The ride back in the morning was uneventful, and they were nearing the borders by midday. Farothwen took the opportunity to look at the forests that she had never noticed before. The leaves were falling in the gentle breeze and it was beautiful. Even though she had been here for a long time, the beauty of this place never failed to amaze her. She always discovered something new every day.

As the border guards came into view, Farothwen strained her eyes to see if Glorohtar was among them. One of the many disadvantages of being mortal was that she could not see as well as her family.

She smiled as she came closer. Sure enough, Glorohtar was waiting for her with a smile on his face. He had seen her much earlier.

As soon as her horse was close enough, Glorohtar grabbed the reins and caught Farothwen as she dismounted. The elf-lords continued straight ahead. He held her in a deep embrace.

'I did not expect you back so soon, my love.'

Farothwen's voice was muffled as Glorohtar held her tight to his chest. 'I did not expect to be back by now.' She laughed. 'Come, I was only away for a little while, love.'

'I know,' Glorohtar replied, brushing her hair off her face. 'But I missed you still.' He kissed her forehead.

'You look so tired,' he said.

'An understatement. I'm exhausted.'

'Then sleep, silly one. I will not be here much longer. I'll bring you some dinner when it is served.'

Farothwen nodded as she took her horse's reins and walked to the courtyard with her husband, telling him everything about her short but frenetic time with her people. As she spoke, the memories of Morandir's mother haunted her. There was something about her that disturbed her. There was more to the lady than Farothwen was led to believe.

Celebrían carefully folded up the letter in her hands and sighed. It was written in the graceful hand of her beloved father, whom she missed very much. She had shared many wonderful years with her husband and children, but there was still a part of her heart that yearned for Lórien, her home. She could not remember the last time she had visited her parents – the last long talk she had with her mother, the greatest of her people, or the last game of chess she played with her father, who always beat her with a kind word and a wicked smile. It was not the first time she had felt divided between lands.

A dark head appeared in the doorway. 'I hear you got a letter from daeradar.'

'Yes, Elrohir. He asked if I'd like to come home for a visit.'

Elrohir looked nervous. 'It is not safe, through the mountains. I would leave it for now, Nana, until we know it is safe to travel.'

Celebrían sighed. 'I know it is not safe, and I could not ask them to travel to see us. It would be doubly dangerous for them. Lothlórien would be vulnerable. I suppose I will have to wait for a little while.' She looked to her youngest son and smiled. 'I have seen the leaves fall thousands of times. I have my own family and this fair realm, both of which I love dearly, and yet I still desire the surroundings of home.'

'I understand, Nana.' Elrohir gazed out into the wilderness surrounding them. 'I know that when our time comes to go into the West, my heart will still be in this place. It is my home, and it will always be precious.'

'I know, my child. But do not worry, that is a little while yet. And I would not have you forget the forests, the rivers, the valley.'

'But, as you said, it is a while yet. Nana?'

'Yes, Elrohir?'

'When you go to Lórien, may I come along? I'd like to see daeradar and daernaneth, and I want to make you that you will be all right on the journey.'

Celebrían smiled. 'Of course, Elrohir. It would be an honour to have my son escort me.' She kissed his cheek. 'Dinner will be served soon, go wash.'

Elrohir grinned. A fully grown, handsome and talented Elf who had seen many thousands of winters, and his mother was still reminding him to wash for dinner.

'Yes, Nana.'

Beleglor smiled at his daughter over the table at dinner. He had heard about her deeds from Elenion and he looked at her with pride in his eyes. Beleglor could see now that she had found her own path through life, and he could not ask for a better companion for her than Glorohtar. In a sense, he was relieved. Farothwen was no longer dependent on him. For the first time ever since he found her in the halls under the dark, dense trees, Beleglor could focus on himself. And that he did – his songs were becoming quite well known throughout Imladris and he finally found courage enough to mingle with other Elves without his family with him. His best friend, apart from Lindir, was the weaveress Faerien, a beautiful Noldo with sunshine in her eyes and laughter in her heart. When one day she fastened a blue cloak she had made specially for him around his shoulders, Beleglor came to realise that he loved her. Faerien was one of Celebrían's maidens, and her own love for the mysterious Woodlander minstrel did not escape the great lady's sight.

Farothwen ate silently. Glorohtar was on night duty and Beleglor was wrapped in daydream. She smiled. She could not remember seeing him this happy. She longed to know the cause, but he would tell her in due time. The nights were growing slightly colder, and Farothwen held her Faerien-made cloak tighter. The Elves didn't quite realise that the hall was awfully draughty. She had been feeling a little ill lately as well, which she attributed to the stress of recent events.

