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Book III

Chapter 21

Interludes

Emily rushed from her flat to find Trilby waiting in the car. In a panic, she told him about Jacqueline's collapse, and the need to get her to hospital—St Anne's was a ten-minute drive. It was not to be; Jackie came around after taking her medicine (nitroglycerin tables, Emily discovered), and insisted on going home. Aghast, Emily argued for the hospital, but the Grand Dame wouldn't budge. Emily accompanied her grandmother, holding her hand the entire way as she drifted in and out of sleep. Her breathing was shallow, shockingly so at times (at one point Emily feared Jackie had died, until she opened her eyes and began berating Trilby for his sloppy driving skills). The trip seemed an eternity. When they arrived at the manor, Jackie's personal physician, Doctor Emson, was waiting to tend to her. The Lady was quickly whisked up to her room. An hour later, the doctor found Emily and relayed his findings.

Jacqueline had suffered a mild heart attack, but was resting well. She continued to reject any thought of a hospital stay. "Either I shall live, or I shall not," she said, with her fire of old. "But I will do so here, in my own home. That's that." And it was; nothing Emily could say would dissuade the woman. As a compromise, Emily arranged to stay at the Manor until Jacqueline recovered her strength. That was three days ago.

Jackie was slowly improving, spending most of her time in her bedchamber. As the afternoon came, Doctor Emson arrived, making his last visit of the day. He seemed encouraged by the progress Jacqueline was making, but as always, he was quick to caution Emily against being overly optimistic.

"Given her age and her history of heart trouble, it's best not to look too far ahead. She seems better today, let's be pleased with that." He smiled, a kindly old man. "She's asked to see you. I'll let myself out. Good day, Emily."

Emily found Jacqueline sitting propped up with several pillows, looking spry, with a pair of spectacles perched on the end of her small, upturned nose. She was pouring over a stack of papers and dictating instructions to Trilby, who, somehow, managed the appearance of rolling his eyes, despite an expression as impassive as stone.

"Do you have all that?" Jackie asked. "I noticed you failed to take a single note."

"I am endeavoring to save on pencil and paper expenses, ma'am. The prices are a scandal."

"I suppose that is meant to be amusing. I promise you will not find me amused should you forget any of this."

Trilby exhaled, tiredly. "In more than thirty years' service, have I ever forgotten a single detail, a single task?"

"No. Thank goodness I am here to keep you on your toes."

"Yes, how fortunate I am." Trilby replied, making Emily smile. Trilby was a prickly old curmudgeon, but loyal and caring, for all of his playacting. She was terribly fond of the old fellow.

Jackie looked up, spying Emily. "Shoo," she said to Trilby, who, this time, actually did roll his eyes. He left the room, giving what may have been a quick wink to Emily as he passed by.

"Sit with me," Jackie called out, patting the bedside. Emily sat, and Jackie took her hand. "You look tired. I'm worried you are not taking care of yourself."

"Me? You're the patient here."

"Oh, blather. Don't listen to that old worrywart. Doctor Emson's had me one foot in the grave for five years going. It's you I'm worried about. you've been by my side for the three straight days. Don't neglect your own health—or your studies. I'd feel awful if you fell behind on my account."

"It's all taken care of. I've requested a leave from school. I'll return next semester, no academic probation, so I'm staying. That's final."

Jackie smiled. "Good. I admit it, I like having you here."

"I like being here." Emily saw Jackie's doubtful expression. "Truly. It's nice feeling useful for a change."

"I don't mean to doubt you, but…I know you were unhappy here as a child."

"I would have been miserable anywhere. It wasn't you, or this place, really it wasn't."

"It was, though," Jackie said. "A little. Oh, I know you were devastated, heartbroken at losing your family…but coming here didn't help. Being raised by your ancient grandmother, in such a forbidding, lonely old place."

Emily nodded at that statement, admitting the truth. "I was unhappy at first, it's true. But it's different now, somehow. Or maybe it's me that's different. I still find this to be a lonely place," Emily said, looking about. "But in a good way. It's…sad, but comforting. It's the only place that feels like home."

"It wasn't always sad. Once this was a lively home, full of warmth and good cheer, and the laughter of children. Perhaps one day it will be again. Places are like people," she said, softly. "Sometimes they need a fresh start."

