Chapter eleven: At the Gates of Ruin
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"Why do you look at me like that?" Niphrediel asked, her head turned to the side to regard the person sitting a few yards beside her, as she lay on a bed of soft, green grass.
Théodred had given a shrug of his shoulders, looking down at the strand of wheat he rubbed between the thumb and index finger of his left hand. "I know not," he said, blankly, casually.
"Well…I don't know why you do," she said, shifting her back against the grass underneath and looking up to the branches of the tree they were lounging under.
"Its your eyes, I think," Théodred thought aloud, nodding as he gave his words more consideration.
"Huh?" Niphrediel looked at him, somewhat confused. "They are blue. So are yours," she grinned. "There is nothing fascinating about that. Perhaps if they were brown! Or…or green! Blue is common, especially here," Niphrediel nodded towards Edoras, about a hundred metres north to where they rested.
Théodred shook his head, looking at Niphrediel with a rather baffled look. "Your eyes are grey," he said. "They are grey."
Niphrediel shook her head. "No they aren't," She said loudly, her tone as bright as ever, "They are blue."
"I am telling you, Caeleb," Théodred let out a short laugh, his tone and manner both honest and more serious then it needed to be. "They are grey."
Niphrediel shook her head, before lifting herself up onto her knees, shaking her head at him with obvious determination to prove her point. "Come here," she said, waving her hands to him in an obvious gesture for him to follow her instruction.
"Pardon?" Théodred mumbled as soon as the words had left Niphrediel's mouth, his baffled expression deepening on his face.
Niphrediel was definitely oblivious to the thoughts that must have been running through the young Marshal's head. She just groaned at Théodred's innocent stalling, and continued to wave him over. "Hurry up," she said.
Théodred looked down at himself before getting up onto his knees, as Niphrediel had, before slowly moving himself inch-by-inch forward. When he was about thirty centimetres (or at least what he had assumed was thirty centimetres), he stopped. He gestured towards himself and shrugged again, "Now what?"
"Look closely," Niphrediel grinned, pointed to her eyes for a brief moment just long enough to give Théodred the general idea, even though Niphrediel was well-aware Théodred was anything but a little short on intelligence.
"Very well," Théodred mumbled, before his eyes began to scan Niphrediel's. Though, of course, the Dunedain girl was unaware about how his eyes lingered so long between each blink and she did not recognise the hidden warmth of which he looked upon her with.
"Well?" Niphrediel said, after a while when she noticed that Théodred had not said anything, her brows high in innocent curiosity.
Théodred shook his head, "They are still grey!"
Niphrediel groaned and fell onto her back from her knees. "They are blue!"
Théodred laughed heartedly, sitting back down, his eyes dancing in the sunlight. "They are grey, foolish girl," he said in fake pomposity that had Niphrediel almost rolling along the grass in laughter. "A very blue-grey, yes, but they are as grey as them clouds before a storm!" Théodred concluded, his manner and tone more serious and honest with that last sentence as he tipped his head to the sky.
"Whatever," Niphrediel mumbled, sarcasm pouring from her mouth as it moved into an almost sly grin.
Théodred shook his head, his smile bright even though the residue of sadness remained eternal in the depths of his eyes; chiselled in by pain that somehow contaminated even the most joyous of occasions.
Théodred suddenly sobered, however, and his face lost its burst of jovial laughter. His smile was no longer, replaced by an expression that was sad and quite unreadable. "Will you…ah…" Théodred shook his head, unable to get the words out.
Niphrediel frowned, quirking an eyebrow in his direction as she rolled onto her stomach, her brown skirt twisting underneath her as she did so. "What is it?" she pressed. "Will you…?"
"Will you be here always?" Théodred finally let his question out, pasting on his strong, yet blank, regal expression he used only in meetings when his father was healthy. Any front was a good one for now; the more emotionless the better. "In Edoras, I mean… Not under the tree."
Niphrediel's smile slowly dwindled, and after a long moment or two of dreading to answer, she shook her head. "No," she said.
Théodred had obviously anticipated that answer, for though his reaction was a sad one—it was without any variants of surprise. "Oh…" he said, unable to think of anything intelligent or, at the very least, witty, to say.
"But I promise to visit all the time," Niphrediel swore, eyes wide in earnest as if that way Théodred could see more clearly that she was extremely serious. "And…maybe I will be able to write letters and everything."
Théodred nodded, and though the tips of his lips did hint with the signs of a small smile, his sadness remained. "Well, you will always have a home here, you know," he said, averting her stare as if it could petrify his own. He was the Prince of this realm; the son of the King—he could make her a fine home in Edoras!
Suddenly, though, his face brightened in a smile; like sunlight after a storm. "You will always have my bed here for you to sleep in," he jested, before both he and Niphrediel joined together in laughter. "And, of course," he shrugged. "I will always be here."
Niphrediel's laughter slowly dwindled into a smile, and even as she let her mind ponder, she kept that smile a bright-looking one. "I swear on my mother's grave to show you my home one day," she said quietly, as if she were talking to herself.
"Oh?" Théodred's eyes suddenly blazed in hidden excitement. "Bree?" Hopefully, his excitement was not too concerned about the destination, for Niphrediel had no intention of taking Théodred to Bree. That place had no real significance to the real her.
"No, no," Nieninquë shook her head, her hair latching onto loose strands of grass on her soft mattress of earth below her head. "Rivendell. Imladris."
"Where the elves live?" Théodred's eyes brightened even more, though Niphrediel could sense both his excited and his fear. Elves were thought of with sceptical opinion in Rohan. What was yet to be understood was yet to be accepted in the Eorling's realm.
Niphrediel nodded, "Well…one of the places they live, yes."
"I really wish you would never have to leave, you know," Théodred mumbled; drawing his eyes to ground again as if he were ashamed of his words, rather then just shy of them.
Niphrediel smiled at the Prince, even though he probably could not see from where he had directed his attention: to the grass before him. "Well, you will always be here for me to visit, no?"
"Of course," Théodred smiled, his eyes suddenly boasting with both intensity and confidence as it rose to grab hold of Niphrediel's while the rest of him remained untouched by the change. "I will always be here. Always!"
"Good. Loss is horrible," Niphrediel said, with some wryness.
"Loss builds strength!" Théodred grinned.
(…I won't wake up…)
(…Death can only do so much…)
Niphrediel's eyes fluttered open. Even when she was still asleep she could feel herself tearing up. And there she was, lying on a blanket near a dim fire with tears streaming down her cheeks. She slowly pushed herself up, letting herself sit for a moment.
Be free… Niphrediel's uneven breathing slapped against the back of her hand when she placed it over her mouth to muffle the sounds they made. Had Niphrediel made the wrong choice? If she had just asked, pleaded, or instructed Théodred to just… hold on, could he have made it? Had Niphrediel made a mistake? Had she let Théodred die?
Niphrediel coughed into her hand, suddenly feeling cold and somewhat unclean. She looked down at her body, her stupid body, of which was too developed for the mind and childlike spirit that possessed it. She wanted the body of a child again; a young child, of which displayed innocence both in mind, manner and physical description.
This world was unforgiving and greedy. It took away from her everything she possessed that meant or could mean a great deal. The world was ugly and cruel, and Niphrediel wanted anything but to be let out into it; like a bird without a cage it positively adored.
Théodred would have taken care of her… He would have fought for her. He would have died for her... He would have loved her, though Niphrediel had known he already did. It was wrong. Eru disliked Niphrediel… Did he not realise the responsibility of so much was something she could not handle?
Even Eru was unmerciful. Niphrediel wanted to hide under a rock and stay there forever; where no one could touch her. She wanted the stability she imagined she could have had growing up with both parents; both young; both alive; both unkempt.
Every child has a parent, no? In some form or another… Niphrediel frowned. Did she want to live in a world where she was sheltered from anything that could do her harm? Did she want to keep herself in one room of the glorious, and horrific, castle that was Life, without experiencing and learning from the mistakes that could eventually build strength?
"No," Niphrediel whispered against her hands, before bringing her knees up for her arms to hold tightly against her. She buried her head against her knees, letting the emotional effects of her memories of the dead pulse through her body and mind like one, huge, wave.
She did not want to change. She wanted Théodred back. She wanted Gilraen back. And, if Niphrediel could have another wish to complete a perfect three, she wanted Arathorn as well. Niphrediel wanted justice.
Niphrediel sniffed, only relieved that though she was crying like her body was bleeding tears; there were no loud sobbing or weeping to accompany her memory backlash.
She steadily felt an arm come around her, and it would have made her jolt if she had not heard the familiar sounds of light, smooth, effortless breathing. Only an elf or some sort of magical being could breathe like that; listening to Glorfindel over the years had made Niphrediel familiar with the sound.
"Sleep," Legolas said, against her somewhat untidy hair lying over the top of her head. "Tomorrow is another day."
Niphrediel let herself be moved back onto her blanket, and felt warmth rush back onto her bare arms when Legolas brought his cloak up over her, just beneath her chin. "Legolas?"
"What is it?" He frowned, brushing strands of grass off his hands.
Niphrediel sniffed, before flopping her arms over top of her blankets, her eyes shimmering with her unconscious tears both intensely serious and blank. "Am I cursed?"
Legolas's brow arced upwards, and he almost let out a laugh if not for the fact that there were others sleeping nearby. Gimli's echoing snores confirmed that. "Of course you are not. Why do you think that?"
Niphrediel shrugged. "No reason," she said, before closing her eyes and turning around.
Legolas looked at Niphrediel with a rather unreadable expression before he moved back onto his feet and turned around to walk away.
