Rivendell I

Raven's POV

around TA 2913

I lowered my muzzle and stood listening for a moment. I knew that if there were other wolves near, they would not answer to this call – I had not addressed them. Neither would I get any direct answer from the one I had addressed. So I could only wait. And after more than a full sun-course without time, any conscious waiting seemed too long.

Evil things do not come into this valley, so it was said. I drifted about its borders restlessly, aware of – something, a line I would not have crossed had only the wolf decided. I dared not scry for Gildor's presence, sensing many others and fearing either they or the watching something would become aware of me.

The night was very still, and very cold. There was no snow here yet. I had left its range near the mountains, crossing the wide land that was Eregion. I was comfortable now. But to Unfurred, the air would have a bitter chill. There would be sentinels. I kept my distance from the Rim, not wanting to be spied and cause unwanted alarm. I might escape mortal hunters easily, but I would have no chance against elven ones. I found what looked like a main path and dithered around the location, sniffing and listening intently. Paths were always watched.

I lay down under a bush. Its few brown leaves rustled softly as I stirred the bare branches, working my way into cover. I rested my head on my forepaws and waited.

After an indeterminable time I became aware of motion and approach. The sensation was undefined, and I remained in cover until it cleared. Horse, the scent said, and so did the soft thud of unshod hooves. I stretched my muzzle into the faint breeze and felt relief wash over me. For a moment I remained under the bush, taken aback by the force of the emotion.

A short time later Fairё came into view, a pale and truly ghostlike appearance in the shifting light and dark patterns under the trees if I did not look at her with a wolf's eyes. The light grey mane flowed gently with every step she took. Her rider did not look less intimidating. The lands were not peaceful, not even here anymore. I was some distance from the Rim proper. Gildor did not ride bareback now, he had taken Fairё's war-gear and his blade was strapped to his back. His tight-fitting riding leathers were dark grey as well, and he had his hair confined into a single thick braid. Both horse and rider blended into the background as they wove through the trees. I watched them as they neared my hiding place, once more wondering what brought us together. Beast of shadow. What could an Eldarin warrior as powerful as Gildor find in me that he rode out to look for a hiding wolf in a bitter cold night that was better spent in front of a fire?

Fairё halted some distance from me, and Gildor cast a searching glance towards the thicket. He must have been scrying for me. Or Fairё had told on me again. The wind was at my back.

"Raven?" he said softly "I know you're here, and you can come out, the sentinels are further down"

I felt foolish, crouching in the shadows here because I dared not enter the valley alone. Leaving my bush I shook my fur vigorously and trotted over to Fairё before I could hesitate. I looked up at him warily as Gildor dismounted, trying to decide what mood he was in. I was taken by surprise when he knelt and brought our eyes level that way, taking my head in both hands.

'I thought you would not come back after all'

There was a world to that simple mind-spoken statement. I winced inwardly, and flattened my ears in discomfort. For a moment I was tempted to tell what had happened, why I had stayed away a year longer than I had intended. But then - Gildor accepted the changewolf. That was all I could ask. I could hardly tell him that Joy and the black-.

'The wolf does not count time' I said uneasily 'I…lost track of it…I know I said last winter. I'm sorry'

It was unfamiliar, revealing, to think in words again. I had assumed that since Gildor generally lived in the valley, he would have his friends here. And hardly needed to worry about a changer who was more trouble when he was present than when he was out and about.The wolf was self-centred. He thought for the moment, and his own survival and time were mostly on his mind. I had consciously chosen the wolf for the past years, and now felt more than slightly guilty. The wolf had kept me from worrying, but also from pondering. He had spared me the uncertainty of our relationship. I had not thought about that, that Unfurred would have wondered. It would have been my obligation to have considered that.

'Silly dog' Fairё said acidly, swishing her tail in irritation 'By Orome's hounds, I kept look-out when grazing out of valley' Her tart sending was keyed to the wolf, which threw me quite a bit. Another assumption gone astray. I had thought she only had a mind-speaking range, and could not key her sendings.

Gildor got up and took a roll off Fairё's back which turned out to be spare clothes 'Will you change, or come as wolf and get the shock over with?'

'Change' I said hurriedly, horrified 'I have no desire to end up at the stake!'

'You know we don't conduct witch-hunts' Gildor returned, amused.

'Maybe not. But neither are wolves on the list of your people's favourite beasts'

To call the change after two sun-courses of being only wolf was disconcerting. When I changed regularly, the shock of shifting receded to nothing. But now it felt as if the whole world was turned upside down. The cold night air hit me like a wall, and for a moment I was completely disoriented. The sense of hearing and scenting reduced to the level of Unfurred, and the effect was that of feeling blind and deaf for a moment until the dizziness passed. I dug my hands into the crisp dead leaves and tried to come to terms with elven perception. The watching force that had made the wolf uneasy was even more palpable now. Alarmed, I glanced at Gildor, but he did not seem to sense anything threatening.

I got up and pulled the clothes on Gildor handed me. Black. I felt both amused and pleased. If unfurred and unable to go naked, it was always easier to wear things that had the colour of my own fur.

