North of the Undying Lands by Queen Elizardbeth

Chapter 3: The Thief's Reunion

The light of the candles burnt low, nearly all their strength given to their master. The fire had long since crumbled to ash from neglect, only a few small embers still glowing in the dark. The only noises that could be heard in the locked room was the scratching of a quill on parchment and the panting of the man that bent over his research.

The table was littered with many strange objects. A silver knife covered in runes rested not far from his hand, and a set of ornate gold goblets hummed and twinkled with inherent energy. On the other side of the table lay a long ash branch, dust and shavings surrounding it from every time it's owner slowly shaped it into a smooth staff. However, the man's focus at the moment was not on forging a weapon of power, but on recording as much as he could in his leather-bound book, his six-fingered hands shaking with excitement.

"Facinating!" he murmured to himself, "All so spectacular! So much knowledge and power! My friend," he turned to the smooth stone that sat near his elbow, pushing his glasses up as he smiled, "I cannot thank you enough for this!"

A chuckle escaped the orb, and the image within smiled. "My dear scholar!" he whispered, "My lord Lórien has done all this for you! All I am is a humble messenger!" The man within winked his one eye, his toothy grin shining under his golden beard.

Clearly, Tiunelu had misjudged Valacirca when they first met.

He was right! It was better to know him first and then make better judgements of his character rather than hold him by the standards that were set by men of ages past! She was wrong to assume that he would be the type to betray her and many other, like his ancestors had! He was never the type to live in deceit, and he was most certainly not treacherous.

No, he was just stupid.

She glared daggers at him as she sat with her hands tied behind her back and a large piece of cloth stuffed into her mouth. Her wrists ached as whatever crude rope cut into her flesh, likely leaving some sort of rash! Her make-up was smeared from her mishandling as she was stripped of her jewelry and silks, leaving her wearing nothing but her thin pink kirtle that offered no protection from the wind. If she had her voice, she could have sang a sonnet that would surely make all present, both the thieves and the twins, wish that they were each in a warm, soft coffin. Sadly though, all she could do was stare hatred at the wizard as the bandits rifled through their bags, admiring whatever they found valuable.

"Hey guys," a male voice came from the one clad in all black with a large lute strapped to his back, "Look at this." The object in question was a crystal bottle of perfume that he had pulled from one of Tiunelu's bags. It was a fragrance containing the essence of lavender petals, and was certainly not easy to come by. The elf squirmed some in her bonds, wishing she could leap upon the rogue, but all she could do was give muffled cries at him. This managed to catch his attention, and he turned to look at her, and gloating smirk forming on his thin face. "Oh, is this yours?" he said, waving the bottle in her face, "Well I reckon it's mine now, and I'll do what I want with it. Hey Valima!" He turned to one of his companions, brushing his greasy black hair out of his face, "I've got you something for you!"

The bandit clad in a dark green cloak turned to him at this, and a young woman's voice replied, "Hm, no thanks, Robbie. I'm not a fan of Noldor scents."

Tiunelu huffed indignantly at this, but the rogue in black gritted his teeth. "I told you," he growled at the green woman, "To call me Neithan."

"Neithan? Really?" the woman scoffed, "How on earth have you earned the title 'Wronged One'? Last time I checked, you had a perfectly fine life before you decided to leave town and join us out here!"

"Well I… You don't know me or my-"

"Hey dudes! Check this out!"

The voice came from Tiunelu's right from the smallest figure. He appeared to be of the same race as Gideon, noting his short stature and hairy feet, but there were several differences between this hobbit and the one they met the previous day. As a start, he was taller by nearly half a foot, and his body was more pear-shaped than round, though he also had a great stomach. His skin was much tanner, and his brown hair was hidden beneath a flat cap. His smile was wide, revealing two large, rabbit-like teeth, giving him the appearance of a humanoid gopher. He held over his head Merrigold's bow, and Tiunelu suspected that it exceeded him in height.

This caught the attention of the man that sat near the fire examining Tiunelu's pearls. His brown eyes widened in surprise, and a pleased smile broke out under his lumpy nose.

"Well done, Soos!" he exclaimed, "That is a very nice weapon!"

