Thank you so much to all those who reviewed, and here's the next chapter. It's a filler chapter in the major, and I'm not entirely happy with it, but then is anyone ever? I'd love feedback.

Thanks,

ElflingoftheShire

DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the Professor's characters and plots, I simply like to borrow them.

Chapter 2: For the Love of Light

Roughly 400 years later. . .

Eliriel knew her friends were some of the youngest elves in all of Arda, and therefore of the more foolish and less wise. She knew that they were merry hearts and that mischief was as natural to them as singing was to birds. What she did not understand, however, was how this could possibly be an excuse, especially since she was at least a whole yén younger than them, and did not partake in vexing the whole of Rivendell's elder population.

"You said what?" she asked, disbelieving. She sat back on her heels as she knelt at the planter box and dropped the trowel she held in her hand.

Cîneth winced, her dark greyish-blue eyes pleading. "It was most probably not the wisest decision, now that I think back on it, but the poor elleth was simply trembling! Lord Glorfindel should know better than to go around scaring people!"

"And in stopping to chide a twice-born balrog-slayer, what happened?" she asked, keeping her voice cool. Laughter came easily to Eliriel, and too often at times when no one else was laughing.

"It allowed Lord Erestor to find us," Nóruidir grumbled. No doubt he was upset that his intricate plan had gone wrong.

"Right," Eliriel said, nodding agreeably. "And why was Lord Erestor upset with you?"

Beldaer shot her a dark look, knowing how much she was enjoying this. He was probably the culprit that Eliriel found the most surprising, being as serious and brooding as he was. "Because we hid all fourteen manuscripts that he wanted to send to Lothlórien."

"Precisely. And now you want me to do what?"

"Just distract them, Eli, when they come around here. At least until we can find a suitable hiding spot," Nóruidir said. His voice was as wheedlesome as it could be, appreciating not for the first time how easily Eliriel was persuaded.

It was a shortcoming that she was highly regretting right now. She should have simply walked away, and Elbereth knows she wanted to, thinking of how awkward and scrutinous the suggested conversation could become. But alas, her soft heart and curious mind bid her stay, and so she sighed in resignation.

"Very well," she said, brushing off the dirt from her hands.

"Thank you!" said Nóruidir and Cîneth brightly, kissing either cheek and running away. It was times like these when people could easily see that they were cousins. Beldaer sprinted after them, pausing only to pat Eliriel on the head.

She shook her head after them and studied the squash vines in front of her critically. They had started flowering this week, precisely on Yestarë, and with them, the rains had lessened. The warm yellow flowers on soft green vines looked so fresh and young that she wished they could stay that way forever, instead of growing thick and ripe. But then there would be no pumpkin pie, and that would be a dreary life indeed, so she resumed turning the dirt.

It was not long before the pursuers came her way, although they were also accompanied by the Lord Lindir, who looked as though he were present for the entertainment rather than to find the manuscripts. They spotted her at the center of the garden and surreptitiously made their way through, regardless of how empty the area was.

Eliriel braced herself for what was to come. It was inevitable in situations like these that she would make a fool of herself, but some preparation might delay the embarrassment.

"Ah, Eliriel, child, how do you fare?" Lord Glorfindel asked her smoothly. She stood and gave them a bow. Her heart was starting to race from her dread and she prayed to all the Valar that it would not go as bad as it might.

"I am well, my lords, and you?"

"We are well, penneth, but we were wondering, have you seen the Síloniel and Halfion? I do believe young Beldaer was with them as well," Lord Erestor asked pointedly, looking as impatient as he ever was, being a most kindly elf.

She frowned, trying to seem as solemn as she could, and decidedly not glancing at Lindir, who's mouth kept twitching most suspiciously. "Cîneth and Nóruidir, my lord? No, I do not believe I have encountered them since the early morn. Did you need something, my lord?"

"No, no, not at all. We will resume our search now. Have a good day, Eliriel." And with that he turned to walk away, leaving Lindir and the balrog-slayer shocked at the abrupt dismissal. Lord Erestor must truly be in haste for a conversation of his to be so short. Eliriel took a deep breath.

"My Lord Erestor? If you have the time, I did have some questions after reading the Athrabeth," she said quickly, hoping that he would fall prey to the desirable pastime of explaining texts to young, curious elfings. The scholar paused and nodded.

"Very well, penneth, what is it?" His voice held no hint of impatience now, and his face did not betray his hurry. Had Eliriel not known of her friends' crimes, she would have thought that he did not need to find them at all. But she did, and Lindir's eyes were twinkling so merrily that Eliriel would not have been surprised to find they were actually stars. No, Erestor was agitated.

