Disclaimer: J.R.R. Tolkien owns all save for characters not in his works. The Valar are also his.

"Sometimes goodbye
Is a second chance"

~Second Chance, Shinedown

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

Lórien, Gardens of Irmo

White light filtered in through her eyelids. Burning filled her skin, blazing hot, but she found that she could not open her mouth to cry out. Instead she lay, where ever she was, in silence. When the burning slowly ebbed away, like water against the banks of a river, she found the will to open her eyes. It was slow at first, the bright light hurting her eyes. Blinking slowly, the light became shapes and colors.

Tall white trees towered over her, their branches full of glimmering golden leaves. Her fingers moved over the ground beneath herself, find found that she was lying on a bed of grass. Pushing herself up she saw that it was of the most purest color of green she had ever seen. Everything around her looked pure. The beauty took her breath away.

"I see you have awaken, young one," came a voice from behind her. She turned, seeing a woman of beauty that no words could describe, standing not far from her. Once she laid eyes on her, the woman began to circle around her. "Long have I dreamt of you."

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am called Estë," she murmured. "You have slept in my care, and I have healed your hurts." She approached in a whisper of grey skirts. "My husband, asked that I take care of you."

"Who is he, Lady Estë?" she asked curiously.

"Lord Irmo, master of visions and dreams," Estë said. "The dreams of your son, were a gift from mine husband, and a warning."

"Forgive me, Lady, but I do not remember how I came to be here," she said quietly. It was the truth. She did not remember how or what caused her to be in the presence of one of the Valar, even if it was the wife of one of the Fëanturi. Estë merely smiled at her.

"Try and remember. Such things are often forgotten when sleeping in my husbands garden."

Under the watchful gaze of the Lady of Rest, she shut her eyes and tried to recall what she had forgotten. She did not even know her own name. At first there was nothing, a blank wall of white. But she pressed on, pushing past it into a blur of colors and sounds. A girl under the night sky with her father, a solitary peak, rolling green hills, and there were faces. So many faces. But the one that stayed the longest was of a man- no, a dwarf. His dark ebony hair gleamed, with streaks of silver and his eyes were the deepest pools of blue she could ever remember seeing.

She opened her eyes and gazed up at Estë. "My name is Nuilweyil, daughter of Nolen. I was traveling with a company of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit. We were crossing the Misty Mountains when I died." The rest caught in her throat. She was dead. She had fallen and died. How could that be?!

"And you are in love with the King Under the Mountain," Estë said. Nuil looked at her. "You are to be his queen everlasting, in life or death. This my husbands brothers wife, Vairë, has woven into all things that will come to be."

"But we are not wed . . ."

"Yet he loves you, and you him. Death will not separate such bonds," Estë said. "But we have taken pity on the crownless King. Aulë will not make him suffer this grief." She held out her hand to Nuil. Blinking she took it, rising as Estë wrapped her arm around Nuil. "Walk with me."

The only sound for a long time was the whisper of their skirts over the soft grass, and bird song, as they walked through the white trees.

"This is not Mandos?" Nuil finally asked.

Estë looked down at her. "No. You will not go to the halls of the fallen. Námo will not take your fëa this day. My husband will not allow it. We only do this to restore Arda to peace and happiness." They stopped at the edge of a bank, a gleaming blue lake spread out before them. In the center lay an island, covered in bright yellow flowers.

"I leave you know, Nuilweyil. Here I sleep on Lake Lórellin," Estë murmured stepping forward. The moment her feet touched the water it stilled completely, like glass. Nuil watched as she glided to the island. Once there she laid down among the yellow flowers.

Nuil watched for a moment longer, feeling at peace in this serene place before she felt a gentle tug of her skirts. Looking down she found a young dwarfling clinging to her dress, gazing up at her with his deep blue eyes. Her breath stilled.

"Amad?" he asked innocently.

"Yes, mimel ze?"

He beamed up at her, saying nothing more as he pressed closer to her. Her heart warmed at the sight of him, and she bent down to press a kiss to his dark locks of hair.

