A/N: I apologise about this delayed update. I've been very busy, and this story is incredibly time-consuming. I fully intend to complete this story, but I can't promise to do so very quickly. When I started this story I never imagined it would grow to more than 30,000, or at most 35,000 words, but I am fast approaching that length. I estimate this story will be around 45,000 words by the time it's finished; and 16 or 17 chapters long.

Thank you to the readers who have stuck with me. Particularly my dedicated reader in France.

Please do leave a review. Reading your comments means a lot to me, and really helps keep me inspired.

I have made a video for this story. I've collected a montage of inspiring images and set them to 'Awaken' from Jane Eyre (2011). My account name on YouTube is Vogue Elf, and the video is called 'Heavy the Night – 'Awaken''. I've also uploaded a drawing of Elrond and Astrid to my deviantart account – my username there is darkeningwater.

I hope you enjoy the new chapter.

Chapter 11: Awaken

After Astrid left Elrond strove to re-immerse himself in the night's celebrations, wanting to avoid drawing any more attention to himself. He was aware that his sons had noticed something amiss in Astrid's reaction to Linwen's song; and he had noticed Thranduil slip away moments after Astrid had departed. A few minutes later Thranduil had returned to the feast, his expression cool and hard. Elrond dreaded to think what might have happened. Yet he could not leave to find out more without stirring notice.

'Father; I must ask you something.'

Elrond turned to find Elladan at his elbow. Dread settled in his chest as he waited for the question.

'How long have you known Astrid of Dale?'

Elrond looked away. He would not lie to his son; but neither was he ready to reveal the full truth.

'Forgive me,' said Elladan, at once. 'I see that this question pains you.'

'There is nothing to forgive,' Elrond said firmly. 'You are right; I have known her for some time. This was not our first meeting. But I cannot tell you more than that. It is not my story alone to tell. And in truth I would rather tell it when we are home in Imladris.'

Elladan frowned, half-curious and half-perturbed. But he nodded. 'Then I will question you no further.'

Elrond thanked him with warm gratitude before moving back to the high table to join Glorfindel and Lindir. His mind was gripped by a desire to find out what revelation had driven Astrid from the Feast – but he forced himself to put it aside until he was able to go to her once the Feast was over. As he approached the high table he noticed Thranduil watching him coolly and his heart sank. His diplomatic meeting with Thranduil that morning had been unproductive and difficult. Thranduil had been impassive and frustratingly unreceptive to Elrond's proposals for new trade routes between Lothlórien and Mirkwood. Elrond found himself growing ever more impatient with the King. He had asked Thranduil about the Harad seen by elven scouts a few days ago. Thranduil had given a noncommittal answer and firmly changed the subject. Legolas was also at the meeting, his demeanour angrier than his father's, and just as forbidding. As Elrond glanced between them, he could not help worrying that the son was turning into the father.

Thranduil had not mentioned Astrid again; but Elrond took little comfort in this. He knew well that when Thranduil showed little outward interest in something, he was secretly at his most watchful.

When Elrond left his rooms at the break of dawn, he found Thranduil waiting for him.

'Come with me,' was all he said. His face was so stern that Elrond obeyed, hoping silently that the matter would not take too long, and that Astrid would not think he had reneged on his promise to meet her.

Thranduil led him deeper and deeper into the caves until they were descending into the dungeons, which Elrond had never had cause to visit before. In a cell near the bottom they found a prisoner.

She watched them with her dark eyes, alert and mistrustful. As she saw Elrond her eyes widened a fraction – so briefly he almost missed it. Then her face closed. Elrond gazed at her, his dread mounting, heightened by curiosity. This woman was from Harad; what was she doing here, in Thranduil's dungeons, hundreds of leagues from her homeland? Seeing her here behind bars made his own time as a prisoner in Harad return to him vividly. This woman was not dressed at all like a priestess, and he had never seen her in his life – but he could not dismiss his instinct that when she had first looked at him just now it had been with shocked recognition. He felt a growing alarm.

But he gave no outward sign of it. He could sense Thranduil's watchful gaze moving between him and the woman, missing nothing.

Close to his ear, Thranduil spoke in soft Sindarin. 'You will remember my concern about the Harad man seen in the forest a few days ago. This is 'he'... She is responsible for the deaths of four of my scouts,' he continued in a steely voice, his eyes hard. 'So far she has been silent about the purpose which brought her into my realm. I will not release her until she speaks.'