He took the bow from the halfling and turned it over, admiring the skilled craftsmanship. "If I'm correct, and I almost always am," he chuckled, "This is an iron bow of Númenor, am I right, young lady?" He looked to Merrigold expectantly, and she slowly nodded at him. Tiunelu was quite envious of the twins at the moment, due to the fact that the thieves had not seen their clothes as particularly valuable, so they were still clad in their layers as the sat, tied back-to-back. The man leered forward, his cat-like grin getting even wider. "You know," he said, looming over the twins, "I myself am a Dúnedain, so this might've belonged to some of my kin! What do you think of that? Two amateur thieves bring me back my family property!" He threw back his head and laughed, his long brown hair shaking. He eventually ceased his laughter, and he turned back to the saddlebags. "Let's see what else you two have in here! Given your company," he gestured to the elf, "You probably have some more pretty valuable stuff."

He rummaged through the sacks with his back to them, still chuckling at his own jokes as his three fellow bandits continued inspecting the weapons. Eventually, the one named "Robbie" picked up something from the ground and muttered, "Woah."

"Whatcha got their, kid?"

The man in black lifted up a perfectly spherical stone, and Tiunelu froze. She knew exactly what that was the moment she set eyes on it, but how could the twins have gotten ahold of one of those?

The leader appeared to be in similar mind as he took the rock, his eyes filled with wonder, but soon his expression shifted from one of amazement to seething hatred, and he turned to the bound Edain.

He towered over them, his broad shoulders casting a shadow in the fire light, and with one swift movement, his sword slashed and cut their bonds, and he lifted Valacirca by his throat. "You return more than an old weapons of Númenor," he hissed, his brown eyes blazing, "From whose dead hands did you pry this? Or did you slay them as you raided their home?" He shook the wizard like a rag-doll, his teeth bared in fury, "Answer me!"

Valacirca gasped for a moment, trying to draw breath past the older man's grip, and said in ragged breath, "We got it…from our…Grandfather…"

The thief snarled and released the young man, and with a quick slash and a spurt of crimson, Valacirca lay on the ground with a gash in his chest. Tiunelu's eyes widened in horror as Merrigold gave a muffled scream, and the three other thieves took a step away from their captain. The man stamped on the wizard's chest and pinned him under his foot, no remorse in his eyes, pressing blood out of the cut and onto his boot. "And just who exactly is your grandfather, boy? Was he a thief and liar as well, or is he merely a well rehearsed story?"

Merrigold managed to get her gag off of her mouth and twisted over to see her brother, tears streaming from her eyes. "Let him go! Our grandfather is Cenelem of the House of Fillbrick! We are children of Númenor! Please! He's not lying! Please don't kill him!"

The man froze, and, slowly, he turned to the girl, his eyes wide with shock. He removed his bloody foot from Valacirca's chest, and his sword hung uselessly in his numb hand. His mouth moved but no words were heard, and eventually he stuttered out, "W-what did you say?"

Merrigold continued to sob as she looked at him, her face stained with tears. "Our father is Denelem son of Cenelem, we have fled after our home was destroyed and our family killed. Please don't hurt him…" she hung her head, tears falling to the earth, "He's all I have left…"

The thief marched over to her and knelt down, gently lifting her head to inspect her. As his face drew closer to hers, he saw within her features the signs of the House of Fillbrick. Her relatively square shaped face, deep brown eyes, and brunette locks were all he needed to see to know that she spoke the truth. Without taking his eyes off her, the man said, "Valima, heal the boy. Soos, Robbie, give these three back their possessions. Now."

"What? But boss-"

The captain whipped around and held the rogue by the collar of his shirt. "I said now!" he snarled, and he released the man, who tripped as he scrambled to fulfill his orders. The man bent down to release Merrigold's bonds, his eyes still full of with wonder. He unsheathed a small knife that hung on his belt and cut the ropes that bound her, pulling her to her feet. The woman in green, Valima, if Merrigold got her name right, leapt over the fire like a deer and bent down to attend to Valacirca's wound.

The thief's leader put his hands on Merrigold's shoulders, his face overwhelmed with emotion. "Cenelem, Carlama, your parents, they're all dead?"

Merrigold squirmed in his grip, trying to get to her brother, but she became petrified when she saw the horror and sorrow in the man's eyes, tears beginning to well in those orbs. She looked up at him, towering a head over her, and sniffed, "Y-yes."

