Chapter Thirty-Eight

~ Haldir ~
Everything was groggy around me, and that was the strangest sensation I had ever felt.

As Elves rarely got drunk or were drugged or – well, in the last 3000 or so years anyways – captured and knocked out, we rarely were forced to undergo the feeling of groggy and half-awake. Men did sometimes when they woke up too early, but of course the sleep of Men was not the same as the sleep of the Eldar. Nor were our dreams were the same, but that was a completely different matter, of course.

With a great deal of effort, I forced my eyes open. Thankfully, even though I felt groggy, the world wasn't hazy around me.

Slowly, I flexed first my fingers and then my wrists and then my arms. They seemed to be fine. Then I slowly moved my legs, reassuring myself that they too were fine. They were – which was strange, as I remembered the blinding pain coming from about where my spine would be, and that would have disabled my ability to walk completely.

But then again, I was also alive, and the blow should have also severed my ability to live as well.

And yet it had not.

I wondered at it momentarily before sitting up. I braced myself for pain – but none came. Raising a hand, I ran my fingers over my neck where the axe had hit me, but there was not even the faintest of scars to show it had landed.

Either something very strange and very unnatural has happened, or I have already passed into the Halls of Mandos.

Then I turned, and the next sight drove that thought completely out of my mind.

A young woman stood near the door, still and silent as she looked out the window. Long dark hair, darker than the shadows of twilight and at once more lovely, rippled unbound down her back. Her eyes were grey at the starlit evening. Her long gown was the same silver blue color as the unclouded heavens. She was slender and graceful and the most beautiful creature I had ever seen in my entire life – which was saying something, as I was not young even by the standards of my people. In her face, there was a shining light that I was certain would have outshone the stars.

At first, I could barely open my mouth.

Then, as Beren had ere the Elder Days, I cried, "Tinúviel, Tinúviel!"

I had to be in the Hall of Mandos, dreaming, for this creature of such loveliness and grace and glory could be none other than Lúthien Tinúviel herself.

And then the woman turned, and she smiled. "Why do you call me by that name?"

Her voice was as beautiful as she – but in it I heard the qualities of the Atani. She was no Elf, even though she very likely had Elvish blood. But her voice was not as musical as my kindred. In other words, she was not Lúthien Tinúviel.

Slightly embarrassed, I replied, "Because I believed you to be indeed Lúthien Tinúviel. But if you are not she, then you walk in her likeness."

She nodded slowly. "So many have said," she said gently. "Yet her name, and her doom, is not mine."

"Who are you?" I asked finally, cautiously.

"I am the daughter of Lord Elessar, and am named Tinúviel," she answered gravely.

"Often it is seen," I said slowly, wondering how to phrase my thoughts, "that in dangerous days, men hide their chief treasure. Yet I marvel at Lord Elessar; for though I have met him and came across the camps of the Dúnedain, I have heard no word of you. How comes it that the world knows not of you, and that we have not met? Surely your father has not kept you locked in his hoard?"

"No," she said, and her sigh was the sigh of the cool mist of dawn as she returned her gaze to the window. "I have dwelt for a time in the land of Fangorn, and I have but lately returned to my Chieftain's side. It is many years since I last walked in the camps of the Dúnedain."

"I am sorry."

She turned to face me completely, compassion and gentleness in her eyes. "Do not be. You are not the first to mistake me as my ancestor."

There is silence, and I let it stand. I didn't know what else to say to her. She looked almost exactly like Arwen Undómiel – and therefore, as Lúthien Tinúviel was said to look like. And yet her features were softer and her beauty not as fierce as the Elves, results of the influence of the blood of Men in her veins. But for some reason, that did not make her beauty any more diminished in my eyes. If anything, I found myself amazed that she could look so much like one of us that I could hardly distinguish the difference.

"Did you rest well?" she asked.

"Yes."

She nodded. "Then I am afraid I must leave you. There are others who need my attention and care here."

"Of course, my lady," was all I could think of to say.

~ Eldarion ~
My sister seemed slightly shaken when I found her in the main hall. Aragorn had suggested we take a break to eat and get caught up with each other's news. Legolas had gone after Estel, and my mother and Aragorn were already waiting. The only missing person had been Tinúviel, and no one had had any idea of where she was.

I grabbed her arm. "Tinúviel."

She started. "Eldarion! I – I didn't see you," she stuttered, surprise in her clear grey eyes.

"I know." I started leading her out. "Where have you been? Everyone's been looking for you. Well, except for Legolas; he's looking for Estel right now. But at least we know where she is. Well, the general idea, anyway."

But Tinúviel remained silent, her expression a mix of shock and thoughtfulness.

I commented on it as we made our way to where everyone was waiting. "~Are you all right? You seem . . . shaken.~"

"~I am shaken,~" she retorted, slipping as easily into Elvish as I did.

"~Why?~"

"~Haldir.~"

I frowned. Haldir, even semi-lucid, would surely not have said anything unbecoming of him. He was far too old and experienced for a little wound to set his tongue in a foul mood. "~What did he say to you?~"

Tinúviel opened her mouth to speak just as a voice rang out.

