Chapter twelve: Season of Change
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"Théodred?"

What a vision. He looked so healthy. He looked so alive. His eyes still shone with stars that she was once so convinced would never, ever dwindle, no matter the season; and his face was still so innocently handsome she had to stare at it for a moment, memorizing every single curve and crevice so she would never forget his beauty; not even when she was as old as the sky was grey. Not time nor circumstance would ever be able to tamper with her memory. Never.

Théodred smiled. By the Valar, Niphrediel had missed that smile! "Aye?" he whispered. Even then, he still stared at her as if she was the most beautiful thing on the earth. How could Niphrediel not have noticed it before? Perhaps it was because he no longer hid it, or ceased to lower his eyes in embarrassment too quickly before she couldnotice.

"I miss you," Niphrediel said, plain but grave, and disturbingly honest. She had to say it, and immediately felt better. Please do not make this a figment of my imagination, she thought to herself, her tears but liquid pearls that left a trail of salted water as they rolled across her golden skin, a painful reminder that she could not repress the sadness inside her— like a bird in a cage with a door that could not close.

"You will overcome it," Théodred replied wisely; always with a smile. Niphrediel wanted to unleash unmeasurable fury on the being that wounded him. The creature that took him away from her; away from his cousins; away from his father— who he would have given anything to see healthy and no longer under the control Gríma; and away from his country that he loved so dearly.

"Why did you have you have to leave?" Niphrediel asked. "You should have stayed, damn you."

"There was nothing you could have done to make me stay," he whispered gently, wiping a tear away as his stare upon her softened in pity and concern. He could see the blame that Niphrediel would place on herself for the occurrence of his demise, and it hurt him deeply to see it.

"That is what hurts, Théodred," Niphrediel sighed. "I hate this…this state of helplessness I am in. I cannot do anything. I…I am completely powerless— but a tiny breeze in the shadow of a hurricane. I am…too small, too young, too weak."

"No, you aren"—

"Théodred, I need you," she pleaded. "I need you, damn it. Come back, please!" Niphrediel was crying easily now, and she hated every moment of it. "I…I will do anything you want— I will live in Rohan, I-I will take you to Bree or any other cursed place you wish to go, I will let you win when we spare!"

Théodred sobered immediately, and deep within the depths of those twinkling eyes, Niphrediel could see hurt. She was begging him to do the one thing he could not. "I would change the stars for you," he said, "I would forsake fate in your name… but…I cannot do that now. My time is over."

Niphrediel nodded, her bottom lip in the grasp of her teeth. "Everything would be so different if you had just lived. If you were still alive. If you were still here."

Théodred laughed; the sounds of him like waves of velvet lapping against Niphrediel's ears. "Why can you not understand?" he asked, in disbelief.

Niphrediel frowned, "Understand what?"

"I have not gone anywhere!"

"Are you sure?"

Théodred nodded, "Positive." And that was when he began to fade. Or, perhaps it was Niphrediel who was fading and it was Théodred that remained. Niphrediel would never know.

"Théodred…" Niphrediel gasped, eyes wide in shock. "Make it stop," she said quietly, "Do not go."

Théodred just smiled brightly as his skin became translucent. "Stop worrying," he whispered, and leaned up to gently kiss her cheek; a bittersweet sense of finality in the way he moved. "Oh, and I love you, too," his arms tightened around her as he slowly became nothing but air, "more then you will ever know."

"Théodred, no!"

"Let it go, Niphrediel. Let it go."

Light stung Niphrediel's eyes as they snapped open; and she quickly sat up. She had laid her head on the edge of the oak table; one of the only pieces of furniture in the keep that still remained unmoved. Niphrediel's head was heavy. She was so sick of being tired. She was so sick and tired of these dreams—with the exception of that last one, that had comforted her as much as it had pained her.

What was wrong with her? She never felt so drained before, when she had not taken Gandalf's vile, of which had given her skin some solace. Niphrediel was beginning to feel more aware of that as she continued to ponder; and slowly she became somewhat troubled. Was something badly wrong with her? Niphrediel hoped not.

Niphrediel placed her face in the embrace of her cold hands; wiping away the drying moisture of tears in the corners of her eyes that would inevitably become flakes of sleep if she did not wipe them away quickly.

Niphrediel slowly stood from the wooden stool she sat on, and rubbed her cold hands on the thighs of her leather breeches. Her right hand could not stay too long on her leg, however, for it slowly came to gently clench the bicep of her left arm; where the sleeve of her black tunic kept the thick bandage wrapped snugly around the skin underneath from view.

Niphrediel almost cursed at herself for her past momentary stupidity. She and Éowyn did not notice the small squad of Uruk-Hai that had sneaked into the caves, and because of that, Niphrediel had paid for it. Niphrediel hoped the bandage would last through the hour; Raewyn insisted on putting a layer of ointment on her wound every time the bandage needed changing and it stung like fire.

Niphrediel pushed her tight plait back off her shoulder. She was surprised how fast her hair was growing, she would have much preferred it to have not done so— she did not have the energy to cut it, or get anyone else to in her place.

She made her way through the doors of the keep and down the stairs, unable to keep her eyes from meeting the gazes of the wounded who were being treated in every corner of her vision. Niphrediel had to admit; when she heard the sound of the wall falling, she thought it was all over. She thought Saruman had won. She thought the forces of Helms Deep were no more— though, she had not known of the 'assistance' that had arrived soon after she had been dropped off in the caves for that matter.

Éowyn stood at the floor of the stair; waiting for her. Her eyes glimmered in both sadness and joy; Niphrediel almost she did not have to speak to her.

"So it true," Éowyn began, as if to herself, her solemn stare meeting Niphrediel's apprehensive one. "You are leaving."

Niphrediel nodded once, coming to a stop but a mere three feet from the Rohirric lady. "I am," she said, slowly. What else could she say? There was nothing that came to mind.

Éowyn shook her head, as if in disappointment. "Why now? Everyone is needed here— you are needed here."

"I am not needed here," Niphrediel sighed, taking a step back. She did not want any confrontation, especially with her. There was really nothing Niphrediel could say to make her retreat less then admirable.

"Yes, you are!" Éowyn exclaimed coldly. "I need you here. You are one of the only true friends I have— I need you here."

Niphrediel shook her head, staring at Éowyn as if she were mad. "I am no help here. There is too much risk for me if I stay."

"How?"

"I do not trust myself. I will do something stupid— with admirable motives and motivation, but nothing more— and get myself killed."

Éowyn sighed and shook her head, "Niphrediel…"—

"Éowyn…I am sorry, but…" Niphrediel sighed sadly as her stare shifted over the faces of unknown people who rested near and far. "This situation is too big for me."

"That is not true, Niphrediel," Éowyn said firmly.

Niphrediel shrugged, "Aragorn thinks so."

"He does not," Éowyn countered. "He knows you are strong enough to stay and fight against this, but he will do anything to see that you are somewhere safe— you know this!"

"Éowyn, I am homesick," Niphrediel stated firmly. "I want to go home. I want to rest under the trees that saw me grow and I want to wait. I am not a part of Aragorn's journey…he will do it himself."

"Niphrediel, you a huge part of his journey, no matter where you are!" Éowyn murmured. "Why do you think he is doing it? Why do you think he is trying so hard?"

"It is his destiny," Niphrediel replied. "He would be doing exactly this wether or not I existed. And, if I happen to be a part of his motivation to continue, then I will do him a great favour in doing what he says and returning to Rivendell. He will no longer have to worry about me."

