What's a Dùnedain?

However innocent and simple the question had been, voiced by the youngest and smallest person among the seven present in the pavilion, the moon shining upon their young faces full of such unknowing awe, it turned out that the answer would be a long and complicated one. Not so much, really, but for these young lost children of an already-diminishing race, it was something entirely new.

Since the moment they had first entered the Belt surrounding the borders of Imladris, their blood sang with magic. Magic only a certain few in both Elrond and Galadriel's lifetime had ever been familiar with, and even so with Saruman and Mithrandir, if the latter had already long suspected.

There were few left alive who contained this type of theme in their blood, Galadriel mused, or as far as her knowledge extended and her visions would allow. But there was were only three types of bloodlines known to have inherited such and survived through the Third Age...And so it was because of one of these bloodlines of these children were given away. The other possibilities were already very slim at best, but there was no mistake of who they were. She did not know how or why she didn't see it long before, or even know, other than foreseeing this "chance meeting", but an ill-boding idea nagged her heart, for the possibility could only be founded through one possible way...

One that she best address as carefully as possible, for the sake of the innocent mortals who were now seated before her.

"In the Common tongue, they are referred to as the 'Men of the West,'" she told them. "Descendants of a long-lost island called Numenor, blessed with thrice the long life of ordinary men and women, and gifted with few of the skills inherited by the Eldar, to whom you would know as the Elves." As the young ones listened in quiet wonder, Galadriel continued, "They are, more commonly, tall of stature, dark-haired with eyes of gray..."

She looked at young Kyle, whom by appearance inherited it all, except for his shorter height (though that could be due to just a delayed growth-spurt for any adolescent male). He looked close to the age Estel had been the year before her adopted grandson quickly shot up like a weed by the age of fifteen. His growing had only stopped by the time he reached twenty.

This boy looks so uncannily similar to his forefather, Galadriel thought, and the revelation greatly disturbed her more than it should. If the music in their blood was not proof enough, Kyle Dainson's image spoke enough to prove which bloodline he descended from. His mood...while less broody, his temper simmered with the same fire that could lash out at any when left unchecked.

It made the daughter of Finarfin wonder, once more, if it really was true that mortals of great renown (including Lùthien, in the end) were blessed with spiritual reincarnation through their descendants. Her grandchildren were prime examples of that theory. Now she could only hope the Valar would show mercy to their fates more than they did their ancestors.

This boy, and his sisters, most of all.

When Kyle began to shift uncomfortably under her pondering gaze, Galadriel had to quickly look away before continuing, "And many more who inherit the ability to understand the speech by many of the birds and beasts of the land."

"They can talk to animals?" gasped Lori, quickly picking up on what the lady was saying.

"Indeed," Elrond had spoken this time, with a smile. "A gift best used among the Rangers of our region for distant communication. We the Eldar also carry on this ability to maintain our culture. As do the Istari. Two who are with us now." He referred to Mithrandir and Saruman.

"That's incredible," commented Maia. Kyle nodded in agreement. "So, Gandalf...you talk to animals?"

"Well, yes...though it all depends on how comfortable they are around you, or whether you take the time to listen," Mithrandir gave a shrug. "Radagast, if you didn't already know, is the most fluent in every tongue of the animals you would ever meet. Saruman––"

"––will not comment, lest we continue to stray from the main topic," interrupted Saruman, before giving a polite nod to Galadriel, "My Lady."

Her younger self would have rolled her eyes...but instead Galadriel barely acknowledged it.

Lori spoke up suddenly, sitting up excitedly. "We talk to animals, too!"

"Huh?!" Maia and Kyle looked at their sister incredulously.

"Really?" Gandalf inquired, raising his eyes in surprise. "Since when?"

"How very interesting," mused Saruman, while Elrond straightened up from his position, also interested.

"Yeah, with lots of animals! Maia's good with horses, too, and so is Kyle!"

"That's not true!" protested Kyle. "You're just making this up to show off!" Galadriel's sensed that there was a bit of untruth in his statement, though mostly borne from self-denial. Maia was not that much different, looking exasperated at her little sister's claims.

"Am not!" whined Lori.

"Are too!"

"She just means that the animals respond well to what we ask them to do," Maia quickly cut off their argument by explaining to the Council. "I mean, sometimes it felt like they were listening...or rather, it felt like we can understand what they need, or what we need from them." Or that sometimes we can actually hear them speak. "But our family trained horses. We had pets. We like talking to them, and like to imagine they talk back, but..."

