Summary: Barahir discovers the truth.

Shout Outs:

Roisin Dubh - More chapters? But of course!

DreadLadyFreya - A wedding? No, not yet. We still have a problem...

Mercury Gray - The only reason I had spelling errors was because the computer I was using for that chapter (and this chapter) doesn't have a spell check. For some God-forsaken reason, it doesn't have spell-check at all.

Terreis - Yay! I finally got the review! I'm so pleased that you like my writing! Thank you so much for your flattering remarks!

Silmarien awoke the next day to the sound of a tray of breakfast being set on the small table near her bed. Bleary-eyed and yet refreshed, she brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes and sat up, only to have the offending lock fall back in her face.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice quiet and cracked from sleep.

"I beg your pardon, my lady?" the maid servant asked.

"What happened? One moment I'm speaking to Glorfindel and the next..."

"Oh, that. Lord Glorfindel has a message for you he bid me give as soon as you awoke," the maid servant said, pulling a folded parchment out of the sash she wore.

Silmarien snatched it away, now fully awake. Tearing it open Silmarien sat with her slender legs over the edge of the bed as the servant discreetly departed.

My Beloved Duveniel,

It is known to me that your quest for Barahir was trying to your nerves, not to mention the greivous charges laid against you by Alfirin. It alarmed me, however, that your strength was so drained that you fainted the very night I returned. It is therefore in your best interest that I placed you upon your bed to sleep in peace. Alone.

When you awaken, I shall expect you to be well rested and quite happy. Unfortunately, I will not have the pleasure of accompanying you to the garden. This morning, I discovered some news that did not strike me as favorable, and so I fear I shall be attending to it the rest of the day. I shall see you at evening meal, I hope.

Sincerely,

Glorfindel

Barahir walked in a garden, escorting his aunt through the exotic landscape he had never before seen. She was dressed in a lovely white gown, girded by a silver belt. She was happy to see her nephew, and yet there was a sedateness about her that did not sit well with him.

"Barahir, I am glad to be with you," she said. "But there are things which we must speak of."

"What troubles you, aunt?" he asked quietly.

"That you have come to this place through violence. The war is over, is it not?" Finduilas replied.

"Yes, it is over. But there is still dissention within courts. Aunt...do you...do you know of..."

"Alfirin and her hate against my daughter? Yes, I've seen it. I have plead with Silmarien not to be bitter. I do not think she listens."

"Then it is true, that Mari did not..."

"Barahir," Finduilas again interrupted. "Silmarien is in desperate love with the elf lord. But she is not so desperate that she would throw away what I had hoped she would guard until her wedding. My daughter is no wanton woman."

Barahir fell silent and continued to walk. Finduilas was also quiet, and decided to let her brother's son continue, for she knew there were many questions he needed to ask, and that she had a duty to answer.

"Aunt," he began again, "who would be such an enemy of Elemmire that they would attempt to murder her? Why was she attacked?"

Finduilas did not answer for a time, and Barahir thought it was becuase she was told not to. But Finduilas knew there were things that Barahir must discover for himself, and formulated her answer accordingly.

"Elemmire was a friend to my daughter, so much that in Silmarien's time of great need, she willingly offered her aid. Elemmire's assistance presented a threat to Alfirin. And so...she was attacked."

Barahir's heart broke, for he now saw himself the worst fool ever to walk the earth. "I am not blessed by the wisdom of Numenor, aunt," he mourned.

"Barahir," Finduilas said softly. "You are blessed. You are blessed to have a woman who loves you, who would do anything to see you happy. Your wounded heart was merely turned from prudence by one who would have it."

The son of Imrahil closed his eyes and fought his hurt and anger. "She does not love me, Aunt," he said, trying to control the tears that stung at his eyes. "I tried to win her. She does not love me."

"It is not of my daughter that I speak," the late princess of Dol Amroth said. Barahir suddenly turned toward her, pausing their walk. "But my daughter does care for you, Barahir. And yet it is not born of the love that you desire from her. If she did not care for you, she would not have made such an effort to protect you from Alfirin.

"There is one whom you have spoken to on many occasions, who loves you greatly, and it is born of the affection which you desired from my daughter. She loves you with a tenderness, and yet with a fire that helped her become stronger, bolder. It has helped her become the wife you would need."

"Who, aunt? Who do you speak of?"

But Finduilas merely smiled and lead him to a wooden door in the stone wall of the garden. Before it, she took his hand and kissed his cheek. "You are too young to enter these halls where I reside, Barahir. My host asked me to speak with you for a time, and then bid you farewell. The time has come for you to go back."

"But what is there left for me?"

"A treasure, Barahir, one that will be worth to you far more than Silmarien could ever hope to be. Go back, son of my brother, and claim it."

Barahir then awoke to find that he was abed, in the Houses of Healing. His left arm was terribly stiff, and he felt tired and weak. Opening his eyes, he looked about him. The room was empty, save for a guest who was kneeling at his bedside, holding his right hand. The soft curls of a woman's head were unkempt. Turning his head just a little more, he saw the tear stained face, the pale complexion, the weary countenance. She was holding his hand in both of her own, her velvet soft lips pressed against the back of his hand. Barahir smiled a little, for it seemed she had fallen asleep during the kiss. The angel who had guarded him all night. Elemmire.

Filler chapters are short, but review anyway!