'Do you know how hard it is to find some black clothes in Imladris? But I thought you would hardly enjoy riding the whole way down naked'

I snickered softly. Unfurred, I had to think again to make the appropriate sounds. Amused, the wolf would have wagged his tail 'I did not think of riding at all' I followed Gildor towards Fairё, shivering as we started out, acutely aware of having no protective pelt anymore. But riding I could at least concentrate on the land to some degree. And on Gildor in front of me.

'This land…' I said after a while, as Faire reached a fork in the path and turned left, descending steeply '…it does not like the feel of wolf paws. I dared not enter. That is why I called for you'

Gildor nodded slightly 'I assumed so. Few wolves have the cheek to howl at these borders. It is watched. But you need not fear any harm'

Fairё descended the winding path at her usual brisk pace. I braced myself against Gildor's back to avoid bumping into him. Soon we rounded another corner and the valley proper came into view. I looked at the high towers and the complex of fragmented buildings and bridges with a strange prickling in my gut. There were lights in many windows, and wood-smoke curled up from a few separated houses. This was larger than any congregation of houses I had ever seen. As wolf, I would have turned tail right here. To think I would have to deal not only with the houses but with their inhabitants turned my stomach into knots.

Besides the main river uncounted smaller branches of it and other brooks fell from the steep sides of the valley and snaked around and through the buildings. It was impossible to leave or arrive by a straight route here. Gildor halted Fairё at another sharp turn after which the path descended even more rapidly towards the first of the bridges.

"Imladris" he stated and gesturing vaguely at the buildings "There you see the last two bridges, the main yard, the stables to the left. On the right you have the smithy at the back, the bathhouses and the baker – which are about the most important institutions you should keep in mind. Aside from the kitchens of course, but they lie out to the other side. You have the library in the left wing tower, and all the living rooms in the right, away from the smithy. And the rest you will find out when we get there"

I stared at the golden plait swinging in front of me as Fairё started off again 'What if they…find out about me?'

Gildor shrugged 'Then they will' He looked back over his shoulder "You realize that if you want Elrond to plan the Ashi'kha into his war-preparations you will have to reveal your little secret at one time?"

I avoided his eyes 'I know. But not yet. And I can't help thinking there must be a more intelligent way of broaching the topic than just turning wolf in front of the whole valley'

"But it would be a very effective way" Gildor grinned, obviously imagining the look on some faces.

'What are they all doing here?' I asked uncomfortably as we crossed the last bridge, eying the people in the yard. Gildor snickered "They all? This is only a quarter of the scouts on night-duty, and they are late going off, coming to think of it. But Imladris never truly sleeps. Some people are always up and about beside the guards"

I clutched the back of Fairё's saddle and tried not to cringe from the puzzled looks as we crossed the yard and entered the stables. I helped Gildor to get the tack off Fairё and provide her with food, fumbling clumsily with two hands for a while. Then I followed him across the tight-fitted cobblestones and inside, casting a last apprehensive look at the high towers.

Imladris seemed a mazelike building. I felt extremely glad of the airy and fragmented building style. It was less easy to feel suffocated here than within solid and unbroken stone walls. Here, most walls were breached by gates and windows, their frames held up by intricate, airy constructions. It was impossible not to sense the – strangeness of this place. I tried to shake the feeling off and turned my attention to the surroundings. In its own way, this was a beautiful place. No solid stone blocks, but lots of detailed, fragile looking masonry. And all stone structures were interspersed with trees, or even built around them. But it remained strange and unsettling.

Gildor made straight for the wing that held the rooms, but the walk there was confusing still. Without the sky visible I could not determine the directions we were taking, so I tried for landmarks. Statues, pillars, flowering pots. We passed an archway and went along a wide corridor with high windows to the one side. I got a look around at the surrounding mountains.

High mountains. Valleys could be wonderful hiding places, but I had no knowledge of the Imladris valley. Attacked, what would it become? A fortress? Or a trap?

Up a few winding stairs and around corners, another corridor, this one with smaller windows and evenly spaced torches casting a flickering light. Gildor stopped "These are the guest rooms. I have the ones at the end to myself, though. You can move in with me or take one of these – they are all empty yet"

'Uh' I was taken aback. I had not considered the question of rooms in any way and floundered a bit. I did not feel confident enough at all to leave Gildor out of my reach. I had no idea what living in Imladris, living in a room implied 'I would…uhm…move in with you …if you don't mind…'

Gildor laughed, pushing the door open "Actually I was speculating on you choosing that" he let it fall shut behind me "You don't seem to mind getting up in the morning to get the fire going again"

'No I don't' I glanced around the two rooms. Not large, and no high ceiling– that was good, I did not relish the feeling of sleeping in a hall. Either a nice, small burrow, a cave, or the open sky. The first room included the fireplace, two padded chairs and a wooden table, as well as shelves covering one wall. They were filled with a number of things to half of which I could put no name. The second room was smaller, and furnished with a washstand and two beds. At its further end was a large window with a broad sill, facing one end of the valley, overlooking the gardens and a wilder part of forest. Behind and above that, I saw high stone cliffs. I looked at the slightly dusty shelves. Some held a few books, stacks of loose papers, sealing wax, inkbottles and a selection of pens. Others were filled with glasses, jars and boxes which, by the smell, contained edible things. Obviously Gildor preferred some supplies near even here. One large earthen jug with a stopper was marked "Honey". That was one of the few words I could read and write in Quenya and Sindarin, because the wild honey Niy'ashi and I had sometimes gathered traded well. There were candles and lamp-oil, and a few personal possessions. Carved boxes, uncut gemstones, small figurines of diverse animals and a small quantity of jewellery filled a shorter shelf. I recognized some of the figurines as being rhevain clan-animals. Fox, musk-ox, snake, hawk. But there were others, a horse, a beaver and a finely chiselled wolf, which had not been made by elves. Coming to think of the jewellery, which looked old even to my limited knowledge I realized that Gildor never really wore any of those rings, bracelets or circlets I had seen people sport even tonight. Only the rhevain pendant.