"It doesn't mean they actually talk back," Kyle jumped in.

"Right! Exactly!" Maia was quick to accept her brother's support.

Lori was becoming very put-out by her older siblings denial. Galadriel could sympathize. How many times, as the youngest child of her own family growing up, did she have to explain to her brothers the unnatural extent of her gifts before they finally decided to back her up? It was quite infuriating, especially when it took leaving Valinor after the Trees' destruction for her say in things to finally matter.

"But they do talk!" mumbled Lori, before crossing her arms with a pout. "And so could Teddy!"

"I rest my case," muttered Kyle.

Galadriel, out of respect for their wish for privacy, had to restrain herself from probing into their minds once more. "Who is Teddy, hìna?*" She asked kindly.

"Her bear," answered Maia. "A stuffed toy. It was our mom's when she was a kid, until Dad had him fixed. Then it was mine when I was little, then Kyle's. Now it's Lori's…"

"It was Lori's," Kyle mentioned, and Maia gave a side-smack on the arm. "OW!"

"I lost him!" whined Lori, sadly. "The wolves took him! He was my best friend!"

"Yes, indeed, it was quite a loss," said Mithrandir with a show of sympathy to the child. "He shall be remembered."

"Good grief," muttered Kyle soundlessly, out of Lori's line of sight. Maia caught that and gave him a glare.

"It's not like you didn't go through the same phase, y'know!" she accused. "Same way I did!"

"Yeah, when I was six!" Kyle shot back. "What, do you still pretend the bear talks back?"

Maia rolled her eyes. "Very funny!"

"It's not pretend!" cried Lori, getting mad now. "He really talks! Daddy believed me!" she added.

"Alright now, children, that's enough," scolded Mithrandir. "Really! Getting you three to sit down and settle your differences is just exhausting as keeping the peace with the Dwarves!" Humbled, the siblings mumbled their apologies.

"Good," spoke Saruman, now standing up and walking closer with his staff. "Now, since this form of communication has become news to you, Gandalf, despite having traveled with them for some time now, it's apparent that these young ones have been keeping plenty of secrets of their own." He stood before them. In his tall, intimidating form, the siblings seemed to shrink back just a little, although Kyle looked to be keeping up his tough face, Galadriel noticed with amusement.

From what she gathered of his thoughts before, while it was apparent that the boy felt distrustful towards her, he had both distrust and an instant disliking to the White Wizard. Which was completely understandable.

From the moment she first met the Maiar-turned-Istari at the beginning of the Third Age, it had only been Mithrandir and Radagast she had trusted. Saruman (once called Curumo, a student of Aüle) and the Blue Wizards, Pallando and Alatar (once called Ròmestàmo and Morinehtar, Maia of Oromë) were the ones she could not help but feel uneasy with, though it had more to do with how they refused let her probe their minds the way Mithrandir and Radagast easily did. A childish admission, since she had felt the same with Elrond and Elros when first meeting them as adults, but can anyone blame her for taking precaution?

She only gave Saruman the benefit of the doubt because Mithrandir seemed to trust him, despite their differences. As for the Blue Wizards…Mithrandir often forgotten claimed to have forgotten their names, asking, "Who are you again?" It annoyed them immensely every time, and to this day, everyone still found it hilarious. After that, they disappeared to the East, too far out of her reach for keep track, and never came back. The latest rumors about them, however, had been…less than pleasant.

"Let us start with a basic question," continued Saruman, being each of the young mortals. "Who are you really and how did you come to be here?"

"Thought you already knew our names," Kyle gritted, crossing his arms stubbornly. "What is this, an interrogation?" Then he turned his accusation to Gandalf. "I thought that you were going to help us!"

"Okay, Kyle, chill," whispered Maia, shaking him a little, before turning back to Saruman, "Sorry, but I have to agree here. Y'all still haven't told us why we were brought here, or what this has anything to do with helping us go home." At Saruman's raised brow, Maia added, "I mean, I assume Gandalf told you, right?"

"Young Master Kyle, Miss Dainson, I understand that the three of you may have reservations for being called here at this hour, for which I offer my apologies," said Elrond, not unkindly. He gestured to the Grey Wizard. "Yes, Gandalf has told me about your predicament, and naturally the rest of the Council had to know. However, with your situation being quite…unique, for all the power we can manage, the answer will not come so easily if you do not help us in turn."