"Legolas?"
"Yes?" Legolas turned back on his heels.
"You will not leave us, right?."
Legolas paused for a moment, unable to deny that this question was an unusual one.
"Right?"
Legolas took a quick breath, before he parted his lips to reply. "I will try," he whispered back, before moving on; no sound to mark his departure save Niphrediel's unconscious knowing that he was no longer there.
Niphrediel's thoughts continued to stay on her deceased love ones, til she finally gave into the need to sleep. Something she dreaded, and so prayed idly for Irmo to give her nothing to dream about. No visions. No Eru-forsaken voices; just sleep; just the reassuring black that could not harm nor scare her.
For once, Niphrediel got what she hoped for.
"Caeleb!"
Niphrediel's eyelids snapped upwards, the light of the morning light hitting her like a harsh punch to her raw pupils. Niphrediel immediately closed her eyes again when faced with the bright sun, turning her head into the shelter of Aragorn's back, pressing her face into his tunic as she overcame the sudden wack.
After a moment or so, Niphrediel turned her head away again, her spare hand that was not hooked around Aragorn's stomach rubbing her drawn eyelids, messaging the orbs underneath.
With eyes remaining half-open, and not to mention rather red, Niphrediel send an absent wave in Rivanon and Raewyn's direction, quite far behind.
"The daughter of Aragorn rouses from slumber to the cries of a demanding babe," mumbled the King Théoden, as he rode to Aragorn's side; not having to so much as glance in her direction for it to be obvious he was directing his words to her. "An innocent torture, no?" the King smiled, as if to himself, somehow noticing Niphrediel's unspoken curses about her being woken.
"Of course," Aragorn answered for Niphrediel, patting her hand that gripped a little handful of his dark-coloured tunic at his front with one worn-skinned hand of his own.
Niphrediel felt sick. Lethargic, ill, weak… exactly what she had been on and off for the passed month or so, as if she had been robbed of her energy and was left only with it's frail residue. And yet, as Niphrediel absently looked back, she absolutely had to say that she was never sick. She could not remember one account in time that she had ever been ill.
"A run with the elf will revitalise her!" Gimli piped up immediately, with a pointed hand to the sky as if he had just answered the unanswerable question. He did not want to walk; he wanted to stay with the (foul) horse, walking at a pace that he deemed correct. He did not want to stroll alongside the elf with long legs like a spider. He prided himself on this sudden decision of laziness, though the overly energetic creature that was Legolas was making this discission less enjoyable.
Niphrediel grimaced at the thought, "No"—
Legolas interrupted her quickly, "Come on, then!"
With a groan, Niphrediel was pulled off the horse. Regardless of how gently Legolas grasped her, Niphrediel's skin ached at any such touch.
She was pulled by hand, having to force herself to wake up at the same time as willing her legs to run instead of collapse. Being tugged along, past slower-moving citizens, made Niphrediel somewhat reminded of Moria. Niphrediel would have shuddered.
Niphrediel's body began to warm quickly, and before she began to struggle to breath, Legolas let go of her hand and treaded to a stop. Niphrediel was quite surprised to discover they were at the front, at least a good twenty feet from the nearest group of Edoras citizens.
"I am scouting," informed Legolas, striding off to Niphrediel's left, his eyes, unnaturally keen—or at least to a mortal's eyes, directing themselves into the rocky hills in the distance.
Niphrediel yawned, the distinct beginnings of a curious frown marking the smooth skin of her forehead. "For what?" Niphrediel jogged a few steps forward to walk beside him, "Rabbits?"
"Oh, of course," Legolas grinned, his white teeth bright under the sun. "Evil, menacing rabbits that steal biscuits from my pockets when I sleep."
Niphrediel laughed, shaking her head at Legolas's expense. "Hilarious," she remarked, dryly; mock-seriousness played to perfection save the smile on her mouth.
"Oh, quiet," Legolas retorted in response, sending Niphrediel a wry, arced eyebrow. However, he then turned his head, as if he were going to look over his shoulder except his stare did not stay from Niphrediel's face even though it seemed his attention did.
"Why Niphrediel," Legolas began grandly, though quietly, as if someone may hear him. "You are being spoken of."
"I am?" Niphrediel grinned, her eyebrow quirking upwards in both curiosity and wryness; her instinct unable to determine wether or not Legolas spoke in jest. "By whom?"
"None other then Arathorn's son and Théoden's niece," Legolas said with a grin, his stare trailing onto the grass before him.
His reply made Niphrediel all the more curious—and suspicious. "What are they saying about me?" she asked, not sure wether to be disturbed or overjoyed, moving closer beside the elf as if it were all a great secret.
Legolas placed a hand about his ear, wryly feigning effort to listen. "Oh, they are just describing what a horrible little maid you are, and are planning a way that we can abandon you at the nearest river."
Naturally, Niphrediel did not find this offensive. Perhaps if it had not come from him, Niphrediel would have thought a little more about it before letting the joke slide. She was becoming closely familiar with him now. Niphrediel was not certain wether or not that was a good thing, either.
Of course, it had nothing to do with the fact that Legolas was not satisfactory for a friend. Niphrediel just did not want to have many elvish ones that were too close to her. In the end, she would live to see them leave, or they would live to watch her die. Why leave them forlorn or remain to watch them do the same to her? In that respect, Glorfindel was one of her greatest mistakes. That elf would break her heart one day.
"I jest, Niphrediel," Legolas chuckled, just in case Nieninquë was not sure. He was considerate, at least. "They are just talking about how lovely you are; nothing too harsh, I am sure. The Lady Éowyn must have taken a liking to you."
"As she did Aragorn," Niphrediel mumbled unconsciously under her breath; cursing herself immediately after the last syllable left her tongue.
Instead of noticing Niphrediel's mistake, Legolas regarded her words with thoughtful serenity. "Aye," he said, after a pensive moment, unable to disagree, an arm casually coming around Niphrediel's back in an involuntary gesture of comfort. "She has taken a liking to your keeper."
Niphrediel sighed, though she received comfort from the casual tone that Legolas spoke in, and the brief embrace of his arm. It was brief, though, as most of Legolas's gestures were, Niphrediel noted, so it made the simple hug she received a little more special. His tone made such facts less severe, for Legolas, obviously, was not worried about any of them.
"Legolas?"
"Yes, Niphrediel?"
Niphrediel coughed, clearing her throat before beginning. "Do you know the identity of the deceased elf you brought with you to Edoras?"
Legolas seemed relatively surprised Niphrediel knew about it, though he did not give too much hesitation afterwards. "Herentur, an archer of Lorien, Niphrediel," he replied, his brows rising high for a moment. "Do you remember him?"
Niphrediel lowered her stare to the grass as her boots slowly treaded upon it. "No, of course not." Why burden his thoughts with the facts of how she came upon Rohan when he could be carefree about that subject for a short time?
Herentur was gone, anyway. Niphrediel had left his buried carcass in Edoras, or so she assumed. Why else would they have brought a dead body to the Rohirric city if not to find it a proper burial ground?
"Tired?" Niphrediel asked.
Legolas shot her a look, his grin shifting into a laughing smile. "I am exhausted."
Niphrediel rolled her eyes, moving a little closer to his side as she pointed her finger to something in the near distance. "You see that rock?" She indicated a rather lonely looking rock some two hundred feet in the distance of the field.
Legolas nodded. "Aye, I do see the rock!"
"Race me to it," Niphrediel challenged, somewhat forgetful of her recent battle with fatigue.
Legolas laughed, shaking his head in both amusement and incredulity. "Not today, little Niphrediel," he grinned, before spotting Háma on his horse riding towards the rocky hills. "Do you see anything, Háma?" Legolas yelled.
"Nothing so far," came Hama's reply, "Come closer, Lord Elf, your eyes would be a virtue!"
Legolas simply nodded, even though he knew the Rohirric man was much too far away to notice. He sighed, eyes drawn downwards, his lingering breath the only hint to his dwindling spirit that he hid so well. "Oh well," he said, taking his bow off his back. "I will be back soon."
With that, he began to run, leaving Niphrediel walking behind him.
Niphrediel did not mind; content enough to walk by herself. Though, of course, she would not mind someone to talk to as she walked, but it did not matter too much.
But then, that very moment was exactly when something went wrong. Niphrediel did not necessarily see what happened, but she could here the scream.
"Háma!" Niphrediel shouted, beginning to sprint towards where the both the screaming and Legolas had gone and come from. Her hand fastened on the hilt of Alagos at her back, and Niphrediel absently thanked her lucky stars that she had been wearing it. She looked over her shoulder and could see Aragorn hurrying over.
"A scout!" Niphrediel heard Legolas exclaim, as he quickly inspected the remains of what Niphrediel thought to be a foul creature cross bred between a gigantic dog and some sort of wolf beast. She skidded to a stop, both because she did not want to go closer, and the smell that came from the animal prevented her from doing so.
"What are they?" Niphrediel shouted, eyes bright in panic.
Legolas looked past Niphrediel, nodding to Aragorn as he rushed back to Théoden and the people, telling them to head another direction. "Go," he ordered, nudging Niphrediel to the side and seeming to ignore her previous question in the heat of the moment. But, for that, Niphrediel could not blame him.
He ran to the edge of the crooked hearth; of which gave him enough height to see the plains beyond. As if he had pushed some sort of latch within, he felt his pupils dilate, and could only watch and wait as he strung his bow.
"Niphrediel, run," he hissed, not having to look away to know that she was still standing in the exact place. He fired his first arrow.