Jackie eased back into her pillows, and closed her eyes. For a long moment she stayed quiet, and Emily thought that she had fallen asleep. She had done that often over these past three days, drifted off to sleep in the middle of a conversation. But after a time, Jacqueline, eyes still closed, spoke.

"It warms my heart to hear you call this place home. It is your home. I've appointed you my sole heir. Falsworth Manor, along with a large share of my financial assets, will be yours. I'm afraid the family fortune is no longer what it once was, but you will find it sufficient to keep the estate going quite nicely. Don't let it become an anchor to you. Live your life the way you want…but keep her, Emily. Keep her in memory of things that once were."

"Gran, please. Don't say such things."

"Tosh. When better to say them? I am dying, child. These are the things one talks about when one is dying."

"Then let me get you to a proper hospital, please."

Jackie roused at that.

"And let them hook me up to machines? Force this tired old heart of mine to go on? No. We have only so many days, Emily, all of us. Mine are nearly spent." Jackie reached to her nightstand, and picked up a small box, which she handed to Emily. "This is for you, and no arguments. My things are mine to give as I see fit. I want you to have this."

Emily opened the box, shocked to see her grandmother's pendant. "Gran, I can't take this—" she stopped in midstream, held by the hard glare of the Grand Dame. "I mean…thank you. Oh, it's lovely! I've always admired it."

"I know you have," Jackie said, smiling. "This pendant was very special, once upon a time. Perhaps it still is. Put it on. Someday, if you should ever need a little magic, it may be of help to you."

Emily slipped the thin silver chain around her neck, admiring the lustrous golden gem in the mirror on Jacqueline's dresser. "What type of stone is this?"

"Its name is E'alomm Tae. The name means 'Heart of Fire'. How well it suits you," Jacqueline said, smiling at her decision. "I should have given this to you long ago."

Emily sat again, holding Jacqueline's hand as the minutes passed in silence. Outside, a songbird twittered sweetly, perched in the ancient elm that dominated the side lawn. The tree had been old when Jackie was a child, and it would live to see Emily's own children playing under its bows, and their children after that. Its leaves of brown and gold rustled pleasantly in the breeze. The quiet was broken by the sound of a car driving up the long private lane. Again, Jackie surprised Emily by speaking when she thought she was asleep. Jacqueline still had the ears of a fox, even at ninety.

"Ah, our first guest has arrived."

"Gran," Emily said, flustered, "you didn't tell me we were expecting company."

"Didn't I?" Jacqueline said, sitting up. She had a mischievous sparkle in her eyes. Emily was about to say more, when there was a knock at the front door.

"Show the gentleman in, would you Emily? Just give me a moment to make myself presentable." Jackie reached for her hairbrush and mirror. "Oh, I look a sight. Well, there's nothing to be done about it. Go see to our guest, dear."

Smoothing the crease in her skirt, Emily hurried down the staircase. She met Trilby at the door.

"I've got it, Trilby."

"Very well. I shall return to the kitchen and endeavor to see that young Mavis does not succeed in ruining yet another batch of Cornish hens. She has all but decimated the local population."

Emily opened the door. Standing before her was a young man with reddish-brown hair and light amber eyes. His complexion was fair, though his cheeks were ruddy. He wore a suit that appeared well tailored and expensive, but he wore it in a manner that suggested he was unused to such dress. He was broad in the shoulders, and narrow at the waist. He carried a bouquet of white carnations in his right fist, the way a child would clutch a clump of daisies he had picked for his mother. His smile, which seemed a touch apprehensive, was broad and honest, and slightly crooked at the corners. It made a fluttering in the base of Emily's stomach, like a flight of butterflies had been set loose.

"Hello," he said, in what Emily recognized as a Manchester accent. "Excuse me, but is this Falsworth Manor? Lady Jacqueline Falsworth?"

"It is."

"Well. My name is Joseph Chapman. The Lady sent for me."

"Come in, please."

Emily watched him cross the threshold, seeing something faintly dangerous about the man, the way a lion looks ferocious, even at rest. Even so, his warmth and decency were apparent. Emily found him endearingly awkward, standing ill at ease in the massive hallway, like a puppy not used to being indoors. She could not take her eyes off him, until he met her glance, causing her cheeks to burn. She looked away.

"Let me just get a vase for your flowers."

"Thank you," he answered. "They're for the Lady. I'm a little early. I didn't know how long to give the drive."