"You want us to help you?" Lori asked, looking confused.

"With what?" asked Maia. "We know even less than you do! What information could you possibly—"

"The Void is a mysterious force," said Saruman. "All that is known to us is the Darkness. A prison beyond the circles of Arda meant for the most foul and accursed of all beings that taint the creations of this world." Elrond winced, quickly hiding a flare of anger and pain—and a momentary image of red flaming hair and icy-silver eyes—only Galadriel caught hold of before the Peredhel blocked it. "A place where the first Dark Lord has been twice imprisoned, where even Varda's beloved stars dare not leave a flicker of light, save that of Eärendil's Gil-Estel and, very likely, Eru Illuvatar himself…"

The more he speaks, the more he confuses them, Galadriel sent a frustrated thought at Mithrandir, who tried to hold back a smile.

Are you certain it's not just about the mention of your cousins? he asked her, while watching the children grow more confused by names they never heard of.

Galadriel's eyes flashed in his direction, but did not reply.

"…yet never we of the Council, or that of the Maiar, as far as I know," continued Saruman, "were given proof or reason to suspect that there may be other circles that our great Creator has split his thought. Other worlds." A bit of excitement sparked in his black eyes, such as one who desired invention and knowledge would feel. "It is already evident that you are not born from the Music of this world, despite the power thrumming from your bodies, speaking with truth if not from your word…" Kyle bristled and opened his mouth to retort, but Saruman cut him off sharply, "Therefore, if you refuse to open your minds any further to the Lady Galadriel, and she would respect such a request, then it would be in everyone's best interest if you described exactly what happened up until…your arrival."

Maia stared at the White Wizard once he finished. He was…like Gandalf's polar opposite. Cold, logical, calculating, judgmental, hidden under a layer of false pleasantry. He had a long beard, draping robes, and a staff like Gandalf, but while he was whiter than light in color, his eyes bore a hard ebony and his deep voice lacked the lightheartedness that somehow balanced with Gandalf's grumbling on bad days. He had that magical thrumming presence that their familiar wizard always carried with him, like that of a warm beating fire constantly buzzing, but this one seemed like a freezing fire that burned to the touch when you came too close, if that was the right description. In all honestly, it was difficult notto feel any reservations around him.

And he was the Head of the Order, here and of the Wizards? Oh, boy.

Looking at her brother, it was already clear that Kyle distrusted him. Glancing down at her sister, Lori seemed shrink back against her, as if the wizard tall, intimidating form towering over her resembled that of a scary phantom.

With a face like that, he may as well be, Maia thought.

But...had she held reservations towards a certain other because of his cold attitude towards them? At the end of the day, in order to find their way home, she and her siblings agreed to go with him and his Company because it didn't matter whether they liked each other or not. During the journey, he turned out to be a better person than she initially judged, despite their differences, protective of his people, and a loving uncle to his nephews.

And, despite her discomfort around him, the White Wizard made a pretty good point.

Her eyes flickered to Gandalf, who smiled and gave an encouraging nod.

If Gandalf trusted him…She sighed, trying to remember that they were here to help them, not the other way around. Whatever it was this Council were looking for, surely it had to benefit them, as well.

"We're from another world, in a place called Texas," explained Maia finally, though with her back straight and her arms stiff around a nervous Lori, to keep herself steady. "It's a bit hard to explain, since we don't know exactly how we ended up here. Only that at one point we were at home, and the next thing—"

"—we were falling on our asses at Hobbiton," finished Kyle, before Maia could finish. She thumbed his older sister. "Backpack fell on her head and knocked her out cold."

"Thank you, Kyle!" Maia said loudly, rolling her eyes. "Really appreciate your eye for ridicule!"

Saruman somehow looked like he was losing his patience. "Is that all? Can you think of any reason that you had fallen out of the sky? Any source that stirred up such an event?"

"I—"

"Just explain all of what you were doing on the day that you were dropped into the Shire," said Gandalf, smiling encouragingly. "Tell everyone what you would your friends."

Thinking back on how she, Kyle, and Lori had spilled everything to Bilbo and the Dwarves, Maia started from the beginning.

They were from a county near Houston in the southeastern part of Texas.

Their grandparents, Sandra and William Hayes, from their mother's side owned—or used to own—a small, private horse ranch that used to run smoothly by the family since their mother, Laura, and their late-uncle Kyle were kids themselves, until later their father, Arthur Dainson, took Uncle Kyle's place after he died when he married into the family.

