodded, taking her left hand in her right in awkward brevity, "Very well…I will go to the…. ah…. stables."

Niphrediel sighed, but as any child's attention would be with so many things going on around her at once—her thoughts could not properly linger on one thing. In less then five minutes, Niphrediel's smile was planted brightly on her face again, and she laughed and joked with Gimli in a her same jolly mood while strapping both her and Aragorn's bags onto his horse.

"These creatures are lovely, are they not Master Gimli?" Niphrediel said clearly over her shoulder, pulling the last strap around her bag nice and tight.

"Creatures?" Gimli repeated, with 'hmph' in his tone conveying his obvious distaste of the mentioned animals. "They are beasts of burden, Lassy," Gimli lectured, with a nod of his head.

The horns were beginning to blow from outside the stables. Niphrediel and Gimli could hear them clearly from inside. Niphrediel sighed, blowing a loose wisp of her hair out of her eyes before grabbing the reigns of the horse—of which she had yet to learn the name to.

"Come on, Gimli!" She yelled, beginning to jog towards the stairs of the Golden Hall, where Aragorn, Legolas, Éowyn and King Théoden (among others) had gathered. Their horses and other such things were either in their hands, of on the flanks of their variously coloured horses.

...The defences have to hold...

Niphrediel stopped for a moment and shook her head, banging her hand against the side of her ear as if there was water inside them that she was trying to force out. These stupid voices, Niphrediel cursed, growing annoyed as she thought more on the topic, Galadriel spoke of visions, she said nothing about voices! Niphrediel kicked the hearth with her boot as she began to walk again.

Niphrediel waved to Éowyn as she passed her, and received a tip Éowyn's head in return. Niphrediel could see Théodred and his guards beside him beginning to move away from Aragorn who waited for Niphrediel, and Legolas who was patting the neck of the horse that both he and Aragorn shared, so she had no worries about Éowyn's motives for moving away.

"Citizens of Edoras, prepare to depart!" Niphrediel turned her head, seeing Hama far down the hill that Edoras was set upon, seeming less then a centimetre tall from his distance away.

"Onto the horse, Niphrediel," Aragorn said finally, when Niphrediel reached him, taking the reigns off her hands and turning the creature around in the correct direction. "Niphrediel, are you listening?" He frowned, noticing that Niphrediel was distracted by his instructions from watching Legolas help Gimli onto the saddle of the other horse.

"Niphrediel!"

"Hmm?" Niphrediel turned to Aragorn, cursing her absent expression when finally noticing Estel's more stern one. "Oh!" Niphrediel looked at the horse and quickly grabbed onto the sides of the saddle before jumping onto it.

And then, with little more adieu, the people of Edoras, and the various outsiders, began to move off.

Aragorn rode in front of Niphrediel, after a small argument they had about who was 'worthy' enough to have the responsibility of controlling the direction the horse would tread in. Naturally, of course, Aragorn just had to shoot Niphrediel a certain look to let her know that she had little luck of prevailing.

But it was not as if Niphrediel was serious. She had just forgotten what it was like to argue—least of all with her Aragorn. They were both half-smiling, half-serious during the discussion anyway, both enjoying the rather amusing exchange in their own strange ways.

In the end, Gimli had refused to get on the horse. 'No beast of burden shall be my transportation today, elf. My legs will carry me just fine for now', he had said. Niphrediel and Aragorn laughed amongst themselves. 'You say that now,' replied Legolas, swinging a leg over the saddle, 'Just wait til those strong legs of yours begin to tire'.

Niphrediel smiled, shifting the position of her arms so that she no longer held onto the tops of Aragorn's shoulders. She rested her head on the back of his left one, however, letting out a yawn. Oh, how she relished the paternal warmth that seeped from her brother, even if he did not have to give her a reaction to show that her simple signs of daughterly adoration was noticed and treasured (of which they undoubtedly were).

Aragorn had missed his child, his sister: his daughter, or at least so in the eyes of these people. Daughter…. somehow Estel found that title more suiting for him to use as reference for this girl's relationship with him. Sister? Maybe, but that just seemed wrong, even if they were genetically so. Yet none of those reasons were even close to the motive that drove him to tell Théoden and his people that Niphrediel was his child; his blood; his firstborn; his heiress and descendant. No, his reason for that was something much more darker…

Niphrediel's arms were loose around Estel's stomach, limp as though she did not have the energy to sit upright instead of leaning most of her body weight on the horse and Aragorn—both of whom did not seem to notice. With her head laid in a small forest of Aragorn's hair at the side of his neck that curved into his shoulder—she had a perfect view of Gimli and Legolas's horse, of whom travelled a mere metre or so from Aragorn's left.

The horse was pretty, or at least Niphrediel thought so. She only looked at it for a moment, however, until she noticed that Legolas was pulling faces at her from on top of his saddle.

Legolas glared at her, then poked out his tongue like a fool and wagged his eyes from left to right. The buffoon, Niphrediel thought, chuckling against Aragorn's tunic before crossing her eyes in a sarcastic reply to Legolas's attempts to make her laugh, smile, or whatever goal it was that he had to start doing something so random.