Elrond drew Thranduil aside, answering in Sindarin. 'How long has she been locked away here?'

'Since the previous morning.'

'And you did not think to mention her capture in yesterday's meeting?'

Thranduil only regarded him coolly. Elrond bit back his impatience and anger, looking away, thinking quickly. If this woman had indeed singlehandedly caused the deaths of four highly-skilled Mirkwood guards, she was a threat to any who encountered her. That Thranduil had kept such an important matter secret from him made his blood beat faster with annoyance. Perhaps his anger was unreasonable: this was Thranduil's realm; its security was the King's business alone. And yet after a week of being disregarded in diplomacy meetings, Elrond would have welcomed the confidence. The strength of his own resentment surprised him.

Thranduil was watching him silently. With an effort Elrond kept his expression neutral, hiding his feelings.

'I have a request for you,' Thranduil said at last. 'I know you are learned in the Harad tongue, as indeed you are in all the languages of Men.' Elrond was sure he did not imagine a faint hint of distaste in Thranduil's voice. 'So far she has refused to answer my questions, though she clearly understands the Common Tongue. Perhaps she will respond to her native tongue where she is otherwise silent. On my behalf, I would have you ask her this: is she familiar with the woman who calls herself Astrid of Dale?'

Elrond kept his expression unreadable as he asked the question in the Harad tongue. Despite himself, he felt a quickening of curiosity as he waited for her answer. But she only watched him narrowly, giving no other reaction to the question.

Thranduil gave a sigh of impatience. 'Very well. Ask her where she comes from. Why she is here.'

Still, the woman made no response.

Thranduil's eyes narrowed. 'I see it is no use. You may leave. We will try again tomorrow.'

Elrond found Astrid pacing in the library. She looked up with relief at his arrival.

'I am sorry I am late. Thranduil summoned me in person just as I was on my way to meet you. He took me down to the dungeons. Since yesterday night a Harad woman has been kept there.'

Astrid's mouth fell open, yet she made no sound. 'What did she say?'

'So far she has said nothing.' He hesitated. 'She seemed to recognise me, though I had never seen her in my life. She would say nothing while Thranduil was there and I did not have the chance to speak to her alone.'

Astrid was pale, her expression hard. 'I see now that we have much less time than I thought.'

'What do you mean?'

She gazed at him, intent. 'I will tell you everything, so that you will understand why I need your help – but there isn't much time. As I was leaving the Feast Thranduil approached me and tried to compel me to reveal how you and I first met. He suspects we have met elsewhere – and he mentioned the Jewels of Fëanor. Your questions may have to wait; we cannot linger here.'

He nodded, silenced by her seriousness. Some part of him felt a deep curiosity and excitement: at last he was to know what had brought her to Mirkwood.

'After you left, the Tombs became a weary place for me. I was friendless, and the rites now felt pointless and superstitious. Yet still I feared to leave, because unsatisfying as it was, it was my home, and I had never left it in my life.

'One day I felt the urge to look at the jewel, which I had not done since I met you. I went into the Tombs, and there found Ikara, the Head Priestess, standing over the mound which marked the grave I had filled with earth. I had told her it contained the prisoner's dead body.' Her eyes flicked briefly to his before clouding with memory. 'She had brought a lantern with her, where light was forbidden. She did not see me for her lantern made more shadows than light. Her face was marred with a full hatred – suddenly she leaned forward and spat on the earth, then made a sign which in our culture – the Harad culture – translates as the most vile and punishing of all curses. Then she turned and walked towards the jewel.

'I followed her in secret and saw her gazing at it with naked covetousness. She did not dare to touch it – but she came very close. I knew that she would kill anyone who tried to claim it, or take it from her. After a long time, she slunk back to the temple.

'The force of her hatred towards the grave frightened me, as did her desire to keep the jewel for herself. I had promised you that the jewel would not cause any more deaths – a promise I intended to keep. I watched Ikara carefully, but she gave no more outward signs of her obsession.

'Six months passed in utter drudgery. One night I descended into the Tombs with the other priestesses to oversee the initiation of a new novice into priestesshood. The ceremony went as it usually did – until the novice, so overcome with awe for the jewel, reached out to touch it and Ikara struck her so viciously that she fell back and hit her head against the rock wall, cutting a deep gash in the crown of her head.

'I knew then that the jewel was not truly safe there, not when even the priestesses who guarded it could fall prey to its lure. That night I took the jewel in secret and fled. It was my sole possession.