"Be careful, damn you," Niphrediel mumbled, before turning and sprinting down the hill as fast as her legs could possibly take her; having to dodge the horses of the guards that were rushing the opposite direction to face the beasts and their orc riders upon them.
She looked over her shoulder once, and saw Aragorn look over his own one in unison with her, as if to just make sure she had left. It was less then a second that her eyes grazed over his, but it was just enough time and recognition to put one worry out of Aragorn's mind; though, of course, he had much more important ones to attend to.
Niphrediel slowed her pace when she began to pass the elderly woman at the back of the line, who she gathered a couple bags from to carry in their stead, and only began to walk when she caught up with Éowyn.
There, Niphrediel walked, and bent over to catch her breath,
whipping the sweat off her brow with the back of her arm.
"I am sure they will arrive any time now, Niphrediel."
Niphrediel nodded, holding Rivanon in an unusually tight hold, rocking him from side to side to save herself from fidgeting. Thankfully, he actually liked it.
"What could be taking so long, Raewyn?"
"It could be anything, Niphrediel," Raewyn shrugged, brushing the hair of Blythe; one of the only female children of her orphanage.
They had arrived at Helms Deep at least an hour passed, or something roundabouts. Niphrediel was not too sure; time was something she was not worrying too much about at the time.
The fortress was barely large enough to home all the people that had gathered inside it. All old and young, child and adult, hideously crowded it. Éowyn was outside the hall planted at the top of the fortress, making sure her people were all as well as they could be. Niphrediel stayed with Raewyn and the children—both of Raewyn's orphanage and many others given to Raewyn to take care of while their mothers helped with other things.
"Why do we have yellow hair, Raewyn?" asked Blythe, seeming awfully confused as she continually looked from Niphrediel's hair, to Rivanon's.
"Because that is the way Eru wished you to be," replied Raewyn, blankly, no longer a stranger to answering and hearing the question.
"I want black hair," Blythe whined, before letting out a high-pitched squeal when Raewyn 'accidentally' found a knot amongst her wavy tresses.
Niphrediel would have smiled, if she were not so very worried. A pool in her gut was boiling up, and her tongue had every chance to swell from the harsh gnaws it was receiving from Niphrediel's teeth.
"What were those beasts, Raewyn?"
Raewyn shrugged once more, tapping Blythe to move over so she could brush the boy-child Derbic's hair. "I did not get a chance to see them, child," she replied, before beginning to brush her comp through the seven-year-olds long locks. "But I believed they were called wargs by Lord Aragorn; your father."
Niphrediel stroked her cheek against Rivanon's crown. "Yes….my father," she whispered, too quiet for Raewyn to hear.
"You are very much alike, my dear," Raewyn said, warmly, happy to manoeuvre onto a brighter topic.
"Éowyn likes him." Niphrediel could not keep her mouth shut about that teeny, tiny, piece of knowledge.
"Well, Aragorn is a beautiful man, my girl," Raewyn said, both sympathetically and gently. "In a different way from the elf, of course…But, Lady Éowyn is a young woman, as you are, and here is this strong, handsome, wise, gentle and noble man. You could not blame her for her attraction."
Niphrediel sighed, "You sound as if you can speak from experience."
Raewyn laughed heartily, her eyes bright as they looked happily over Niphrediel's face. "Oh deary no, lass. I am not concerned with romantics; I just have eyes."
Niphrediel grinned, "Very well then."
"Besides," Raewyn smiled, kissing the top of Derbic's head before gently pushing him off the stool. "My lord husband may get jealous," she beamed and sent Niphrediel a wry wink.
Niphrediel just smiled. While some widows shuddered at the memories of their fallen partners; Raewyn merely relished them. She loved her husband a great deal, far too much to want to forget their joy. Niphrediel only reminded herself, as she pondered on, that Raewyn's situation was the fate of Mortal love. Niphrediel almost shuddered… How fickle.
Raewyn sighed contently, "I"—
"Make way for Théoden! Make way for the King!"
"Hurray! They have returned, Niphrediel," Raewyn said, standing up from her chair as Niphrediel released Rivanon and jumped up; her sword discarded against the arm of her chair. "Go, greet them."
Niphrediel did not need to be told twice, in this case at least. She jogged to the door and threw it open, before pushing herself in amongst those that stood on the steps leading to the door as her stare headed down, where the riders where getting off their horses.
However, Niphrediel did not get that far.
Wether it was by chance or no, Niphrediel saw Éowyn standing in the corner of her eye, down near what seemed to be Théoden's horse. Niphrediel did notice Gimli standing in front of Éowyn, but, mostly, what Niphrediel's attention was directed upon; was Éowyn's facial expression.
Niphrediel froze; those who stood around her seeming to fade into a moving mix of blurs clouding the borders of her vision. Someone had been killed that Éowyn had known; of that Niphrediel was certain. But…then why would Gimli be there to deliver the news? If it had been someone who had nothing really to do with the dwarf, he would not have been the one to tell her he had fallen in battle.
Niphrediel's lips parted like two dry strips of skin only days away from chapping.
Niphrediel could feel her eyes prickle, even though she still had not been told anything. She had not talked to anyone, so how could she have known? Niphrediel had no evidence but instinct, and hers was rather lousy with suck things.
Suddenly, it was as if she had hit a wall. She felt sick, nauseous and dizzy, her eyelids seeming to weigh the equivalent of a brick as they slowly flickered up and down. Her knees began to weaken; and her legs began to numb.
She had to keep herself from falling as she watched Legolas walking up the stone steps when he eventually noticed her. The expression on his face spoken volumes, he would not have had to speak if Niphrediel's brain were working correctly.
Even in the state of sickness Niphrediel had found herself in, she could feel a hundred eyes planted on her. She could feel people looking at her, pitying her, and waiting for her to hear the news so they could see her reaction.
Yet, strangely, Niphrediel did not know exactly what Legolas was going to say. She simply did not comprehend, even though her body seemed to. Perhaps she did know, but her mind chose to delay such facts for as long as it possibly could.
"Niphrediel…" Legolas began, when he reached the top. He patted her shoulder, and swallowed long before continuing on. "Aragorn…he, ah…" Legolas licked his lips nervously before speaking again, looking up from the ground to see Niphrediel's reaction. "He fell, Niphrediel."
Legolas was then silent, and he watched closely for any sign of panic on Niphrediel's face. For a moment, however, he saw nothing. Niphrediel was as blank as an unwritten book. But then, straight after, shock began to set in. Legolas noticed Niphrediel's eyes widen and lower, the dreamy look in them taking on an almost disturbing appearance as they unconsciously began to dampen in what he knew to be tears—though thankfully there were not enough to make trails down her cheeks, for it seemed Niphrediel was too shocked at the moment to cry.
Her mouth opened, and yet no sound came out, and when Legolas thought Niphrediel was taking a step forward, she was actually falling down. He grabbed her underneath her arms, having to lean over a moment to get a good grip before lifting her up, for her legs seemed to be inadequate to support her weight.
"Niphrediel? Niphrediel?!" Legolas held her up and looked her face over, seeming to ignore the two lines of tears falling down her two cheeks from two closed eyelids.
"Gimli!" he cried. "Help!"
"Is it too cold?"
"No."
Niphrediel laid overtop of the thin covers of a simple white bed in one of the rooms the hall connected to. The room was modest and dark, save the small patches of light sourced by lit candles upon their assorted candleholders. If Legolas could not say so himself, Niphrediel was as pale—if not more so—as how she was before she had seen the light of day.
Legolas rested in a kneel at the bed's side, an arm laid across the covers' edge while the hand of his other arm moved from a warm bowl of water at the end table beside the bed to Niphrediel's forehead while holding a cloth.
He dampened Niphrediel's forehead with the cloth, and sporadically squeezed the water from the rag over the top of the mortal's hairline, to wet her hair and sweep it back.
Legolas had remained there for two hours after he carried Niphrediel to the room. Gimli had taken his place for six hours after that when Théoden called upon Legolas, and Legolas had been here for three hours since his return. Niphrediel had been awake for hours, and she
Her eyes looked into nothingness, though they seemed to direct themselves towards a small candle standing upon the shelf hanging on the opposite wall. If not for the calm rising and falling of her chest, and her sporadic blinking, Legolas would have been worried. Or, at least, he would have been a little more worried.
"Niphrediel?" he whispered, as to not abruptly disturb the silence of the room, and so his voice would not be able to be heard from others in the other rooms nearby. He knew he would get no reply, but he thought it good to ask every now and then, just in case the orphan wished to speak back.
Was he doing the right thing? In such a situation, he was obligated to stay and attempt to give the child comfort, correct? Just like in the garden in Lorien.
She wept out of fear that time, Legolas! It was simple to comfort her then, but loss is something entirely different! Especially for a Mortal…
Legolas was over his head. Mortals were different then elf-kind; was he making a mistake? He did not know Man's code of conduct when it came to their ways of grieving. Every now and then he would look over his shoulder at the door, wondering which side of it he was supposed to be standing on.
The mortal race was so complicated with their grief. Their emotions, their reactions, their moods, their expressions, their gestures. Each person seemed more different then the next when it came to losing loved ones. Legolas had not been around those of the kind to know how he was supposed to comfort one that had been a victim of such heartbreak. It was strange… Their death was so… so final.
Legolas dropped the cloth in the bowl of water for a moment, before drying his hands on a towel placed over the foot of the bed. He leaned over the edge of the bed tiredly, his hand coming unconsciously coming up to brush drops of water off the mortal's brow.
"Is this a sign?"
