A/N: I'm so very sorry that it's taken me so long to update! Those Elves of Rivendell have kidnapped my muses and threatened them until I wrote at least two stories about them, so I did. I hope you enjoy this, it's nice and long.

Farothwen led Beleglor on an impromptu tour of Rivendell, showing him the stables and the Hall of Fire, the main hall in Elrond's house where lays and lore were heard. She showed him the chambers in which her and Glorohtar lived, and the archery ranges and fencing practice halls. As she led him all over her new home with an almost childlike glee, Beleglor marvelled on how much she had changed in the short months since he last saw her. She seemed ecstatically happy, and settled. When she was growing up, she had an intense wanderlust, always straying from her home no matter how much Beleglor tried to keep her fenced in for her own safety. The other Elves of Mirkwood were very cruel to her, making snide comments behind her back and even attempting to assault her. Once when she was very young, Beleglor caught another Elf trying to strike her.

And here she was, still young in both Elven and Dúnedain standards, but come to full womanhood. Beleglor felt his heart swell with pride as Farothwen took his hand and ran through the walkways of Rivendell, her hair caught in the breeze and sunlight, her green eyes sparkling, her smile wide, looking back at her father, daring him to run to catch up with her. Beleglor grinned and took her up on her dare as they ran back to Elrond's house. Even though Farothwen was raised as an Elf and had known no other company her entire life, she still seemed human, and that's what Beleglor loved about her. She did not know the sadness of Elves, particularly Beleglor's kind. She had a contagious optimism that was hard to resist.

Beleglor was snapped out of sad thoughts and memories brought on by Farothwen's blood-red dress by one simple cry: 'Ada!'

He turned to see Glorohtar running towards him. Beleglor grinned as he greeted him, nearly knocked down by the strength of Glorohtar's embrace. He had changed so much too: Farothwen's optimism and happiness had rubbed off on him.

'How are you, my son?' Beleglor asked.

Glorohtar was beaming. 'Ada, I'm so glad you're here at last.'

Beleglor looked around. Even though Rivendell was a refuge for all beings in need, whether Elven or human, he felt out of place. His and Glorohtar's blonde hair were incongruous amongst the rest of the inhabitants walking around at this hour. They were all dark-haired.

Noldor. There are Noldor everywhere.

Sudden flashes of memory came to Beleglor's mind. The smell of saltwater, the fire of torches, the glinting of swords in the moonlight. He could hear the screams of his kin in his old tongue and the war cries of a tongue unfamiliar. Pale wood ablaze, white sail ripped apart, golden sand and black water laced with red blood. The swans had flown away, scared by the flames. Black and red-haired Elves chanting, their swords stained crimson. Another flash. The torchlight fading away to the horizon, charred wood in the water, silhouettes lying on the beach. The glint of silver hair in the moonlight, clumped with blood.

'Brother... help me...'

A last breath, the tide coming in, dragging the body out to sea. Grabbing onto the silver tunic.

'No, Celebdain!'

Sinking to his knees in the sand, his brother's head in his lap, hands stained with blood, golden hair mingled with silver, crying, screaming and swearing revenge on those who had lain waste.

Beleglor opened his eyes. He was on his knees shaking wildly, tears pouring from his eyes. There was nothing in his lap where his brother's body should have been, but there was blood pooled in front of him. He blinked. Everything came back into focus. The pool of blood was actually Farothwen's dress. She knelt down and looked into his eyes.

'Ada, are you all right?' She placed her hands on his shoulders and helped him to his feet. Beleglor felt highly embarrassed. Farothwen looked to someone over Beleglor's shoulder.

'What should we do, Master Elrond?'

'I think your father should rest, Farothwen. He has ridden a very long way.'

Beleglor turned around and stopped dead in his tracks. There was a Noldo, clearly the lord of this realm, dressed in fine robes. Beleglor seethed. He would not let his children stay in the care of a Kinslayer!

'Farothwen! Glorohtar! Pack your things! We are not staying here.'

'Ada! Calm down!' Farothwen ran to keep up with her father as he walked away. She grabbed his arm. 'Listen to me!'

'No! I am your father, listen to me! That spawn of Morgoth killed my family long ago, before you were even thought of. How would you feel if your brother was injured, calling for you, your kin dying all around you, while these dark devils went around happily slaying each and every one of them? How would you feel if you hid until they were gone and emerged just in time to have your brother die in your arms? Were you there, Farothwen? Do you know what they did?' Beleglor's voice had risen to a roar. 'People like him, lord or no, cannot be trusted! Be grateful you never knew these hardships! You're just human, you know nothing of it.'

Farothwen was immensely hurt by this comment. 'I'm a Dúnadan, Ada. If what Lord Elrond says is right, I have Elvish blood. It also means that I am part Noldorin. You do not know what I suffered in the mountains. I would have died, if it were not for this man and his sons. How can you tell me they cannot be trusted?'

Farothwen walked away, with tears in her eyes. Glorohtar looked helpless. He eventually followed her, shooting Beleglor a death glare. It was only then did he realise his hypocrisy and what he had done to his daughter. He looked over at Elrond, who stood calmly but had a tinge of anger in his eyes. He shook his head and walked away. Tears ran down Beleglor's cheeks.

'Farothwen,' he whispered, and made to run after her, but two gentle hands stopped him. Beside him stood two Elves, Glorfindel and Celebrían. Beleglor was relieved to see another blonde Elf, let alone two. They led him to a chamber within Elrond's house.

Beleglor sat on the rather comfortable chair, his head in his hands. He could not believe what he had just done. The long suppressed memories of the Kinslaying by the sons of Fëanor at Alqualondë in a now lost land so long ago had suddenly risen up and taken him over. He had embarrassed himself and the ones he loved, and hurt his daughter, and made his son angry with him. He was still shaking.