'My plan was to go north, where I had always longed to go, and to hide the jewel somewhere there. I had heard there were many secret places – huge, dark forests, and silent caves. Surely there would be somewhere that would hide such a thing.

'The journey was long and hard. I knew only that I had to keep heading northeast. When I was nearly dead from starvation, I came to the home of an old woman, who took me in and nursed me back to health. She was surprisingly learned, and taught me a few phrases of Westron, which were invaluable to me when I first arrived north.

'Recovered again, I resumed my journey, and at last reached the borders of Gondor. I came to Minas Tirith and found lodging in the home of a scholar deeply interested in Harad. He and his wife were very kind to me, and my stay there lengthened from days to weeks to months – and then into years. After five years in Minas Tirith, I began to hear tell of a merchant in Dale who was asking far and wide about an object long thought lost, a jewel like a Silmaril, but a lesser one. Rumours said that he had never recovered after losing his wife in Harad, leaving his newborn daughter with strangers, being unable to care for her himself.

'I realised that this man must be my father. I journeyed north to visit him, deciding not to speak of the jewel until I knew him well enough to trust him with the knowledge. He was frightened when he first saw me, thinking me the ghost of his dead wife – my mother. But when he knew me to be his daughter he was not much more welcoming. He had a new wife, and a three-year-old son – and his obsession with the Silmarils. One of his legs was completely paralysed and his health was dangerously fickle, preventing him from setting out himself in search of the jewels. I did not linger. I left Dale and spent the next six years moving from town to town, gradually learning the trade of glass-making and shaping. All the while I kept the jewel successfully hidden; fortune smiled on me in that regard at least. But I knew well from the tales and legends that luck fades, and that such things had a way of falling into bad hands.

'Then one day news reached me of a Harad asking questions about a jewel. I guessed at once that the priestesses had sent someone to find it and bring it back; guessing I had returned to the land my parents came from. It seemed that my time was running out. I resolved to hide the jewel; somewhere it would never be found.'

She paused, lost in memory. He watched her in silence, still caught under the spell of her story, and yet at the same time remembering the moment only a few days ago when they had come face to face in this room.

'I had heard of Mirkwood,' Astrid went on after a moment, 'the wild, sprawling forest that no one dared enter unarmed. I set out there alone, and walked several leagues into the forest. I encountered no one – not even an animal. I wondered sometimes if it was because of the jewel. It shielded me and kept me hidden, for better or for worse. At last I reached a clearing and buried the jewel there, deep, deep in the ground.'

She sighed. 'I returned home. A month or so passed. I received news that my father had died, obsessed till the last with seeking news of the lost Silmarils no one else believed in. His death left his son an orphan – the boy's mother had died several years previously. I went to Dale and there I met Nat for the first time. We were the last ones living in our family – and both of us longed for the companionship of family. Within a few weeks we were inseparable, and I stayed on in Dale, both mother and sister to him.

'Several years went by without trouble or disruption. But then I received news once again of a Harad asking questions. One night I came home to find a stranger there. It was Zaniyah, the first priestess whose vows I witnessed, after my own. She had searched my belongings and found a map on which I had marked the spot where the jewel was hidden – foolish of me, perhaps, if I never wanted it to be found, and yet I could not help myself. I managed to surprise her and subdued her with the tranquiliser I once used on you.' She smiled soberly. 'I liked to keep some ready at all times in case I ever needed it. I tied up Zaniyah, but could not bring myself to kill her, though that would have been safest.

'I knew she would sleep for several days, and hoped that would give me enough time to reach the jewel first. This time I would take it straight to the Lady Galadriel, famed for her wisdom and kindness, as I should have done the first time, when fear and awe prevented me from seeking her. Nat refused to let me travel alone, so I had no choice but to take him with me, though I refused to tell him what my mission was.' She grew reflective, sad. 'Not because I didn't trust him, but because I knew better than any how strong the lure of the jewel was, and I did not want him to fall under its spell too, as his – our – father had, along with so many others.

'We travelled swiftly to Mirkwood, and came to the crumbling bridge across the river – and the rest you know.' She smiled slightly.

He was remembering his shock when he had first recognised her, and smiled back.