Then, Éowyn was silent. In some ways, it was worse then her shouting at Niphrediel. At least when she was speaking, Niphrediel could shake her head and disregard every meaning of every word. But, as Éowyn stared into her eyes with unhidden sorrow, Niphrediel could not ignore it. But, Niphrediel did know, that Éowyn somewhat agreed with her. Éowyn did know that it would be good for Aragorn to not have to worry about her getting hurt (or more hurt) by some unseen fiend.

Éowyn embraced Niphrediel; her body still unfamiliar with giving and receiving such affection. She wiped a stray tear from her eye and raised her gaze to the sky. "I will miss you so very much."

"Oh, believe me," Niphrediel chuckled. "The feeling is mutual." Niphrediel's smile began to dwindle, though, and her chuckle fell short, as she began to realise how true her words were. The hold she had on Éowyn tightened, and she fought back tears. By the Valar, she had become so damn emotional.

Soon enough though, Niphrediel and Éowyn stepped back from each other, and both took a moment to wipe their eyes.

"We will see each other after this, remember," Niphrediel said, in a means to make both Éowyn and herself feel a little better. "I will come back."

Éowyn nodded, and though she was still sad, she smiled. "I know, I know. So…who is going with you?"

"I do not know," Niphrediel replied. "A messenger maybe— one that is not fit for battle. I cannot be sure."

"Éowyn!" came Éomer's voice from the barracks. "Bring the bracers!"

Éowyn sighed and waved her arm to her brother, before giving Niphrediel an apologetic smile, "Forgive me, I have to run. If…ah…if I do not see you before you leave; I adore you as I would a sister, and you best prepare yourself for a very lengthy visit you will be take after all this business is through." With that, Éowyn nodded and turned around before making for the garrison in a light jog.

Niphrediel waved to Éomer, who bowed his head to her in response, before turning around and continuing on to the stables.

There was no one there, which was somewhat strange. Niphrediel thought Raewyn and the children would be waiting there to bid her farewell at the very least. But, then again, Niphrediel was not going to be leaving for at least a half-hour; there was no rush to get her farewells done with.

Niphrediel moved passed each horse stool til she came to the very last one; just right of where Shadowfax's stool was. 'Stogomaed' was printed on the stool door in black, bold painted letters, and Niphrediel nodded once. This was the horse Aragorn had told her of— the one that would be taking her home.

Niphrediel smiled as she climbed up onto the wooden door. She was going home! Yes, she was somewhat disappointed at the concept, but by the Valar she was relieved, as well. No more homesickness, no more loneliness. Niphrediel leaned back against the wooden mast that the walls of the stools had been built about and sighed lightly. She was going to see Glorfindel again!

Niphrediel was snapped out of her temporary reverie by the horse, Stogomaed, nudging her leg with his nose. She looked over to the chestnut steed, and patted the bridge of his snout with a smile. He reminded her slightly of Draconic—though, Draconic was not so friendly towards strangers, nor was Draconic disciplined enough to be so quiet around company. Draconic was a rather wild creature, which was part of the reason Niphrediel loved him so much.

With a smile on her lips, Niphrediel parted her lips and began to quietly hum a caption of a song to herself.

"Warrior, how you journey

On the road you chose

To find out why the winds die

And where the stories go.

All days come from one day

That you must know,

You cannot change what's over

But only where you go!"

"I did not know you could sing."

Niphrediel almost jumped off the door of the stool in shock. She did not notice anyone enter the stables, blast her. She had been too busy humming to herself. Niphrediel was not embarrassed enough to blush though, thank goodness, and nodded to Legolas in acknowledgment.

"Oh, I made you think that on purpose," Niphrediel grinned, shifting on the door. "I thought it best to save your ears from the horrible sound."

Legolas snorted. "Folly," he said, walking over and jumping smoothly onto the other end of the door just opposite her. "Your voice is fine, for a mortal."

Niphrediel laughed and kicked his booted foot with her own, "Pompous elf. Be careful or I will cut that pretty hair of yours."

"Oh, no!" cried Legolas sarcastically, "anything but that!"

"Yes, be afraid," Niphrediel quipped with a smile. "No one likes a bald elf."

Niphrediel and Legolas laughed together, and Niphrediel could not help but imagine Legolas with a hairless head. Knowing his luck, he would probably suit it, thought Niphrediel.

"You will be leaving soon?" wondered Legolas, his brows raised.

Niphrediel nodded. "Aye."

"We all wish you would not," Legolas said. "Even Aragorn, albeit he is the one that has asked you to do so. He will miss you more then anyone else."

Niphrediel smiled sadly and nodded. Legolas was probably right about Aragorn, and she was touched that Gimli and he wished she could remain with them. Niphrediel knew she would have to go though; she would only be a burden, and she did not want that.

"It will be so strange," Niphrediel began dreamily, "when I come back after you three's adventure concludes. You probably shan't recognise me— or remember me, for that matter. You will be too greater heroes for that…no doubt."

"Why, aren't you saying an awful lot of folly this morning?" Legolas punned with a soft smile. "Of course I will remember you. I only ran through the Mines of Moria whilst bruising the wrist of one lucky lady, did I not? And there is only one person on this earth, namely you, that has actually allowed me to sing an entire song to them without begging for my silence."

Niphrediel laughed brightly and shook her head, "Do not be silly. I am being serious."

"Well, so am I!" Legolas said, a little more seriously. "Besides, I have a brilliant memory, I will not forget a thing."

"Very well," said Niphrediel with a shrug of her shoulders.

"Are you afraid of leaving?" Legolas asked quietly, totally off the subject.

Niphrediel nodded once. "Terrified."

Legolas frowned. "Why?"

"I wish I knew," Niphrediel answered, as honest as she could be. "I guess…if something bad happens, I want to be around to help. As Gandalf said, the battle for Middle Earth is about to begin. Aragorn will have to fight; you will have to fight; Gimli will have to fight. Everything will get worse. I want to be around for that. And, if something happens while Aragorn, or you, or whoever, is out there fighting, I would like to know that I said farewell."

"I am not going to die," Legolas said again, as if it was an obligation.

"Everything I love dies; do not be surprised if fate wishes to play another joke on me by killing you," Niphrediel muttered.

"Fate is not that cruel," Legolas said, trying to be wry at the mention of an existence without him.

"Fate murdered my father, my mother and nearly killed my brother. How can you be so sure?" Niphrediel replied, without a shred of malice in her tone."How long do you think it will be til we all see each other again?" she asked, strategically veering the subject away from such gloomy things.

"I wish I knew for certain," Legolas said truthfully. "Months and months. Heck, even years. It all depends."

"On what?"

Legolas shrugged, "On everything," he grinned, pausing for a moment, " Niphrediel?"

Niphrediel nodded, "Yes?"

Legolas swallowed before beginning to speak. "What did the lady Galadriel say to you after we left; before you left for Rohan?" he asked, albeit with some reserve. "Aragorn knows, but he refuses to tell both Gimli and I. I know I should not ask— obviously it is private…but, uh, I cannot help but worry."

Niphrediel's gaze darkened as she lowered it in thought for a long while.

'You have had dreams all your life. Though, never taking notice, you would have never thought them as visions,' Niphrediel remembered; the sound of the Lady of Lorien echoing through her mind as if born anew. 'You see things. Naturally, since your bloodline has mingled somewhat, your visions are unclear compared to the ones of your forefathers.'

"She…" Niphrediel frowned, "she said I could see things."

Legolas perked up, "Foresight?"

'I do not speak of simple 'foresight'.'

Niphrediel shook her head, "No, something else."

Legolas's brows rose, seeming both in curiosity and surprise. "What did the lady call it?"

