A.N./ I know I haven't updated in a while, and I'm sooo sorry! Pneumonia's over with, and now I'm stuck with make up work. Many thanks to my beta Rae Simmons! Please review! And now, without further ado, I present to you chapter six!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. If you want proof, see chapter one.


Apsenniel had refused to leave his side, and now, two days later, a healer was ushering her out to bathe and get some rest.

"But, Lord Nestor...my brother..." she pleaded.

The healer stood firm as the trees surrounding them.

"My Lady Apsenniel, you must get rest. He shall not be any different. I promise you. Will you go now?"

She raised her chin and blasted, "For over a week, I have been worried sick over him and another, and the worst has finally come to pass. I promised him that I would never leave his side until he was better-"

"He was unconscious! Lord Vanafindon never agreed to it. He did not even know you uttered it at all!" Nestor was beyond vexed. Honestly, who could understand ellith?! Bloody impossible, a whole different species. A whole different race!

"I do not go back on my promises, whether the person I made them to was conscious or not," she stated with quiet vehemence.

"That is it," Nestor decided. "I am taking you to the bath houses myself, and then I am dragging you by the tip of your pointed ear to your talan, where I shall sit on your chest until you either pass out from asphyxiation, or you decide to stop being stubborn and fall asleep."

All she could do was stare in open-mouthed shock.

"You would not!"

"Oh yes I would. And I shall."

Nestor threw a squirming Apsenniel over his shoulder and carried her throughout the city to the bath houses, where he unceremoniously dumped her on the ground.

"Go. Bathe. Now," Nestor ordered, pointing to the door.

"Fine." Apsenniel stomped away, dusting off the back of her gown. Her fury was so great, as well as the humiliation of being carried thus, that her grief was momentarily forgotten. As she stepped into the pool of comfortably warm water, a voice brought her out of her violently red thoughts.

"Ah, Lady Apsenniel. How nice of you to join us this morn."

Looking up, she saw a fair skinned elleth whose silvery blonde tresses were swirling in the clear blue waters around her shoulders.

"Lady Celephindes. I did not see you there. Forgive me, my mind was elsewhere."

"Forgiven." The elf-maid smiled lightly and said, "I have heard that your brother is among the severely injured. How does he fare?"

Sighing, Apsenniel replied, "Well enough, I suppose. I know that it could have been much, much worse, but I still wish that it had not happened at all."

"Everyone wishes that when such things happen to their beloved. But he is strong. After all, he serves almost directly under Lord Haldir. He has to be, for that position. Not to mention, Lord Haldir would murder him if he did not pull through. Lord Vanafindon will recover. It may take time, but this, I can promise you. Before the month is out, he shall be up and walking, and giving you grief once more."

"More so, to make up for lost time. I fear I shall never leave the kitchens once he is well enough..."

Sighing, Apsenniel allowed her head to fall back against a moss-covered rock, and settled deeper into the water.

"This is brilliant. Just brilliant. Exactly what I needed right now."

"I fail to discover any difference between sarcasm and genuine feeling."

"I apologise, I was just thinking aloud, Lady Celephindes."

"Ah."

Celephindes returned to musing over her own thoughts again, looking over at the yellow haired elf-maid only once or twice more before dragging herself out of the bathing pool.

"I shall see you soon, Lady Apsenniel. Until then, do take care."

"Thank you, and you as well, Lady Celephindes. Thank you for your kind words."

"Anything for a friend," she said, threw on her grey cloak over her matching gown, and strode off out the door.

Apsenniel was left staring after the tall, graceful elleth.

'I hardly speak with her, and yet she calls me friend? I have a friend!'

"Really now, Apsenniel," she reprimanded herself out loud. "You sound like a child. Stop this nonsense."


Once her hair was toweled off, her gown of two days was placed on, and her slippers(she hadn't changed into normal shoes before running off to be with her brother) were back on her feet, Apsenniel headed out of the bath house, and slammed into Nestor.

"Ai, Elbereth!" she gasped, waving her arms to regain her balance.

"I apologise. Are you alright?"

"Aye. I am fine. I am sorry if I managed to break any of your ribs, Lord Nestor."

Raising a brow, he said, "You would know if you had, my lady. Now, you are to go straight up to your talan and rest. Am I clear?"