"Is this your first visit here?" Emily said from the kitchen, filling a small vase with water.

"It is," Joey said, looking around in wonder at the antiques and artifacts displayed about the hallway. "It's quite a place. Very…big."

Emily was laughing as she stepped back into the hall. "That is just the word for it. Big. May I ask the reason for your visit? I'm afraid my Gran neglected to tell me we were expecting company."

Joey's eyes widened in shock. "You're her granddaughter?"

Emily nodded. She could see the look of disbelief in his eyes. She was accustomed to it. "My father had me late in life. He was nearly fifty when I was born."

"That was rude of me. I feel rather foolish now, the resemblance is remarkable. I've seen pictures of her when she was young. You're so alike."

Emily looked away. "I wish that were true. She was very beautiful."

"You could pass as her twin," he said, plainly. "Do you really not know that?"

"…You still haven't told me the reason for your visit," Emily said. She could feel his eyes on her, neither lewd nor unwanted. He shrugged his shoulders, smiling.

"To be honest, I don't know why I'm here. She didn't give a reason, just sent word to my commander for me to come today."

"So you're a military man?"

Joey hesitated. "I don't mean to be evasive, but I'm not at liberty to discuss it. You do understand?"

"No, I'm not sure that I do, Mr. Chapman."

"Joey, please."

Emily ignored that. Her ire had risen; she shared more in common with her grandmother than just an outward appearance. "Look Mr. Chapman, you may keep your secrets. Jacqueline has sent for you and I'm sure she has her reasons. But you need to know that she has been unwell. It is her heart."

"I'm so sorry, I didn't know. Is she all right?"

"I'm here to see she will be. I'll ask you to keep your visit brief, and not to trouble her unduly. You may tell your commander those were my orders. Do we have an understanding?"

"We do. Again, I'm sorry."

"Follow me," Emily said, ignoring his civility. She was being nastier than he deserved, but she felt on surer footing keeping him at a distance. They soon arrived at the doors to Jackie's room, and Emily motioned for Joey to wait outside. She stepped into the room, angry at what she found. Jackie was sitting by the window, in a small area furnished with chairs and a writing desk.

"Gran! Doctor Emson said you were to remain in bed."

"Hush, I'm not an invalid yet. Has young Mr. Chapman arrived?"

"Yes, he's waiting outside the door. These are from him," Emily said, offering the vase to Jackie.

"How thoughtful," Jackie said, smelling the carnations. She set them on the desk. "Tell me your impressions. How does he strike you?"

"I'm sure I don't know. We only just met." Her grandmother seemed to read something more into those comments. Emily quickly went on. "He's polite enough, I suppose. But secretive. Who is he, Gran? Why is he here?"

"You shall learn soon enough. Send him in."

Emily escorted Joey to the sitting area. "I'll give you some privacy," she said.

"No," Jackie replied. "I want you to stay."

Joey grimaced. "Lady Falsworth, I must remind you of the confidential nature of my position."

"Nonsense. If these matters concern anyone, surely it is my family. There are no secrets between me and my granddaughter."

"But my commander—"

"If you mean General Alistair Stonewell, then you need not be concerned. I out rank him. I remember Stony when he was a little boy. Scabby at the knees and runny at the nose. He owes his current position in no small part to my patronage. Emily stays."

Joey dropped his head, grinning. "Yes ma'am."

"I have called you here today to set some things straight, young man. Specifically, my shabby treatment of you over these past two years. It has been pointed out to me, by a man we both know well, that I have been unfair to you, holding it against you that you are not a Falsworth. I have judged you harshly."

"Maybe not, Lady Falsworth. I've made my share of mistakes lately. Perhaps you were right to judge me so."

"Do not correct me, young man. I was harsh on you. You have made mistakes, it's true, but you've done many more things well. There is a reason you were chosen for this job. Perhaps it might have helped had I been more supportive from the start. Will you accept my apology?"

"Of course, ma'am," he said, bowing slightly.

"No bowing, Mr. Chapman, please. I am not the Queen. Emily, call for Trilby and ask

him to bring the package."

Emily did as asked, totally baffled by these proceedings. Why did Jackie want her here for this strange meeting? Who was Joey Chapman? In short order, Trilby arrived bearing a small, beautifully carved wooden box. He delivered it to Jackie and quietly left the room. Jackie looked up at Joey.