"You may still lose him," a distinctly masculine voice said. Raising her eyes, Nuil froze at the sight of another Valar. His eyes held a far-off dreamlike look, but they were focused on her. Nuil looked down at her son. Then back at the Valar.

"He is just a dream," she murmured trying not to feel a deep ache of pain at the thought.

"He is a vision of what might be," he said moving towards her. He son looked at him curiously. "I am Irmo. It was my doing that you saw him."

"Why?" she asked. Was it to give her false hope? Make her wish for what could never be?

"Hope," he murmured reaching her side and resting a hand on the top of her sons head. His face turned serious however when the boy looked up at him. "Nuilweyil, your death cannot be undone. What has already been written cannot be changed, but perhaps you can still live."

Nuil frowned. "I do not understand, Lord Irmo," she said.

"My brother and I, we will grant you a second chance," he said gazing at her. "Vairë has seen that if the quest were to continue without your influence, the line of Durin will fail." Nuil sucked in a sharp breath. "The rule of Erebor would pass onto his cousin, Dain. A great war would then ravage the land and the dwarven stronghold will fall. Their race would once again be scattered, and slowly vanish from the world."

"No, they cannot!" Nuil frowned. Her little one clutched her skirts as her frightened tone.

Irmo was not finished. "You could save the line of Durin. Bring forth peace in the lands, a son even, and ensure that Thorin does not fall into madness."

Nuil felt frozen. It seemed that her involvement, not matter how small it felt, carried the weight of the world. She never thought her death could affect so much. Slowly she looked down at her son. She realized then, just who his father would be. It had been on the tip of her tongue for so long, waiting to be spoken.

"Thorin's son," she whispered.

At those words a sense of duty settled on her shoulders. She wanted Thorin to live, Fili and Kili also. She wanted her son to live.

"What must I do?" Nuil asked raising her eyes to meet Irmo's.

"Return to Arda," he said, eyes turning sad. "You will wake, but there is only so much my wife can heal, you will be injured. From there, you will have to find your companions, and rejoin the quest. Should you die before the mountain is reclaimed, you will not be able to return. My brother will take you fëa to Mandos, where you will stay."

"They will ask questions . . ."

Irmo looked to the island at the center of the lake to Estë's sleeping form. "Honesty." Then he looked back to her. "Now you must return. Only a few moments will have passed since your death, but you must travel eastward. May your path be swift and remember my words, daughter of Nolen."

Before Nuil had the chance to realize what was happening, she felt her eyes flutter with exhaustion and her knees give out. Irmo caught her, lowering her to the ground before pressing a kiss to her brow, as sleep took her.

"Remember."

Nuil jerked awake, as if she had just woken from a terrible dream. Above her thunder rolled and boomed while lightning cut across the sky. Rain pelted down on her shivering form. She took in her surroundings, worried that the Company was no where in sight. And then she remembered.

Her fall.

Gazing back up the towering mountainside, Nuil felt a deep sense of remorse and loss. Now she was all alone and they thought she was dead. And she had died. It was odd to think about, since she was here, now, breathing and alive. But she had been given a second chance, Irmo's words drifting about in her mind.

She had to get back to the Company.

Groaning she sat up, her back aching and protesting against the movement. If she were to look, she would find that underneath the tunic and jerkin that the skin was a motley of black and purple bruises. In her fall to her death, she had obviously broken it. Nuil knew she had Estë to thank for her lack of broken bones.

The water in the ravine was around her wrists, and rising. She had to move.

Rising, Nuil took a limping step forward. Gods, she hurt. She wasn't even sure if she would be able to climb given her state. But she didn't have to worry about that anymore when a growl filled the air. Nuil stiffened instinctively, recognizing the sound.

Slowly turning she came face to face with a warg snout. It bared its teeth at her, growling as Nuil raised her eyes up to the rider.

If there was any color left in her face it was surely gone now. The orc glared down at her, the storm not seeming to bother it as a flash of lightning streaked across the sky and illuminating his features. One word went through her mind before the orc gave her a malicious grin.

Azog.

Surprise! :D

Read and Review!

~filimeala