"If Arda now is Arda Marred, will men's fëa be tied to their hröa in Arda Remade? Like the Eldar? And will that world be greater than the Undying Lands? And where will the Eldar dwell?" And thus, the reason that her comrades depended on her for escape. Such distractions did not come with an effort to her, as her mind was full of whirling questions and rare, insightful remarks. Often was it that she spoke to a wiser elf in search of knowledge and to provide an escape, and Lord Erestor most definitely knew of her intentions, even if he pretended otherwise.

"Those are many questions! It would be better, perhaps, if you came to the library and we discussed it over the pages of the Athrabeth, would it not?" the old councilor raised an eyebrow, probably wondering how far Eliriel would go this time. She thought frantically as he turned away once more. Another question!

"Also, I reread the Valaquenta again recently and I was wondering—" she said desperately.

"Yes?"

"What do the Valar eat?" she blurted, then grew mortified at such a childish question. She flailed, trying to recover the question into something meaningful. The Lords Glorfindel and Lindir were both laughing, albeit quietly, and Erestor was looking downright annoyed.

"What do the Valar eat," he deadpanned, incredulous.

"I mean, they are present in so many places at once. And such strength of mind could not be sustained on fruits and ale, nor miruvor and lembas. I thought that mayhap they are sustained by light—starlight and sunlight and moonlight—but I did not know," she trailed off, looking sheepish.

"I am not of the Valar, and have never had the honor to meet any of them, and so I cannot tell you what they eat. Moreover, I do not have the patience of the Valar, and so, since we all know that you will not tell us where the elflings are, we must take our leave," he said, walking off briskly this time, lest she stop him again. Glorfindel shook his head, muttering something of the cheek of young folk, and Lindir winked at her before following them. She grinned back at him.

Fifty years ago, Eliriel had been capable of delaying Erestor by three hours at a time. The first escapade of Cîneth's that had required such a ploy had led Eliriel into a long discussion on the connections of fëa, hröa, heart, and mind. Unfortunately for mischief-seekers, Erestor, as well as most elves working in the library, had quickly learned to stay away from her questions unless they wanted to waste half their day in a meaningless yet interesting conversation. She could only hope, now, that she had given them enough time to do something, whether it be confessing or hiding.

That had been quite embarrassing, but quite refreshing as well. Strange how the two feelings went hand in hand, but such predicaments came to Eliriel at least four times a day. Between being lost in her own mind and the nonsensical blather that tended to come out of her mouth, it was a miracle she had any sense of shame left. Not that it was much anyway.

The Hall of Fire was alight with warmth and laughter that evening, as it always was, when Eliriel stifled a yawn and snuggled into her mother's side. She was sitting between her parents just outside the circle of her grandmother's admirers. Today, Narriel had chosen to speak of Eryn Galen in all its untouched beauty, as it had been in the days of her courtship and marriage. Her voice rose and fell rhythmically, and between that and the soft chatter in the rest of the room, Eliriel knew she could not hold sleep off for much longer.

"Tithen iell, if your mouth opens any wider it will swallow you. Do you not think you should retire?" her mother asked, glancing amusedly at Adar over the top of Eliriel's head.

She shook her head, for she did not want to waste a single second of the time she had with her parents. They would leave in only two weeks time to carry the Lord's messages back through the mountains. She had plenty of company in their absence, of course, between sweet Narriel and her light-hearted friends, but there is something special that connects one's soul to those who brought them to life.

A hush fell over the hall, as a fair-haired elleth began a ballad of the King Thingol. Other elves with Sindar descent joined soon after, and together they relived the days before the destruction of Doriath.

She vaguely remembered promising Nóruidir to meet him in the gardens, but before Eliriel knew what was happening, the torches along the sides of the room turned into dancing orbs of light, and the quiet whispers of her family faded away. She found herself floating amongst the lights, towards a city in the distance, on the shore of a great sea, and surrounded by a high range. Trees as tall as hills were draped with golden pavilions and bridges. She knew not what the place was called, or if it was real, but if it did exist, then a greater city never was.

She could hear its inhabitants singing, a hauntingly ethereal melody with joy woven into its mystic, and feel the heartbeat of earth and tree, as light footsteps fell on the flower-crowned rocks. The one feature that truly made an impression on her mind?

The luminosity of every single object within the vicinity. Every leaf, petal, ladder, door, dewdrop, and railing was oozing with a warm glow, blazing in the sunset. And every time the wind blew through, the forest pulsed even brighter.

The wind!

She turned her head and chased after it, attempting to catch the tails of the breeze as it wove through trees and up the slope. It whispered softly, words she could not understand, and yet they seemed to her sad. Sad, and yet so promising. They would be wise words, and new words, and words that she must know. So she ran, leaping and sliding to catch the wind, further and further, until. . . it was all dark.