"I can sleep just as easily in the chair I have been sleeping in for the past two days as I can in my own bed. You shall not change my mind on this. I promise you that, my lord."

Nestor narrowed his eyes at her, but finally relented.

"As you wish, my lady. Who am I to deny you?"

He followed her as she walked toward the Houses of Healing situated on the forest floor, as it was much easier for those severely wounded to be cared for, and received in time, than to have to be carried up flights and flights of stairs.

"Just do not throw me over your shoulder again any time soon, and we shall not have a quarrel between us."

The only response she received was a grunt.

"Wait. Were you out there the entire time?" she said slowly, spinning around to look at him.

"Yes. Why?"

"You did not even have the decency to allow me some privacy?" Apsenniel all but screeched.

"I was not in the bath house with you, if I recall. That is privacy, no?"

Obviously, Nestor just didn't understand that when a female needed her privacy, it meant to keep a fifty foot radius between the door and yourself. Of course, if you chose to stand farther back, there would be no complaints either.

Fuming, she ground out, "No, it is not. There was only a thin plank of wood keeping me separated from you. That. Is. Not. Privacy."

"Yes it is."

"No, it is not."

"Yes it is."

"No, it is not."

Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"YES!"

"Ai! I shall not get in an argument like this with you."

"Only because you know I shall win, my lady."

"Nay, I shall. And, you sound like the brothers of Lord Haldir."

That shut him up. After a stilted, "I do not", he strode far ahead of her, opened the door, and shut himself inside of the house, leaving her to tug on the locked door, then search for another way in when he refused to answer.


So it was, when Lord Celeborn passed by, that he saw a wriggling rear attempting to disappear through a window, accompanied with kicking legs, swears, and an overturned bucket.

"Ahm...having fun?"

"EEP! Ai, Elbereth Gilthoniel!" Apsenniel cried out as she fell out of the narrow window.

"Ah. I was wondering whose leg those were," Celeborn stated as calmly as if they were talking about the mildness of the weather, even though it was always mild in Lothlórien.

"Lord Celeborn! I am so sorry! I did not mean..." Apsenniel stuttered, looking absolutely mortified. In fact, she wanted nothing more than for a hole to open up in the ground at her feet and swallow her up.

"My child, was there a reason for attempting to worm your way through the window of one of the Houses of Healing, or was it purely on a whim?" Wisely, he kept the grin attempting to flit its way across his face at bay until he could safely let it out at a very far distance. Very far.

"W-w-w-well, the d-door was locked, a-and I found the window slightly open, so..." Groaning, she buried her flaming face in her hands. "I was attempting to see my brother." There, she said it. No stuttering, no nothing. Well, maybe it was a little muffled...but he could hear. Oi.

Looking pensive, the elf lord said, "Your brother is Lord Vanafindon?"

"Aye, that is he."

"How is he faring?" Celeborn was genuinely curious, since Vanafindon was an excellent warden, and almost next-in-command, should anything happen to Haldir. Which, of course, would be a horrible thing in itself, for none could compare to that terribly devoted, cantankerous old elf who had worked over two thousand years to ensure the safety of Lórien's inhabitants.

"Well enough, I suppose, my lord. He is still unconscious, and that worries me, though Lord Nestor said he would be fine. After all, I do not see any serious injuries on him!" "Yet," she mumbled as an afterthought.

"Yet?" Celeborn asked with a smirk.

"I have not found an entirely plausible reason for doing so at the moment, but I shall endeavour to continue my search with the utmost urgency."

"Very well then. I shall leave you to worm your way through the window. My lady wife is calling for me. Should I erm...warn Lord Nestor?"

Apsenniel shook her head. "Nay, my lord. I heard he is fond of surprises."

He threw back his head and laughed, then winced at the particularly loud bellow Galadriel aimed at him telepathically. "I am already running two minutes late. I swear, they are perfectly fine until you marry them."

Apsenniel waited until he was farther away before she launched herself at the window again.

"Should have brought that pat of butter. My hips will not fit," she mumbled, squirming.

"Ai!" With a loud thump, she fell onto the floor. "Well!"

Nestor's head poked around the corner.

"YOU! How did you get in here?" As his grey eyes drifted toward the open window, she scurried around him and into her spot by Vanafindon's bed.

"What do you mean, Lord Nestor? I have never left this spot. You must be hallucinating from the long hours of caring for the wounded here."