Legolas's eyes did not widen, nor did his lips part; ready to let out a gasp. Though, he was indeed surprised to hear the almost haunting sound, he seemed more disturbed then shocked to hear the words. "Pardon?"
"Is this a sign?" she repeated. Niphrediel sighed and swallowed hard, before giving her tongue the relief of speaking a way that maybe would let out what she needed to say with a little more ease. "Tehta tanya amin aa' il'martuva aut haein?" (A sign that I may not be destined to go further) Niphrediel sat up in her bed and turned to put her back against the wall. Her legs came up in an almost automatic movement, her cold hands joined between her thighs at her crotch.
Her head nearly banged against the wall as she let herself move back to slouch against it. "Aragorn il'harme gurthe," (Aragorn should not have died) Niphrediel hissed angrily at Legolas, with so much frustration it was as if she believed he did not agree; or as if she thought it was his fault. Her tone was sharp in anger yet her eyes revealed frustration, confusion and pain. She did not know how to handle this situation. What in the Valar was she supposed to do? Cry?! Scream?! Beg like Lúthien did the Valar for Beren?? That would get Niphrediel nothing. She was no damn Lúthien.
"Her harme nauva sinome!" (He should be here!) Niphrediel protested, clutching her clasped hands so tightly it stung. Niphrediel shook her head, digging her boots into the mattress of the bed to prevent her sudden urge of lashing out at it. Her head fell; even in such a state she did not want to be seen crying.
Crying… Niphrediel despised the act more then ever.
"Mani martuva amin sii?" (What happens to me now?) Niphrediel asked; oblivious and negative in every way. "Amin rimuva eska? N'alaquel Imladris yassen i'sapsa en Gilraen creouva amin?" Niphrediel brought her hands over her eyes, her head shaking at the thought her oh-so recent comment. (I run home? Back to Rivendell where the grave of Gilraen will welcome me?"
"Amin…n'sinta." (I…do not know.) Legolas replied quietly, at a loss of words to say. "Gimli ar' amin il'keluva lle…" (Gimli and I will not leave you…) Legolas sighed and shook his head. "But even we are at a loss at what will become of us now that Aragorn is gone"—
"But you have your families," Niphrediel retorted, her hands quipping to her sides to show the glare that shot out from her eyes to burn Legolas face ferociously. "Lle caela valin eskalle. Lle"—
Somehow, whatever Niphrediel had just said had pushed Legolas over the edge. His fist bolted from his side and grabbed the collar of Niphrediel's blouse; and with one rough movement, he jerked Niphrediel from her sudden reign of bitter power and confidence. His face was cold; as was his angry stare, a contrast to the shocked and frightened expression that he received in return.
Niphrediel felt the whip of the elf's harsh breath as he spoke, "Do not speak of things you know nothing about," he shouted. "You know nothing about my homeland's troubles, nor my family. You know absolutely nothing!" And, just like that, he released Niphrediel; sending her back against the wall without so much as a flick of his hand.
Taking heavy breathes, Niphrediel could only watch as Legolas stood from his place before the cot and angrily strode to the door. She noted the fury in his movements as he flung the door open and slammed it behind him, making the finale of his farewell a loud slam. Even though Niphrediel watched the entire thing, she jumped at the sound of the door slamming.
As soon as she heard that almost echoing sound, Niphrediel regretting every single word she had just spoken. Every single word, Niphrediel wished she could take back. How could she have been so horrible?! And to Legolas, of all people. She did not know enough about him to have the right to treat him so. Damn her; damn Niphrediel.
Damn it, Niphrediel, chase him! At that particular time, Niphrediel would have rather cut off her own hand then have Legolas so infuriated with her. It seemed like she did not give a second thought before jumping onto her feet and following the elf's example to the door.
"Legolas?" Niphrediel walked into the next room; the hall. She hurriedly scanned it before striding to the main doors. She did not need the eyes of a hawk to know that Legolas was not in there.
Niphrediel stepped onto the stone platform of the keep, her heart beginning to weigh even heavier against her ribcage. The wind lashed freely at her; her skin automatically feeling the bite of the chill that had been carried through it. Her hair thrashed about her face in the wind as Niphrediel looked from one place to another; the night casting shadows that even her eyesight could not penetrate through.
He could have been anywhere. Even though Niphrediel probably stood on the best place for her task, there were too many possibilities. Niphrediel eyed the ground bellow, and the area by the drain. Then, casting her eyes in direction of the bridge that lead over to the garrison; Niphrediel felt the sweet taste of relief as the silhouette of stone was disturbed by the statuesque—but inapt—outline of what seemed to be a tall young man.
Niphrediel gave herself no time for self-doubting and regretting, intent on rushing over in case (by some chance) he moved away. She walked quickly, just short of jogging til she got within a good twenty feet behind him at the foot of the bridge that lead over the outpost where he currently looked over the land from.
Niphrediel slowed down; her steps quiet as they usually were, though hardly purposely so. Niphrediel knew better then to sneak up on an elf. If she ever did so and it seemed she had done it genuinely and without any warning whatsoever; then that particular elf must be lying.
Niphrediel stopped at the end of the bridge, her mouth dry as she fought for the right words to say. He continued to stand there. He did not acknowledge her—though, at the same time, did Niphrediel expect him to?
"I am sorry," she gushed with the exhalation of her breath, shaking her head as she lowered it in shame. "I did not mean to say those words I said!" Niphrediel quickly looked at Legolas; hoping to find some sign of forgiveness on the cold marble of his face. "Honestly!"
"Niphred"—
"I swear on my honour!" Niphrediel interrupted, automatically expecting him to scorn her. Her eyes pleaded with the elf that seemed to refuse to look directly at her to notice. Damn him, how interesting was the landscape anyway? It could not have been that brilliant, yet it seemed Legolas could not take his eyes away. "I promise, I"—
" Niphrediel! " Legolas exclaimed, with slight annoyance visual in the tone and volume of his voice. Finally, he looked away from the fields bellow the barracks—Niphrediel almost cheered! Though, he still did not look at her, instead he peered into the corner of his eye. Niphrediel knew he could at least see her outline from that angle, but nothing better. Niphrediel also noted he had a rolled blanket under his left arm. Was he planning to sleep outside? Here? Well, he was an elf…
Now that he had her quiet, Legolas spoke again, his tone calmer, though also more impassive. "Come closer," he requested firmly, his jaw tightly set and his brows drawn together in a passive frown.
Niphrediel deeply swallowed, holding her hands behind her back tightly as she took two steps forward. Legolas had to harshly say 'Closer' two times after that til she seemed to stand in the correct place; just beside him.
It almost made her jump when she watched him sigh deeply and blink, lowering his eyes to the ground as if he was the one that had done the foolish thing. It almost made her unaware of his hand that gently touched the collar of her blouse. His hand was eventually followed by his stare; and Niphrediel could see then that it was not impassive at all; but hurt.
"Did I hurt you?"
Niphrediel would have shaken her head, but she did not want to move her neck while it seemed to be inspected. "No!" she said, hoping a bright manner would make him dismiss the topic and accept her apology she had so recently given.
Legolas pulled the collar from the skin of her neck an inch to the right and shook his head. Legolas simply tapped the small part of flesh he had been paying attention to and sighed. "That will bruise," he said, his eyes seeing more then Niphrediel's clear skin had yet to show.
Niphrediel shrugged and moved Legolas's hands away from her collar, to show it really did not matter. "That is not important. I think I bruise too easily."
Legolas shrugged his shoulders and looked back to the fields. "I should not have done that, Niphrediel," he said, "Forg"—
"I do not blame you," said Niphrediel, cutting him off.
Legolas sent her a knowing look, "That is no excuse."
Niphrediel shrugged, beginning to feel uncomfortable as she thought of a proper way to reply to that. "You lost your friend, and you were angry. Your behaviour and actions have become victims to these accounts, not to mention my foolish comment about a place I do not have the knowledge to speak of."
"… Very well," Legolas mumbled, though still obviously unconvinced and heavy-of-mind.
Niphrediel sighed, and followed his stare out into the open fields. Aragorn's body was out there somewhere. Cold… Wet… Lonely.
Aragorn…
Mental images flew through Niphrediel's mind: corpses bloody and blue; skin grey and cold…odour sickening and ghastly.
Arwen… Niphrediel felt her stomach flip and her heart miss a beat. Poor Undómiel…
Poor Arwen? Poor Arwen, with a living father and two brothers? Poor Arwen, with magnificent grandparents and an impeccable lineage? Poor Arwen, with a place in the Undying Lands? Oh yes, Niphrediel, "poor, poor, Arwen".
"Something is not right…"
Niphrediel glanced at Legolas, her train of thought broken. She frowned, pondering for a quick moment before expression her curiosity. "What is not right?" she pondered, patiently.
Legolas let out a breath, marking the air with it like a dragon breathing frost. "I….I do not know. But something… something. I can feel it in the pits of my stomach and in the very depths of my heart," Legolas took Niphrediel's hand and placed it over the left side of his chest, as if she would declare him senile if he did not give some sort of evidence. "Can you feel that?"
Niphrediel lied, and nodded slowly before she was able to replace her hand at her hip. She then absently began to graze her palm against the hip of her trousers, as if they were dirty. Niphrediel frowned at the almost stinging sparks that stabbed like needles into the skin of her hand at the feeling of being touched. She watched Legolas look to the black sky, and felt her stomach flip.
Niphrediel's frown darkened. Maybe she was getting a little sick or something?