The man wailed and wrapped his arms around Merrigold, his trembling form shaking her entire body. The rest of the band around the fire stopped what they were doing and stared. The three other rogues seemed quite shocked by this odd display of emotion. Clearly, this behavior was not normal for their captain.

Eventually, the man let Merrigold go and faced her again, his eyes bloodshot from repressed tears. "And why are you two out here?" he whispered, "Why did Cenelem send you into the wild?"

She stared at him, and replied, "He sent us to find our great-uncle Ceneli. We were told he lives not far from the Icebay, but, why would a thief like you care?"

She saw an annoyed expression on his face, the same expression Cenelem made whenever he had to explain something quite simple to the farm hands twice. "Because I am Ceneli, brother of Cenelem. I am the one you've sought."

Valacirca coughed, trying to lay perfectly still as the woman tended to his wound. He could only make out some sobs and whispers through the pain, but most of his sister's conversation with the man was lost to him. He vaguely heard the man start crying, but the rest of it was all hasty murmurs. He looked up at the hooded figure over him, trying to make out her face in the shadows. She turned her head towards his own, and in the faint light he saw her give a small smile.

"It's not that deep, you know. I've seen the old guy do much worse. He's the type to stab first and then ask questions." She chuckled to herself at this, and helped him sit up. "You should be fine in a few days, we just need those bandages to set in."

"Thanks," Valacirca said gruffly, "Though I would have appreciated not getting cut in…the…first," his mouth failed him as the woman drew back her hood, her beauty rendering the man mute.

Her face was heart-shaped and pale, with a spray of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Her skin was like white marble, and her emerald eyes were framed by locks of red hair that stretched down to her waist. She wore a wool hat on her head, and Valacirca suspected the ear flaps covered the points that would mark her as an Eldar. She was clad in greens and browns, and a great ax hung from her belt. Light green armor glinted in the fire's dancing glow, and her hands, though strong and scarred, were gently formed. Valacirca tried to speak, but all that came to him was a small squeaking noise in his throat. The elf raised a hand to her mouth as she laughed, amused by the wizard's distress.

"You know," she said, helping him to his feet and handing him his staff, "I would have assumed that you would be far less shocked at seeing an elf, given that you've been traveling with a Noldo!"

Valacirca's response dissolved into more stutters as the elf yawned, eyeing a somewhat smooth rock. "Eh, don't sweat it, kid," she sat down near the fire with her hands behind her head, stretching her legs to warm her feet. "By the sound of it, you'll be with us for some time…"

The wizard's voice returned to him as he stared at her in confusion, and started to say, "What do you-," but he was cut off by a pair of arms crushing his ribcage and threatening to re-open his wound.

"CIRCA! IT'S GREAT-UNCLE CENELI! YOU GOT US TO HIM!" His sister's jubilation would have shattered the eardrums of the regular person, but, having lived with the maiden's shrieks of joy for nigh twenty years, Valacirca no longer suffered the effects of the cacophony. "Merrigold…my..ribs," his grunt of pain was missed by his sister, but soon enough she released him and ran over to hug the older man. "This is Grunkle Ceneli, Circa!"

The older man looked surprised at the portmanteau word assigned to him as a title, but he smiled apologetically at his great nephew. "Sorry about the gash, kid. That thing is…pretty special to the family," he scratched the back of his head nervously, his eyes staring at the ground, "It's particularly important to me."

Valacirca could only stare at the man as he stepped forward, struggling to comprehend what was happening. After a quick inspection, he saw the man's resemblance to Cenelem. He was tall, not much taller than Valacirca or Merrigold, but the three of them were taller than most Edain. His long brown hair fell to his shoulders, and it was wildly unkept. His shoulders were broad, and his arms slightly long for his body. His jaw was flat and covered by a brown beard, and his nose lumpy and shaped like a small potato. His brown eyes squinted at him, almost as if he were struggling to see, and his exceedingly large ears stuck off the sides of his head like wings. His clothes were mostly red, but he wore an elegant black traveling cloak, and his shirt was white under his mail. He stuck out a scarred, weathered hand to his nephew. "Can you forgive me for that, kid?"