The look of pure, angelic innocence she shot him grated on his nerves.

"You are so lucky I must change the bandages for Lord Iorthondir. His leg wound has reopened." Nestor started to move away, then stopped. "On second thought, my lady. I could use your assistance."

Apsenniel paled at the odd gleam in Nestor's deep grey eyes.


Haldir dragged himself at the forefront of the ragtag group of elves returning from the now-over battle. It had lasted for over a week, and he himself had hardly gotten over six hours of rest total-arrows, though they had found their mark with deadly accuracy immediately, were quickly spent, and until one could avoid missiles hurling through the air to replenish their quiver, hand to hand combat was the next step. After all, battles like this were not won by sitting in trees. Orcs could climb.

As they neared the gate on the north side of the city, Haldir felt his spirits lift considerably. Next to him, he noted Orophin stumbling along with his arm in a blood-stained sling.

"How fare you, brother?" he croaked.

Orophin blinked, shook himself out of the daze he was in, and replied, "Spiffy. You?"

"I shall be, once I bathe. After days of being in the same dirty, bloodied clothes, whether the gore be your own, or that of an orc, you tend to smell."

"Aye, and you smell worst out of all the rest."

Haldir looked at him incredulously. "I do not! I smell just as bad as any of you!" He mock-sniffed the air around Orophin and truly tried not to gag, but of course, it was simply too foul.

"I am very sure you are not a sweet pansy, or elanor, for that matter, my dear younger brother."

"Well, you smell like a rotting fish!"

"You smell like a rotting orc!"

Orophin stopped to think for a moment. "You smell like a rotting orc rubbed with a dead fish that was left to ferment out in the desert sun for three days. There."

Haldir blinked, then burst out laughing. "I hope the bath houses are empty. I do not wish for the noses of those still in Lórien to be offended."

"True, brother of mine. Very true. I wonder how Vanafindon fares."

"I wonder as well. Not to mention Lady Apsenniel. She must have been distraught."

"Well, I am sure she was! He was in a horrible way, though it could have been worse."

"How?" For some reason, Haldir was not entirely sure he wanted to know.

"He could have ended up looking like you."

Growling, Haldir said through clenched teeth, "If you had the use of two arms, I would punch you for that."

"I still have two legs."

"Good. Use them to run away." They passed through the opened gates to the sound of cheering a shouts of relief, mostly from the females.

"I am gladdened by this, brother, but one thing concerns me."

"Oh?" Orophin said. "And what would that be?"

"Apsenniel is nowhere in sight."


"Now, Apsenniel. Hold his leg still while I finish the stitches. He might feel some sensitivity there, even though I bathed the area liberally with the water I boiled athelas in. If he is in pain, soothe him as best you can. Distract him. Sing a song, tell a story, recite a poem, what ever it is you wish. But do not let go of that leg. Do you understand?" Nestor asked her in all seriousness.

"Yes, my lord. I understand. But...the sight of blood does not sit well with me..."

"As long as you do not pass out or vomit, it will be fine for now. Close your eyes. Just do not let go."

Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded instead.

As they moved into the next room, she risked a glance over at the bed. A pale-faced ellon lay there amid a swath of white, fluffy sheets and poofy pillows. His hair was long and a beautiful, rich blonde, and pooled behind his head, trickling over his shoulders like molten rivers of sunrise gold. Grey eyes stared out the window, but turned to look at them both when they entered.

"Lord Nestor. I see you have come to mend up my leg again. Unfortunately, it seems to be leaking a bit more."

"Really. How unfortunate. I shall have to have a look at that. This is my new assistant, Lady Apsenniel. She shall be keeping you company while I "mend" your leg for you again."

"Actually, I was commandeered. It is a great pleasure and honor to meet you, Lord Iorthondir. My brother has spoken very highly of you many times."

He gave her a piercing gaze. "You are the younger sister to Vanafindon, are you not? Aye, I can see the resemblance. Yes, he and I talk many a night on the borders when there is nothing to do. He is a very good friend of mine, and I would be very grieved if he were to pass on to the Halls of Mandos."

"I am gladdened to hear that. I would be most upset myself if that were to come to pass. Thank you, my lord." Apsenniel took her place, and knelt on the floor, her eyes fixed on the bandage gently being cut away by Nestor' large, capable hands. Even lying down, you could tell immediately that Iorthondir was immensely tall, like the old pines in Greenwood, or Fangorn.