"Something stirs in the air," he whispered, his voice lifting into the chilly air that blew around him. "Something stirs in the earth…but I cannot put my finger on it. But…but, I know it as I know myself… Aragorn's voice echoes words inside my mind yet I cannot hear what he is saying. I try to listen but he is too quiet even for my hearing."
Legolas shook his head, "I will speak no more of these things. Not until I can make out what the meaning is for myself. Worry naught, that will be all for now."
Niphrediel shrugged, "I am not worrying." You liar. Niphrediel bit her lip and hugged herself, grasping her icy arms with numb fingertips.
Legolas turned his head, regarding her with a light stare. "You are cold," he said, his intonation making it obvious that he was not asking a question. "Go inside," he nodded towards the bridge, "before you catch cold. I would not want you sick."
Niphrediel shook her head immediately, "No, all is well. I am fine," she assured lamely, refusing to move. "Honest, I am fine."
Legolas's mouth stretched slowly into a smile; and though it seemed as if he was going to laugh, Niphrediel did not hear that particular tune. "You cannot be serious," he tugged the bottom of her chemise. "A bear would be cold in that." His wit was returning; he was beginning to feel better.
"Hush, I am fine," Niphrediel retorted, feigning annoying rather well—though, sadly, not well enough. She continued to blink, though her flicking eyelids began to rise and fall more slowly each time.
"You are fibbing," Legolas stated, with a laugh, "and you are tired. Niphrediel, go to bed."
"No."
Legolas glared at her, though his smile remained at his own regard. "Niphrediel, I will push you off the edge of the garrison. You need to lie down, be warm, and sleep."
"No," Niphrediel frowned, becoming rather angry at this argument. Just give up Legolas; I refuse to return to the Cry Room.
That was exactly what it was too, a damn Cry Room. It must have been the candles… It was like lying in a tomb. Too bad for Niphrediel if it was becoming rather hard to stop herself from swaying since she truly was very tired… Damn her for being so bloody stubborn.
Legolas hissed something under his breath, some swearword, perhaps, that Niphrediel did not have the hearing to catch.
"Do not complain," Niphrediel protested. "You are just going to be standing here anyway, right?"
Though still obviously frustrated, Legolas did nod to that. "Probably. But, I do not need the rest that you do."
"I do not want to go back to that room," Niphrediel mumbled, somewhat hoping he would hear her.
Legolas smirked, "Well, unless you are willing to curl up on the dirty floor of the garrison, feel free to sleep here," his voice seemed to trail off, his expression suddenly becoming pensive.
"Do not fret about whatever I chose to do, Elf," Niphrediel said. "You can just…. stand there."
"Niphrediel, I will probably be here all night," Legolas sent her an almost helpless look. "You will not be able to handle that long in the open without warmth and rest."
Niphrediel shrugged, putting on a strong face even though she knew that Legolas was absolutely correct, "I do not want to go back into the room."
Legolas sighed, "You wish to remain here with me that desperately?"
Niphrediel shot him a quick glare, "What else is there for me to do? I do not know where Gimli is."
"Niphrediel, I swear to you, you will be struggling to stay awake in less then five minutes or so. Do not doubt me," Legolas shook his head, absolutely incredulous.
"Oh hush." Niphrediel could not think of anything better to say. How sad…
"Five minutes, Niphrediel"—
"I do not care! Be quiet!" Niphrediel yelled in childish argumentation.
Again, Legolas sighed and his shoulders slumped in defeat. "Fine," he hissed, before he began fiddling with his blanket that he still held in his left hand. Beginning to unfold it, with his head still shaking in obvious disbelieving, Legolas let the wind blow the crinkles out of it before holding it up.
"I cannot believe this," he exclaimed to himself, rather then Niphrediel, before giving her quite a fright by roughly wrapping it around her. "There!" Legolas growled smugly, making Niphrediel support the blanket with her own hands.
"No more complaining," he added, over his shoulder.
Niphrediel pulled the thick wool around her close, her skin blissfully rubbing against the covers. The tips of her mouth curved upwards, yet Niphrediel was not too sure wether or not her face recognised the reaction of smiling too well. "Very well," she mumbled, smirking with glee on the inside.
"Warm?" Legolas quickly added; care and concern suddenly mingled in the sound of his voice.
Niphrediel nodded, "Yes."
Legolas nodded once, brushing his hands together proudly, "Excellent," he said, before coming silent. Niphrediel merely had to glance at him to see that he was silent in abstraction. He was thinking hard about something; but Niphrediel could only guess what.
"I will tell you what…" Niphrediel was almost surprised to hear his voice. So accustomed to the recent silence was she that the breaking of it came nearly made her jump.
Niphrediel's brow arched when Legolas hesitated to finish his sentence. "You will tell me what?" she inquired, gently pressing him to continue. "Well?"
"One day, I will take you to Mirkwood," Legolas nodded in satisfaction at the idea. He looked at Niphrediel, his eyes glimmering with sympathy. "I can feel your anxiety at the idea of returning to Rivendell without…" Legolas needed not to say his name, "well…you know. My father's kingdom has it's troubles…but it has it's beauty also, which is what we fight for. If you ever.... wished to go there…I would always be there to pass you through safely."
"Thankyou." For the first time that evening, Niphrediel smiled. Well, at least her lips attempted to curve into what Niphrediel hoped resembled some variant of a smile. It reached her eyes, nevertheless, and hopefully the elf would take more notice of that then her mouth's uncoordinated stretch.
"Caeleb?"
Somewhat shocked, Niphrediel turned around to see Rivanon standing in nothing but his nightgown in front of the opened door of the keep; the wind unmerciful on his golden skin as he looked with damp eyes from one place to another in search of his beloved Caeleb.
Niphrediel's lips parted in shock. What is he doing up? Niphrediel glanced behind the boy to see if Raewyn or any other adult was racing after him to pill him back inside where it was warm. There were none, and Niphrediel could not help but feel moderately angry for that.
Looking back at Legolas, Niphrediel took the blanket off her shoulders and quickly folded it back up. Trying to ignore what a tatty job of the folding the blanket she had done, Niphrediel held it out for Legolas to take. "Thank you," she said, the cold wind making her eyes water.
Legolas must have thought she was becoming glassy-eyed from something more melancholic, for he simply nodded and took the blanket with a hand; his strong stare upon her face like a slow fire.
With a shrug of her shoulders, Niphrediel turned and made for the bridge; her pace quick due to her haste to reach the clueless Rivanon.
"Niphrediel?"
With that, Niphrediel paused in her step and turned around. With her brows high, she looked back at the elf. "Yes?"
"I do not believe he is dead," is all he said, nothing in his intonation to display anything but gentle honesty. Legolas hoped he was right to convey such beliefs; and hoped just as much, if not more, that perhaps Niphrediel would be comforted by his words.
But, for a moment Niphrediel said nothing. Legolas's breath was caught in his throat for a moment. Would she not be somewhat joyous that there could be doubt of her keeper's death? That maybe there was a chance that perhaps, just perhaps, Aragorn was out there…somewhere?
Perhaps Niphrediel was more of an enigma then he thought, for her eyes wondered downwards in though and her mouth stayed closed in silence before she slowly turned her head around again and continued on across the bridge to the fair-haired infant on the other side. The only words afterwards that he heard her say was "Come on, Rivanon," before she picked the boy up and went into the keep.
Legolas's jaw clenched in anger and slight frustration. At that very moment, he recognised his slight jealousy of the little Rohirric boy for stealing Niphrediel's attention from him. He cursed himself for such immature, and rash thoughts. He was no child! He was no young mortal man fighting for some maid's attention!
Legolas's brow furred into a frown before he turned and
began to walk further across the barracks. With his morbid expression and his
eyes set to the floor, he seemed rather disturbed at something unspoken and
unexpressed.
The shadows were dark, looming over every corridor and every room. Never had there been such darkness in the Elvenhome of Imladris. Never had Niphrediel's eyes seen such shadow in its purest form strong enough to show its face within the House of Elrond. In a long, dark, corridor, Niphrediel felt herself stepping closer and closer to the door at the very end that lead to Gilraen's chamber.
The door to her chamber was open. The very thought of this made Niphrediel know something was wrong. Gilraen's door was never open. Yet, though Niphrediel took another step forward, and then another, and another; she could not see what was inside the room. She could see the candles on the far wall that ran that the opened door could show; but nothing of more importance.
'Niphrédiel?' Gilraen! Her voice was riddled in pain. Niphrediel's teeth clenched as she felt her stomach churn forward. She was being hurt!
Niphrediel's lips parted, and her pace quickly moved into a run, and then quickly into a harsh sprint when the corridor seemed to lengthen and her mother's door became more far away.
Faster and faster, Niphrediel ran. She ran so quickly she could not feel the ground beneath her feet. Her lungs screamed for mercy and her heart for resolution but she refused to stop.
'Niphrédiel!!' Gilraen screamed, her voice echoing through the corridor.
Niphrediel began to weep, tears falling from her eyes in frustration and hurt. She could not reach her! 'Mother!' she cried, her body becoming unable to continue on and her knees beginning to buckle from their recent abuse.
'Niphrédiel!'
Niphrediel fell onto her knees, her fists banging against her chest as she watched the door become smaller and smaller as the corridor grew. She could not win. 'Moth'—
Niphrediel's voice fell as it was interrupted by a loud,
agonising scream. Almost immediately, Niphrediel's hands latched onto her ears
as she tried desperately to shut the noise out. She cried loudly; but even that
was engulfed by Gilraen's screaming.
'Mother!'
