Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belong to J.R.R Tolkien, the only people I own are Alenor Talagand, Bréil, Sebastian and Victoria.

A/N: cowers behind a stone fortress PLEASE EVERYONE! Don't kill me! I realize how late this is, and my sincerest apologies! I've had the most difficult time writing this chapter…and no you don't want to hear any more excuses. So if you all don't kill me, I'll happily and try to make the updates happen faster. Sound good, or should I remain behind this wall?…..

Fate Paths-Chap19-A Letter to Deliver-

Alenor closed her eyes, letting her chilled fingers tangle in the chain of the necklace that hung at her throat. A piercing cold mountain wind swirled around her, playing a game of tease with her hair. She ignored it, ignored the cold though it was steadily becoming harder to do. Tears that tracked down her face seemed to freeze even as they fell.

She heard the restless movement of the maid as she worriedly went about her duties but gazed toward the open balcony door.

"Miss, you're going to get snow all over your things."

"They're Victoria's things. She can replace them," Alenor responded, not looking over her shoulder. She ignored as well the sharp gasp that came from the maid.

"Miss….well….You have to get ready."

"I'm not going down to the dinner," Alenor replied, finally turning around and letting her frustration out. "Leave me be!" She turned away before she could see the hurt in the young woman's eyes.

There was silence then. Blissful, heavy, silence. Drawing in a trembling breath Alenor gripped the necklace, more tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. She hardly dared open them, knowing they would instantly attach themselves to the blocked pass at the end of the valley.

"Alenor, you're going get a cold standing there all day."

"Go away Bréil! Can't you see I want some time to myself?"

"And get a severe cold and frostbite won't do that," he chided, slipping his cloak off his shoulders and draping it around her tiny frame. "Come inside Alenor. Spring won't come just because you wish it."

"Then I will continue wishing it until it does," Alenor replied, but let herself be drawn inside. There was no point in fighting Bréil, he wouldn't budge, as he would not budge even when he saw that rift he was trying to mend between her and Victoria was failing. He was her stalwart wall, always there when she needed him, her protecter.

Rolling his eyes, Bréil impatiently rubbed her shoulders vigorously. "Come down to dinner. You missed the last."

"And I intend to miss this one as well," Alenor replied pulling away. "They're so stuffy and formal. Its nothing like what I'm used to. Just let me be Bréil."

"Listen Alenor." He titled her chin as she tried to look away. "I'm sorry. If I had known…"

"I'm not blaming you about that. You saw danger, you saw me injured and fragile. You responded," Alenor shrugged, ignoring the persistent twinge that pulled as she did it. "I accepted that."

"And yet you're not healing." Bréil blew out a noisy breath, as he stepped away from her.

"As you can see, I've healed quite nicely," Alenor replied, hiding the fact that though only scars reminded of her torture, there was a persistent ache in her back. A souvenir she didn't want.

"Perhaps in the body but not in the mind," Bréil tapped her forward sharply as he came to stand in front of her.

"If I wasn't healing in the mind Bréil I would hiding in the corner and screaming my lungs out," Alenor replied, pulling the cloak away from her shoulders and tossing it at him. "And since I am not, you can very well leave."

"You clutch that necklace like it's a lifeline. You glare and storm around. You yell at Victoria. You're not acting yourself."

"How can you know how I acted," Alenor replied, her eyes narrowing. "The only person you ever saw was the frightened me. I've learned better. I've grown up. This is who I am, and like it or not Bréil it's going to stay."

"You're angry," the frustration drained from his voice as he crossed his arms. "Please Alenor. Let it go."

Caught in a corner, Alenor lowered her eyes and picked her way through the mess of discarded dresses that littered the carpet floor. Her fingers found the satiny material of her dinner dress. It was splayed across the bed, tangled and forgotten, and wet with the maid's tears of hurt. "If I let go Bréil. I have nothing." She was barely aware of the words she had spoken.