Their parents worked between their careers as artists and professional horse trainers, where they also on occasion taught kids to ride in summer camps and other outdoor activities—including archery.

Their father eventually bought another, smaller house just an hour and a half from their grandparents' farm, where he and Laura moved in after a while and started their family and their own horse ranch, having transferred half of the horses from their grandparents' to their's. Maia and Kyle practically grew up in that house, and then Lori came along.

Maia continued her horse riding lessons and Lori had recently started hers. Kyle did some for a little while, but mainly in summer camps at their grandparents' ranch.

As of now, for almost the past year, they were living with their grandparents.

Their father Arthur had disappeared on them almost two years earlier, without warning or an explanation, calling once or twice in between for little amounts of time. Then, just nine months earlier, their mother Laura had been in a terrible accident, which she had miraculously survived, but had been unconscious and on life support ever since.

Since their grandparents had three kids to raise not enough time and support to keep the business running, to get Lori into preschool and to help Maia pay for college if she got in, they had to sell the horses.

Not long after Laura's accident, Lori somehow got in touch with Arthur again by contacting their childhood home.

She and Maia talked to him for a while. They had learned that it had been Arthur who had found Laura in the wreck and took her to the hospital, but had left her there before the rest of the family arrive. It was upsetting for everyone, but Kyle had been too angry to talk to him, or about him, since he had left. This had only made him more livid.

That is, until Maia heard their dad getting attacked over the phone. There had been a violent struggle, to the point that their grandfather had to call the authorities and send them to the house where Arthur admitted residing in. Kyle tried to call out to his father then, but all he heard was heavy, rumbling breathing like that of a hungry beast, before the line was cut off.

For a while later, their old farmhouse had been blocked off as a crime scene by the police. They found evidence of struggle, and black ick covering the floor and walls. They hadn't reported what the black-ick was, but apparently whatever evidence they had led to a dead-end. They eventually had the house entirely cleaned and remodeled, and would continue to search the whereabouts of Arthur Dainson, dubbing him Missing until his body was found. Nobody would say what they thought: that he was likely dead.

Now, eight months later, on the night they had 'dropped in the Shire,' Maia took her siblings to the nearest Hoedown Fair to celebrate her accept into college before having a night out in their old home. It had also been the last time they had visited their mother in the hospital, who still remained in her coma when they had last seen her.

Their plan that night had been to have a campout at their old farmhouse—yes, the incident had happened—when suddenly Kyle, who had been outside, ran back into the house in a panic and told them to hide.

Kyle had volunteered to turn back on the generator—an advanced device meant to boost the power back into the house—when he stumbled upon two monsters devouring the raccoon to bloody pieces in front of him.

Kyle had been chased by those creatures and retreated into the house to his sisters, trying to lock them out. They broke into the house through the windows, so the sibling had only the time to retreat in their father's old office, where his drawings were still kept in place. One of the monsters had grabbed Maia's hair, but Lori handed her a pen and stabbed it in the eye with it before pushing the creature back in order to close and lock the door.

One of the other monsters had been trying to breaking down the door, and the three siblings were trapped in a corner, with no escape, no outside communication, and no proper weapon to fight back.

They did not know what they were at the time, but based on what they had learned recently, those monsters had undoubtedly been—

"Orcs?" blurted out Gandalf in disbelief. The rest of Council were alert and serious as they listened, intent on hearing the explanation of these past events. "At your home?!"

"Pretty much," said Kyle. "You know, I bet that black ick the police found was orc blood."

"How it is that this is the first time I am hearing this?" asked Gandalf, still looking rather put-out. "Does Bilbo know?"

"He only just found out this morning," said Maia, apologetically. "Then the rest of the Company. We would have told you, too, but, uh...we couldn't find you."

"Yeah, you're always hiding somewhere else," Lori added. "You go away for a little bit, and then come back!"

"Hm, I was rather occupied," admitted Gandalf with a sigh.

"Does this mean that your world is also overrun with orcs?" questioned Saruman. "If so, what else? Goblins? Elves? Dwarves––"

"No! I'm telling you, we have never seen anything like them in our lives before!" protested Maia. Then she winced. "At least, not living, breathing ones! It was literally like something that came out of a nightmare, or some fictional horror story made into cosplay!"

"It was scary," whimpered Lori with a nod.