Niphrediel bolted up on her bed, her eyes wide circles of black in the darkness that shrouded her bedchamber. Tears were formed in the eyes of the little girl as they darted from one place to the other in hyperactive horror as if she almost expected something to jump out from the gloom and gobble her up.
Her darting eyes of horror became darting eyes of search, as nothing seemed to move or enter her room. A frown came upon the innocent face of the child as absent tears rolled over her pallor and cold cheeks.
Was someone not supposed to come and comfort her? Niphrediel wiped her cheeks and quietly slipped out of her bed, her tiny feet stinging subtly with the bite of the early morning chill.
The door of her chamber creaked as her white hand pushed it open, and Niphrediel was careful to dodge the rays of mild sunlight that snuck into the corridor through the edges of the curtains that hung over the windows for the very purpose of keeping the sunlight out.
Niphrediel ran to the door a mere seven metres from her own door. She had to stretch high on the tips of her toes to reach the doorknob, but thankfully the doorhandle was a rather easy mechanism for the hands of a child to overcome.
Niphrediel almost cheered as the door silently opened, and she spared no time in taking a peak inside to make sure her presence was unknown before closing it behind her with all the concentration she could muster to do so without too much of a slam.
There was a bit of a screech as the lebethron door closed, but thankfully it was not loud enough to wake anyone up. Niphrediel shivered; this particular room was always colder then hers was, but the blankets on the bed, however, were the most warm and soft then any others Niphrediel had lain in!
After quickly giving the large room another once-over, Nieninquë set off like a bolt of lightning towards the large bed on the other side of the room. Due only to the weight of the girl's tiny body, the mattress did not give any mind to her existence when she jumped like a spring onto the foot of it.
Niphrediel took a long drag of the sweet scent of the blankets as she crawled higher onto it. It was so much bigger then her own; though she thought that rather suitable, since the person who slept on it was much bigger and stronger and braver then she was.
The right side of the bed was always empty just for her, so Niphrediel knew that she would not be trampling over any stray legs or whatnot, but she made sure she movement smoothly enough that she would not make a large thump in the mattress when she collapsed onto the pillows at the head.
She turned her little head to the one that lay somewhat beside it on the left. It was her Aragorn!
His face was blank and peaceful, his skin unmarked by age and care and his hair as raven as the night itself; without so much as a hint of grey. His eyes were closed in sleep, and his breath came calm and deep. Even when he was in such an unweary state, Niphrediel could not have felt safer. Nothing could hurt her now!
Maybe she had made more noise then she had meant to, for the corners of Aragorn's mouth stretched into something of a proud smirk and his arm came up; his hand holding the folds of his white blankets up for Niphrediel to come into—and so, she did!
Niphrediel kicked her legs into the blankets and Aragorn blindly draped his arm over her as he lowered the blanket down again. Niphrediel turned into him, snuggling into the pillows, and only when she was finally completely comfortable, Aragorn pulled her against him in a small hug that would last through til the morning.
Aragorn ceased to move again, however it was a little harder for Niphrediel to close her eyes and go back to sleep; so she just stared at his face until her eyelids grew heavy.
"Aragorn?"
Aragorn sighed, "What?"
"Where did mother go?"
" You will understand one day. Go to sleep now."
With a pout, Niphrediel closed her eyes…
And, without the pout, Niphrediel's eyes flickered open.
As per usual, her sight was always rather blurry when she had either slept too long or too little; and so it took her a moment or so for the colours and objects before her to take proper shape.
Still lost in her dream, Niphrediel looked to the face of Aragorn lying opposite her in his unchanged position. But, slowly, Niphrediel's memory began to wake up, and her imagination faded.
Thus, her eyes widened and glistened as they looked over the more familiar, worn, and tiresome face of the son of Arathorn, and she reached out with a hand to touch his unmoving cheek. But, just as her fingertips went to lower themselves onto the golden skin of Aragorn's face; her vision of him faded, leaving her nothing but air to look upon.
With a short gasp, Niphrediel jumped up on her bed and rubbed her eyes with her hands just to test the dependability of her eyesight.
"What the…" Niphrediel's voice broke off quickly, as her incredulous stare scanned the bedroom. "Ara…gorn?"
He fell, Niphrediel, Niphrediel recalled Legolas's voice from recent memory after the empty bedroom gave her no reply.
Niphrediel felt her mentality revolt. No, he hadn't. He was right there!
He is dead, Niphrediel, she thought. Aragorn is dead! It was a dream, damn it all. A dream—it was not real.
"A dream…" Niphrediel coughed, the phlegm in her throat no more. In pensive silence, Niphrediel stood up from the bed, rubbing the back of her neck with her left hand.
Noticing a bundle of black on the chair near the bed, Niphrediel was almost surprised to see a carefully folded black tunic and a pair of brown leather leggings. Niphrediel identified the leggings; they were similar to the ones the Riders of Rohan used to wear.
Éomer… Niphrediel could only wonder where he was now. Curse you, Gríma!
Quickly taking off her clothing, Niphrediel relished the caress of clean fabric as she pulled up the trousers and attached her belt to keep it up. The black tunic… Niphrediel recognised the embroidery; Raewyn had made it. Quickly putting it on, Niphrediel noted it fitted too well. It must have been made for her.
"Oh, Raewyn…" Niphrediel was touched, pulling the long sleeves down before brushing her hair with the dull comb she had kept in a pocket of her old pants.
Tying some of her hair back while leaving the rest to dangle, Niphrediel left her room. She had been thinking the night before; and had come to a decision. The hall was populated by a moderate number of Rohirrim; but it seemed none of them could look her in the face. Save the children, of course.
Too preoccupied to be frustrated at that, Niphrediel turned and headed for the open door. The sun was morning bright; yet Niphrediel could not help but feel uneasy about the way it shone down.
The sunlight scorned her eyes as she stepped out from the shade, and almost automatically Niphrediel thought perhaps it would be a better idea to walk back inside. But no, Niphrediel thought. She wanted a little time to think for a while, and the keep was far too crowded for such a desire.
She had seen him! She had! He had been so clearly displayed before her; she could have reached out a hand and touched him. Niphrediel could smell him… He still lingered in the air! It tainted her clothes; she smelt like him!
Niphrediel slumped against the stone wall with her arms crossed, her hands quick to wipe away the clues of her confusion and torment. The facts said he was dead, yet her heart said he could not be! What was wrong with her? She was beginning to hallucinate—how else could she have seen Estel lying beside her when he was no longer living? Her imagination must have enjoyed playing such a cruel joke on her.
Niphrediel almost trembled. What a cruel, cruel, cruel joke.
"Niphrediel?" Niphrediel felt a hand on her shoulder; it's touch warm and light enough for her to tell in a split instinct that it was the hand of a woman.
Niphrediel dropped her hand and looked up to the caring eyes of Éowyn. With a sigh of something resembling defeat, Niphrediel was at least relieved to see that neither Legolas nor Gimli accompanied Éowyn. She did not want their sentiments or any more of their burdening pity.
Éowyn smiled gently, "Are you well, Niphrediel?" She wiped the residue of a tear from Niphrediel's left eye with the soft skin of the back of her pale knuckle.
Niphrediel's cheeks churned red and she quickly looked over Éowyn's shoulders to see if anyone had noticed her. "I…I am well enough, Éowyn," Niphrediel replied, returning her attention to the fair-haired maiden, unable to help from giving grinning at Éowyn's obvious care.
Éowyn smirked somewhat and rolled her eyes, "Of course you are," she said, sarcasm in every word.
Niphrediel had to smile. "Is it that obvious?" she asked, suddenly becoming overly anxious.
"Well…" Éowyn paused for a moment before using the edge of her sleeve to wipe away every hint of tears still visible on Niphrediel's face. "There," she finally said, taking her hand away. "It is not obvious at all."
Niphrediel smiled, before she opened her arms and embraced her Rohirric friend. She received as warm a hug as she gave in return too, which was something of a nice surprise. Niphrediel have a sigh in bliss; this was something she needed, a nice warm hug from someone else who cared about her. And, in some ways, Niphrediel also knew that was something Éowyn needed as well.
Éowyn deserved to be treated like a princess. If Niphrediel were a prince, she would have been able to do something more proper about it, but alas, she had neither the gender, body or crown to be anyone's Prince Charming or a Knight in Shinning Armour. She had the courage, though, and the wild spirit. However, within the prison of a female body, Niphrediel would always think such character wasted.
In their moment of sisterly affection, both maids did not notice a growing mass forming about the bottom of the stair as someone entered through into the refuge upon the horse of a dead prince.
"Éowyn?" Niphrediel sighed as both girls parted from one another.
Éowyn's brows rose in curiosity, "What is it?"
Niphrediel hesitated before continuing, "Do you think everything would have been so horrible…if Théodred had not died?" her voice was small and quiet. Niphrediel did not want anyone else to hear her except the maid before her.
Éowyn's expression cooled at Niphrediel's question; the softness in her stare replaced by repressed hurt and sorrow. Éowyn's body tensed at her eyes fell to the floor as a moment of silence followed. "Théodred would have made a world of difference," Éowyn finally replied; her voice drowned by the sudden ruckus of Théoden's people surrounding the unknown visitor.
It was Éowyn who had to look away first, her stare oblivious as it scanned the faces of people she had known all her life. "He always did," she concluded to herself aloud, unaware that Niphrediel had heard as well.
Suddenly, Niphrediel watched as Éowyn's face paled. "By the sun and moon!" Éowyn gasped, her eyes wide and glowing.