"Ma cenilye Anar acala…." Niphrediel shifted her chin onto Aragorn's shoulder, her attention spanning as she could hear his voice begin to sing—quietly, yes, but still too melodious for him to have usually used in common speaking.

Niphrediel knew the words—how could she not? The favoured poem was special. Aragorn had read it aloud to her in Lothlorien, and many times before that. Though, that one day in Lorien was the memory that first came to mind, and after clearing her throat to an extent she was content with, Niphrediel began to quietly accompany Aragorn in his peaceful tune, her softer, albeit quiet, voice harmonizing with his lower pitch.

"Ma hlarilye filit alire,

Íre tuile tule ara le?

Anar lauca, haire filit-ómar,

Laica salque arwa venya holmeo

Fanyar luini hellesse, en!

Vanye, vanye lóti linquilie

Ma cenilye alda atyulta

Ma hlarilye súre asúya

Íre i vinya lúme sinome sí?

Heldasse aldaron vanwa, súre mi olwar

Queni mótar titte latinassen

Helca ar lauca vilya, rossi, rossi

Caline auri, elene lómi tulir

Ma cenilye hína atyale

Ma hlarilye hína alala

Ar ma amorta órelya?

Híni mallessen, vendi, seldor

Celvar, olvar, atani nostar, ela!

Linte rámar, vanye lossi, calime hendi

Vanima, vanima, vanima, vanima!"

Aragorn smiled, and patted the side of Niphrediel's cheek with his hand he blindly moved up to his shoulder.

Even with the joyous affection she was receiving, Niphrediel could feel the sickening rocking of the horse as it took each step, and she could hear the sounds of crying children in the distance who were less accepting of leaving their homes for whatever cause, and she knew that this was going to be a long journey indeed. That did not comfort her one bit, albeit spending time with Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas did make the thought less daunting for just long enough to make Niphrediel smile and remain happy of manner.

She became somewhat restless after the third hour of travelling and so, but entertained herself while jumping from the back of Aragorn's horse, onto Legolas's one, and so on and so forth.

"Aragorn, watch me!" Niphrediel said to Aragorn, who had somewhere along the way, decided the grass in front of him was more interesting then his overactive relative.

Aragorn moved around, the frown on his forehead

"How loyal," Gimli jested with a laugh from his minimal height on the ground, looking up with eyes shaded by the brim of his helmet.

"No, no, Gimli," Aragorn sighed, the hint of sarcasm in his voice being the only thing that marked his mockery of seriousness. "Niphrediel loves her Legolas," he said with woe.

"Of course she does!" Legolas cheered, sharing a laugh with the three males, all of whom looking at Niphrediel with their laughing eyes.

Niphrediel smiled and poked her tongue out at Aragorn; unable to laugh when she began to think her less mature age prevented her from understanding the proper humour of the rather funny passing comment. She leaned against the elf and yawned, before giving him a mock-cuddle when Gimli batted his eyelashes at her—of which made the three's laughter set off once more.

Théoden's eyebrow arched upwards at the group of younger-looking individuals, his smile alit in amusement. Glancing to Gambling upon his horse beside him, Théoden's somewhat jovial expression sent both men into their own chuckles at Aragorn and his group's expense.

"Lo! the Lassy falls to sleep!" Gimli pointed his finger, grinning.

Niphrediel's head shot up, as did her eyelids. "No, no she doesn't," she blurted out, her somewhat dazed expression contradicting her statement.

"Are we that boring, Aragorn?" Legolas smirked sarcastically, sending his good-humoured and rather cynical stare Estel's way.

"No, my friend," Aragorn replied, his tone and expression matching that of his elven colleague. "She is being rude," He said with an earnest nod of his head, sending Niphrediel a mocking glare, which made her laugh against Legolas's tunic when she noticed.

Even as he spoke, Legolas tightened his hands on the reigns, signalling exactly what he was going to do wether or not Niphrediel noticed.

Indeed, Niphrediel did not notice these movements, but she seemed rather awake now, at least; sitting up with eyes open in suspicious alert.

"I think she should be punished," Legolas concluded casually, "Do you not agree, Aragorn?"

Aragorn nodded, gesturing to the left where no one travelled about on top of their horses and assorted wagons over the somewhat endless field they were passing across. "I agree entirely, Legolas."

"Estel!" Niphrediel giggled, before letting out something resembling a shriek as Legolas started his horse a full sprint, heading to the side of the somewhat filed-up Edoras citizens.

Niphrediel nearly fell back, the instant the horse took off with one harsh lunge forward, if not for her grabbing onto Legolas again just in time. If she had not been too shocked in the moment, she would almost be angry at Legolas for nearly sending her off the back of his horse as some silly joke. But, thankfully, Niphrediel was much too shocked at that moment to really care, so the laughter that was pouring from the elf's mouth went completely unnoticed.