"Tinúviel! So glad you could deign to join us." It was our mother, and her voice was slightly sarcastic.

Tinúviel smiled ashamedly and dipped into a small curtsy. "~My apologies, Mother; my mind was not concentrating on the passage of time.~"

"~So I see,~" my mother remarked.

"~Well, come on and eat!~" Estel piped up from the table. "~I'm starving, and you're late!~"

Legolas laughed, and pretty soon we all joined in. It was just as I remembered from the old days – my mother smiling indulgently at my youngest sister; Tinúviel and I trying to act dignified and formal to show how grown-up we were; and Estel, being the spoiled baby of the family with a sharp wit and shining eyes.

Only now Legolas and Aragorn were part of the family as well. Legolas was laughing as much as my mother was, and Aragorn was shaking his head in amusement.

I looked around the table, at Aragorn, at Legolas, at Estel, at Tinúviel, and at my mother. Our family just keeps getting bigger and bigger. I paused. And I don't think I would have it any other way.

Now if only Father was here.

~ Estel ~
"~Now, Mother – when do you plan to tell us how you survived?~" my brother asked.

The meal was over, and we were lounging here now and relaxing and resting. We had all worked nonstop since returning, and it was nice to sit and talk and eat. Even Legolas was relaxed, leaning back in his chair with a peaceful expression on his face.

My mother frowned thoughtfully. "~I am not quite sure. . . But I know that someone else had a hand in it.~"

Eldarion looked sideways at me. Someone played a huge hand in my survival as well, I thought. And I'm betting that it wasn't the Istari either.

"~What's this?~" Tinúviel asked, seeing the look.

I cleared my throat. "~Someone played a huge part in my survival as well, Mother. That's all. We were just considering the similarities between your survival . . . and my own.~"

My mother frowned deeply. I knew that she understood exactly what I meant by that, even more than Tinúviel. For my mother had been an adult when she "died" and she remembered exactly what living under the Stewards meant for Believers, even ones like us who concealed everything.

"~I see,~" she said softly, her eyes soft and compassionate. "~But for now, let us return to our story. You remember, of course, that your aunt and uncle woke you up and prepared you to leave; I had no hand in it. I regret that, but then again, I regret many things. . . When the fire broke out, Tinúviel and I were still sleeping. Your father wasn't home, of course, and nor was your brother, so we tended to sleep in late when he wasn't home to nag us. He would never have approved, but it's far too late for that. . ."

My mother's eyes grew distant and sad, and I knew at once that she was thinking of my father. She had loved him and he had loved her, even though it had been an arranged marriage. And I knew that his loss pained her more than anything else.

"~So,~" Tinúviel continued quietly, "~by the time we realized something was wrong, it was too late to do anything. It was painful. Very, very painful. And then I remember falling . . . just plain falling. Until we fell into a river of some sort, and then I remember talking in the distance and bright lights. Then . . . just darkness.~"

"~We fell unconscious,~" my mother explained. "~And when we woke up, we were in the care of the Ents. And we have stayed with them ever since.~"

There was a long silence as we absorbed the tale. Then Aragorn spoke. "~You have dwelt with them all this time, my lady?~"

"~Yes.~"

"~Why is it, then, that no one knew of your existence?~"

Tinúviel answered. "~We believe the Valar had a hand in our concealment. Not to mention that the Fangorn Forest is heavily protected and mostly empty; not many venture in – and return alive. But no, we have had no contact with anyone save the Ents until now.~"

Eldarion sighed, leaning forward. "~That sounds like me,~" he confessed. "~I fell into Lothlórien, and no one knew of my existence either. The wardens protected me, and no one recognized me for a Man – well, none of the other Men, of course. The wardens all knew, but they didn't seem to care.~"

My mother nodded before turning to me. "~And what of you, my child?~"

I shifted uneasily. Unlike Eldarion, I had not had the great fortune of falling into a place where I was protected shortly after everyone else's death. No, instead I had suffered – and I really didn't want to talk about it.

"~Estel?~"

I looked up. Legolas was looking at me, his blue eyes concerned. He put his hand over mine and squeezed it gently.

"~Aragorn can tell them, if you don't wish to,~" he reminded me softly.

"~Why?~" my mother demanded sharply. "~What is it? What went wrong, Estel?~"

"~Nothing, I just . . .~" I stood. I couldn't stay here and watch the expressions on the faces of my brother and my sister and my mother. I just couldn't see their reactions to what had befallen me. Even telling Lord Elrond and Lord Glorfindel had been an issue, and they had been practically full strangers then. I didn't want to imagine how my family would react.

"I can't stay here. I have to leave."

Then I bolted away as fast as I could, hiding the tears that were already beginning to fall.

Ah, yeah. . . The quotes from the part with Haldir's POV did come from the book, just in case they sounded familiar to anyone. I got the idea from pg. 1058, Appendix A: The Tale of Arwen and Aragorn. You can take a guess as to where it's going, but my mouth is sealed on this. . .