"I thought they were going to eat us!" exclaimed Kyle. "It was freaky, man!"

"And was this when it happened, then?" asked Elrond. When they nodded hesitantly, he pressed, "How?"

For a long minute, neither Maia, Kyle, nor Lori knew how to answer. They looked at one another, finding support from one another as Gandalf had witnessed from this passed few weeks with them. It made him warm, that for all their bickering and arguments, their bond was as tightly knitted as any loving family should be. He had witnessed more than one of those in the past, and had become quite familiar with the notion that the closest of families are often the ones that did not seek perfection. Some of those had been victim to cruelty or tragedy, but there were many others who still thrived and fought together while continuing facing life through odds and evens.

"I..." Maia struggled.

"We, uh..." Kyle scratched his head, turning red in the face.

Lori raised her hand. "I made a wish!"

"A wish, hên-nin?*" asked Elrond.

"I was so scared of those orcs hurting me and Maia and Kyle that I closed my eyes and wished really hard," said Lori. "I wanted to go Daddy's Shire, like in his pictures he drew. So I pictured the green hills, the holes with doorways, the flowers and market..."

"You know...yep, what Lori said," said Kyle, with a resigned nod. "I was only wishing we'd get out of there alive, but it's same basic need, right?"

"Yeah," murmured Maia. "I was more praying than wishing, but I also wanted desperately for us to be somewhere completely safe...and I remember thinking about green hills and wildflowers." She frowned. "Next thing we knew...we were surrounded by a ring of fire, by dark whispers..."

"And then POOF!" said Lori, holding up her hands. "We appeared! We fall from the sky and landed with the hobbits. Just like I wished!"

Gandalf contemplated this, imagining three young mortals just appearing out of thin air, based on the wish of a little girl (and to an extent, her brother and sister's), into an entirely different realm. An entirely different world, outside of the circles of Arda, beyond the Void itself. What did this mean?

He was one of the Ainur, one of many whom had been sung into being from the thought of Ilúvator in the great Music that has first created their world. Since the Beginning of Time, before when Arda was even created, he had first served his lady Varda, the Queen of the Stars, for he shared her divine correspondence to the light and fire that matched the glory of the stars.

He, like the other wizards, was a Maiar bound into a mortal form, sent by the Valar among five to assist the peoples of Middle-earth and seek out the evil which hid somewhere beneath its surface. In exchange, his old powers were greatly reduced, and his memories of the Undying Lands (and the Timeless Halls) became clouded at best, for he and the Istari were forbidden by the Valar to match the power and might of the one they searched for, or else their powers and memories will be further diminished the more they give.

It was a great burden to carry, but one he could live with, if he minded how much power he was willing to spend over the centuries.

However, his memory and knowledge of existence did, more or less, extend as far back as the Great Lamps of the Valar, back when he had been considered a "youngster" among the lesser Ainur, back when the creation of Arda and the stars of Varda had been fresh and new...and yet, he could not remember, in his time established as a spirit of star-fire, of whether or not he learned of the possibility of two worlds converging. Of whether there was another presence elsewhere in Eä parallel to to the life and creations of Arda.

From his teachings, he likely did learn from his teachers that it was a possibility; that the sky, the stars, the darkness, and the evolution of spiritual and emotional connections were linked from thousands of different worlds spread and brought into being outside the Music of the Ainur. That there were other universes conjured from the thought, the hand, or the breath of Eru Ilúvator...but it was not for them to interfere with.

As far he knew, by knowledge rooted into his own fàna, the Valar were forbidden to step foot into other circles of Eä, as surely as they were forbidden to force an already healed Elven fëa to leave the Halls of Waiting against their will (Though it did not mean, as history had proven time and again, that loopholes could be found in even the most impossible, he thought, but never without a price).

One of those circles of Eä, clearly, had to have been one of which the Dainson siblings were pulled from. Based on a wish, of all things. But from what?

He turned to Saruman, who too was already frowning in deep thought. "Just a mere wish," the white wizard rumbled. "That was all it took. For these children, for all the power resting in their being, they could not possibly match that of the Ainur. No...It would have to take the interference of the Valar." They were aware that Galdriel and Elrond were listening to them with growing interest in the affairs of the Ainur. "Though I remember distinctly asking this question once before, of the circles of other worlds scattered across the Void, and then I was told that the Valar were forbidden to interact in these other worldly creations."

"It could not be them, could it?" Gandalf murmured. "For what reason?"