Niphrediel closed her eyes as she searched her memory, the facts nearly forgotten. "I think she called it…vision, or something like that," she finally answered, her eyes opening. "She said it is a hereditary gift."

"Oh?" Legolas was surprised. "Gilraen or Arathorn had this gift?"

'Gilraen feared it, as do you now.' 'Its your mother was given her first powerful vision on her father's day of birth, it is ritual.'—'Gilraen's birthday is not this day, I can assure you that.'

Like a small spark that had rubbed up against a rock, a light came to life at the back of Niphrediel's head. She stared into a world unseen, her expression cold and blank. "No…No, they did not."

"Must have been a generation gap or something, eh?" supposed Legolas, not noticing the grave expression on Niphrediel's face, nor the faraway look in her eye. "What kind of things can you see?" asked Legolas, too interested to keep his questions unspoken.

Niphrediel's ponderings were put on hold as she shrugged, not too comfortable on the topic, and more likely then not trying focus on the most important one. How can it be genetic if neither my mother nor my father had it? How could…. Gilraen and Arathorn…. They must be…

"Niphrediel?"

"Ah, I do not know. I do suppose that is how I spoke to Glorfindel, though. But, as you know, I have not tried seeing anything on purpose before. I do not care for the gift; I do not wish to use it," blurted Niphrediel, her concentration broken.

"But you must!" Legolas gushed, leaning forward in eager conversation. "You have been given this gift, you should learn to use it."

"I think that was what Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel were trying to do," Niphrediel mumbled. "I believe if I had remained in their city, they would have taught me."

'As time goes on from this day forth, the call's will become more clear and will come more often and, if you learn properly, on command,' whispered the memory of Celeborn's voice against Niphrediel's ear, sending a chill down her spine as she fought to keep her composure.

"You should test it," Legolas said. "Practise."

"No," Niphrediel countered quietly, uncomfortably remembering her strange vision of the nine birds. "I may see something I do not want to see."

"So you are going to live your life without advancing this unique skill of yours?" Legolas asked her, amazed.

Niphrediel nodded, "I suppose so, yes. If I happen to have a dream every now and then…that is fine with me since there probably would not be any way to bloke it off, but I will never take it upon myself to be able to probe at the things I am not supposed to see. I am no Sauron."

"Fair enough," Legolas said with a nod. "It is a shame."

"I know," Niphrediel agreed. "It is a waste. I will do no good with such a skill. It is wasted on me."

Legolas shook his head, "No, it isn't."

Niphrediel shrugged, before she began to ponder for a moment. "Legolas?"

"What is it?"

"Could you do me a favour?"

Legolas nodded, "Aye."

Niphrediel frowned as she watched Stogomaed eat some fresh hay. "Could you miss me?" Niphrediel shrugged, "Just a little bit."

Legolas would have laughed, but he did not find her message funny at all. He shrugged his shoulders before nodding, his smile comforting if she just looked at him, "I think I could manage that."

"Fantastic," Niphrediel said.

"On one condition," Legolas quickly added.

Niphrediel frowned, "Condition?"

Legolas nodded, "Aye. You must resolve things with Arwen."

"Pardon?"

"When you leave. I think it was Glorfindel who told me of your unease around her… With all this… this madness, I doubt that could be any good for both of you. Do you accept the condition?"

Niphrediel frowned, chewing on her bottom lip as if it was a horrible choice thing for Legolas to ask of her. "…Fine."

"Good," Legolas smiled, before taking something out of his pocket; something compact enough for him to have been able to hold comfortably within a closed fist.

Tilting her head absently to the side, Niphrediel's eyes narrowed, "What is that?"

"A parting present," Legolas informed, displaying his closed hand to Niphrediel, as if waiting for her to open it. "There was no fine paper to wrap it in, I am afraid."

With a shake of her head, the look Niphrediel shot at Legolas as she began unfolding his fingers was an incredulous one. "You are incredible," she mumbled, under her breath.

"Why, thank you," Legolas smirked.

"Oh, shush." Niphrediel rolled her eyes before taking down Legolas's last finger, and turning her gaze downwards to the trinket that lay in his upraised palm.

There, settled on his fine skin, bound by a chain of leather bound, was the slightest crystal phial, shaped blandly to be somewhat alike a perfume bottle, filled up to it's cork with seeds the same shade of pollen.

"What in the Valar…?"

Laughing at Niphrediel's reaction, Legolas placed the leather bound around her neck, so that the phial jingled contentedly against her whistle— which Niphrediel had never taken off. "They are seeds," he said.

Niphrediel snorted, "I know that, Legolas. I am not that thick."

Again, Legolas laughed, "They are niphredil and simbelmynë seeds."

Niphrediel's cynical smile fell, and her eyes brightened, "You jest!"

"I do not! I gathered the niphredil seeds before we left Lorien, and the alfirin ones in Edoras."

Niphrediel let out a long sigh, and brought a hand to the phial, "You should not have bothered," she said, grateful.

"Bah," Legolas brushed Niphrediel's words off with a shrug of his shoulders, "Do not be stupid. It is from all of us; not just me!"

"Psssh, the elf lies!"

Niphrediel and Legolas turned their heads around to see Gimli standing at the door, his hands closed into fists on his hips.

Beaming, Niphrediel tipped her brow to the dwarf, "Hello, Gimli!"

Trudging over to where the two sat, Gimli's face shifted into a rather gentle smile in Niphrediel's direction, "Greetings, Aragorn child!" he moved a more wry stare over to the elf, and said: "Do not believe a thing this creature 'ere says. I was not involved in the seed gathering. Here is my gift!" Gimli held out a dull, old ring to Niphrediel; one made of some sort of metal, without a gem or stone, but with rather lovely— though unfortunately, fading— dwarvish markings carved into the band. Though it was shaped in a perfect circle, Niphrediel suspected it was once a small buckle.

"Oh, thankyou, Gimli!" Niphrediel said, taking the ring and placing it on the only finger that could comfortably wear it; her thumb. "It is lovely."

Shifting on his footing, Gimli coughed back something at the back of his throat, as his cheeks got a little brighter. "W-well Aragorn told me you always had an interest in Dwarvish culture, so…."

Niphrediel nodded, "I do, indeed!" she smiled.

"An interesting choice. Come, everyone has arrived to send you off," Legolas said, before they all began making their way out of the stables, to Aragorn and a company of assorted friends— Raewyn and the children under her care, Éowyn and Éomer, and Maerhelm; the herald that was to escort Niphrediel home.

After enough time to bid proper farewells to all that had come to see her off, Niphrediel and Maerhelm left the sanctuary of Helms Deep upon their assorted mounts. Niphrediel and Aragorn's parting was short but meaningful, with Niphrediel receiving a kiss on her crown ere she warned Aragorn of his penalty if ever he was to take a trip off a cliff again. All too soon after, however, Niphrediel was planted on her horse, with Maerhelm beside her, and began to set off.

Niphrediel could still hear the screams of Rivanon as she rode through the dented gates, and regardless how hard she tried to ignore it— she could not.

"Caeleb!" the boy screamed. "Caaaaeleb! Caeleb!"

Niphrediel looked down onto the neck of her horse and could not stop her shoulders from trembling as she began to cry. Behind her stood one half of her unconventional family, watching as she left for safety while they remained in the dark.

"Get ready for a long trip," Maerhelm said beside her, with a small smile on his rather handsome face. "Let's gives these great creatures a chance to test their legs."

With a small nod in response, Niphrediel nudged the sides of Stogomaed with her heels and followed Maerhelm's own horse, Éodo, into a heavy sprint. Niphrediel could not help but look over her shoulder at the fort that slowly began to shrink in size, and she felt her eyes swell even more as she realised exactly how much of her heart and soul she was leaving there.