'I do not think Zaniyah could have recovered the jewel, or Thranduil would surely have found it when he searched her belongings. Nor do I think she will willingly speak of it – but we cannot leave her silence to chance. We must set out at once and retrieve the jewel, while it yet remains hidden.' She hesitated. 'Above all, I cannot let Thranduil learn of its existence. His taste for treasure and gems is well-known and I fear what he would do were he to hear of it – for it is surely the greatest prize yet lingering in Middle-earth.'

They regarded each other in silence for a long while. At last he understood what had brought her here, what had changed her – and yet was reminded intensely of their brief time together in the Tombs. Never – not in the Tombs, nor yet in Mirkwood – had he seen her so fervent, so full of purpose. It felt as though he was seeing her more clearly than ever before.

He looked at her steadily. Inside he was clear-minded and purposeful. He would see her free herself of the jewel, as she had helped him in the Tombs. And Thranduil must not at any cost know of the jewel.

At last he spoke. 'I agree. The jewel can remain in Middle-earth no longer.'

First they went to the library and found a map of Mirkwood, which Astrid used to pinpoint the location of the jewel, having memorised it from many hours spent gazing at her own map – now lost to her after her tumble into the Enchanted River. Elrond needed only a moment to work out which route they must take, before they left, heading for the main doors. On the way, Elrond encountered one of the elves of Rivendell. He instructed her to tell Glorfindel to go to the clearing where the Feast had been held, in three hours' time, and to bring his horse.

They passed swiftly through the halls, but at the main gates they were stopped by the guard stationed there.

'I cannot allow this woman to leave. It would be to go against the orders of my king.'

Elrond spoke in a voice that brooked no argument. He was sterner and more authoritative than Astrid had ever seen him. 'This is a matter of the White Council. She goes with me.'

For a long moment the guard did not move. Then he stepped aside, his eyes never leaving Astrid.

Taking her arm, Elrond drew her through the opened doors. On the other side of the bridge were two horses, attended by a groom.

'I thought we might need to travel quickly,' Elrond said, a slight smile on his lips. 'A benefit of foresight, perhaps.'

Astrid hesitated, then spoke bluntly. 'I cannot ride.'

He paused. 'Then you can ride with me.'

He helped her up into the saddle then climbed up behind her. They rode swiftly into the darkness of the trees, along a path which wound deeper and deeper into the heart of the forest. After an hour of riding the path ended, and their progress went more slowly. Several long minutes passed, the trees crowding close around them, the shadows dark and heavy. Then all at once they emerged into an open space. It was almost more an avenue than a clearing. Regal, silent, forgotten, it made her think of the Halls of Mandos, where the spirits of Men and Elves gathered to await their fates. It felt as though the clearing were preserved by a spell; perhaps it had once been used for ceremonies. Autumn leaves lay all around them, gleaming golden where the sunlight broke through the thick canopy. She felt a feeling of calm and awe descend over her; it was little wonder she had chosen this place to hide the jewel in.

Elrond helped her dismount and she went straight to the oldest of the trees, reaching down between its roots and scraping away with her hands until at last she uncovered a small, plain-looking bag. She found she was trembling as she lifted it out of the hole, turning. Elrond came to her, his expression grave, his eyes moving from her face down to her cupped hands. A soft phrase escaped his lips, so quietly that she caught nothing but the murmur of another language. She looked at him, waiting, and at last he lifted his hands, holding them out to her.

She placed the bag into them. He gazed at it, sadness and wonder blending in his face, and she thought he might open it. But he did not, instead tucking it under his cloak. It was no longer hers, nor his, but would pass across the sea. It was over.

She could never have predicted the heavy mix of sadness and relief – and tentative joy that she felt. She had loved the jewel – but she had feared it too. Now she was free of it. She looked at Elrond; saw again the shadowed man he had been in the Tombs, saw his courage and strength in emerging from despair yet one more time after countless sufferings. He was gazing at her, trying to discern the tumult of emotions behind her eyes. She felt an impulse take hold of her just before she acted, and she did not resist.

Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and kissed him.

In the instant before she moved, he saw what she was going to do. Yet he did nothing to stop her. Her lips touched his, and he forgot to think, instead taking her face between his hands, holding her there as he returned the kiss. He felt her shiver between his fingers; instinctively his arms wrapped around her shoulders and back as he drew her closer.

A moment passed – and it was as though both came to their senses in the same instant. She pulled away as he let his arms drop from her, and stepped back.

'Forgive me,' he said, though it had been she who had acted first. He found it impossible to meet her eyes, and so he turned away, looking across the clearing at the tethered horse. 'We should return.'

They rode back in silence.