The wizard took his uncle's hand, still watching him with disbelief. Ceneli's eyes darted around the fire, struggling to choose what to say next. "Well…" he clapped his hands together and bit his lip, "I guess some introductions are in order. You two know me, I guess, but let's have you meet the team."

"This is Valima," he gestured to the elf on his right, "She and I met up about twenty-ish years ago. You're a," he looked at her quizzically, "Sindar, right?"

"Yep," Valima nodded, her flowing red hair looking like the flames that shined light onto her, "Used to be part of Thranduil's army. Left when he went 'Dwarf Crazy'." She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at this, muttering "That guy was always kind of a freak…"

"Couldn't agree more. Anyway, that's Soos over there," he pointed at the hobbit who had pulled a loaf of bread from his pocket and was gnawing on it hungrily. He looked up and said with a full mouth, "'Sup, Dudes!" Ceneli rolled his eyes as the twins waved back, returning Soos's smile.

"I met with him closer to five years ago after something went down in the Shire. He came up north, met us, and is the best cook and repair guy west of the Misty Mountains."

Soos smiled sheepishly. "Aw, Mr. C, you don't have to say all that! I just help where I can."

"Why'da leave the Shire?" Merrigold immediately wished she hadn't asked, seeing Valima shake her head so hard that it may fall off and Soos's expression fall.

"Lot's of bad things happened in the Shire, dude. Mayor Whitfoot was kicked out by Lotho Sackville-Baggins, rude big folks started coming in from the west, all the trees were being reduced to kindling…" Tears began to well in his eyes, but he shook his head and smiled at them, "But now that I'm here with Mr. C, I get to see the trees and fix stuff! I have a whole new family!"

Valacirca noted how forced the hobbit's smile became, but knew it would be better to let the subject rest. He turned to the black-cloaked rogue, who was now seated by the fire, plucking at the lute he pulled off his back. The man did not look up at them, but began to strum a grandiloquent tune, an arrogant look on his face. "And who are you?"

The man looked up, his pale face covered in stubble and greasy black locks. His eyes were shallow and his face pointed, but he looked at the wizard with a smirk. "The name's Neitha—"

"Your name's Robbie, kid. Stop trying to make yourself more interesting than you deserve."

Robbie glared at Ceneli and stood up, setting down his lute. "Last time I checked, old man, if it weren't for me, you'd have an orc dagger three inches into your neck."

"And I let you tag along with me in thanks, a decision I'm starting to regret because of your endless whining. Now knock it off and go get the cart."

Robbie grumbled as he stalked off into the woods, branches cracking under his feet. Ceneli turned away from watching him leave and back to his twins. "Ok, I believe you two about being Denelem's kids, but I still don't actually know your names, or Goldie-Locks over there either." He sat down by the fire, ignoring the Noldo's scoff and gesturing for them to sit next to him.

Valacirca and Merrigold took his offer and settled near the fire, Merrigold lying on her side with her head in her brother's lap.

"My birth name is Genelem, but for many years I have been called 'Valacirca'. This is my twin sister, Merrigold,"

"Hello again!"

"Merrigold!"

"I'm sorry! I'm just happy we're finally done traveling!"

"Let me finish!"

Ceneli chuckled at the twin's exchange. Given their speech patterns and appearances, there was no shadow of doubt that they truly were his kin.

"Alright, kid, but why are you called 'Valacirca?' Was the family name too annoying?" He laughed at his nephew's expression, "I don't blame you if it's true!"

Valacirca sighed, and pushed his bangs up, revealing his birthmark. He saw Ceneli and Valima's eyes widen at the sight, and Soos said, "Dude, totally rad tattoo."

"It's not a tattoo," The wizard replied, not sure how exactly the three would respond to his tale, "Lady Varda put this mark on me about five years ago and gave me this staff. She did not say for what I was to use it, but she confirmed Cenelem's orders to meet you."

The older man's eyes were wide at this, and he slowly blinked, trying to process what his nephew said. Eventually, he spoke hesitantly, with an edge of suspicion, "Are you sure this was Varda?"

Valacirca was taken aback. No "You're crazy" or "Yeah right! And I'm Elros!", just a simple question. "Uh… yes."

