Chapter Seven: Personality Beyond

The pair entered the main hall, the elf side by side the hobbit, laughing. Yet they tried to stiffle their laughter as they caught sight of the mass of people gathered in the great hall. Legoals, Celgalad, Elgorn and Aragorn stood at the foot of the stairs to the throne. Boromir, Dwain and Gimli stood off to the side, with Faramir on the other. Faramir caught Pippin's eye, and gesured for Pippin to stand beside him. Pippin gave Feanar a look filled with longing and resentment. Feanar winked at the hobbit, causing Pippin to lose the look and bound to Faramir's side. Feanar aproached Aragorn, and bowed stiffly. Not in disrespect, but because of the fact that Legolas did not uphold the need to bow. His father found it combersome when he was trying to get an elf to report and all they were doing was lord-ing this and bowing that. Feanar was not accostomed to bowing this much.

"As I said, The sword called Mormegil is remade. Your request was upheald, Feanar." Aragorn started. Feanar nodded. "Gimli, Dwain, the sword please?" Dwain and Gimli strode forward, the rusty-brown scabbard heald between them. They presented it to Feanar. Feanar hesitated for a second, then grasped the sword. Again he griped the handle, and powerfuly drew the sword. The first thing that Feanar noticed was the length of the sword. It was near five feet, blade and all. The hilt was a burnt grey color. The blade was catching the glitter of sunlight and candles. The blade's engravings glitered. Feanar tested the swords balance, quite like he had been doing so for many years. He found himself examining the blade cridicaly, then remembered that he had never examined a swords balance this way before.

"The blade is perfectly balanced." Feanar stated, in a voice not his own. "The blade fits into the hilt so tightly that it does not move. A beautiful sword." He bowed more loosely to the Dwarves and to Aragorn.

"A kingly gift it is," Feanar said again, his voice back to normal, "I thank you for it." He sheathed the sword, a troubled look on his face. "How may I repay you? For I have none that could pay a king."

"Just find out what is happening in Mordor. That is all I ask." Aragorn said. He turned to Legolas. "Well you have taught your son in the way of swords."

"If that is so, he has not yet shown it. I know not of the way he examined the blade." Legolas said to his friend. "But a job well done by the dwarves!" He looked pointedly at the two dwarves. Gimli bowed. "Thanks."

"Excuse me, please, as I go test this sword." Feanar bowed and left the hall alone.

Pippin later looked for his new friend. He searched the beacon tower, and the record halls. As he was going to abandon his search for Feanar for some food, he found Elgorn and Celgalad arguing. Pippin aproched cautiously.

"I have little doubt that Feanar is on the beacon tower. He is always looking for high places." Celgalad was saying. Elgorn shook his head.

"He was already there, he wouldn't go back, knowing that we would look for him there." Elgorn growled. "We have a hobbit on our hands. What?" Elgorn snaped at Pippin. He stuttered when he spoke, unnerved by the elf.

"D-do you ha-happen to know whe-where F-feanar is?" Pippin sputtered. Celgalad glared at his friend, then smiled at Pippin.

"Don't worry over Elgorn here. His bark is much worse then his bite, when with friends. As for Feanar, that is what we are arguing about. We know naught about where he is." Celgalad put off an air of kindness, Pippin observed. Elgorn had a scowling outside, but Pippin remembered what Aragorn was like when he first met the man.

"Sorry, Master hobbit. Celgalad is right. I am nice, when you get over the seriousness of mine. I am the balance against Celgalad here in our trio." Elgorn explained.

"Pippin please. You are right, Master Elgorn. Feanar is not with the beacon." Pippin piped.

"Notice how he masters us, but not Feanar the level-headed." Celgalad scoffed. "Treat us how you would Feanar, and don't master us. In yen, we are not even out of infancy."

"So where is a secluded place out in the fresh air, Pippin?" Elgorn asked. Pippin was silent for a second, absorbing what the grey eyed elf had said.

" Erm… Oh yes! This way, follow me!" With that Pippin raced up the path to the Houses of Healing, elves on his heels.

Feanar sat on a bench in the courtyard guarden of the Houses of Healing. Here he had hoped for peace, for his mind was troubled. A red sun had set. His strange voice. The way his hand fit in Mormegil's handle so well and that its engravings seemed to match him. He hoped the air of healing would help him.

Why, Feanar asked himself, whats with the voice? He couldn't answer this question. His mind began to wander as time passed…

Screaming sounding all around him. Fire and orcs were all he could see. The heat of the fire nearly blocked all else, but he could feel the hand of his sister. He steped forward towards a tall figure that rose above the flames, yet was pulled back by a stonger force. He turned, to look into the face of his binder. His mother yelled something but he could not hear anything over the screams of agony.

Wrenching his hand from his mother, he and his sister rush towards the figure they reconised as their father. Over the noise of screaming, he could hear his father shouting orders.

"Eford, block the main gate. Finforlin! Get your men together and aid Eford." His father turned to look at him and his sister. "What are you two doing! Go with your mother!" His sister began to fall back but he pushed forward.

"No!" He yelled, "I want to fight! I don't want to be rushed away, not when you are in danger!" His friends soon came running up. The grey eyed one pulled at him, but the green eyed one was having to be held back by his sister from leaping to the gate.

"All of you, Go With Tuna!" His father lept forward and slayed an orc. "I cannot stand here and protect you. Eford, Get that Gate Closed!" Over the multitude of noise, he was sure he heard a orc voice.

"Fire!" Arrows streamed in over the gate. He turned towards his mother, only to see a arrow fly right at her. She turned to look at him and saw the arrow, but she didn't move.

"NO!"

"Do not dwell on the past." Feanar blinked. It was the voice of which he had spoken with earlier.

Who are you? Feanar asked the voice

"You will know soon enough."

AN: A yen for elves is 144 years of men. Yen are the elf year. So in the LOTR, good old Legolas is only 11 in yen. This story takes place 41 years after LOTR. So by this time Legy is 12!

Please don't interigate me on the deam or the voice… more will come later!