"Where is he?!" Niphrediel could recognise Gimli's loud grunt anywhere, but she could only wonder why Éowyn looked so shocked. Gimli and Legolas must have been putting on a show by arguing, Niphrediel thought. Even then, she would have thought it would not be so surprising to Éomer's younger sister.
"Where is he?!" Gimli repeated. "Get out of my way! I'm gonna kill him!"
Prying her gaze from Éowyn's face, a smile shaped her mouth at the mere sound of whatever was happening bellow. Niphrediel allowed her curiosity to get the better of her and took a look.
Niphrediel's breath caught in her throat.
"You are the…the luckiest, the cunningest, and most reckless man I ever knew! Bless you, laddie!"
Niphrediel blinked several times, a hand upon the nearest pillar to lean on, just in case her body lost it's fickle vitality. "Éowyn??" she whispered as the Lady of Rohan grasped her hand in support. "Am I…Am I"—
"I see it too," Éowyn whispered back, already knowing that Niphrediel was going to question her sight. She covered the Dunedain maid's hand with her spare one and held it there for a moment as what seemed to be a bright, fake, sad smile crossed to lips. "He is real," she said, with tears in her eyes that looked both joyful—and sad.
"Gimli, where is the king?"
"Go greet your father," Éowyn then pressed, watching Aragorn's movements without so much as a blink as he made his way up the stairs onto their level. He had yet to notice them, though, for both maids were far to the left, where Isildur's heir had yet to scan.
Noticing that Niphrediel had not moved, Éowyn shot her a look. "Do not cry," she said, quite the hypocrite, before whipping out her sleeve to wipe away the cold tears that were uncontrollably rolling down the raven-haired maiden's cheeks. "No more crying," Éowyn said, before nudging Niphrediel forward.
Niphrediel watched Aragorn walk to the top of the stairs, then directly into the path of Legolas; whom simply stood where he was like some sort of statue; as if he had been waiting.
Niphrediel noted the male's moment of silence, and though she parted her mouth to speak, she did not let her voice go passed her imagination. She gave the two their own moment of greeting.
"Le ab-dollen," Legolas said simply, softly. So he had known all along. That was what he had been feeling the night before. The elf grinned, before looking the Dúnadan over. "You look terrible."
Niphrediel smiled into the skin of her two palms. Praise the Valar! Praise the Ainur! Praise the everything! Niphrediel cherished the sudden euphoria, and watched patiently as Legolas gave Aragorn what looked to be the Evenstar pendant. Niphrediel nearly gasped, she had not known the elf had been carrying it while Aragorn had not been around.
"Hannon le," Aragorn said softly, staring down at the jewel. "Niphrediel?" Aragorn looked back up at Legolas, anxiety pouring from his being.
Legolas nodded to the side. "She is right there," he grinned.
Aragorn frowned and followed his friend's direction—and there she was!
Niphrediel seemed a little less joyful on the outside then Aragorn for she just stood where she was and looked at him in a way that was almost crossly. "I hate you, Aragorn," though tears ran, her voice was clear, and words spoken in anger but not truth.
Aragorn accepted her message with a grievous nod, "I best not jump of a cliff any moment soon, then?" He just stood there with his arms at his sides. Was he testing to see how long it would take for her to jump up and hold him? If he was, it did not take long at all.
Niphrediel rushed up to Aragorn and held him close so tightly her lungs were squashed for breath. Aragorn's body ached at the embrace, but he still returned it just as strongly.
Niphrediel did not have to look to see that he was exhausted and worn out. She could simply tell.
Minutes went by, and only then did the two part from each other.
"Did the wargs hurt you badly, Aragorn?" Niphrediel asked quickly, looking over the older man.
Aragorn gently patted the side of her cheek and kissed her temple twice without an answer. "It does not matter, Niphrediel," he finally said, as he walked through the door to see the king.
Niphrediel watched the door close behind him, and looked over to Legolas who simply smiled smugly back at her. "You knew," she grinned.
Legolas shook his head. "No no no, I just had a hint," he
said, before taking Niphrediel's hand and leading her through the door to
wherever Aragorn had headed off to past it.
Isengard was coming to destroy the remnants of Rohan. The War of the Ring was going to unhappily witness the entry of it's first real battle.
By the Valar…had Aragorn come back simply to fall again to a death that he could not simply jump back from? Was it just going to be Aragorn? What about Legolas? Or-or Gimli?! Éowyn? Rivanon? Raewyn? Gandalf??
Ten thousand strong Uruk-Hai… Ten thousand strong Uruk-Hai… Ten thousand strong Uruk-Hai on their march to destroy Helms Deep and every living thing inside it. Ten thousand strong Uruk-Hai on their march to murder the people Théodred had died for; the people Aragorn had almost died for.
Niphrediel was allowed to be at least a little terrified, no? It was going to be a battle for the future of an entire bloody culture; a realm; a race. There was not enough men able enough to fight for Rohan's people against the beasts of Isengard, so Niphrediel dismissed her fear as something natural under the given situation.
Children of the appropriate sex were going to fight under armour too heavy and weapons too blunt among the realm's men while women of the appropriate strength and agility were to be sent down into the caves to take care of the children that were too young to die with their fathers.
Niphrediel had changed into one of Éowyn's spare dresses. She did not want to dirty Raewyn's perfect tunic.
She held Alagos in her left hand, looking from one man's face from the next as some headed towards the armoury, and others to the fortification. They were allowing twelve-year-olds to die by the hands of orcs yet there was nothing that Niphrediel could have done to give her permission to fight as well.
She walked into the armoury, dodging passed males of all shapes, sizes, and ages. Niphrediel was among the last few of the women that had yet to enter the caves. Some were healers, giving quick tutorials to those that would listen about how to move someone if they had a broken back or some similar ailment. Some others, however, were just helping; like Niphrediel.
She walked further inside, surprised to see Legolas sitting alone on the top of a wooden table, a fine set of shoulder guards on his lap that he blankly stared onto. His weapons were all laid upon the table; side-by-side, bow and all, as if Legolas wanted a moment to revise them.
"Legolas? You there?" Niphrediel peered closer to the elf, brows high.
Legolas turned his head and nodded to her. "Of course," he simply replied.
Niphrediel smiled and walked over to a spare chair and sat down. "What are you doing?"
With a shrug, Legolas let out a cold sigh, "Nothing. Just taking a moment to think."
"Would you like me to leave?" Niphrediel asked casually, about to pick herself up from her chair and exit the way she came.
Legolas shook his head, "No, no… it is not the kind of moment that requires solitude."
Niphrediel shrugged, though still rose from her chair. "Very well then," she said, unable to keep her curiosity towards the shoulder guards to keep from picking one up.
Legolas watched the young mortal look at what he had chosen to be his only piece of additional armour. "Do you like it?" he asked sarcastically, as if he actually cared.
Niphrediel nodded casually, "I do, actually. It looks quite becoming. I am sure it will be quite an asset…"
"I agree to that," Legolas replied. "It is a simple piece, but it will serve me well. The Rohirrim are quite intelligent when it comes to the building of armour. Now, be a good lass and help me put the little charmers on."
Niphrediel nodded and waited for Legolas to stand up straight and take his cloak off to make it easier for her. It was a simple piece to put on, though Niphrediel's hands sometimes had a couple problems with the buckles that kept them up. It seemed there was something else that was irritating her to such a degree that such a simple procedure was suddenly difficult.
Niphrediel was standing much too close to Legolas for her own liking…that was it! Niphrediel had to frown. She had never been aware of how close she stood to him before, why in the name of the Valar was she beginning to do so now? Niphrediel could sense his ease; it was only her that had the problem. She almost wanted to slap herself—he was her friend!
Maybe that was it… Legolas was her friend, and that made her uncomfortable. After all, Niphrediel did not want anymore elvish loved ones, and he had somehow made quick work of her will to keep her friend list unchanging when it came to elves that would live to see her die grey.Niphrediel almost cheered—that was exactly it!!
But, then again, Niphrediel could not have been sure. She could not understand herself as easily as she used to. She hated that really. It irritated her to no end; she disliked being such a stranger to herself. That was not the way her mind worked.
"Legolas?" Niphrediel patting the last shoulder guard and took a step to the side as Legolas strapped on his bracers.
"What is it, Niphrediel?" he mumbled absently, sparing no time in dawdling with such a simple process.
"If we live through all this and Aragorn…. you know…. goes to Gondor and becomes…. you know what…. will you visit me?" Niphrediel frowned as she asked, disliking how shy the tone of her voice made her sound.It almost surprised her.
Legolas shrugged, "It all depends, Niphrediel."
Niphrediel's brows rose. "On what?"
"Well…" Legolas took a moment to think, "On wether not you would want me to, probably," he was not baiting her; he was just answering her honestly. Besides, he seemed too busy putting on his quiver and daggers to really concentrate on baiting her anyway.
"I think I would want you to," Niphrediel nodded.
Legolas shrugged and shoved his bow on his back. "Well then; yes, I would visit you."
Niphrediel nodded and made her way to the door, "I will be with Aragorn. If I do not see you; be careful."
Legolas gave a quick nod of his head, "Very well. If I do not see you; keep Alagos at your side at all times—just in case."
Niphrediel smiled, nodded, then left.
"Aragorn?" Niphrediel jogged from the armoury to Aragorn's side. He was yet to be armed, standing beside Brego.
Aragorn's head whipped in Niphrediel's direction at the sound of her voice. Niphrediel could see the urgency in his hurried movements and alert gaze. "Niphrediel!" he called, "Come! Hurry!"