He felt a cup of something being pressed into his hands. He looked up to see the beautiful and benevolent Lady of Imladris, a smile on her fair face as she pushed the cup of tea into his hands once more. This time, he took it, tears still running down his cheeks. In the light, he saw the silver shimmer of Celebrían's hair, so reminiscent of her father. A shudder ran through Beleglor. It was exactly the same colour as Celebdain's...

Glorfindel was seated beside him.

'Beleglor,' he said gently, in a voice that both held beauty and the wisdom of many thousands of years. 'Are you all right?'

Beleglor nodded slightly. Celebrían's friendly and wise eyes looked into his.

'Drink it,' she commanded softly, in the gently forceful manner she had, always useful for controlling her wayward sons. She bore a slight smile. 'I promise it isn't poisoned.'

Beleglor drank the tea, and its calming effect was almost immediate. He felt better, and he felt like he could actually speak. His shaking had stopped. He shook his head in disbelief.

'I'm so sorry... if I offended you, m-my lord and lady.' His voice was shaky and nervous. 'I do not know... what came over me.'

'I do not blame you, Beleglor,' Celebrían said in her gentle voice. 'I am sorry for all the wrongs my kin wrought against you.'

'Your kin?' Beleglor was utterly confused.

'Glorfindel and myself are part Noldorin, both of the Golden House of Finarfin, named for our hair colour.' She and Glorfindel exchanged looks. 'Glorfindel is half-Vanyar and I am half-Teleri.'

'Begging your pardon, my lady, but you look it,' Beleglor said. 'Your hair is silver.'

Celebrían looked grave. 'That comes from my father. He is Teleri, formerly of Doriath.' She said the last word in a whisper. Beleglor looked up sharply at her.

'What is his name? I may know him.'

'His name is Celeborn. But you may know him as Teleporno.'

Beleglor's eyes widened with recognition. 'I knew him and his kin well. Did not his brother suffer the same fate as mine?'

Celebrían nodded. 'He holds the same hatred for the Kinslayers as well as you. But he does not extend the same hatred to all Noldor.'

'How do you know this?'

She smiled slightly. 'He married my mother. She is Altáriel, daughter of Finarfin. But she is known to all as Galadriel.'

Beleglor bowed his head. 'I knew not you were the daughter of the Lady of Light. She is well known to us in Mirkwood, as her people are our close kin.'

Celebrían nodded. 'As you guessed, my husband is also part Noldorin. However, he is of the line of Fingolfin through Idril Celebrindal. He is named Peredhil, as he is half-Elven.'

Beleglor felt utterly mortified. 'My lady, words cannot express the deep regret I feel for the brash remarks I made. I owe you a debt that can never be repaid, saving my daughter's life. Please forgive this foolish Elf.'

Celebrían let out a small joyful laugh. 'You have no debt with us, dear Beleglor. We were merely doing our duties. Your distress and mistrust was warranted with the hurt that you suffered long ago. Your apologies lie not with us - they lie with your daughter.'

Beleglor sighed and ran his hand through his hair. 'How could I hurt my child so? I love her with all of my heart, although she is not of my own blood.'

Glorfindel looked at Beleglor shrewdly. 'Tell me, Beleglor, if you don't mind, why did you take her in?'

Beleglor stopped to think for a second. 'I heard her crying in the woods. She was just a babe, innocent and defenceless. I picked her up without thinking. It was not until I read the note her mother left that I realised she was human. It was never an issue for me. When she opened her eyes and looked at me with those eyes of pure emerald, I loved her from that hour. I loved her regardless as I would a child of my own. I was heartbroken that she would spend her life persecuted for being different. I just wished that Mirkwood would accept her as I did.'

'She needed your help and love, and you gladly gave it, regardless of whether she was human or Elven. You accepted her, even though she was different and you had never been around her kind.'

Beleglor nodded, thinking about Glorfindel's words. He realised he was hinting at Beleglor's thoughts of the Noldor. He looked up at the two Elves who stood before him. They both bore the light, wisdom and beauty of many days, they were nobles of a far higher status than Beleglor could ever reach. They helped rule this realm, this refuge, and here he was, throwing a temper tantrum! He was being so ungrateful to those who were looking after and healing his two precious children. He hung his head in shame.

Celebrían's slender hand stroked Beleglor's cheek and tilted his chin up. She had some of her mother's gift in reading people's thoughts. She smiled benevolently.

'You have my leave, Beleglor of Mirkwood, to stay for as long as you wish, with your children. You have not offended us, do not worry, and I shall take care of my husband. Elven lords do tend to be a bit grumpy,' she laughed.

Beleglor kissed her hand. 'Thank you so much, my lady. I owe you my daughter's life.'

She shook her head. 'Not me. My son Elrohir rescued her and brought her here. He is the one that should be the recipient of such gratitude. Now, you must find your daughter.'

As Beleglor turned to leave, looking gratefully at Glorfindel, who smiled back at him, he looked back at Celebrían. 'Is it true, what Farothwen said? About having Elvish blood?'

Celebrían nodded. 'The Dúnedain are the descendants of the first King of Númenor, Tar-Minyatur, or, as he is better known, Elros. Elros is one of a pair of brothers who had the choice of choosing their fate: to become Elven or human. Elros chose mortality, his brother, immortality.'

'Who is his brother?'

Celebrían smiled. 'Elrond, my husband. My children also face the choice when my husband leaves these shores, but that will not be for many lifetimes of Men. Our children are cousins from afar.'

Beleglor bowed and left the room. He stopped in the hall to take a breath. Today had been a very long day.