Beside the shelves were pegs on which a scattered array of clothes hung, and a curved iron peg probably meant to hold a sword. My own blade, which I had left with Gildor two years ago, lay carefully wrapped in cloth beside his unstrung bow. So far, this was not vastly different from the cottage. The wolf took it all in quickly and added it to his lair. But for me, these rooms here were upstairs, in a huge building, and I had no chance to slip out into the forest unnoticed. By now I would have known how to get along with the cottage, where it was only Gildor and me. And this place was a much larger scale. The system of this giant amount of people, corridors and windows escaped me utterly. Gildor probably felt the same dividedness for permanent wandering that I felt for living in a permanent housing. The simple presence of so many people in one place grated on me even now, and the watching force he had named "Vilya" was a threat, not a protection.

Gildor twisted out of his sword harness and armour while I inspected the rooms "Hungry?"

I had to smile despite my uncertainty 'Yes'

"Make yourself at home, I'll have a look at what they have at the kitchen" Before the door closed Gildor stuck his head back in, grinning "Remember, wolf, you don't have to mark territory here"

I snarled softly and threw a cushion from the beds at the closing door.

The first night in Imladris was a strange thing. It was not so much the room that bothered me, nor being indoors after two years of constantly open sky above. For the wolf, two years were long. Could I pretend there had been no time between and simply continue on the friendly terms where we had left off? That was what the wolf would do.

Sitting on the window-ledge high above the gardens I looked out over the whole structure of Imladris. In some windows light burned – only for that I knew there were windows. In some of the open corridors torches flickered, in others there were bluish, covered lights. Occasionally someone could be seen walking. Mist was now rising from the bed of the river, but the gardens were deserted. Where I sat, the cold night wind passed comfortably unhindered. Occasionally a bird twittered in the night, but I did not know its name. I knew owls, but this one sounded like a lark, almost but not quite. A lark at night in winter, that was absurd in itself and I knew it was most certainly not a lark. The closed roof took a little getting used to, but the continual wind was what I missed most. What I had missed most even the first night in the cottage in Eregion. For the wolf, the breeze was an ever-present sign of the life around us, bringing news of everything within miles. Inside the hall, even inside this room with the window open the air did not move freely.

Still I was tired. I debated leaving the ledge and going to sleep.

Again.

And again I gave up and turned to look out. I knew that for a while Gildor had doubted I would keep my word and come to Imladris. I felt guilty, uncomfortable, and at a loss.

"What troubles you?" Gildor asked suddenly "Or should I say, what troubles you the most?"

I turned my head slightly but did not look at him. I had not heard him come to stand beside me and was startled 'Either way, I would not wish to answer'

"Heavens Raven, have you lost your voice? We are alone here, you can talk instead of mind-speaking"

I looked at him now, genuinely puzzled. I cleared my throat self-consciously "I…did not think of…it" I said hoarsely "The wolf…he has no…he does not… talk"

Gildor glanced at me thoughtfully, crossing his arms and leaning on the sill to look out as well "You were wolf the whole two years?"

I nodded mutely, only now realizing just how much unshared things would lie between us this way "You were here – all the time?"

Gildor looked at me strangely for a moment, then laughed softly "Where else should I be? I have had enough wilderness before that to last me through this time"

I was at a loss in reading him. Humour? Accusation? A simple statement? The wolf did not know uncertainties in reading his pack mates. Beasts wore no masks. Gestures and scents were all immediate, not hiding intention or cause behind them.

Two years. That was no time at all for an Eldarin mind. To the wolf, to me, it was a long time. Twice hunting and courting season had passed, two litters of cubs had been born – and even if it was little time for Gildor, so much had happened in his world that I could not grasp. I had no idea what life in the valley would be like, let alone what it was like for someone who seemed to belong here. Wolf-concerns did not play much of a role in Imladris business, I suspected. It was hard to bring my mind back to elven thought-lines, so I concentrated on what the wolf perceived and shared with the unfurred part.

Beauty was one thing, though the wolf did not think in terms of fair and foul. Gildor had unravelled the tight warrior's plait and his hair fell freely over his shoulders and back, stirring slightly with the night wind. The reddish-golden colour never failed to fascinate me. Yet, it looked silver without the sunlight.

Kil'tor. The great desert-cats. Nightchaser had told me of them sometimes. When he himself had been very young, he had seen them once. By day – and the days were long and very hot where they lived, without clouds for more than four seasons – their fur was gold and red like the grass there. At night, they were silver-grey shapes. It was strange that Gildor should never have seen the beast whose name he bore in my language. It was strange that the word was almost the same in our languages, though the meaning differed so much.