"Keep them safe, Nienna," Niphrediel turned around, and forced herself to only look back when she was positive that she could no longer see the fortress of stone.


"Maer?"

"Uh huh!"

"Lift me up!"

"I have already tried. You are too fat."

"Hush your mouth!"

"Hehe, I only jest!"

"I know you do, fool. Now, lift me up!"

"Yes, your royal highness! Up you go!"

"And be quiet at that—what are you trying to do? Wake up the entire house?"

"Oh, darn it, Niphrediel. You have uncovered my terrible plan."

"Urgh, shut up and lift me up."

"I am!"

Niphrediel jumped from Maerhelm's shoulders and quickly grabbed hold of one of the posts of the terrace's failing. Ignoring Maerhelm's quiet laughter at her unique technique of climbing up as she began to pull herself up, Niphrediel could not help giving him a little kick in the head.

Needless to say, over the month or so that they had been travelling together, Niphrediel and Maerhelm had become rather good friends. It was bound to happen, what with them being in the same prime of life (or so Niphrediel had guessed—judging by their similar level of physical and mental maturity) and two good breeds of persons. Over the days together, Niphrediel had adjusted to Maerhelm's sense of humour, and Maerhelm had become familiar with Niphrediel's sarcasm. They were a great travel companions, even though they regularly felt the urge to punch each other at times.

Maerhelm fell back onto the ground behind him with a yelp, but though Niphrediel grinned and could not help but cackle quietly to herself, she did not stop moving. With a final heave and a small jump, Niphrediel made it over the railing and onto the terrace.

"Success," Niphrediel whispered silently to herself with a breath of relief before she began to sneak forward towards the pretty silver-trimmed doors on the other side. As Niphrediel had predicted, the curtains were drawn.

Excellent, thought sneaky Niphrediel as she silently twisted the slender doorhandle of the door and nudged it open as slowly as she possibly could.

"Glooorfindel?" Niphrediel sung quietly, stepping into the tidy room. She calmly looked over it; the simple bed, the immaculate desk, and the beautifully made pieces of furniture placed here and there. By the Valar, thought Niphrediel with a smirk, he has not changed a thing.

Niphrediel frowned as she came to the end of her search. He was not there. "Curses," Niphrediel muttered under her breath with shoulders sunk in defeat. "He is not here."

Just as she spoke, a pair of slender arms came around her shoulders from behind and the sound of a laugh was emitted near her left ear. "Nieninquë!!!"

"Glorfindel!" Niphrediel cried, before turning around and leaping up into the arms of her elvish friend, automatically feeling her heart soar.

"By the Valar!" Glorfindel gushed aimlessly, holding Niphrediel so tight it was a struggle to breath. "What are you doing here?!" he finally asked, releasing her from his tight grasp. "Why are you not in Lorien?"

Niphrediel beamed, shaking her head. "It is a long story!" she exclaimed.

"Niphrediel?" came Maerhelm's yell from beyond the terrace. "How am I supposed to get in?"

"Through the door, fool!" Niphrediel yelled back with a small laugh and a shake of her head. "He is so silly," she said, rolling her eyes.

"By me…" Glorfindel shook his head, oblivious to anything Niphrediel happened to say; as if in his own little world as he stared in wonderment at her face.

"What is it?" Niphrediel asked, when she finally noticed his 'fascination'.

Glorfindel smiled, "Your…your skin!" he said. "It is so dark!"

Niphrediel nodded brightly. "The Lady and Lord of Lorien healed me!"

"Oh?"

Niphrediel nodded once more, "Though, they never said anything about it. I knew it was true."

Glorfindel chuckled and patting Niphrediel on the shoulder, "That is fantastic, Nieninquë. Absolutely fantastic. Ivanneth will be ecstatic to hear that. "

"Oh, yes!" Niphrediel declared, "How is my naneth? Is she well, sad, happy—neither sad nor happy? You must tell me, I must know!"

"She is fine, Niphrediel," Glorfindel answered quickly with a chuckle. "Though, she will be much greater then that when she discovers that you have returned home to us!" With that, Glorfindel gave Niphrediel another hug, letting her linger in his arms for a moment.

"Much has changed in you," Glorfindel mumbled under his breath, his chin against her forehead. "More then just the hue of your cheeks."

"Aye," Niphrediel said back to him, her tone uncertain.

With a nod, Glorfindel took a step back, and took her gloved hands in his. "You look exhausted," he said with a smile, "Go wash up in your quarters; you haven't been gone long enough to have forgotten the way."

"But, Maerhelm"—

"I will see to him," countered Glorfindel.

"But, I would like to see Ivanneth and Elrond"—

"You can do that after you have had some rest!" Glorfindel interrupted. "Get washed, smell fresh, put on a nightgown and go to sleep. We will talk again in the morning."

Niphrediel smiled and nodded once. She was so relieved to be home— there was truly no place like it on the earth. "Very well," she said. "I will see you in the morning."

"You bet your life, you will," Glorfindel said with a grin, before he began leading her to the door out into the corridors Niphrediel knew so well—just never under the light of day. Then, as he went left, and she went right; they separated.

Niphrediel was amazed; the halls felt so foreign under the mild light of day. Pushing back thoughts of bathing due to exhaustion, Niphrediel decided, instead, to make her way to her bedchamber instead of heading to the lagoon.

Niphrediel awoke to the sound of a fist gently tapping against the wood of her door. She refused to move, unconsciously trying to convince herself that she had heard nothing to force herself back into the comforts of heavenly sleep, of which seemed the most glorious she had ever had—with nights on hard rock floors to compare it to.

"Niphrediel?" It was Glorfindel. Curses, thought Niphrediel, letting out a little groan in defeat. "Forgive my interruption, I just came to tell you to go to see Elrond in his study when you are ready for the day. Uh, yes…I will let you go back to sleep now!"

Niphrediel listened to Glorfindel's humming as he leisurely moved further and further away from the door, silently cursing at him with the knowledge that, despite her efforts, her mind was beyond the borders of sleep. Drawing out her movements as long as she possibly could, Niphrediel took her time getting out of her bed, and making her way to the lagoon—which she had never, ever been able to see under the light of day. Niphrediel scrubbed a month of travel from her skin with a hard brush, and made up for the several months of neglect that had been dealt to her hair with layer upon layer of soap and the finest creams she could find.

She spent near to two hours washing every part of her body, and Niphrediel could not help but sigh in happiness, for she had never felt so clean in her entire existence, and the feeling was positively superb. When she eventually took leave of the lagoon, she dressed herself, and was almost disturbed to find that the waistbands of her leggings were but an inch too small for her. Niphrediel frowned and looked down at herself. Her hips must have expanded a little, Niphrediel concluded, though she could not see the change, and came to believe more-so that her clothing had shrunk.

Taking up a rather ornate green robe, of which Niphrediel knew was a new arrival to her mount of unworn clothing, she nonchalantly buttoned it up over her undergarments. Leaving her hair, of which had grown remarkably so since the last time she had seen herself in front of her mirror, unclasped, Niphrediel then shoved on a fresh pair of slippers and felt joy each time she took a step; which eventually took her from chamber.

She continued to take her time; she had never been able to see every detail of every corridor and every hall of the house before. Never had she able to stand by each window, feeling the rays of the gentle sun kissing her cheeks through the stain glass. Having the ability to do so made the moment something almost surreal in Niphrediel's eyes.