"When the Laws of Eru are spoken," said Galadriel, slowly, her eyes lost to the past, "they are bound to keep them, as it is in their nature to be that which they are."

"It has been the bane and tragedy to main who walk this earth for their inaction," added Elrond, his tone sounding bitter and sad, "but we have no reason resent them any more than we have reason to resent all the beauty they have gifted us in this world."

"Furthermore, what of the orcs that were there to attack them? How did orcs, of all things, end up living and breathing beyond the Void surrounding Arda's Circle, a place that would smote even the strength of Him? I refuse to believe the Valar would enact such a careless act by dumping even a few twisted beings on a world of people who have no business or knowledge of Middle-earth's troubles for any reason!"

"You ought to remember, Gandalf, that anything foul with His evil belongs to the darkness of the Void," said Saruman cooly, "therefore our knowledge of what happens within distance is limited, even for the Doomsman himself. If other circles of the world indeed exist beyond it, then any of them could have stumbled to a new circle under Melkor'sinfluence."

"It's not possible," murmured Elrond. "Melkor is chained and suppressed. He cannot act or speak of his free will anymore."

"There is another suspect that may yet be the cause," Gandalf spoke. "His lieutenant––"

"––has not been seen since his last defeat," Saruman cut him off. "He and the One Ring still remain missing. In order to regain his power, he would wield the One Ring to return to his original form. I highly doubt that he would be the culprit. And if he was, for what reason? For three random mortals, no less."

"Three random mortals with the Music of Arda in their blood," said Galadriel, a bit sharply under her mellow tone. "It is no coincidence, I can assure you."

"So now we circle back to the Valar," Elrond groaned. "With Gandalf's doubts taken into account, are you sure, Saruman, that they are restricted in any way to interfere?"

"Though the memories of my first form are less clear, the teachings of the Istari are rooted within," said Saruman. "Back when the world was new, when the Lamps stood proud and tall, it was then we were taught of this restriction, and such has not be mentioned furthermore."

"Time changes many things," said Galadriel. "As it does for all."

"Has the Law and Customs of the Eldar changed while I was not looking?" Saruman questioned her. When the Lady did not reply to that, he shook his hand. "Some laws stay as they are, not just for tradition, but for the sake of balance. Break that balance, then there is disorder and chaos."

"Not following the Law and Customs is hardly a cause for world chaos, my friend," Gandalf attempted to tease. "Between two families, maybe, but..."

"And what of Nùmenor? Ar-Pharazôn's invasion? The Noldor's rebellion? I suppose you'd call each of the Valar's judgement on them an overreaction as well? And they once called you the wise one." That definitely sounded like a jab.

Gandalf bristled. "Now, see here, Saruman––"

"Excuse me!" Maia spoke up loudly. "Hate to be the one to interrupt, but it's becoming pretty clear that no one around knows how we could have possibly have gotten here, wish or not. Half of everything y'all are talking about, I have no idea, but whoever these—Valar are, and you're pretty sure that they're unlikely to have anything to do with us, then what else could it be?"

"We believe, Maia Dainson," said Elrond, "that it may partially be connected to your blood."

"Our blood?"

"What the heck does that mean?" demanded Kyle. "What's wrong with our blood?"

"Nothing is wrong with your blood, Master Dainson."

"Well, then what?!"

"I am simply saying that you have magic in your blood," Elrond answered patiently. "Magic that all at present can sense and connect with."

"Say what?!" Kyle frowned. "How is that even possible? I mean, a lot of weird stuff has been happening to us since that night, but that doesn't we..." He trailed off.

"Wait," Maia said slowly, before then turning to Galadriel, anxiety building up on her face the oldest Dainson sibling started to catch on how this whole debate had begun. "What exactly are you trying to tell us? With what you called us before, and what you were explaining––y-you couldn't actually be suggesting that all three of us are––" She whipped a finger at all three of them, unable to form the word.

"Dúnedain," Galadriel finished for her with a nod. Then she smiled again, gently. "Descendants of Númenor. Men of the West. However you may deem fit to call them in your tongue."

Silence. The song of the crickets, the croaks of the frogs, and the roars of the distant waterfalls suddenly sounded very loud in the echoes of the valley.

Maia's mouth went dry. Beside her, Kyle sat where he was, frozen, his face looking about as white as her own probably did. Lori, very slowly, looked up to reveal wide brown eyes and tear-stained cheeks. For a long time, neither of the siblings spoke.