Niphrediel frowned, following her keeper's instructions with subtle confusion. "Aragorn?" she glanced at the horse, "why the hurry?"
Aragorn grasped Niphrediel's shoulders; pulling her close enough for them to look eye-to-eye. "Niphrediel, I need you to do something for me."
Niphrediel's stare sharpened in worry. "Anything," she said, her body tensing under its layer of grey wool.
Aragorn stilled and took in a deep breath before looking at her gravely. "Get on the horse and ride back to Edoras"—
"Aragorn, no"—
"When you reach Edoras, head east til you reach the Entwade. Cross and follow the Entwash River"—
Niphrediel shook her head, "Stop"—
"til you reach Anorien. Travel beside the mountains til you see Minas Tirith," Aragorn ordered sternly, ignoring Niphrediel's interruptions. "You will be safe there long enough to send word to Rivendell or Lothlorien. If you loose your way; just continue east across Anorien to Cair Andros, then head to Minas Tirith from the north."
"Legolas!" Niphrediel exclaimed loudly, desperate for assistance. She was not going to leave.
Legolas walked from the armoury; a somewhat confused expression on his face. He walked to Aragorn and Niphrediel, arms crossed and brow furred. "Niphrediel?"
"Make him stop, Legolas! He is talking folly"—
Aragorn shot her a stern glare, "Niphrediel, get on the horse."
Legolas's arms uncrossed as he looked to Aragorn in something resembling disbelief. Niphrediel bit her lip; that did mean he was on her side, right?
"Aragorn," Legolas began, incredulous, "you want to force her to run?"
"If it means she will live to see another day; in the Valar's name, I would make you run too, Legolas," Aragorn countered sharply.
Niphrediel shook her head, "I am not going to run like some coward! These people are as dear to me as my own."
"Niphrediel, no one will see you run," Aragorn protested. "I order you, damn it. I order you to leave now!" he shouted, suddenly his voice more then a simple exclamation.
"It is not in me to run!" Niphrediel yelled back in return.
Aragorn turned his head to the ground, giving himself a moment to calm himself down before continuing. "A plague of ten thousand Uruk-Hai are heading this way at this very moment," he said. "If you leave now, you may be able to evade them and safe yourself"—
"I am not going to die, Aragorn," Niphrediel argued.
Aragorn nodded, "Of course you will not! Not if you go now!"
"This is a little unfair, Aragorn," Legolas mumbled, before silencing himself once more after receiving a severe glare from Estel in return for his opinion.
"I am not going to abandoned these people!" Niphrediel swore, "especially not now! Théodred would have stood beside his people—so in his stead, I shall do so for him!"
"Yes, Niphrediel, and he died doing so. I would rather suffer one thousand deaths then to have you die before I do, damn it," Aragorn's eyes were like cold ice. "If any of those creatures get into the Glittering Caves and sneak up on you; that is all it will need. If the defences do not hold, then it could mean your death"—
"Then the defences better hold," Niphrediel said firmly, smugly, before walking past Aragorn; heading for the Glittering Caves.
"Damn her stubbornness," Aragorn cursed under his breath.
Legolas could not help but laugh under his breath, "Oh? That does not remind you of someone?"
"Silence."
Legolas shrugged, "She was always going to disagree, Aragorn."
Aragorn sighed and rubbed his temple. "I do love her though, Legolas."
"I know you do, Aragorn," Legolas replied gently. "It will be the death of you."
"We will see."
"He is angry with me."
"He will overcome it, Niphrediel," Legolas assured, patting her on the shoulder as he lead her through to the doors of the Glittering Caves. He stoped with her just before it, knowing that he was supposed to be walking in the opposite direction. "He always does."
"Still," Niphrediel mumbled as she came to a stop with him. "I cannot help but feel scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Scared that those might be the last words I ever say to him," Niphrediel gripped the sides of her skirts before stepping closer to Legolas, so that her quiet voice would have no problem reaching him as it hushed into a whisper. "Legolas, what if something goes wrong," she whispered. "What if an Uruk-Hai sneaks through into the caves? What if I die? What if Aragorn dies? What if you"—
"I am not going to die," Legolas swore quickly. "Calm down, Niphrediel. Calm." He cleared the hair from the sides of her face with his hands and patted the back of her head. "Calm," he repeated, watching at the moisture layering the mortal's eyes began to diminish.
"No crying," urged Legolas.
"Legolas, I do not want to die"—
"Do not think about such folly," he immediately interrupted.
Niphrediel took in a shallow breath, "What if you die?" It was as if her imagination was purposefully making up such scenarios specifically to hurt her.
Legolas shook his head, "I am not going to die."
"What if I die?" Niphrediel cowered.
"We will not let you die. Not I, not Gimli, not Aragorn," Legolas said with a subtle tone of finality.
Niphrediel's brows rose at that, as if in hope. "You swear?" she asked after a long, pensive silence.
"I swear on each and every inch of my soul," said Legolas, hoping his overconfidence was not too obvious in its loss of practise.
Niphrediel stepped in and hugged the elf mercilessly. He had given her a little faith…bless him. She hugged Legolas hard, hoping her arms were not choking him too badly. She had only ever hugged him once, so she could not have known if her embrace was too hard, but, at the same time, she did not care; he made her feel better, holding her as warmly as he could while still acting as if she were made of glass.
Niphrediel frowned as she watched others pass them by, giving them suspicious glances she was completely oblivious to, wondering when the arms around her would finally loosen and she would be prematurely released. The quicker he let go, the quicker he would be running off to fight and die—but no, Legolas was a gentleman; he was not going to move away til she let go, til she wanted him to stop.
Niphrediel almost shook her head, incredulous. How did such a gentle person be such a fierce warrior? Legolas was such a good sort. May darkness fall on any who dares harm him, Niphrediel said as she pulled him in just a little closer, in an almost protective stance, as she guiltily admitted to herself that she had but another elf to grieve over…eventually.
Loss…Curse the demon that created such a pain, thought Niphrediel.
Niphrediel pretended to inspect the lining of the guard over Legolas's left shoulder as a lump grew in her throat. "Someone once told me that loss builds strength," she mumbled, as she began to let him go before she felt a little emotional again.
"You do not need to lose something to be a strong person," Legolas replied quietly, wisely, hesitating a moment before letting go as well. "But, you need to be at least a little tough to find something." Then, kissing the raven-haired crown of her head, and lightly brushing back a tendril of stray hair; Legolas took a step back with a bowed head and a caring expression.
"Théodred was my friend," Niphrediel began, her eyes somewhat widening as she found herself saying anything and everything that came into her head. Legolas listened to every word. "He was sure of himself, he was brave, he was strong, he was a warrior"—
"Niphrediel"—
"He was killed," Niphrediel had to interject Legolas's gentle attempt of an interruption. "If I have to mourn to the face of another grave, I will die." Niphrediel wiped her eye with the woollen sleeve of her dress before any tear had the chance to build, though the glassy moisture that was forming was out of her control, sadly.
"You do not have to say anything," Niphrediel added after some length, "I am just giving you a warning."
With a pensive, stern, but eternally warm (or at least warm when cast in her direction) expression. Then, without any hesitation or hint of eagerness, he reached back to his quiver and slid out a beautiful, golden arrow. "Here," he said, holding it out. "Take it."
"Fine." Niphrediel grinned and took the arrow, testing the tip of it with the brim of her thumb.
"Now, this is my favourite arrow," he stressed in mock-seriousness. "Do not get too happy, however, for you best be prepared to give it back when I come back. And be honoured; that is a mighty-fine arrow there; the greatest, in fact. I am jealous just looking at you. You better take good care of it."
Niphrediel nodded keenly. "I will, I will." Niphrediel smiled before glancing in the direction they had entered from, and felt her shoulders slump as she knew their time was coming to an end.
"You best depart, Legolas," she said quietly, not proud of the fact.
"I know," he said sadly, but not with such gravity as Niphrediel. He sighed, and turned around, preparing to walk off, before glancing back at Niphrediel with an almost curious stare. "Do not feel alone in your fear," he stated softly, before giving a beautiful, but still shy, smile, then turning his face and body away to move off; his stride smooth in the graceful pulse of his entire body.
"Niphrediel?" Éowyn called from behind the entrance of the Glittering Caves, rather confused.
"Yes?" Niphrediel replied quickly, turning Éowyn's way; clasping the arrow in her hand tightly like a lifeline.
"Come on," Éowyn nodded, "Come inside."
Niphrediel nodded, and walked towards her and the caves beyond.
Note:
Holy moly, this chapter was so difficult. I wish I could blame my exams entirely, but though I have been doing a horrid load of studying, I could've worked my time a little more smartly to get this chapter up sooner. Oh well.
Alright, plans. I have finally decided that I'm not going to throw Niphrediel into the third book—hell, I wasn't planning for her to go too into the second one for crying out loud. The reason for this is because the story comes along after all the 'War of the Ring' stuff has finished. Niphrediel will be able to grow up a bit, and her past and her rather mysterious parentage will come into it to. Don't forget the romance stuff, which I have outlined already. Also, before everything starts getting a move on, Niphrediel's relationships with certain individuals have to be properly established. Sounds boring when I say it that way, but I'm sure there are a couple girlies out there gagging for some eventual Legolas/Niphrediel stuff to come up, which, I promise, WILL be coming. Just don't expect all happy-happy joy-joy stuff, however—I doubt any romantic relationship between a human and an elf would be so bright. Hey, that's part of that's part of the reason Immortal/Mortal relationships have fascinated me so much. Wow, I'm blabbering... I'll shut up now.
Oh! R&R ;)