Eventually, she did make her way to Elrond's study and, despite herself once more, could not help but bear butterflies in her stomach, of which stirred a brew of anxiety within her. She stood up straight and smelt her breath, knowing well that she had brushed and cleansed her mouth out nothing more then ten minutes beforehand, hoping that she had not changed too much and that he would not have changed either.

Taking in a quick breath of air, Niphrediel then knocked thrice on the door.

"Enter, Niphrediel," came Elrond's request from the other side, and with a small cough to clear her throat; Niphrediel opened the door and stepped through into the study beyond. Niphrediel had to say, it looked much cosier at day rather then night.

Elrond, as Niphrediel had hoped, had not changed…save that his expression was much more grave then last Niphrediel had seen it, but nothing more. Perhaps he had some pressing matters to attend to; Niphrediel could not guess what had influenced his demeanour so.

"Come, sit," said the lord, shuffling a scroll he had placed on the side of his desk whilst waving at the chairs before him, inviting Niphrediel to settle herself on one of them.

"Ah, thankyou," replied Niphrediel to the offer, moving over to the nearest chair to seat herself down in one of them.

For a moment or so, Elrond just stared at her; a smile in his eyes, if not on his lips. "You look…" no words seemed to be able to express his thoughts, as Elrond just shook his head; all signs in his expression and eyes giving clue to Niphrediel that he was not disgusted at what he saw, "so healthy!"

It was more Elrond's joy then his words that made Niphrediel smile, and though the slightest hint of glow came to her cheeks; it did not last long enough to turn the flesh pink. "Thankyou," Niphrediel said, as if there was no other word in her vocabulary.

Elrond smiled and tipped his head, as if to say it was no trouble for him to have said so. "How have you been, little Gwilwileth?" Niphrediel cherished the sound of her alias on Elrond's tongue; she had not realised how much she had missed the word in her absence.

"Tired, my lord," Niphrediel answered with a sigh. "The journey home was a long one."

"Indeed," Elrond nodded, as if he were there with her and Maerhelm as they travelled, and injured all that they did. "I have no doubt you wish nothing more then to relax, no?"

Niphrediel simply nodded. "Aye," she said.

"Well I just want to ask a few questions, and then you can go and reacquaint yourself with this old home," Elrond said, sitting back in his chair with his hands joined before him; an almost defensive stance. "What did the lady Galadriel tell you in Lorien? I understand your stay there was interrupted."

Niphrediel shuffled in her chair, automatically uncomfortable. "She told me I could see things," she replied plainly, trying to keep as much detail from her words and thoughts as possible.

Elrond's expression grew dark. "She told you nothing else?" he asked quickly, dread in the brooks of his voice. "Nothing of your mother?"

Niphrediel frowned and leaned forward, "What about my mother?" she asked, somewhat firm.

Niphrediel's question seemed to answer Elrond's question, for he gave a long sigh and closed his eyes in thought, his head absently shaking as if he was disappointed at something. After a moment or so, Niphrediel realised he was not going to answer her question, and took the fact in stride, settling back into the cushion of her chair.

"That will be all, Gwilwileth," Elrond said, his eyelids drawing away from his great grey eyes, and a forced smile shinning beautifully from his tense mouth. "Go, make your greetings with all who have yet to see you."

Recognising the joviality in Elrond's voice as somewhat feigned for her behalf, Niphrediel's departure from his study was a slow, reluctant one; though as she closed his door behind her and turned away from it, she could not help but feel somewhat relieved he had not told her to stay and expressed his sudden troubles with her. Niphrediel sensed that whatever heaviness had invaded the lord's thoughts would do the same to her, and she had enough troubles plaguing her mind without the entry of a new one.

It was as she crossed the courtyard path of marble, framed by two rows of tall red-leaved trees in direction of the garden that Niphrediel saw Maerhelm talking to Glorfindel and Ivanneth on the grass.

"Our journey was a long one, but a good one!" Maerhelm gushed to the two elves, his handsome face bright and smiley, like a child waiting for presents.

"You must be very brave," Ivanneth said, sincerely. "The lands far from the Elvenhomes are no longer safe."

"Indeed," Glorfindel said, his hand coming up to pat Maerhelm on the back. "We thank you for keeping Niphrediel safe on her way home."

Maerhelm seemed to find Glorfindel's comment funny. "I had to, sir," he said. "She would have beat me if I let anything happen to her!"

Niphrediel saw the moment as a suitable opportunity to enter the conversation, so gathering a bit of her robe at her hip, she swept forward. "You bet I would!" she said to Maerhelm, moving beside him and nudging his side with an elbow.

Ivanneth smiled and stepped forward to squeeze the hand of Niphrediel. "Oh, my little Niphredil," she said softly. "We have missed you terribly."

"Speak for yourself. If you asked me, I would say another month or two would not have hurt," Glorfindel punned with a wink. Niphrediel did not even need to glare. "Besides, Ivanneth," Glorfindel spoke on, oblivious, "Look at her! She is hardly a little anything now!"

"Hush your mouth," Ivanneth smiled affectionately, looking at Niphrediel with collected eyes, "It does not matter how big she grows; she will always be our little Niphrediel."

"Little Niphrediel," Maerhelm echoed beside Niphrediel, his face becoming bright as he attempted to keep his giggles quiet with no avail. He was quickly replied to with a punch in the arm— from Niphrediel, of course, who was not too amused.

The rest of the day went quickly, and it was with the coming of the night that a feast (of a homely size of course) was prepared by Annabon as her own quiet celebration of Niphrediel's return. It was also then that Niphrediel saw her. Arwen. Her stare was distant and dim; and her mouth was grim and pale, even though it remained ethereally beautiful, like the rest of her form, which made it seem as if it had been a long series of grey, unhappy years since she had smiled.

Rather then avoiding Arwen's stare out of habit, Niphrediel found herself averted eye contact with her out of her own unease. The Evenstar's notice of her presence was blatant, though Niphrediel tried her hardest never once acknowledged it, and not without her own punishment, of course.

The elleth had innocently stole Niphrediel's appetite and whatever passion for conversation she had mustered up, whilst never once letting her eyes linger on a different view. Perhaps it was not the fact that Arwen was staring at Niphrediel that made deny its existence, but more the affection and adoration that was within her stare. Niphrediel did not want to see it. Her rival was not supposed to care for her!

Despite Niphrediel not taking part in any conversations that happened to arise at the table, she was happy knowing that Maerhelm was making up for her silence. Indeed, the herald charmed every single edhel and elleth that who had attended— which was most of the population of Elrond's household. Niphrediel watched Maerhelm flutter from one pun to another, with somewhat of a gleam in her eye.

Yes, sometimes Niphrediel wished he would somehow forget how to speak, and wanted to lash out with a sword to end his whining and whinging, but, ultimately, he was a good friend; a real friend. He was one of those special people that would take an arrow for their comrade: a trustworthy, loyal person.

It was when the music began and the elf folk began dancing that Elrond patted Niphrediel's shoulder and leaned over to whisper something into her ear.

"Come to my study," he said. "I have something to talk to you about."

With less then a nod, Niphrediel stood from her chair and began to follow Elrond out of the hall and through the corridors to his study. She was not worried or overly anxious at all.

"What do you want to speak to me about, my lor"—

"Adar."

Niphrediel grinned, and nodded, "What do you want to speak to me about, adar?" Niphrediel walked to a halt in front of the chairs before Elrond's desk, resting her against its wooden frame, watching the lord walk to the western window and look out from it; capable of reaching sights Niphrediel could only dream of.

Niphrediel shuffled uncomfortably where she stood. She had not been bothered by his distance, for Glorfindel has always said he had been so since the passing of Celebrían, and it was all Niphrediel knew for him to be— but the expression upon his face was an exceptionally daunting one. Niphrediel could almost smell his dread from her place before the chair, as if it where a toxic chemical that tainted the air.