Sensing the pain, her stooped figure, Bréil stepped farther away. He knew better. He knew that despite the pain she was feeling, she didn't want him there. Didn't want him to try and make it better. It made her feel more worthless.

"Nothing Bréil," she murmured again. "Nothing. Would you rather me angry or a shell that breathes?"

"I would have neither," he replied. "But that is not my choice."

A soft smile touched Alenor's face, danced fleetingly and was gone. "Yes, I suppose you wouldn't."

"When its time, will you let go?"

"Perhaps," Alenor murmured. She lifted the dress up and watched the dark material ripple. "Bréil, can you see a message to Rivendell?"

"You know the passages are blocked," Bréil replied.

"No, by bird," Alenor turned to him, clutching the dress. She had asked the question of sending a message so many times before that it had worn thin, but this, asking if they could send it by bird had only recently entered her mind. It was a sliver of hope.

Bréil sighed, biting his lower lip. "Sometimes," he replied quietly. "The great Eagles fly over us."

Alenor's head lifted. She had heard of the Eagles, had curled in her Adar's lap many nights as he spoke about them and their leader. "They would surely send a message!"

"We can never be sure when one of their kind will pass us by," Bréil warned.

Alenor barely caught Bréil's warning as hope fused through her, warming and fighting back the anger that had kept her prisoner during the long months she had been in La Vallée. "But they would send one!" she persisted, clutching the dark dress hopefully to herself as she whirled to face him.

The hope shining on her face, lighting her eyes was painful to bear. Bréil knew he should have been delighted with this rare show of happiness, but he knew only too well how easily it could be crushed. He didn't have the heart to issue his warning again. "I'm sure they would."

"Do you know when they come?" Alenor asked, as she hurried to the changing screen that was discreetly tucked into a corner and covered with a lattice of trailing vines and singing birds.

Bréil's eyebrow lifted, doubting that Alenor was thinking properly. "Are you coming down to dinner?"

In the act of pulling her current attire over her head, Alenor paused, frowning. She worried her lower lip for a moment as she struggled with the material that had caught above her head. Drat it. She realized she had forgotten to unclasp the tiny hooks.

"Alenor?"

"I guess I am," she huffed, words muffled. Alenor gave a small choke as the golden links of the necklace twined tightly around her neck. "Blast Eru to Udun!"

Bréil chuckled mildly, as he bent down to retrieve the dresses from the floor. Under other circumstances he would have gone to help the poor girl, but at the moment it felt good to step back. For the first time he could feel the genuine warmth and delight that was radiating from her in pulsing waves. The curse, while hardly appropriate, was music, with the tone in which she had used it.

"Bréil!" Alenor shouted, struggling. "Can't breathe! Save me."

Chucking, struggling to hold back the real gale of laughter, Bréil dumped the heap on the cover-strewn bed and made his way smoothly toward Victoria's granddaughter. "I do believe your maid would be more appropriate for this."

"Blast the maid to Udun," Alenor suggested viciously, weary from the losing battle. "I hate these dresses."

"You're merely forgetful," Bréil, sighed and pulled the dress back down, so he could undo the silver hooks. "Now stand still, so I may undo these."

Alenor grumbled, crossing her arms as she purposefully tossed her head, letting her long hair ripple out in a wave.

"You seem in a good mood," Bréil commented, treading carefully as he lifted her hair over her shoulder.

Unsurprised, Alenor smiled happily, twining her fingers around the necklace. There was hope, at last. The Eagles...

"Bréil! Bréil! Lady Alenor!" an excited voice suddenly cried from the door. "The Eagles! The Eagles have come!"

It took only a moment for the words to register and a moment longer for her legs to move. By the time Alenor registered what she was doing, she was halfway down the hall, and caring not a wit that her dress was half undone. Nor did she care that she had left a stunned pageboy sitting on the ground.

The Eagles had come, like a prayer sent and received. Joy, joy that had been nailed shut beneath a protective layer of a stone fortress burst forth in a geyser that she could not put away. Alenor didn't care, couldn't care, laughter burst forth and she ran.