"Hear me again, boy," Ceneli's eyes were fearful, and Valacirca felt Merrigold squirm some, "Are you one-hundred percent certain that this really was Varda, Queen of the Stars, and not some yahoo lady playing with your head?"

Valacirca tried to speak, but Ceneli had a point. He had no proof that it was Varda, besides her word itself, but that would not satisfy the warrior. He opened his mouth, trying to find some sort of answer, but a voice cut across him. "He speaks the truth, Edain, and I can confirm this."

Valacirca whipped his head to look at Tiunelu, who had drawn all eyes to herself. She looked at them haughtily, putting her diamond earrings back on, and then fixing her make-up with a small mirror.

"Oh yeah, Blondie?" Ceneli growled, not caring to be called Edain as if it were an insult, "And who are you to confirm all this?"

Tiunelu placed her mirror down and returned the man's glare. "I will have you know that I am Tiunelu, daughter of Precoth Fornumen. I am a Noldo who has seen two ages of the Sun pass. I exceed all of you in wisdom, knowledge, and skill."

Ceneli rolled his eyes and Valima groaned. "Ugh, Noldo, have you even held a weapon?" Valima grumbled, "You don't strike me as the person whose ever had to get their hands dirty."

Tiunelu smirked and said, "Why fight with a blade when one has magic?"

She opened her mouth and began to sing. The song was beautiful. It sounded like the voices of a nightingale and a thrush woven together, a song of joy and splendor. The fire danced in great shapes, images of horses and eagles forming in the flames. Great spires rose and fell in the red tongues, and the moon and stars shone brighter in the skies above. However, it brought no comfort to the party. It filled them with strength, but the strength was proud and dangerous, the type of strength that could lead one to overconfidence. It made them feel less sure in their own powers and spirits, beginning themselves to believe that the Noldor and Noldor only were the greatest Children of Illúvatar.

Soon, the song ended. The flames returned to their natural state, and all let out a sigh of relief. Tiunelu's face was gloating, pleased with ending the argument before any could stand against her. She smiled at Ceneli, who merely growled.

"Fine then," he muttered, "You're hot stuff. But how do you know he's actually serving Varda?"

The elf glared at him, loosing her patience with the Dúnedain. "I have my ways of knowing, thief," she put as much venom as possible into the final word, "Do you still wish to question me?"

Her only response was a round of glares from all others present, and Ceneli turned to Valacirca. "Sheesh, kid, how'd you get stuck with this one?"

The man pinched the bridge of his nose, beginning to grow weary from lack of sleep. "It's a long story…"

"Hmph," Ceneli grunted, "We've got all night kid, you can get some sleep on the road." With that, deep lowing and heavy footfalls were heard, and Robbie returned leading a large wagon pulled by two huge oxen. "You can hop in the cart tomorrow, I promise I won't slit you're throat!" He chuckled at this and pulled a pipe from his pocket. My pipe, Valacirca noted, but it was returned to him lit and full of smoking leaf.

Ceneli smiled and looked at him expectantly, Soos and Valima scooting closer to hear the wizard.

Valacirca sighed, taking the offered pipe. "Alright," he muttered, "Here we go." He told them their tale until the Moon and stars slipped out of the sky, and the Sun rose over the horizon.

Notes:

First of all, thank you all for reading! I really appreciate all of your feedback!

One quick thing about Ceneli, he is pushing seventy in this story, but since he is a Dúnedain, he looks like Stan when Stan had the mullet. I hope that helps you all picture him.

Review Replies:

Batwizard15: I hope I helped clear things up! I do have more reasons why this is Fourth Age rather than earlier, but those come into play much later. Thank you for noticing my hiccup (I really need to make sure that it doesn't continue)! Just to be clear, this is definitely five years after the fall of Bara-dûr, but again, thank you for noticing that mistake! Regarding Galadriel, she did at very least with-hold the information about the Oath, Kin-slaying, and ship-burning from Melian, so I figured it wouldn't be hard for Pacifica to hear about Galadriel's account, and make her own assumptions and mix them with what her father said. Pacifica hasn't seen Galadriel since the dawn of the Second Age, and by that time all the other elves assumed she knew the truth, as well as no one ever liked to bring it up in conversation. And, in regards to Gideon, shhhhhhhhhhh.

I hope this helped clear it up! Thank you for the reviews!