"Adar?" Niphrediel frowned, as her question when unanswered and silence settled upon the room like a cold frost. "What is the matter?"

With a long sigh, Elrond gradually came to reply. "I do not want to say," he says. "I do not know how to explain this. I do not know how to say this in a way that will not…. hurt you."

With a short hesitation, Niphrediel shrugged her shoulders; as if to completely shrug off Elrond's words— which she absolutely had not. "Do not bother, adar," Niphrediel offered. "Just come out with it."

Elrond's eyes slowly trailed down. Despite the loveliness of the gardens that could be clearly seen from the window, his eyes seemed to prefer the floor. "Once, in Gilraen's day, there was this… this tiny village off the borders of Eriador"—

Elrond's tale was disturbed as Glorfindel and Ivanneth walked through the door into the study, two dark expressions coming across their gentle faces as they saw Niphrediel, as if knowing, without need of words, what was happening.

Elrond nodded to them, before continuing on as Glorfindel and Ivanneth moved over to stand behind his desk, like daunting statues, waiting to pity Niphrediel's doom as Elrond attempted to bare it.

"After Numenor sunk beneath the sea and those loyal to the Valar fled into the lands of Eriador in numerous clans, one group in particular— the tiny village I spoke of— made their settlement beyond the borders of Eriador, just within the woods of Greenwood the Great.

"It was a great village, and the Dúnedain that settled there were a harmonic-living folk. They eventually converted the village into a… chiefdom and those that inhabited it decided to give such responsibility to their finest son," Elrond cleared his throat as something lodged itself at its rear. Looking to Glorfindel for help, Elrond lowered his head to the floor and became silent.

Pretending he had not seen Elrond's request, Glorfindel turned his head to the wall, unwilling to comply.

"…His name was Farintar Herontil," said Ivanneth, with a lengthy sigh, knowing quite well that if she did not speak then the silence that would settle upon the room would not be broken. Her eyes moved til they connected with Niphrediel's, and unlike Elrond's, they did not move nor flicker. She even managed a smile; the beauty of her face making her false animation seem less forced.

"He was a fine leader, even though he was given the title at a very young age, especially in their standards. He married a maid a decade afterwards," Ivanneth smiled, "The entire village was shocked when they actually wed."

"Why?" Niphrediel frowned, becoming lost in Ivanneth's words.

"Well… she was mute," Ivanneth said, "She was lovely, though, but I suppose the citizens would have expected Farintar to have given favour to another. The people learnt to accept her eventually, and they began to have children after a year or so."—

"What was her name?"

Ivanneth's brows raised, "Whose name?"

Niphrediel nodded her head, "His wife."

Perhaps Niphrediel should not have asked. Ivanneth's almost animated expression melted, and Niphrediel saw a dent form in Ivanneth's apparent confidence as she shrugged, almost uncomfortable.

"There is no telling of it," Ivanneth finally answered at length, a nervous shake in her voice that only began to dissipate as carried on. "But it is told that Farintar referred to her as 'Ravenstone' after the birth of his first son."

Niphrediel's hands squeezed each other as a shiver ran down her spine, feeling more like a dull sting than a tingle.

'Fly dear raven.'

Gandalf's words reran through her memory. Though Niphrediel had thought his words nothing but strange, she had seldom had the chance to ponder what meaning was in his… strange endearment. Right then, with Ivanneth, Glorfindel and the Lord Elrond, a cold sweat descended on the nap of Niphrediel's neck, and her skin thus in contact with it began to pale.

"Why did you send for me?" The politeness in Niphrediel's tone was overtaken by her alarm; bells ringing in corners of her mind that she had no comprehension of. She turned to Elrond, jaw clenched and teeth set as if marred by anger, instead of trepidation.

"Just listen to the story, Gwilwileth," said Elrond; his unblinking eyes unmoving from whatever mystical had drawn him to the distance.

"Relax, Nieninquë," whispered Glorfindel.

Niphrediel glanced to the door, but could not find the strength to move for it. And so, she lowered her head in defeat and forced herself to listen.

"They…ah," Ivanneth shuffled with unease, "At the near destruction of Greenwood, and the growth of the dark forces of the Woodland Realm…They and those of their village were slaughtered during the night."—

"Well, that is a lovely story," Niphrediel piped up, seeing an opportunity for sarcasm that could, perhaps, be her ticket to the door and her own rooms. "The last bit, I think, may need some altering. If you intent to tell it to children, at least"—

"Niphrediel, stop babbling," came Glorfindel's mutter.

"I do not mean to babble, only comment," Niphrediel replied. "A fairytale has been told, the least I could do is offer some constructive criticism."

Ivanneth grasped Niphrediel's arm desperately, "It is no fairytale!"

"Think what you will," Niphrediel shrugged Ivanneth's hand away and took a step back. "Nevertheless, I do not think anything that has been said could not have been spoken over idle dinner conversation. You did not have to wish an audience with me to tell me stories."

"Niphrediel…. he….he…."—

"Glorfindel, tell her!" hissed Ivanneth, becoming frustrated with his stammering.

"I…I…cannot!" Glorfindel closed his eyes and turned around, his back to them all. "I cannot say it!"

"Ivanneth, please!" Niphrediel pleaded.

Ivanneth looked to Elrond, "My lord?"—

"Ivanneth, say it!" Glorfindel yelled.

"Glorfindel, I cannot!"

"I cannot mind this," Niphrediel shook her head with a sigh, "Speak to me when you have sorted this out amongst yourselves." Niphrediel turned and began to walk to the door, not noticing the tears welling in Ivanneth's eyes, nor the lather of moist gathering about Glorfindel's own.

The two elves continued to throw exclamations back and forth amongst themselves as Niphrediel neared the door. Glorfindel and Ivanneth always used to argue and bicker to each other; Niphrediel had become accustomed to it at a young age and knew better then to wait for them to stop. Little did she now…

Her hand cradled the golden doorhandle and carefully turned it open. Her foot even took a step forward, the distance to freedom a mere second away. But then, almost with the flicker of an eye, a silence embedded itself on the lips of Glorfindel and Ivanneth, and only Elrond was saved from the muteness.

"Farintar Herontil is your father."

There it was; the fact that had overshadowed Niphrediel's entire life… the fact that had plagued Gilraen's mind to her last living day. It was the truth that had made Niphrediel's very existence nothing but a lie.

Niphrediel's entire body tensed. Despite her greater will, she could not move an inch. Yet, somehow, she managed to turn her head, and look to Elrond. To him her eyes were cold, frightened, possibly horrified, and immensely wounded. Elrond could tell what thoughts were entering her mind as she stood there in silence, wondering what to say, wondering what to believe. He knew, and he pitied her.

"You lie!" she hissed at him, a tear or two clouding her eyes that glared him right in the face, as if the warrior inside her could change truth to untruth.

Elrond turned from the window, his arms out as if to embrace. He shook his head, "No, I do not."

Niphrediel looked away from him, as if his very image disgusted her. She then moved her stare to Ivanneth, and there her eyes pleaded with hers for false truth. "Ivanneth…" her voice came out as a plea and a whimper, not a hard, firm, sort of monotone that Niphrediel was striving for.

"Niphrediel, I am so sorry, I…" Ivanneth shook her head, and could say no more, pressing her hand to her mouth to gargle her sob.

For a moment, Niphrediel closed her eyes and bit down on her lip, a mere inch from breaking down into a fit of tears. But no, using what will she had left she fended of the harsh temptation, and kept herself calm enough to keep her reasonably settled. She refused to cry. She refused to let them see her weep, or grieve for things that were never hers to begin with.