A silver wolf happened occasionally in the wild, but no Ashi'kha could recall golden ones. In the clan, there had only been one silver, so it was told. And she had been a master of stealth and hunt – she had had to be, because her fur seemed to magically draw arrows and unfriendly eyes in the wild or showed her up to prey day or night. She had been killed before I was born. I had never seen any such shading in my clan where black, brown and rust-coloured dominated. Wolf colours. If he could change, I wondered if he knew what a stunning wolf he would have made.

I pushed the thought away. I wanted to touch him and held back. The wolf did not fight desires. I had very good proof of that. Unfurred did. Alone, without the wolf, I did as well.

Neither did the wolf know or care for the conceits and conventions the elf knew. A touch that carried only tenderness for the wolf could imply much more unintended implication by elven standards. That difference had been largely clear when I had left. But now, it all came down to…the fact that two years are a very long time still. I still knew too little of the Bright Ones' world. When I had told Gildor I considered myself more beast than elf it had not been an exaggeration. And I had proof of that consideration, too, now.

Gildor accepted the wolf. He accepted me. But I and the wolf were not two things. His people always looked for wholeness. To me, furred and unfurred were a whole. Ashi'kha. That was me. But to Gildor's people, there was a line between the two. One could not be the other and remain itself. So what was I to him?

That wolves were not liked was a fact every cub learned the moment his mother first left the den. I knew some of the reasons from the view of the Bright Ones. Wolves hunted the weakest first. They stole sheep when they could get it. Wolves were counted among orcs. They ran with orcs. They fed on the dead and did not hold back from their allies if these got killed. Werewolves were in the service of the dark lord. I could have explained or denied all of these except the last. But I had neither enough words for it nor enough knowledge.

I had missed Gildor. And I longed to touch him, be close to him –.

And Gildor was pretty good at masking himself. Even from the wolf. I could not judge what his feelings or thoughts were at this moment. This was dangerous ground. I held the wolf back firmly, though it seemed to leave me half-blind. This was not his world, nor mine.

"Was it…really bad, Dunland and such?" I asked instead "Why didn't you…complain?"

Gildor shook his head slightly "I did not say it was bad, I said it was enough. For the time. Trust me, I would have complained most loudly if I had been completely fed up with it all. But…does it feel so bad here, with the valley around you now?"

I hesitated "It feels like someone is constantly looking over my shoulder"

"He cannot read your mind" Gildor said after a moment. He did not say all he thought, I sensed, but I felt too tired to try and pry a more elaborate answer from him.

"Come" Gildor pushed himself away from the ledge and took my hands, pulling me off the sill "I won't ask you to sleep, but at least don't sit out there all night. It makes me freeze just to look"

"Then don't"

I went with him still. The wolf either slept alone, curled into a tight ball, or in a heap with his companion to share warmth. A little, I had been wondering what we would do now. After the first few awkward nights in the wild the autumn chill and subsequent winter had made sharing the furs a useful habit. I curled up beside him a little awkwardly now. Neither of us could sleep.

"What did you do, all that time?" he asked after a while.

"Uh-" I hesitated "Wolf-business. If it does not bore you to death I can tell you"

"I have hardly any idea what wolf-business consists of, Raven, at least not from the view-point of a wolf. So?"

For another moment I felt tempted to be frank. And again, I settled on less delicate matters again. Hunt, eat, sleep, play – that were the basics, but certainly not all wolf-life was restricted to. It was just a matter to find words for things that had no name in the wolf's mind.

Gildor's POV

It had given me quite a jolt to see the wolf again tonight. And it had taken all of my control and willpower to face him as if he were a friendly dog. Or as my travelling companion of more than a year ago. Of course I remembered Raven as much as wolf as elf, but still... And he had been with the wolves for the whole past years! That was nothing it seemed I could share in. Or wanted to.

I thought I had better leave him in peace and wait until Raven was too tired to remain on his perch. An untimely push could cause a formidable outburst of temper, whether the situation merited it or not. As I remembered anger blasted Raven's reserve as effectively as dwarven miners blasted stone. A serious clash of our tempers could result in a loud and vicious row. That would not be profitable in Imladris. And neither did I wish to quarrel now. It was enough to have Raven here. We were on unfamiliar ground once more. I did not want to start out with trouble.

At least, I thought, he did not run up and down like a caged wolf. Still, I pushed the covers away and walked to the window to stand beside Raven. Elrond knew I was expecting my companion to come here at one point. He knew of Raven only that he was dark elven. His arrival would set tongues wagging. After all, he shared my rooms. I never shared my rooms. Probably Elrond and most others would only see a wild elf, a tattooed barbarian who could not even speak Sindarin. And wonder what Gildor Inglorion found in him. As had been the case with Bearclaw and Silverleaf. Who, after all, definitely spoke Sindarin better than Raven. I could imagine quite a few stares, whispers or downright snobbings coming up. Imladris was small, after all. Well, I could worry about that tomorrow. Or not at all.