'He must have some Vanyarin descent,' she marveled. He looked to be taller than Haldir, who was Telerin, like Lord Celeborn, and the majority of those in Lothlórien. She herself had a half Telerin mother, and a Telerin father. Her mother's father had been Noldorin, and one of the Calaquendi.

"Does this hurt you?" Nestor asked him, startling Apsenniel out of her thoughts.

"Nay, Lord Nestor. If it hurt me, my foot would be in your gut."

"Even so, I shall have Lady Apsenniel hold your leg steady. I know that you have been lying still for quite some time, and the muscles tend to twitch and spasm when that happens. It is the same when you sleep. Lady Apsenniel?" he gestured to where she was supposed to hold, and went to prepare the needle.

Slipping cool, white hands onto the pale skin of his calf, Apsenniel tried not to look at the gruesome gash that curved up to his thigh.

"Where else are you injured, if you do not mind me asking?" she said quietly.

"A sword wound to the chest, and an arrow in the arm. Naturally, out most talented Nestor the Noldo removed the poison in time, so there was no need to amputate. I am just unable to move it now for a week, to allow for tissue repairs and other such things like that."

"Ah." Apsenniel glanced over her shoulder to see if the dark-haired, broad-shouldered elf was ready yet. "Do you know if the Marchwarden is alright? Or any of his brothers?" She tried to make the question seem as if it were nothing to her other than passing concern, but she was certain his keen, penetrating eyes could see through her.

"No. No one was able to escape this battle physically unscathed. Nor mentally either, I presume. This was our worst yet, since the end of the First Age. Haldir remembers that one well. He was still a young warden then. As was I. You do not want the details of that one."

"Was it larger?" she asked fearfully.

"Aye."

His eyes followed the progress of the needle once the stitches were removed, his leg never once moving.

"Thank you for keeping my leg steady, Lady Apsenniel. You are very pleasant," he said, once it was re-bandaged.

She knew that he could have kept his leg still on his own, and did, but she accepted his thanks anyway.

"Of course, Lord Iorthondir. Anything to help."

Loud noises from outside reached their ears, causing some of the healthier patients to raise their heads.

"I do believe that the wardens have returned. And with them, Haldir is surely to be in the front," Iorthondir said, smiling. "Would that I were able to get out of this bed so I could greet them myself."

"I shall be back in but a moment, my lord. I must see to my brother."

"Of course. You need not stay with an old oaf like me. Go on."

"You are not an oaf, my lord, forgive me for saying. But thank you. If you need me, I will come."

She sank into the chair next to her brother's bed and held his hand. It was cold, and had been since he had been brought to the city for healing. She wished that he would wake up-his blank stare at the ceiling had her thinking thoughts of death, and of the one elf she had seen laying there with that horrible milky film over his light eyes. What had his name been? Ah yes, Pelilas. He was a merry one, with bright, shining eyes filled with mirth, and his cheeks apple red from the wind, and laughing all the time. The door opened, but Apsenniel was to deep in thought to notice.

"My lady," a deep, raspy voice said through the silence.

Apsenniel whirled around, unable to believe it.

"Haldir..." she breathed. "You are here!"

"Am I not?" Shutting the door behind himself, he said, "Orophin and Rúmil shall be along in but a moment. They are finishing up in the bath houses as we speak. How does Vanafindon fare?"

She shrugged. "Well enough, I suppose, my lord. He has been this way since he was brought." She wanted to be angry with him, oh yes, she did! Furious, even! But, seeing him there, so pale, weary, and utterly spent, not to mention haunted by the battle, she did not have the heart to torment him more than he had already seen and experienced on the fences.

"How badly are you injured?"

"I think I have a broken rib or eight, I do not know. Also, my side was opened up like a fish on the butcher block, with various cuts, scrapes, and bruises elsewhere. Orophin has a useless arm. It was broken in several places and completely mangled-it shall not have to be amputated though, the healers there made sure of it. It only happened today. One of the orcs was still alive. We did not know it until he, my brother, I mean, shouted. I feel guilty about it...if only I had seen...I could have..."

Apsenniel laid a hand on his arm, stopping him from continuing.