Copper fled into her mouth disguised as a scarlet liquid as one of her teeth pierced the inside of her bottom lip, and her eyes were tainted red as her eyelids moved high to bare them to the world. Perhaps she should have kept her eyes closed. The world in her mind was more hospitable there.

"Glorfindel?" Niphrediel had gathered enough poise for her voice to appear somewhat callous, and she hoped that no one in the room could see her chest heaving up and down with each quick breath. She hoped they could not hear her heartbeat, even though it sounded like small bombs going off in her own ears with each damned beat.

Glorfindel did not have to speak; his eyes spoke in his place, but he did anyway. "I… It…I…" he stopped, and shook his head. What little he had said had confirmed what reply he would have given if his mouth had been more articulate at his hour of need.

"…Gilraen?"

That time, Niphrediel received no reply. The meaning was simple: Gilraen was not her mother. Hence….. Aragorn, son of Gilraen, was not her brother— nor of any other sort of relation. Niphrediel had not become an orphan over time; she had beem born one. Her mother… was not her mother. Her brother— her hero— was not her blood; not her family; not her anything. She was not his sibling. She was his unrelated obligation.

She was utterly, unquestionably and unchangeably… alone.

Get out, the little voice inside her head was crying, manipulating Niphrediel's eyes to make it seem as if the room was becoming smaller and smaller, spinning around her in a blurry haze of walls and faces. She had to get out. She could not breath. Get out, get out, get out, get out, get out, GET OUT!

Niphrediel did not bother to say another word. Wether she had known it or not, she had held her breath; and by the time she began to breathe again, she was panting.

She rushed out of the study, running from those it contained. She strode through the corridors, refusing to run— as if doing so would make her weak; the rabbit fleeing from the cobra.

As soon as the doors to the veranda closed behind her, and Niphrediel decided she was truly home free, she gave herself permission to run. She ran across the paved path into the harsher depths of the garden, oblivious to the stray branches that nicked her face as she rushed passed with no mercy.

Further and further she went into the darkness, til her legs could move no more and her cheeks were pale and whipped to their ends by countless intolerant twigs. Brought to her end, she collapsed onto her knees upon damp, cold, and strangely soft grass, looking to the monument that loomed over her.

"You lied to me."

It took Niphrediel a while to realise the voice that whispered was her own, and the beads of water that fell down her cheeks were not raindrops.

Gilraen's face looked down at her. Despite the features that were nothing like hers' when she was alive, Niphrediel identified with the white marble that had been carved to crown the grave. Her arms were open, and with the pallid eyes gazing down, Niphrediel was almost certain Gilraen was looking straight at her.

"Liar!" Niphrediel screamed in rage, gripping the grass with tight fists. "Why didn't you tell me?!"

"She was going to."

Niphrediel tensed, and her tears stopped— if only for a moment— and her tongue nervously ran over her bottom lip. "Go away, Arwen."

"You should know these things," Arwen said, her voice becoming louder and nearer. Niphrediel could feel her presence dominating her own. A tight knot crept into her chest.

"Leave me alone," Niphrediel pleaded. "Please? Just….go."

Arwen ignored her last words. "She was going to tell you, before she became ill. She even tried to a few times, but… I do not know, I suppose she could not say it to you."

Fear shone in Niphrediel's gaze as she looked over her shoulder, capturing Arwen's attention. "Does Aragorn know?"

Arwen paused for a moment before she nodded, "I believe he was told when he spoke privately with Lady Galadriel."

Her answer was not a good one. Arwen watched Niphrediel's lip tremble and saw her turn her head as quickly as she could. Arwen watched with her own sadness, knowing Niphrediel did not want her to see her cry.

"Yet he… he did not tell me?"

Arwen looked down and, in one graceful movement, she moved down and sat down beside the mortal. And, reaching out with an arm, she placed the slender limb around Niphrediel's shoulders. Arwen was almost shocked at her actions, she had not so much as patted Niphrediel on the back since she was nothing but a babe in a cot; back in the days when Arwen never felt a presence of unease and resentment when Niphrediel happened to be around her.

What, perhaps, shocked the Evenstar more was that her gesture was not pushed— nor slapped, nor punched, nor any other such motion— away. Perhaps the girl's desire for compassion overpowered her past dislike of any of Arwen's obvious attentions. Arwen almost smiled as Niphrediel slumped back and her head rolled almost unconsciously onto her shoulder.

"Why do you hate me?" Arwen asked quietly, soft and gentle, calling for Niphrediel to be honest— not guilty.

Niphrediel shrugged. "I do not hate you," she said, and could not hear Arwen's sigh of relief, "I…am afraid of you."

"Afraid of what?"

"I… I… I do not know," Niphrediel said, her mind spanning on. Somehow her reasons and her explanations towards her dislike of the she-elf did not sound as intelligent and relevant as they had in the past when she would come up with excuses in her head to justify the way she felt about her. It annoyed Niphrediel to no end; Niphrediel's years of avoiding her was based pure stupidity and childish envy? "Afraid that one day I would be left behind. That Aragorn would leave with you and I would be left, alone."

Arwen's hand unconsciously came to stroke the back of Niphrediel's head, as she had seen Gilraen do uncountable times when she had lived. So strange… she had always wanted to be in that place of Niphrediel's heart, the place of the motherly figure. That, undoubtedly, was the origin of her unspoken jealousy of Ivanneth. She had stolen that chance from Arwen; wether Ivanneth meant to or not.

"But that would never happen!" Arwen could not stress the facts enough.

Niphrediel shrugged, "Perhaps, but I cannot say for sure… And now, everything is different."

Arwen's brows quirked, "What do you mean?"

"Aragorn does not have to take care of me anymore," Niphrediel coughed back something she was certain was a sob, "He has no obligation to me. I have no family, no anything. I can see it now… if everything goes well and Aragorn goes to Gondor. People will know that Gilraen and Arathorn did not have a daughter. It is true… he was dead before I was conceived, no? He must have been. No amount of lies can change that."

Gaze set to the distance; Arwen was silent for a moment, her mind occupied by thoughts and memories. "Then…. people will not be told that you are the daughter of Arathorn and Gilraen."

"Oh?" Niphrediel nearly snorted, "No, I will tell people that I am the daughter of Farintar Herontil and hope to the Valar they do not ask my mother's name because I do not know it myself. That is a much better solution." Niphrediel's tone, obviously, did not agree.

"You will tell them neither, then," said Arwen.

Confusion invaded Niphrediel's cynical expression. "Then… what will I say?"

Arwen licked her lips before replying, "You will say that you are Niphrediel, Gwilwileth of Imladris, Child of the Dúnedain, first daughter of Aragorn; son of Arathorn."

Moving off her shoulder, Niphrediel looked to Arwen with wide eyes mixed with doubt and bewilderment. "And the mother in this scenario?"

"You will call me mother. They will all assume I am actually that, without either of us having to say anything more of it. That way, we will not be lying…just simply giving each other kind endearments. You do not have to be of the same blood as someone to call them that, but they will all assume that is what we are, and…we will simply not correct them! I doubt any polite person would dare demand the truth of Aragorn, but as long as he says you are his then he will be nothing less then honest."

Joy subtly seeped into Niphrediel's demeanour, but it was short lived. "You do not want me as your daughter," she said.

Arwen said nothing, but drew Niphrediel in closer. Cherishing the first moment of open care she had ever experienced with the child she had watched grow from seed to blossom, harbouring sisterly— even motherly— fondness that she had been unable to express for years, Arwen planted a small kiss on the crown of Niphrediel's head.