It was not so easy with Silverleaf, but at least in Bearclaw's case I had been comparatively sure how to deal with him here. We were friends. But there had definitely been no attraction between us. It came as something of a shock to find out this. Or rather, I had known, though never acknowledged. Sometimes, I thought wryly, it would have been easier here to announce Silverleaf as my partner than to even let them guess I might be attracted to Raven. He was not even one of the Wild Ones. He was alien, completely and utterly.

They would think twice before challenging me on this. I had nothing to lose here. I would simply leave the valley if things should become uncomfortable. But I had a right to my place here, having been here from the beginning, and I would defend that place to some degree. I had come to think of it like this only lately. Listening to Raven.

And what would Raven do? I could for the life of me not imagine what the dark elf might choose. There were an awful lot of people who could be interested.Raven had never said much about friends or lovers. As far as I knew, only his brother had ever meant more to him than simple clan-mates. At one point he had managed to sneak through my carefully constructed and nurtured reserve. And now that I had been forced to acknowledge my attraction to him, what would I feel if he should choose a mate here?

The days passed and so far, Raven did not give any reason for talk except his mere presence. Yet no matter what he did, he did not blend in. Right now, despite the cold day, he wore only a sleeveless vest. My people were mostly too polite to stare, but the tattooed lines were as intriguing to them as they had been to me. Still were – only when Lindir asked what they signified I realized I did not know their meaning. The Ashi'kha tattooed themselves, that I knew. But who, when and why, what traditions, prerequisites or restrictions there were I did not know.

The valley frightened Raven. The houses, the people, the walkways. Not that he ever got lost - his orientation was excellent. But he would avoid a corridor when there were people inside, and instead went the longer way round to avoid them. He settled into the routine of what he called house-living easily enough, observing and taking his cues from me, leaving all arrangements to me without contradiction. He was not fond of clothes, but accepted a simple set of dark scout-clothing readily. That would blend far better into the general clothes than his usual arrangement of rawhide and furs. I took care to find some loose tunics for him when he finally admitted that he felt much more secure with something he could shake off in a moment and turn wolf if ever he had to. The only thing Raven refused quietly but determinedly was shoes. That did not bother anyone so much - he had a number of kindred spirits in that here, especially Arwen.

I tried to see his situation with a stranger's eyes, with a wolf's eyes, tried to understand what I could expect of him and what not. There was no way I could go the usual way, introducing him as I had been able to with the rhevain. He would die of fright if he became the focus of any feast or ceremony. Consequently, staying either with me or by himself, avoiding chances he might get into a conversation, he appeared unapproachable, even arrogant.

He was my shadow until he had become acquainted with the basic whereabouts of the valley. Then he discovered the distribution of duties, and seized on the stables. He was not expected to do anything at all, but he needed something to do, it seemed. The stables were the next safest place as stable-duty was seldom shared.

When I stayed in the valley over the summer Faire tended to forage on her own all over Imladris and only came to the stables when it suited her or she was needed. Now over fall and winter she remained here, and as most who had a horse stabled here I looked after her and her housing by myself. I was not picky about my duties here. I mind-spoke Faire, and Raven took my place on stable-duty, relieved to find something where he could not commit any serious blunder. And we both considered Faire as enough of a security that he would or could go to the stables alone.

There was a group of far-scouts that had returned out of the wild today, and a celebration was planned in their honour. Raven did not relish the thought of a – to him huge - feast, but relied on the curiosity of the wolf. There would be food, and he was hungry, after half a day in the stables all the more. As long as I would go into the Great Hall, so would he.

I watched him fighting with the knots in his still damp hair with amusement. The most Raven ever did with his hair was to tie it back with a leather thong to keep it out of the way when hunting.

"I could braid it for you, you know" I offered lightly "You'd stand out less as well for a change"

I was surprised when he tossed the comb aside in frustration "Please" he said "Before I kick something or cut it off again!"

"You wouldn't" I sat down behind him and started drawing the comb through the tangled strands.

Raven growled "Probably not. As long as you have the patience for this"

"Again?"

Raven shrugged "I cut it when Fingal died. It is part of my people's mourning rituals"

"Shin'a'sha?"

"Hm. As well. What are you doing?" Raven touched the braids gingerly "Are you sure that won't make me stand out even more?"

"No. Wait and see. Don't your people braid their hair at all?"

"No" Raven said thoughtfully "Only at special times. And then we usually braid stuff in, feathers and shells and the like. That does not really work in everyday life – whenever we change, the things would get lost, so we don't bother for it"

Braid things in. Over the last moons I had randomly collected feathers of all kinds of birds that lived in and around Imladris, nesting in the steep cliffs. The large ones, especially of hawks and geese, went to the fletchers, and for the rest Feather generally had some use. But elven arrows were not fletched black, so that the corvid feathers had remained. I did not feel quite confident in this and glanced at the cluttered drawer to the side. A simple offer – Raven could not know about the trading custom, after all. Giving myself a mental kick I reached for the drawer and pulled out one of the large raven wing-feathers.

"Things like this?" I asked, holding it over his shoulder.

Raven took it slowly. He glanced at me "Things like this" he confirmed softly, turning the feather thoughtfully "Can you braid that in?" He was shy, for all the world. I could hardly believe it "Yes" I said "Of course"

The first part of the feast went smoothly. We busied ourselves mostly with eating and drinking. Raven was fascinated by the variety of food and the way it was served. I had not thought about that at all. Our two-man travelling-company had functioned so well in everything that the fact that he was essentially a complete stranger to this way of life seldom rubbed itself under my nose. Of course he knew how to use crockery and unobtrusively watched others when he was unsure, but it was only when simple sweet rolls and puddings puzzled him that I got a notion what extent the word 'strange' had for him here.

