Two weeks passed, and Farothwen was fully recovered. Her right hand was scarred, but she had full use of it again. She went back to archery practice and riding again. She visited her father's horse Rochatar in the stables. She placed a hand on his brown neck and placed her head on his. He seemed to be in a great deal of sadness. He seemed to sense that his daughter was gone.

'I'm so sorry I lost Rochtári, Ada.' Tears started to fall. Rochtári had been her only companion ever since she was a child and she had an almost sisterly bond with her, hence her nickname for Rochatar.

Farothwen missed her father. She felt lost without him, since he was always there for her and loved him dearly. She had been worried about him, especially with Hirogaer about. She hoped that he hadn't been harassing him.

Farothwen walked back out into the snow. It was nearing February now, and the weather was starting to warm up, which was good for Farothwen, but really made no difference to the Elves, since they did not feel the cold too much. It was very windy, and Farothwen's blue dress and black mantle were billowing everywhere, as was her auburn hair. She heard horses' hooves and soon enough Elladan and Elrohir came galloping home from yet another errand.

'Morning!' Elladan shouted over the roaring wind. 'What are you doing out here?'

'I just wanted to go for a walk.'

Elladan slapped his forehead. 'Oh! I've a message for you! I almost forgot the blasted thing.'

'Good one, Elladan,' Elrohir replied snidely. 'You're over two thousand years old, not over ten.'

'Shush, Elrohir!' Elladan turned back to Farothwen. 'Nana wants to see you.'

Farothwen nodded. 'All right.' She turned and hurried back into the main house out of the cold. She shook her mantle free of snow before going up to see Celebrían in her chambers.

Farothwen knocked on the door. 'My lady?'

'Yes, come in, dear,' Celebrían said with a cheer in her voice. She was always smiling, laughing, a source of radiant light and happiness, a quality she definitely inherited from her mother, Galadriel, Lady of Light.

'Oh, so finally my vagabond sons told you of my message.' She chuckled. 'Come here, my dearest. Stand tall and hold your arms out.'

Confused, Farothwen did as she asked. Celebrían looked at her carefully, as if she were taking mental measurements. She smiled in satisfaction and nodded her head. 'You're almost the same as Arwen.'

'In what way, my lady?' Farothwen was thoroughly confused.

'Dress size, of course. Is that...' Celebrían pushed Farothwen's mantle off her shoulders. 'I thought I recognised that one.'

Farothwen looked down at her dress. 'Is this Lady Arwen's?'

'Yes, it is, and a brilliant fit it is too. I wonder who found that for you.'

'Lord Elrond did. My lady, if you don't mind my asking, what did you want to see me for?'

Celebrían smiled. 'Please, Farothwen, we are far too close for dignitaries now. Celebrían will do just fine. The same for my husband. Now, what this is about...' A grin appeared on her face, as if she was being sneaky. 'Why, I'm measuring you.'

Farothwen's brow furrowed. 'For what, m-... Celebrían.'

'Your wedding dress, of course! And I have the perfect one in mind. I will hand it over to my maidens immediately. You said your father arrives in two weeks, yes?'

'Yes...' Farothwen was more than a bit overwhelmed. 'I know not what to say.'

'Don't say anything, child. You and Glorohtar are as family to us. We will take care of everything, myself and my handmaidens. This is not a matter for males,' she said, smiling. 'Run along, and tell your husband I want to see him. We will make a set of robes for him as well.'

Farothwen left the chamber, grinning. All her life, she felt as if she didn't belong, that she wasn't welcome amongst her people. Here in Rivendell... she belonged.