"To make amends for my past antagonism, please accept this gift. It belonged to my father. It is now yours, for it should always belong to the Union Jack. Wear it with pride, Mr. Chapman. Wear it with honor."

Joey took the box and opened it, removing the item within: an ornate dagger. "I…I will," he said, bowing again to her. "Please don't ask me not to bow, Lady Falsworth, for you are a queen, to me."

That impressed Jackie, and she smiled. "The dagger was gifted to my father by a great African King, in gratitude for saving his life. It is forged of pure vibranium, making it all but unbreakable. Its edge can hardly be dulled and it can slice through an iron bar as easily as a normal blade would slice a plum. It will no doubt serve you well."

Joey looked the knife over in renewed amazement. Such an amount of pure vibranium would be valued in the millions. He sheathed the knife, placing it carefully in the box again, which he held like a precious heirloom, which in fact, it was. "I'll strive to be worthy of it. Always."

"I know you will. So, Mr. Chapman, did you bring a traveling bag, as I requested?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. You shall be our guest for the next few days. We have an excellent stable, and many fine horse trails. I understand you like to ride?"

"When I can find the time."

"We shall make the time. I'm sure Emily will be happy to accompany you."

Emily's mouth fell open in surprise. She turned to Joey. "Well, yes…if you'd like."

"I would. Very much," he said, smiling. This time Emily did not look away. Another knock came from the front door.

"Our second guest has arrived," Jackie said, smiling. "We'll let Trilby get this one."

. . .

Downstairs, Trilby opened the door. His greeting froze to silence at the sight of the man standing before him.

"You. Again," Namor spoke, with slow distaste. "Tell me," he said, removing his overcoat, this one gleaming white. "Do you intend to keep the Lord of Atlantis waiting on the stoop for a second time?"

"Indeed no, sir. Happily, this time you are on the guest list."

Namor strode in, handing Trilby his coat. "This garment is woven of the rarest manta silk, adorned with abalone and volcanic diamonds. Treat it well, little man."

"Like a holy relic, sir. Lady Falsworth regrets she is unable to entertain you downstairs. She awaits you in her chambers."

"Well?" Namor said, waving his hand toward the stairwell. "Go before me. Announce my presence."

"Of course. Let me first go lay your coat upon a bed of virgin lambswool, spun by the children of the village during summer solstice, blessed by the Archbishop of Canterbury. I shall return momentarily."

Soon, Trilby was knocking upon Jackie's door. He solemnly stepped inside.

"Lady Falsworth, Mistress Falsworth, Mr. Chapman, I present the lord of Atlantis, the first Imperator of the sovereign state of Lemuria, and master of all the ocean…Prince Namor, the First."

Namor stepped into the room, regal in his stunning outfit of turquoise and aquamarine. He glared at Trilby. "…It is 'the sovereign CITY state of Leumria'. Otherwise, it was passable."

"You do me too much honor, your grace. There is a large case of Perrier chilling in the cellar, and the kitchen is even now roasting an entire cow for you."

Trilby left the room and Namor turned to Jackie, reaching to kiss her hand. He stopped, looking at her intently. "You are unwell, my Lady. Something is amiss."

"I had an episode, I'm afraid. It is my heart."

"Are you well enough to visit?" He asked tenderly. "I can return another time."

"No, stay please. You are a tonic. Let me introduce my other guests. Namor, this is my granddaughter, Emily."

Namor's eyes shone like glittering black gems as he took Emily's hand. "Many are the wondrous sights I have beheld in one hundred and nine years of life…but to behold such radiant beauty twice in a lifetime is a gift from the gods. Namor is your humble servant, fair Emily."

He kissed her hand. Emily felt her heart in her throat as she murmured a soft 'thank you'. Jackie again spoke.

"And this gentleman is Joseph Chapman. He serves the British people in a guise you once knew well, Namor. He wears my father's mantle, the Union Jack."

"Indeed?" Namor said, eyeing Joey critically. "That is a high honor. You must be a man of quality. I salute you."

Namor offered his hand. Joey took it, feeling a grip of pure steel and raw power. He knew that if Namor but flinched, the bones in his own hand would be shattered, pulverized to dust. As they shook, Joey met his gaze, his smile easy. "It's an honor to meet you, sir."