Then...

"How old did you say these people live up to again?" Maia heard herself speak, which was surprisingly calm, sounding nothing at all like she felt: numb and distant. She was distinctly aware, for the first time, that Gandalf looked about as speechless, though seemingly overcome with a certain enlightenment rather than shock.

"Thrice as long the normal man," said Elrond, his voice sounding soft, like he was restraining some unknown emotion. "Once an average of four hundred, now shortened to three hundred at best. However, in your case––if it's true––"

"Between five or seven hundred, if I'm not mistaken," said Gandalf, awe filling his voice. "Give or take." Galadriel nodded in confirmation.

There was more silence...and then there was a snort, before Maia and Kyle both broke down in laughter. Maia sounded hysterical, and Kyle just sounded skeptical. Lori just looked confused, looking around at everyone, "Huh?" as if wondering what was so funny about such a big answer.

"Right...okay...what?!" Kyle managed between his sniggers. "Are y'all for real?"

Finally when their laughter died down, Maia had to wipe tears from her eyes, still bubbling with hysterics until her face turned red. It was difficult to stop, especially while knowing on the inside, she was actually stuck between anger and panic.

What the hell was this?! Were they for real? They, living up to five hundred or six hundred years old? Them? Looking around, still breathless from sniggering, she realized that no one else was laughing. Galadriel was still smiling, but it somewhat sobered a little and her eyes seemed dead-on serious. Saruman looked unamused, even put-out by their disrespect. Elrond had finally turned around, looking paler than before, but still composed. Gandalf's eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement, though the reveleation of Galdriel's declaration seemed to still move him, making him look at the Dainsons with a new perspective.

Her smile then dropped, feeling colder than ever. "You're...You're joking, right?" she managed to choke out. Her previous laughter had then twisted into the hysteria she felt rising from beneath the surface. "This is a joke! Right?"

"Now, why would I joke about this?" Galadriel said, straightening with an infuriating calm tilt of her head.

Gandalf sighed drastically. "Alas, it is true that no one here share my sense of humor...but none of the Council would say it if they did not take this seriously."

Maia's jaw dropped. "B-But...No! Th-That's impossible!" She shook her head furiously, while Kyle exclaimed loudly, "No way! This is crazy!"

"There's no way––"

"How––"

"You can't––"

"––this is bull––!"

"I mean, how would you––"

"––doesn't make any sense––"

Maia and Kyle were speaking all at once frantically, trying to reason and explain why it was impossible that they could be a 'Dúnedain'? Why there couldn't possibly be a way to prove it...unless these Men of the West had a certain gene-code and this place and Age had the tools to do old-fashioned blood-tests!

"Children, please," sighed Gandalf, rubbing his forehead as though restraining a headache. In the background, Saruman rolled his eyes in pure annoyance.

"Say for a moment that you're right," said Maia loudly, more clearly, "that we are what you say we are—which we're not!—but if we were, than that would mean we'd also have live up to—"

"Hundreds of years?" Breathed Lori, finally speaking up as she turned fully around. Her sadness was now replaced with wide-eyed wonder.

"Indeed," said Galadriel. Then she added with a thoughtful expression, "Close to a thousand would be my wager."

Maia felt like she was going to be sick. "It can't be…"

A sudden thought struck her to the core, sending a chill deep through her bones. Dad. When she glanced at Kyle, her younger brother, quick as always, seemed to follow up to same growing conclusion, as a frown seemed to slowly replace any sigh of distress he had before.

Just this morning, they had a discussion about the possibility that their dad was connected to Middle-earth. It would have made more sense if he did. But this…

"You gotta be kidding me!" whispered Kyle. Still, he faced the White Council. "How do you know if that's we are? You said it had something to do with our blood, right? Or our spirit? Do all Dúnedain have the same thing?"

"No," whispered Elrond. He looked a tad paler than normal, his eyes lit with a realization that he hadn't shown before. "You are different. The proof is slim, but your ancestor's grace radiates your spirit, so there is little doubt now...that you are descendants of Melduin Peredain."

Gandalf turned to Elrond. "Melduin Peredain," he breathed. "Of course. I should have known."

The Dainson siblings stared, dumbfounded. They did not know what they expected to hear from them, about who they could have connections with...but this was not it.

So, they blurted out in complete confusion, "Who?

Quenya Translation:

*hìna= small child

Sindarin Translation:

*hên-nin = my child`