Every single light had gone out.

She blinked her eyes open, struggling to sit up straight, and succeeded in landing on the floor in the dark alley outside the Hall of Fire, on eye-level with a flowing purple skirt.

"Before you ask, yes, we are kidnapping you."

"But your father aided us in doing so, and therefore it is not truly kidnapping."

Standing over Eliriel were her father, Nóruidir, and Cîneth, the former looking highly amused and the latter two looking highly pleased.

"Where are we going?" she asked, resigned to her fate and now curious as to what they had planned.

"Well, we wanted to thank you for earlier this afternoon," Nóruidir explained. His grey eyes glinted excitedly in the dark, and he grinned wickedly at his cousin.

Eliriel was surprised. "Did I actually give you enough time? My questions were, uh...not of the usual quality today."

"No, no, I'm sure they were fine. Thank you ever so much for that time, Eli. We did end up apologizing to them, but at least we did so on our own terms," Cîneth assured her, helping her to stand and locking arms with her. They continued down the hall, her father lagging slightly behind.

"Meaning that she prevailed in making Lord Erestor desperate. It was quite satisfying if I do say so myself," Nóruidir nodded pleasantly. His cousin flicked his shoulder and rolled her eyes.

Eliriel smiled toothily. Her two best friends were quite the pair. Or rather, they were quite the trio. "Of course it was satisfying. Cîneth loves to make sure that people are aware of her queenship."

Now it was her turn to have her shoulder mauled by a light hand. Her father was laughing behind them. "Why, exactly, did you need my presence, Cîneth?" he asked. "Surely now that you have the elfling..."

"No, we do need you. The present is for the both of you," she said. Her father looked bemused, and Eliriel was feeling quite the same way. Never before had either of her friends expressed the desire to thank her for playing her part in their schemes, not because they were ungrateful, but rather that their close companionship did not call for gratitude.

But Cîneth refused to give away anything more, and proceeded to rush them through three hallways, four gardens, seven airy rooms, and five bridges, before throwing open the doors to one of the smaller gardens hidden behind Rivendell's arches.

"And here we are!" cried the bright-cheeked elleth, flinging her arms wide and gesturing to the massive oak that grew in the center. Eliriel was confused. It was a beautiful tree, yes, but there were many oaks within the valley of Imladris. One look at Nóruidir's animated face, however, and her confusion, and curiosity, only mounted.

He beamed at her. "Go on, up you go," he ushered, helping her into the branches. She gave him one last wary look before breaking through the foliage, scampering up branch by branch until she could see the sky.

Her jaw dropped. The branches of the tree opened up far above the golden domes of Imladris, and intertwined into a small, nest-like hollow at the top. She realized, now, that they were high up on the slopes of the Misty Mountains, and the large tree was isolated in the open air. And from this high vantage point, she had an incredible view of the stars. There was absolutely nothing, no peak, no roof, no tree, blocking any part of the sky. And the stars! There were no elven voices to mar their song, no homely lights to detract from their brilliance. It was a whole symphony of sheer beauty. There she saw Eärendil, on his journey across the sky, and close nearby was the Valacirca.

"We found it while hiding from Erestor earlier today and thought you would enjoy it," came Nóruidir's voice from beneath her.

"I love it! Annon allen, Nori," she breathed, still awed by the sky. Then she remembered. "Ada, come up! You must see this!" Her father missed the clear view he had of the stars from the treetops of Mirkwood, and Rivendell to him felt confined. How he would be pleased by this!

His head popped up beside hers, and she watched in delight as his face went slack in shock. "It's like home," he whispered. Eliriel nodded, leaning into him as they whiled the night away, watching the stars fade and the song end.

Notes:

— The Athrabeth is a conversation between the elf Finrod and the wise woman Andreth which outlines the differences between man and elf.

— The Valaquenta is the second part of the Silmarillion about the Valar.

— Most Sindar elves have sailed by this point in time, and those who have stayed live mostly in Lindon. However, some do live in other Elven-realms. The Sindar are also known as the Teleri, meaning the singers, and so obviously a little plot bunny told me that I HAD to have some of the Sindar sing.

fëa: the soul/spirit

hröa: the body or vessel of the spirit

penneth: little one

tithen iell: little daughter

Annon allen: Thank you

— Most elves have three names: one given at birth based on their parents' names, one they give themselves as they grow older and know themselves, and one given to them by others based on deeds they do or ways they act. Erestor uses Síloniel (daughter of Sílon) and Halfion (son of Half) to call Cîneth and Nóruidir.

Please R&R!