Jackie cleared her throat. "Now if you young people don't mind, I should like some time alone with my guest. I'm afraid you would find our reminiscing rather dull."

Emily turned to Namor. "Gran will want to have a nice long visit, but I trust you won't let her over-do it."

"Emily!" Jackie sputtered. Namor smiled.

"Indeed I will not—no matter how much she may twist my arm. I will keep our time brief, I promise."

Again, Namor kissed the young woman's hand, and again her face flushed at his gallant chivalry. Emily and Joey left the room, and made their way down the staircase.

"Well, that was something," Joey said, glancing sideways to spy Emily's expression without seeming to look. "What did you think of him then?"

"Namor? He's certainly very charming."

"Comes on a bit strong, wouldn't you say? Does he…stop by often?"

"I don't know. This is the first I've met him."

They reached the ground floor. Joey pretended to examine a tapestry hanging on the far wall. "He looks quite fit. For a man his age, that is. Imagine, one hundred and nine years old..."

Emily bit back on her smile, trying hard not to laugh. He was a puppy; silly, sweet and endearing. She was possessed by the shocking urge to kiss him square on the mouth—a man she had only met an hour ago! She did not kiss him, but she did surprise herself, and him, by reaching over and taking his hand.

"We seem to have some time on our hands. Would you care for a tour…Joey?"

He smiled, broadly. "I'd like that…Emily."

. . .

Namor drew up a chair beside Jackie. "Tell me true," he asked, peering at her seriously. "How do you fare?"

"Poorly, I'm afraid. My heart is failing. The doctor has told me to settle my affairs. I'll not live to see the winter."

Namor turned his head, a grim look upon his face. "These are cruel times. It seems all my friends are vexed by some evil omen."

"Then something is wrong with Steven," Jackie said. "Tell me Namor, I must know."

"I spoke out of turn. I can say no more. I gave my word."

"I don't care about your word! I'm dying, Namor. Tell me the truth, I beg you. What is wrong with Steven?"

Namor rose and walked to the window. It was a long time before he spoke.

"He, too, is ill. Some unknown disease afflicts him. His doctors are searching for a cure…but time grows short."

"Why has he not told me?"

"He tried," Namor said, stooping to take her hand. "His visit here last week, he wanted to tell you then. But for the first time in his life, his courage failed him. He loves you Jackie, and could not bear to see you hurt. He loves you so."

Jacqueline dropped her head. Almost, she was too tired to cry, but soon one lone tear fell from her eye. "How I've tried to set him free," she said, in a quavering whisper. "How I've prayed he might find a good woman, and leave the past behind. It's all I've wanted for him."

"I know," Namor said, in a hushed tone.

"It has almost happened. There have been women in his life, some he almost let into his heart. There was the Rosenbaum woman, the law school student. How good she would have been for Steven. So lovely, so kind. He cared for her, I know. And there is the American intelligence agent, Sharon Carter. Do you know her, Namor?"

"I do. We met once, briefly."

"She is beautiful, isn't she?"

"You, too, are beautiful."

"He…loves her. I know he does. But he will not give himself to her. He's denied himself happiness, all because of me. Oh Namor, how I wish I had died, years ago. How I wish he were free."

"Hear me now," Namor said. "I have learned a thing or two in my many years, above wave and below. And chief among them is this. The heart is its own master, and love cannot be denied. Steve loves you, Jackie. His heart is yours, just as yours belongs to him. Nothing can ever change that, not death, nor the passing of eternity. Not even so mighty a will as Captain America's can gainsay the heart."

Namor reached for a tissue, drying Jackie's cheek as he continued.

"You and Steve have shared that rarest of all gifts, true love. Very few are privileged to ever experience such a wondrous thing, including princes upon their golden thrones. Even the gods may envy you, for only a mortal heart may know true love. It is to your great credit that you wish for Steve to be happy, even at the expense of your own happiness. But understand. Happiness is fleeting. True love endures forever."

Jackie looked up at Namor, a look of peace on her weary face. She placed her tiny hand on his.

"I love you very much, Namor."

"I love you, Jacqueline."

She was asleep the moment he spoke the words. Silently, he lifted her from the chair, cradling her frail figure in his arms, arms that could bend steel beams and survive the crushing depth of the sea. Gently, Namor carried Jackie to her bed. He drew up the covers and left the room.

. . .