Beleglor walked Farothwen to the room she shared with Glorohtar, who was due back soon. She noticed that he was still very much in his reverie.

'Ada, what are you thinking about?' she asked with a hint of laughter.

He seemed to snap out of it. 'Nothing,' he smiled. 'Nothing that you should be concerned about anyway.'

She laughed. 'You're impossible. I do wish you wouldn't keep secrets from me.'

'I'm not keeping anything from you, my dear. Besides, I'm sure that there has been quite a few you've kept from me over the years.'

This caught Farothwen off guard. Beleglor smiled and tapped his nose.

'Ada knows.'

'Well, there is nothing, at the moment at least.'

'Of course not. Goodnight, you little imp.' Beleglor kissed her cheek.

'Imp? That's rather harsh!'

'Well, it is true.'

'Goodnight, Ada.'

Beleglor grinned as he left for his own room. Farothwen took a moment to admire the night sky, something she had sadly not done for a long time. The sky was clear, the moon full and the stars bright. She idly wondered what they were.

As she turned to go inside, she thought she heard someone call for her. She stopped to listen. Nothing. It must have been the wind. She shrugged and turned again. This time, she heard it.

'Farothwen!'

Glorohtar was running up the path towards her. His face looked upset.

'Glorohtar? What's wrong?'

Even in the fading lamplight, Farothwen could see that Glorohtar had been crying. He clutched a note in his hands.

'My father's dead.'

She knew not what to say. 'How?'

'Killed by Orcs leaving the borders. He was coming here.'

'Here? What for?'

Glorohtar seemed very shaken. He sighed. 'He was coming for us. What he would have done, I do not know, but I do know that he wished us harm.'

All Farothwen could do was draw her husband into a tight embrace. He shed a few more tears, but she did not know whether they were tears of sadness. Deep down he may have loved his father, but she did not know whether it was that, or of fear, or of relief. All she could do was hold him.

Farothwen did not feel any better after her night's sleep, or what little there was. Glorohtar's dreams were restless, and unlike mortals, he could not be brought out of it. But once he woke he seemed fine, much to Farothwen's relief.

Everyone was blissfully unaware of the incident, including Beleglor. He went on his early morning walk as per usual, which now included a stop to see Faerien, who was working at her loom. He escorted her to breakfast, where they were joined by a thoroughly dishevelled Farothwen and Glorohtar.

After breakfast, they told him what happened. He was taken aback.

'What are you going to do?'

'What can we do, Ada,' Farothwen replied. 'There is nothing to do.'

Glorohtar sighed. 'I want to go back there one day.'

Farothwen looked at him with surprise. 'To Mirkwood? You're not serious, are you? It is not safe. The shadow of Dol Guldur is growing.'

'I know, but it is our home. And I need to see my mother, I miss her.'

'If you go,' said Beleglor, 'you would need to go soon, while the orcs retreat into the mountains and before the passes shut with snow.'

'If we went, would you come, Ada?' Farothwen asked.

Beleglor shook his head. 'There is nothing for me there. I belong here. My heart is here.'

'I know, Ada,' Farothwen said.

'Would you go, Farothwen?'

'I would, if Glorohtar goes. I would go with him anywhere.'

'It is only just a thought,' Glorohtar said quickly. 'A thought borne out of grief and madness.'

'No, not madness,' Beleglor replied. 'Just take some time and think about it. There is always time. It is best not to rush into these things.'

Glorohtar nodded, but his mind was already made up. He wanted to go. But Farothwen was right, it was dangerous. But he was willing to take that risk. The question was, would she be willing?

Farothwen thought long and hard about Glorohtar's proposal. At first she dismissed it as an irrational thought, but now the idea was lodged firmly in her head. There was nothing to stop them; Hirogaer, their only but most deadly threat, was gone. Farothwen did miss her homeland, much as she loved Rivendell, and she knew that Glorohtar was awfully homesick. It was dangerous to travel, but as winter came closer, the threat of stray orcs and other wild things was lessened. It could be done. She saw how excited Glorohtar was as he was talking about it. The more she thought about it, the more she wanted to go back. If they went now, they would miss the worst of the winter weather out in the Wilderland and would be safe in Mirkwood. Glorohtar missed his mother dearly, and Farothwen would like to meet her. After her unsettling experience with the Dúnedain, she needed to be somewhere safe and familiar – the hut in which she grew up.

She knew she had to go back. And she would.

A/N: It is with great pleasure that I announce the final chapter of Aníron was finished today. There are about three or four to go after this one. Thanks very much for reading, and all your lovely reviews, and I hope you enjoy the chapters to come.