"Do not be stupid, of course I do," Arwen muttered, under her breath. "Understood?"

Niphrediel wiped her cheeks and nodded, "Understood."

"Very well then," Arwen said. "There will be no uneasiness between us from this day forth. I will talk to my father and every record, scroll, painting, or note that involves you or your parentage will be altered."

"And… my real parents?"

Arwen patted Niphrediel on the shoulder and gave it a small squeeze to comfort. "That will a secret between all of us. No one will know any different."

Niphrediel smiled, but it could not last long despite her immense relief and joy of being able to bury old woes involving her and the elleth. In one night she had been given a great sorrow and a great mirth; a double-edged blade whose bittersweet sting had left a great wound and mark on her heart.

For the better, though, from that day on Niphrediel grew to love and accept all aspects of the Evenstar. As each moment they spent together passed, she felt her distrust and jealousy over the elf fade, piece by piece, into nothingness. What fears she had of one day finding herself alone became something less then memory, and what suspicion she harboured towards the bounds of Aragorn's love became less fruitless. Arwen liked to think the transition of Niphrediel's character was maturity, but Niphrediel thought it more plausible that she was merely beginning to accept the truth.

As time slowly went by, Niphrediel continued to dream. Mostly about Gilraen, for though Niphrediel could see why she had chosen to feed her lies, she still could not bring herself to forgive her. It was a long, but temporary wound— one whose healing was more painful then it's becoming. If her first mother was not present in her dreams, then it was usually subjects of either a lighter or darker breed that were.

More often then not, it was the memories and presence of Aragorn. Sometimes they were her memories of him; while others were set in the present, where Niphrediel could see him battle-warn and weary. She did not try to speak to him, though, instead she just watched from afar. Though what ability she had been given to see her loved one held her and Arwen's thoughts of immediate peril in suspension, Niphrediel reminded herself that it was still nothing more then a useful bane.

Using her inherited 'talent', Niphrediel was able to make sure that Aragorn was well. She even once saw Legolas as well, at Aragorn's side, his hand on his shoulder, with Gimli close behind. She became certain of her ability's status as a bane as she felt something tighten about her heart as she watched all three of them entering a fog of darkness, men with shadowed faces upon blurry horses following them afterwards. It was not fear of what they would face inside whatever misty realm her sight did not have the power to focus on, nor the worry or anxiety of their welfare— it was nothing less then longing. Niphrediel could not bear to say the words, but all who knew her well knew that, without a doubt, she missed them. To the point she could not bring herself to stop thinking about them, and thus had to search for any activity that could stimulate her imagination on another subject for even the smallest moment.

Yet, despite the absence of folk who had become so close to her in a rather short time, Niphrediel's life finally had some sense of peace in it.

As each month passed, the high artist of Rivendell's craft's guild, Círelas, created reproductions of portraits that had been painted when Niphrediel was a child. In some, Círelas was requested to paint Arwen in. Obviously, Undómiel was planning on taking the prints with them if ever word came that Aragorn's quest had been accomplished and he was made King of Arnor and Gondor— the Ring of Power destroyed in the process. Niphrediel supposed that with all the obvious signs declaring Arwen her biological mother (and hopefully with their lesser knowledge of elvish courtship) there would not be any queries regarding it.

During the times when Niphrediel was neither being painted nor sleeping, she spent more time with Arwen who, wether Niphrediel knew it or not, began to influence some characteristics of her nature. Arwen even managed to get Niphrediel to stop despising dancing, and making music. Ever sharp-fingered and rough, Niphrediel imagined it was quite a struggle for Arwen and Ivanneth when they began teaching her to master flutes and harps, and she only truly noticed their positive manipulation when the cracks in her singing became less noticeable. Less noticeable mind. Not nonexistent. Sure, Niphrediel was never going to be a bard; but she did not sound like a blade against stone whenever she so much as hummed.

Though Niphrediel would not want to admit it, the ellith were slowly making her more of a lady. Wether it was in her destiny or not, Niphrediel found herself wearing dresses more often and began enjoying the wanton feminine activities that she would never had partaken in a year prior. Thankfully however, spending time with Glorfindel's teasing and whining, and practising swordplay (which she eventually felt herself get rusty with— to her complete and utter horror) and talking horses with her Rohirric 'bodyguard' Maerhelm, Niphrediel kept herself in balance. Reunited with Draconic, Niphrediel, Maerhelm and Glorfindel would regularly take rides together if there happened to be enough time.

"Do you like it?"

Niphrediel's eyes trailed over the finely painted jaw line of the masterpiece's subject, her fingers absently doing the same to her own face.

Círelas's brows rose in question, not knowing wether or not to take Niphrediel's gestures as a 'yay' or a 'nay'. "Well? I know, I know, it's…. rather small— but that-that-that is merely because it just a portrait of your face, see?" she pointed to it. "I thought maybe it would be good to have one that was not so… big. Perhaps it could be put on a mantelpiece or a shelf or a desk."

Niphrediel bit her lip and grinned. She never liked the sight of her face on portraits or drawings or paintings. In her eyes she always looked either unattractive, overly chubby (or sometimes overly thin, depending on the artist), and her expression always looked either forced or nonexistent. That was probably one of the reasons she opted to pose without a smile. Her smile always seemed rather hideous on print. Her teeth were sometimes too big and her lips far too wide… Niphrediel hoped it was a slip of the brush that caused such results.

"It's lovely," Niphrediel said, and gave a small laugh. She had received the first painting that did not depict her as a child. Though it did not bear the artistic interpretation of any part of her body from the neck down, Niphrediel had still received the only print that acknowledged that there was some chance that she happened to have breasts and other such womanly attributes. Niphrediel felt like writing up a sign and parading outside for all to see.

Yes, Niphrediel was a child… But she was not enough of one to ignore the analysis of her physical maturity and, despite her own judgements of her general status as a child; Niphrediel felt the woes of adulthood forming before her eyes. Though she knew she was not ready to walk them for a long while, she realised acknowledged the changes that were developing before her eyes, preparing themselves for the day when she would be ready to undergo them. Though the day was not then, Niphrediel knew that one day she was going to have to let go and grow up.

But that day was not with her yet.



Note: Short, I know. Compared to most of the other chapters at least, but that's just because I'm getting everything set up for when the war is finished blablabla… road trip to Gondor blablabla… coronations/weddings blablabla…Elf/Mortal stuff blablablablabla… more birth revelations involving the Nephster (which will be quite dark and rather…erm…sad)… and… well… you'll just have to wait and see. ;)

I'm gonna cut straight to the end of the War in the next chapter. Don't want to dwell to much on this where everything involving Neph is kind of in suspended animation since, as ya'll know, there's not much of a romantic sideplot when the two romantic leads are kind of….how should I put it…. a heck of a long way away from each other. Though, I did contemplate letting their relationship intensify via dreams— as Neph is gifted in the manner, and I'm sure he'd be somewhat able in that field to, being and elf and all, but I changed my mind; deciding it would be corny and the element of excitement revolving the chance of being caught wouldn't exist. Not to mention the troubles involving the feelings of those that care for them both would have towards another tragedy involving love between two separate species; the sensations that express that Legolas and Neph are breaking a great taboo.

Hope I made the right choice, you'll have to tell me when the latter chapters come out (which they will, despite my apparent slowness to bring them out). Gah, I'm half-asleep. I'll stop babbling and upload this bloody thing.

OH!

Thankyou always to OverCastDay! And, of course, the others of you that happen to review…

And another big ups to Kara–just for caring :)