She didn't care that she didn't know where the Eagles had landed. It hardly mattered.

Hope had been rekindled.

Xx

Victoria stood, shivering in the biting wind that whistled down from the Mountain peaks, and played havoc with the warm fur cloak that had been hastily thrown over her shoulders. There had been no time for that, nor for a hurried explanation to her dinner guests.

Before her stood, Gwaihir, Winlord of the Eagles. His majestic wings lay folded, reasting neatly against his side, and his head was tilted in a gesture of politeness. He was alone; the rest of the Eagles were not present at the moment, out of respect for their Windlord.

"Our arrival is, as always, unannounced," Gwaihir stated, straightening his head. Intelligent, sharp eyes focused on Victoria. "Are we welcome?"

"As always," Victoria replied with dignity.

"Gwaihir!"

Victoria jumped, releasing her cloak so that it opened and snapped in the brisk wind. She shivered, struggling to gather the folds back as she turned and saw her granddaughter rushing from the Palace. Victoria felt her eyes widen in surprise and frustration. Alenor was without shoes, her hair flying immodestly, and her dress was half open at the back.

"What is it little one?" the Eagle replied, humor color his voice. He had noted Victoria's shocked expression and founding it all to his amusement.

Stumbling, Alenor nearly ran into the majestic Eagle. A cautious touch from his wing steadied her and she blushed, breathing heavily. "I…" Alenor stuttered off, looking at her feet as she felt the cold wash over her. "Can you deliver a message?" she blurted, not sure how else she could say it.

"Alenor!" Victoria cried, stepping forward. "How rude of you! He is a guest, not a messenger."

"Be at peace Victoria," Gwaihir said. He shifted and gazed down. "To whom would this message go to?"

Shivering and hunching her shoulders, Alenor danced from foot to foot. Nervously her fingers intertwined with the necklace links and she glanced around, suddenly nervous. "To Lord Elrond of Rivendell. My foster father."

Gwaihir jerked back, ruffling his feathers as he gazed down. This girl was Elrond's foster daughter? He had heard tales, and rumors about such a girl, but never had though to see her so far from the nest, or see her at all for that matter. He decided, looking at the way she played with the necklace, that it was a wrong thing to ask about. "Of course little one. I would be happy to bear a message for the Lord. He is a friend."

Another surge of joy erupted through her and Alenor gasped and jumped forward hugging the Eagle before she realized that it could be a possible rude gesture. Behind her she heard Victoria squawk, and realized that she was going to get in trouble later. That was later though, that didn't count. Here and now did.

Gwaihir tilted his head down, staring at the head of the girl who buried her face into his feathers. He shifted uncomfortably. "I would, under normal circumstances, take you to deliver the message personally, but the winds, are unfavorable," he parted with the information, clearing the way in case she asked such a question later.

Alenor back away, and shook her head. "I can wait till Spring," she said, saying it more for herself then as an answer. "A message is good enough."

Amused, feeling the exuberance emitting from her, Gwaihir leaned back contentedly. "Then get the message dear child, and get inside where it is warm."

Delighted, Alenor bounced on the balls of her feet, bowing her head. Wasting no time she darted past Victoria, ignoring the vehement look on the woman's face. She had no time to waste. She had to write the letter, had to tell Elrond and Elrohir and Elladan that she was alright…..

Reality crashed down on Alenor and she skidded to a halt, and nearly tripped. Pain that had shied away from the initial glow of light inched back, preparing to overwhelm her. Her fingers tightened their hold on the necklace. Alright? No, everything wasn't alright. She could still feel the anger on the corners of her mind, the fright that was held at bay only by Celebrian's charm.

Breathing heavily, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, Alenor felt the rest of the happiness fade away. What could she tell Elrond? What was there to tell him? He would want to know about her…he….Angry Alenor dashed a hand across her face, smearing the tears.

Heavy hearted, she started walking back to her room, the words, everything is not fine, repeating themselves over and over again.

What had she been thinking? There was no room for happiness any more. How could there be, after everything that had happened to her?