"Lord Haldir, you could not have prevented it from happening even if you tried. This was Fate. Everything happens for a reason. You do not think that Eru just left us to our own devices after the first elves awoke in Cuiviénen, do you? Of course not. And the Valar chose to stay with us until the end of Aman to aide us in whatever way they will. We are not alone in this, Haldir. Please. Confide in me whenever you feel the need. I will understand."

"How can you understand when you never had to watch the life leave the eyes of your best friend? You have never had to tell their family that they have left this world for the Halls of Mandos. You never saw the atrocities of war, be it in the treetops or on the battlefield. You cannot understand, Apsenniel!" he shouted.

The raw pain in his eyes pierced her to her core. She felt the swirling emotions whirl up inside her, and the itch foretelling the coming tears.

"Lord Haldir, I am sorry that you must experience this. You know I would do anything in my power to help take the pain away."

"Nothing can take the pain away, my lady. It becomes easier to bear, with time, of course. But it never goes away, no."

"Well, I can at least make you some pie."

"Blueberry, please?" he asked, looking up hopefully.

"Of course. All the blueberry pie your belly can hold. Vanafindon will be so sore about this if he wakes up," she smiled.

"When he wakes up. You said if."

"I know."


Celephindes was wandering amongst the roots of the great mellyrn trees near the center of the city. Stopping along a great mossy rock, she sat down, and pondered over the meeting she had with Lady Apsenniel. Sh genuinely liked her, she just never saw her enough to get to know her better. Of course, she could get directions to her talan, but something told her a visit like that would startle rather than reassure the timid creature.

'What to do, oh what to do?" she thought out loud wildly. A sound brought her out of her reverie.

"Lady Galadriel. Good morn." She stood up and curtsied.

"And to you, Lady Celephindes. Your mind is very busy, child."

Taking the initiative, she spoke. "Aye, my lady. It is very. Lady Apsenniel is an enigma to me. I cannot understand her. Why is she so timid? When I told her I was her friend, she looked as if she had fallen from the tip of the tallest mallorn so large was her surprise! Has she no trust in anyone?"

"Not so much for anyone she does not know. The kitchen staff adore her, and she them, but only because she has been around them for years and years. She is incredibly shy around our Marchwarden. Give it time. She will come around in the not so distant future."

Galadriel walked off, leaving Celephindes alone.


Haldir, meanwhile, had been forced by an irate Nestor to lay back on one of the squishy white beds while he healed his ribs, gash, and other injuries to the best of his ability. Apsenniel had been sent out of the Houses of Healing completely, since he had been flocked by the more severely injured of the just returning border guards, Orophin included. The other healers, Dúreth and Merethor, were there, scrambling from one room to another. Merethor was similar to Pelilas, always laughing and jesting with the patients to take their minds from the pain. He was of Noldorin descent as well, and so he had the traditional deep black hair with grey eyes.

Dúreth was a different story. She was quick and practical, smiled little, and joked less. It did not prevent her from talking, of course, for she would always tell the patients their diagnoses, but she just didn't partake in that activity much. By choice, of course. She really was quite pleasant once you got her to come out of her shell a little more.

As one of the Teleri, Dúreth had silvery blonde hair that went to her hips, always brushed perfectly and braided back just so to keep from getting into her eyes, which were a precise shade of slate grey-blue. She always thought those elves that were born with a variation of grey eyes, like that gorgeous grey-blue the Marchwarden had, or even the odd, smoky grey-brown she saw in Rivendell several times was much better than the usual grey, grey, grey, and more grey.

Rúmil, the least severely wounded of the three, and the most jolly, found himself under the care of Dúreth.

"Ahh...well hello there!" he said, attempting to keep the dismay off his face.

"Good day, Lord Rúmil. If you can, remove your tunics," Dúreth said in a brusque monotone.

"Erm...my what? Why?"

Raising a stern brow, she stated, "You are not to be getting any ideas into that thick skull of yours. I must look you over. If you are too injured to remove it, then I shall have to do it for you."

"Look me over, eh? Well then, I am in quite a bit of pain. Would you mind ah...doing the honors?"

He grinned over her shoulders at Orophin, who was staring at him incredulously.

"I cannot believe you," he mouthed, shaking his head.

"I did not wish to have to cut away this tunic. I shall do so at the seams so it may be repaired."

"Cut away, my lady," he said flippantly.