Despite that he had a very subtle but unmistakeable way to make clear that his loyalty was mine and mine alone. Though he drew a number of curious glances that kept all possible advances at bay, I noted. But I could not decide on the motive behind his actions. He got me into a precariously tight spot that way without realizing. Between Raven and the wolf it was impossible for me to judge clearly where the wolf acted on pack law and saw me as pack leader, and where Raven recognized Elven conventions and acted on them.

He definitely looked striking enough. Knowing how much he would stick out in his usual wild array of patched fur and leather and traded for cloaks it had not been hard work persuading him into foreign garments. There was a more elaborate version of what night-scouts usually wore, something that did not include a long robe or wide sleeves, and he was happy enough to comply in wearing that. There was only the black feather – I had not thought about that. Or maybe I had. It was the past, and I knew, and Glorfindel knew it. We had made our peace with that, most certainly. It had seemed just so fitting – I hoped Glorfindel would not draw the logical though sadly incorrect conclusion.

Inevitably, later at night, the old songs came up. I winced inwardly when I recognized the first notes of the lament of Gondolin. We had found a niche away from the main crowd and perched in the cover of the arching wall. I did not want to leave Raven here, but neither did I feel like sitting through the whole song tonight at all. Just why could they not just leave this out? How did they get the notion that it had been glorious back then? Fire, smoke, stench and blood, a reek full of screaming, that was what I remembered of the moments that had inspired the lament. Well, that was why I was not a minstrel, probably. I caught Glorfindel's wry glance as I quietly slipped out of the main hall to wait it out. He sat with Elrond and could hardly absent himself politely right now. Once outside the hall, I could not stay indoors either. I went through the garden-door and across the dark grounds towards the stables. I might as well bring Faire the apple I had carried around with me this whole evening. Somehow, I had never been hungry enough to eat it. Or never found the time.

Raven's POV

I frowned slightly, but only nodded when Gildor mind-spoke me briefly. I had to concentrate hard on the Quenya words to follow the recounting of events. I knew what had happened from my father's point of view, but Hurondil's knowledge of Eldarin history ended with his flight from Gondolin. Some of the names rang a bell, but one main piece fell into place only near the end of the song.

I bit my lip. I glanced over at Glorfindel – and met the Elda's knowing stare. So they had both been there. Hurondil had not named the Lord of the House of the Golden Flower – this song did. Then it was him. He must have had…returned. That also solved the strange feeling of power. The wolf was within time, but did not count it as passing. For him, the returning was the measure, not the dwindling of an indeterminable future. And the wolf was firmly in the world.

And Glorfindel was not. Neither within time, nor within space. He was not concerned with passing time either. Not as Gildor was anyway. The wolf told me this, but could not explain it either. For Gildor, time passed, and yet did not pass, so it seemed to me at least. And so it felt to the wolf. Glorfindel's power was as natural to him as the change was to my own people. And his kind of power did not feel threatening as did Elrond's. The song was long, and Gildor did not return. When it ended I gathered my courage and slipped out of the nook I had occupied. There were pillars along the wall of the hall, and behind them it was shadowy, and empty. I used that safe pathway towards the doors, and slipped out with others that left after the song. I tracked Gildor to the stables by once more following the wolf's intuition.

He leaned against the door to Faire's stall, picking out straw from her mane.

"Finished their singing?" he asked when I came inside. I nodded and sidled over to them. Fairё nudged me heartily, and I shoved her head aside before she knocked me off my feet "You never told me you were in Gondolin"

Gildor glanced at me sharply "What makes you think I were?"

"One" I said carefully "You recognized Thorn – Anguirel, that is. You did not say the name, but…Well, you recognized it. Two, you know Glorfindel very well. Three, you speak like father. There are words you use in Quenya that I now know were only used in that city. Four, you quietly slipped the scene when they started out on the First Age. And you?" I looked at Fairё who stared back darkly "I bet you were there as well, my lady"

Gildor chipped paint from the door "Nice conclusion"

"Were you?"

"We were"

Gildor pushed himself away from Faire's door.

"Where are you going?"

"The top of the tower. Come with me if you fancy a climb"

I followed him out of the stables and through the door leading into the library tower "What's up there?"

"Nothing. Just a good view"

Supposedly. The winding stair seemed to drag on forever. I glanced out of the several small windows we passed uncomfortably. Mountain heights were much more reassuring, I thought, compared to the knowledge that here only wood and stone and a mason's skill were between me and a long way down. We came out on the tower's top through a latch which fell open with a solid chunk of wood against stone. A waist-high wall surrounded the circular, empty space. Near the bottom the wall was broken through regularly so rain-water would not collect. Gildor breathed a sigh of relief and leant on the battlement to look out over the valley below. "This is the one place in Rivendell proper where you can be sure to run into no one. Except if there is something fascinating going on in the skies, which is not very often"

I glanced at the thick wall suspiciously before leaning on it. There was a spectacular view from here, though still the surrounding cliffs towered above the highest point of the buildings. The whole valley and the winding river could be seen "What is this place?"