For nearly an hour, Emily led Joey on a tour of the manor, enjoying herself immensely. It was a treat seeing the place through the eyes of another, making it all seem new. That it was through the eyes of Joey Chapman was best of all. She had never felt so at ease around a man she only just met. Or any man, ever.

She purposely saved the library for last. She led Joey in, taking him to the display case that only recently held the dagger he now possessed. He gazed at the items left within; the mask and tunic of the first Union Jack. Minutes passed. Emily broke the quiet.

"I was so pleased when I first heard that a new Union Jack had been chosen. Now that I've met you, I'm even more pleased."

"That's kind of you to say."

"I mean it, truly. I heard the candidates were all handpicked. The very best from the Royal Marines, SAS, Interpol, MI-6, and you rose to the top. You should be proud."

Joey laughed softly. "I was proud. I felt so ready. But even the SAS didn't prepare me for the whirlwind I was tossed into. I've had some rough moments these past two years. But I think I've finally gotten my footing under me. I'll never be able to thank your grandmother enough for her generosity. She's a great woman."

"She is," Emily said. "There's no one like her."

Tentatively, Joey took her hand. "That's not so. You're like her. In beauty and spirit."

Emily looked into his eyes. "I know we've only just met, but I feel as if I've known you my whole life."

She drew nearer to him, feeling as if she were falling into his amber eyes. It was mad, she knew. She didn't care. Letting her guard down and closing her eyes, she put her lips to his, as her heart raced in her chest. That was when Namor's voice called out:

"Ah, here you are."

As one, they turned to face Namor, looking a little guilty as they untangled themselves from the other's arms.

"…But I see I've intruded," he quickly added, bowing low. "I shall leave you to your privacy."

"Stay, please," Emily protested. "Gran will roast me alive if I let you leave. At least stay for supper."

"You're not intruding at all," Joey said in agreement. "We were just… admiring the sights."

"Yes," Namor said, smiling slyly at the young man. "They are lovely sights indeed. All right, I will stay. Let us talk over food and drink. I smell freshly cooked cow-flesh, a delicacy I enjoy. Come!"

Trilby ushered them into the formal dining room, where the table was lavishly appointed for a feast. Mavis did not ruin the Cornish hens—they were cooked to perfection, as was all the dishes: a cheese soufflé, the last of the summer squash, a spinach salad, crisp broiled potatoes, and a Yorkshire pudding with mint jelly—and huge platters of beef, roasted and carved to perfection. Not an entire cow, but nearly, most of which Namor devoured himself. As they took their seats, Emily called for Trilby.

"Is there no seafood?" she asked quietly. "Perhaps some lobster, or haddock, something more familiar for our special guest?"

Namor smiled. "Please, do not trouble your kitchen. I am more than satisfied with the food before me."

"You're sure? It would be no trouble."

"Emily, one does not go to Rome, and then dine at a Chinese eatery. I enjoy land food. And—while I mean no offense—what you call 'seafood'…is somewhat lacking, to an Atlantean."

She smiled at his words, and then laughed at herself. And they all dug into the meal, talking as they did. Namor was the ideal dinner guest, interested and interesting, all at the same time. He held his two companions spellbound with his tales. As to be expected, most of his talk was of the war, of his experiences fighting alongside Jacqueline and the other Invaders. Whenever the name of Captain America came up, Emily paid particular attention, asking Namor question after question about him. This puzzled Joey a little, but he began to sense from her questions (and Namor's careful answers) that Cap and Jacqueline Falsworth had perhaps been more than just teammates. It was understandable that Emily would want to know more. Time and again, Joey found himself stealing glances at Emily. Several times, he caught her spying back. Once, they both reached for a roll at the same time, their hands touching. It was electric. Remarkable as Namor was, it was Emily who held his true interest.

They talked long into the night, unaware that Captain America would soon be the focus of attention all across the globe. This was the night he would fall while battling Crossbones atop a New York office building. The three dinner companions would soon find themselves embroiled in chaos and conflict, caught up in the fate of Captain America, with the entire world hanging in the balance. But tonight, there was peace. Good food and good conversation.

As dinner was unfolding, Lady Jacqueline Falsworth lay sleeping in her bed. As she dreamed, the years rolled back to an earlier time; a time when the all the world was at war; a time when she fought side by side with the man she loved; a time when she was young and wielded the power of elvish fire…