He steadfastly kept his gaze away from Orophin, who was trying wildly to grab his attention over Merethor's back. As Dúreth bent to get a small pair of silver scissors, Rúmil allowed his gaze to wander over her tall, willowy frame.

"It appears," she said, her voice muffled while she pulled the last of the fabric away, "that you have cracked several ribs. Not to mention, you have a good sized scrape along your hip and side. Is it painful?" she asked, prodding at the edges of red, irritated skin.

"It just happens to sting, but only when you poke it really really hard, just like that, Lady Dúreth. Nothing much at all though. No need to worry!"

"Sarcasm does not become you," she remarked dryly. "Trust you me."

"Ack! Get that needle out of my skin!"

"You are being such a child about all of this! Now, shut up, lest my needle slips, and you end up with it stuck in a not so pleasant place for either of us."

He gasped indignantly, but kept more still after that comment.


In the other room, an equally indignant Marchwarden was having his own gash sewn up.

"You best count your lucky stars that I do not know how to embroider, Marchwarden, otherwise you would find yourself with a lily stuck to your ribs!" Nestor warned.

"I have told you, my Lord Nestor, I. Am. Bloody. Fine!"

"Well, you are bloody, that is for certain. At least you had the decency to bathe. Though the smell could still be improved."

"So sorry for offending your olfactory senses in the aftermath of a week-long battle."

"You get more and more articulate the more irritated you become. Did you notice that, my friend? That was the most intelligent word I have heard out of your mouth all day."

Nestor avoided the death glare sent his way and continued his stitching.

"If you do not make that look good..."

"Is that a threat I hear?"

"Quite possibly. Ah! Watch that thing!" Haldir sent him a baleful grimace.

"Tsk tsk. You should have come to me right away on this. Not chatting with some timid elleth."

"Her brother was under my command. I felt responsible for at least giving her some reassurance. And she is definitely not timid."

"Whatever you say, Marchwarden."

"Yes, people tend to follow my orders."

"And patients tend to follow mine. Lay back, do not move, do not speak, and do not breathe. I need to get the athelas water and bandages."

"My favorite part. I get to dress up as my grandmother."

"Best not let her hear that," Nestor smirked.

"No, indeed!"


Apsenniel waited by her brother's side again, holding his cold, still hand and mulling over the thoughts in her head.

First, she goes and makes a fool of herself in front of Lord Haldir, all over a pot roast! Then, he almost kisses her, which, of course, she wouldn't have objected to, and lastly, her brother barges in and ruins everything between them. And now this?! Clearly, she was being punished by some Higher Power for some event in her life.

Apsenniel thought back to when she was an elfling. 'I remember that vase I broke. Naneth was in tears. Or, maybe it was the time when I stole the booklet Vanafindon had completed for his next lesson with his tutor and used it for my own stuffed bear...or maybe...'

She was pulled out of her useless mental ramblings at the feel of a slight squeeze on her hand.

"Oh, Vanafindon! You are awake!" she squealed.

"Aye, I am awake," he grumbled, screwing up his eyes. "Do not squeak so much!"

"I apologise. How do you feel? Does anything hurt? Are you dizzy? Light-headed? Sensitive to touch or sound?"

"How long have you been around Nestor for?" he asked, still looking extremely pale.

"You have utterly managed to avoid my questions, yet again. I have never left your side, other than the time Lord Nestor hauled me over his shoulder and carried me to the bath houses, and then locked the door on me, forcing me to crawl in through a window and back to this chair."

Vanafindon stared at her blankly. "I refuse to acknowledge that with anything...Actually, water would be nice, my sweetest sister in the entire blasted world. I am parched."

She scrambled to obey him. Grabbing the pitcher off the table on the other side of the small, white-walled room, she took up an earthenware goblet, filled it halfway, and held it against his lips.

"I thank you most profusely for that, dearest sister of mine. You are, by far, my favorite."

"I am your only sister, Vanafindon. And I thank the Valar every day that no one else is put through the same things you put me through."

He laughed quietly, and winced. "Oh really? Is that so? I had no idea I was really that bad."

"You are," she agreed. "Trust me, you are."


Translations:

Nestor-Healer

Celephindes-Silver haired woman

Iorthondir-Old pine

Pelilas-Fading leaf

Merethor-Joyous brother

Dureth-Somber one


I hope you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it! Please leave me reviews. It makes me feel a lot better. Thanks!