"Observatory"

"What!"

"For watching the stars" Gildor leaned over the wall and looked down into the yard far below before shifting his gaze to the dark woods climbing up the surrounding mountains.

"I can watch the stars from any place" I said. I had no idea what he meant by observatory except that it had to do something with the sky, but I mainly tried to bait him. Gildor only shrugged.

"Why did you never say you were there, in Gondolin?" I ventured.

"What is Gondolin to you?" Gildor asked testily.

"Nothing" I answered truthfully "But you are"

Gildor snorted softly.

"It was part of my life. A great chunk" he said at length.

"Then why do you never mention it?" I persisted.

"Other than that those times went up in smoke and flame and blood there is no reason" Gildor snapped "Didn't your father ever tell you why he fled in the first place? How the city fell?"

"Of course he did. But I want to hear your version"

Gildor only sniffed.

"The same happened to Eregion" I pointed out relentlessly "But you never get so snappish when I ask about Eregion"

"Eregion was different. Utterly different" Gildor pushed himself up to sit on the wall, ignoring the vast drop below. He turned to face the pleasantly cold night-wind "I don't want to go back to the Hall of Fire"

"Neither do I" I watched him, looking away from me "So why? Why was it different? There were about as many people slain then as when Gondolin fell"

Gildor stared at me "Why are you being so pesky tonight, dark elf?" he asked angrily.

I frowned, wondering what had turned his mood. I settled down on the floor, leaning back against the wall and squinting up at him "You know, you always keep asking me for answers, and I daresay you know all about my oh-so-interesting life of orc-hunting and shadow-skulking, but what do I know of you? You give me facts, and that's it. Well, aside from what you told me about Silmarusse"

"Be glad I told you that" Gildor muttered.

"It's not my fault that the city was betrayed, is it? Neither that you are having a problem getting along with your life"

I knew that was unfair. One look into his cold blue eyes also told me I was perilously close to more than a verbal smack. I had seldom managed to anger him so much. He never allowed his rage to blaze out. He got icy cold instead.

"I'm sorry" I muttered. Gildor shook his head. For a long while, there was only the thin whine of the wind whistling through the holes in the wall.

"It was different" Gildor forced himself to say finally "Because I never allowed myself to feel much for the place. After Gondolin, I guess I had kind of learned. Nothing we would build here would ever last. Eregion was too much like Gondolin. It was only a question of time until it would fall, through whoever's fault, and maybe without anyone's. And fall it did…I did not want to go to Gondolin at first. I only went with those going there as guard, scout, whatever. I did not decide until the last moment. I found a place there, somehow. I liked it there. We were…confident, I suppose. No one expected assault, ever…It is deadly to bind your heart to something"

Or someone. I did not say that, but I could hear the unspoken rest of Gildor's words. Who then? Silmarusse was dead at that time. Well, it did not matter, not to me. What mattered was…well, he was here now. And damn hard to get to.

"It was your home" I said.

"Home. You know how to spell that?" He looked as if regretted the words even as he said them, but I only shrugged "As well as you do. Only my home is not one single place and I know it still exists. Wolf clan's land. Yet. If Nightchaser is right – and he always is – we are in for trouble with everyone and everything soon"

Up here, few sounds came from below. I got up and leant on the wall again. I would not have sat on it. A thick iron-shod log stuck out of the wall, with nooks and rings to pull chains or ropes through. I found it odd I knew that this was a pulley. I could not remember when or where I had seen a device like that before. It must have been one of the few occasions Fingal and I had actually entered one of the traders' villages. Half the things in Rivendell I could not name, yet this log and chain construction that was obviously out of use for years.

The sky was a deep dark blue that seemed to glow of itself. Stars glittered coldly, but I felt more attracted by the vast stretch of forest I could see from here almost from a bird's vantage. It must be strange, I thought, not to run through forest but to fly over the trees. To fly as Nightchaser said he did when he was with the Hawk.

Still, I was grateful for the solidity of the stones between me and thin air. I glanced at the log, wondering what the person did who had the unhappy task of checking or readying the device for use.

"You know" I said when Gildor remained silent "It is weird – there one goes dreaming of flying, but nothing could make me step out onto that thing"

Just to say something. I did not know really why I spoke, and judging by Gildor's foul mood I did not expect a reaction.

"You dream of flying?" Gildor asked after a while.

I glanced at him. For a moment I could not decide if there was mockery in the remark or only puzzlement.

"Don't you ever? Or don't you people dream?" I knew very well they did. He had his nightmares, sometimes, but I was wise enough not to address that. After all, he left me in peace as well. I was not good for such talk. My words were a challenge, derisive.

He shrugged "And is it black wings that carry you?"

"No" I said truthfully. He had passed the challenge by. It was my turn to explain a little "They are not vach'khan dreams. Just dreams. I am not Raven because of that. I am much the same as I am now when I 'fly'"

"Vach'khan?"

"Holding power. True dreams. Shaman dreams" I closed my eyes and turned my face to the wind as well. It carried all kinds of scents, mostly traces from the forests and cliffs around us, a fresh breeze carrying the smell of river-water, the scent of frost in the air. I missed Nightchaser. Mostly, I missed K'ashi. Sometimes, it was unbearable, being here, alone. I would not be here but for Gildor. I was here because of him. He tried to understand. But even to him, I still remained as foreign as he to me.