Even then, though, Niphrediel's hold did not seem to be quite strong enough. To say the least, she was not used to being on the back of someone else whilst riding a horse. But, even if she were, that would not have made the grip the fingers of her left hand had around her left wrist any more or less stable.

Legolas must have noticed the small screech Niphrediel unconsciously made when she felt her fingers begin to slip, because just as they did, his right hand shot off from the reigns and grabbed Niphrediel's wrist.

Seeming able to do two things at once without so much as one little mistake, Legolas quickly hooked Niphrediel's arms together to the point that she was almost hugging him at the same time, before letting his hand move back onto the leather reigns once more.

Niphrediel let out a long 'phew', taking a couple deep breaths to get her heart beating in a regular rhythm. She absently wondered if the elf could breath, seeing as she made sure that her hold was has tight as she could possibly make it.

It was as if someone had glued Niphrediel's front to Legolas's back—and that was fine with Niphrediel. In fact, it was absolutely brilliant. Good hold; no falling.

They rode along the sides of the Rohirric people, Niphrediel's head having to rise a little so she could clearly see the land in front of them.

Niphrediel was somewhat thankful that Legolas's hair kept to his other side. Her own, more thicker, locks were bad enough; flapping and flying against her back each time the horse rose into the air before connecting with the solid ground.

The wind pulsed against her face; its' dance against her skin making her smile brighten all the more.

Wether it was the horse or Legolas of whom eventually made the decision to turn back, the statement was not unnoticeable. With a flick of the reigns, the horse propped up on his hind legs, attacking the air. Niphrediel only had time to gasp before making the air inside Legolas's lungs dissolve by holding onto him so tightly to prevent her from falling back.

The horse (curse him) did eventually return both hooves to the hearth eventually, to Niphrediel's prayers. Legolas let out a loud laugh, as did some Edoras farmers who were among others who were watching out of boredom. Niphrediel nearly slapped him across the ears, until he turned the horse around and made him run back to where Aragorn, Théoden, Éowyn and Gimli (among others) continued to walk and/or ride whilst watching.

"The girl has been punished!" Legolas declared, returning his horse to its comfortable spot beside Aragorn's'.

"Yes, I am sure she has, Elf," Gimli sniggered smartly at the elf, before looking warmly to Niphrediel behind him. "But the shock of your punishment, I believe, can only keep her conscious a little while longer."

Was Niphrediel's somewhat lax temperament so very evident today? It must have been, if her heavy eyelids were noticed clearly by all who so much as glanced at them.

Legolas threw an absent glance over his shoulder at her, shrugging casually. "Well, she has been punished, so she may rest now," he said, looking at Aragorn who purposely drew closer.

"Come on, Neph," Aragorn bade quietly, holding out his arms as Niphrediel slowly moved from the back of Legolas's saddle onto the front of Aragorn's, her legs hanging off the left side instead of being parted, for the moment.

"Lets get this off you now," Aragorn mumbled under his breath, taking off the sword and straps she had on her back and shoving them through the same straps that held his bag onto the horse. "There we have it," he said finally, signalling that everything was fine now.

Niphrediel could see Éowyn in the corner of her eye as she let her body loosen and completely rest itself against Aragorn's chest, her position allowing her head a reasonably comfortable resting place at his shoulder while his arms carefully kept her still in between them. Her arms, just like her body, were limp, her hands joined at the back of Aragorn's saddle.

Éowyn looked lovely, as always, but both sad and weary; like a flower without sun.

It was strange to hold someone again, let alone Niphrediel. Aragorn had almost forgotten the feeling of holding something that his love for was engulfing in an almost maternal way, of which sometimes seemed to him more peaceful and important then the affection spawned from romantic emotions.

After all, what kind of a parent chooses a lover over their child? Aragorn had made sure that choice would never have to be presented before him. Arwen? She loved Niphrediel; she always had, though the distance Arwen gave her concealed it. There was no other child that Rivendell had served as a home for, and the Evenstar was nothing less then fascinated by the mannerisms of the innocent, tiny creature on those rare times that she had visited Imladris on the days of Niphrediel's infancy. The elven lady would never make Aragorn choose. Niphrediel had to be convinced of that fact, though.

"Go to sleep, Niphrediel," Aragorn mumbled, glancing at Legolas on his own horse who travelled just at his left flank. "Helm's Deep will come soon enough."

"And all that comes with it," Legolas added, before getting down from his horse, leaving Gimli with the reigns, to run up ahead.



Quick word: Hmmm…. does Aragorn know something Neph doesn't? ;) R&R, ya'know how it is you wonderful people. Oh, and I think it shows I've been watching 'Brave Heart' lately. Mel and that chick riding on the horse always made me think 'awwwww'. Another strange quirk of my female anatomy, I'm sure. I hope the chapter didn't suck too bad, my brain's been sappy lately. Expect some Niphrediel/Legolas tension and such in the next chapter, also some Theodred recaps (don't worry, Neph won't forget him). The chapter might become rather big, but I think I'll be able to get through it