"Nightchaser is the hawk when he dreams" I said softly "And sometimes, the hawk flies with him. When he is the hawk, he can fly and see the lands he knows – see them as they are. But when the hawk flies with him, it can take him to see lands he has never seen in waking life. The hawk can show him those lands as they are at the moment of dreaming – he can show danger, he warns us. And he flies to them and back, so that he knows where they are in relation to where he is at the moment. Those are vach'khan dreams" I paused "When I dream, it is ordinary dreams. I only see what my mind makes up. And I am not…I am nothing specific – except a wolf. But you can see that that is nothing special. Not for me anyway"

Gildor watched the silent flight of an owl, gliding from one of the many nooks and recesses in the high tower.

"I don't know much about them, but the north-men say similar things about their dreams. Common ones and sacred ones, that is" he said after a while "They…have a rule for their warriors…only those who have dreamed of a special animal may claim its name for themselves. And its powers"

"Well, I am not a raven when I dream" I said with a crooked smile "Bad luck among the north-men for me, is it?"

Gildor smiled briefly "Not if you give them a performance of turning wolf, though"

"Probably not. But at least I could claim a wolf-name. I am wolf in my dreams"

"Always?"

"Mostly"

"Well, my own dreams could use both hawk and wolf, I think. They might be a little more cheerful then" he said, turning to descend the tower. Now he spoke derisively. I stared after him a moment before following him. That song tonight had put some things into perspective. Time, especially. There must be a time Gildor remembered, I realized, when all these buildings had not even been raised here. And that already was long after Gondolin. It was very strange to think of that. And obviously, it made for dark moods.

In this deep valley the nights were bitter cold. Frost rimed everything each morning, but vanished until midday where the sun reached. No snow fell yet, but sometimes the tops of the high cliffs were white. After long days of cold rain a thin winter sun came out again. I went to the training grounds with Gildor one morning, while the area was still empty. We had spent the past days mostly inside, and I was glad for the outlook on a good work-out.

There was talk of trouble, of small border wars and skirmishes massing in the lands. I followed the news through Gildor, and I knew he felt cut off in the valley. He would join the fighting should Imladris decide to send forces to the one or other trouble. Which did not keep him from sparring only half-heartedly this morning. I did not know what had happened, but Gildor was definitely not in a brilliant mood again. As always, I thought in irritation, he did not let his obvious frustration out and instead made a point of bottling it up carefully. He was aware hewould drive me mad with that. I tried to break his reserve by fighting especially dirty, but failed miserably. He flatly ignored the riling.

I knew Gildor was stronger than me when he wanted to, and I snarled in irritation when I had him on the ground the third time in this sparring session. My own reserve snapped.

"Stop this fooling. You can do better than this" I growled, biting every word in the Black Speech off with exaggerate pronunciation. Gildor's eyes flared and I could feel his instinctive furious desire to retaliate this desecration. It still did not suffice to break the cold reserve.

"Are you an Orc, Dark Elf?" Gildor spat softly "You can do better than this!"

"No, you can" I grappled with him "You wanted to go with the next troop the valley sends, you'll have to remember fighting like a warrior before that"

"I am not a warrior"

I blinked, puzzled. Now what was that about!

I grabbed Gildor's wrists and pinned them to the ground before he could evade me. Gildor twisted and bucked me off, snarling.

"See?" I let him go, satisfied "Why do you pretend otherwise?"

"Don't lecture me on pretending" Gildor got up and retrieved his sword of which I had divested him earlier in the fight "And don't you dare do that again"

I shrugged "If that's the only way to get you into action"

"You value your life, don't you?" Gildor hissed, pausing in sheathing his sword to put emphasis on the threat "Leave it be"

"You tell me again that I am acting curiously"

He took a step towards me. I backed up. I had been terrified of him in the beginning. Most of that had faded. But right now, there was only cold, barely contained fury. I held up my hands a little"Alright, alright, peace. If you don't want to fight, at least let us walk, or I am going to burst"

We walked past the houses once more and climbed the terrace path.

"Since when do you know that tongue?" Gildor asked when he had cooled down somewhat.

"I know enough for a challenge. And you obviously understand just as well"

Gildor looked at me darkly "I understand. But I do not speak it"

"That depends"

"Raven, I warn you-"

"What!" I spread my arms "what have I done now, hm?"

"Nothing yet. But you are incredibly reckless"

"And you are incredibly bitchy! Did you quarrel with Glorfindel?"

Now that was a fine hit.

"Raven" Gildor snarled and grabbed my arm, jerking me back "Give me one reason why I should tolerate this insolence from you"

"You only blow up when I am right"

For a moment Gildor looked as if he was going to strike. Then he only snarled "Dream on" He did not push me away, but only barely. I rubbed the red marks on my arm and gave up trying to tickle information out of him. A secret for a secret. I had hardly revealed any of mine. I did not have much right to expect an answer. And I had no desire, I decided, to witness the one time he would lose control of that fury he was bottling up as diligently as dwarves nursed their beer-barrels.

16