Honest-to-goodness, I am getting rather sick of merely calling the king Gil-Galad all the time- I mean, people close to him called him Ereinion, so why not that as well? Also, I did note that in the Hidden Princess, Vanimelda said she didn't even know if her father truly was the son of Fingon or the son of Orodreth but was merely raised to succeed Fingon. I think this is a way of trying to make sense of the confusion in Tolkien's writings, and I admit, I'm not so sure either- I mean, Gil-Galad, strong, noble and so forth, sounds more like Fingon's son than Orodreth's- who was weak, but he could have just been fostered by Fingon.

Chapter Two

Ereinion looked upset.

Elrond winced. If this really was war, then this meant that they really were in trouble, weren't they?

Many people were under the impression if any other kingdom attacks and elven one, they would always be defeated. And in a way it was true, but it was far too risky to relax and be overconfident.

Ereinion looked up from the maps he was studying with a frown. Elrond saw him nod to another councillor and another map was brought out. Elrond didn't even look at its contents, and he had the feeling the king wasn't really seeing it either. He was too distracted.

Elrond knew full well what was at risk. Ar-Gimilzôr, twenty-third King of Númenor was gaining strength. Elves have been persecuted and forced to flee, elf-friends have suffered far worse, more and more of the Elendili had gone into exile. The tongues of elves, both Quenya and Sindarin, were forbidden, any who spoke, read or wrote in it, were put to death- any books in those tongues were burned. The White Tree, they said now, was beginning to wither and growing worse by the day. He no longer made pilgrimages, and sometimes openly blasphemed, encouraging his subjects to do the same. Elrond sighed and inwardly winced. Ar-Gimilzôr was his blood. He was Elros' descendant. What was he to do? How could it anyone still treat him well instead of staring accusingly at him, telling him firmly to remind the king of their shared blood?

"So they have settled in a land they now call Umbar," the High King said. "They have built ships and are stockpiling weapons, training men and so forth. Not to mention enslaving the locals and forcing them to grow food. But I want to know the extent of their doings- their numbers, their fortifications- they settled in Umbar for a reason. Númenóreans are mariners- and that is their strength. Umbar is a sea-port it is an excellent location for trade because of its easy access. It's also a good location to sail to any of our lands- for better or for worse. I, for one, do not believe they are interested in trade." He glared at each of his councillors, as if daring them to be stupid enough to believe it. Yet even Artaner, was not that stupid.

"They are building a fortress of some kind," Gil-Galad continued as if he had not stopped. "A fortification would greatly increase their defences. However, we do not know the full extent of their doings." He rolled the map shut. "We are able to examine the surroundings of Umbar, and we have all studied Númenor, but that, as we all know is not enough. We need to know what kind of weapons, what they are planning, their numbers, what they are building, how they are building and crafting them, how they are training and gathering their recruits, and most of all, exactly what they are planning."

He sighed. "We need more- information first, then allies. And then, who knows, what else we need? Yet we cannot know for sure!" He slammed his hand down on the remaining maps.

"My King," Elrond said smoothly. "Perhaps we could send out spies? Contact the Elendili and any Northmen who are suffering under the banner of the King's Men, in secret? Glean as much information from them as we can?"

Ereinion shook his head. "Lord Elrond, we cannot ask any more than we already have of the Elendili- our remaining friends. And furthermore, they are in more than enough danger as it is. As for the Northmen, I do not mean to question their honour and suffering, but how can we be sure of their trust? If the King's Men suspect that we are also making preparations, they are likely to speed up any idea of an assault on our peoples, sooner, rather than later." He shook his head. "We must be even more careful with this than anyone thinks. One wrong move is more dangerous than swinging a sword in the opposite direction rather than at an opposing orc."

"What about this shieldmaiden?" Someone asked. "She has proven herself, and as an elf, she has no reason to be loved by the King's Men. What about her?"

Elrond snorted. "Can we even find her to make an alliance? Astaro, we cannot find her anywhere and she has given no indication she wishes to even talk with us."

"But she helped us," Astaro argued. "And she gave the banner to Calassion and rescued him, telling him to show it to us-"

"Which is an entirely different thing to wanting to form an alliance with us," Elrond interrupted. "And furthermore, as we can all attest to, she has purposely avoided even bumping into us. We may have to turn to the Wood-Elves."

Everyone looked at one another, not knowing what to say. It was a common saying amongst humans that the Wood-Elves were less wise and more dangerous than their kin. Who knew what they wanted- and if they would even show up for any meeting set. This filled them all with unease. Most of the members of that particular company were Noldor, and Telerin- a few were even Vanyarin (but those could be counted as less than the fingers of one hand), and although some shared blood with the Wood-Elves- Elrond included- relations have always been complicated. During the War of Wrath, it was at its worst.

Who knew what to do?

After the meeting Elrond walked to his chambers through an empty corridor. He paused, and turned slowly around to see if there was anyone following him. When his sharp eyes saw nothing and he heard nothing, he continued walking in a slightly faster pace.

He arrived in his quarters and locked the doors. He went to his bedroom and again sealed the door- this time with magic. Then he went to his bedside drawer and removed a mirror.

It seemed at first glance, nothing more than an ornamental mirror. Inlaid with coral, mother-of-pearl and the most dainty and exquisite shells around sea-glass, pearls and coral were set in the handle and engraved into perfect figures- dolphins. Elrond stared hard into the glass and chanting some words in Quenya, the glass began to mist, whereas before it had been polished into a bright shine. It clouded further, and then cleared to reveal a face Elrond knew all too well.

An impossibly beautiful face, even for an elf's, with finely chiselled, delicate features: a dainty delicately upturned nose, fine smooth high cheekbones and ruby rosebud lips. The eyes were emerald and the thick, soft, curling hair was burnished copper.

Hair just like her father's.

Elrond smiled gently. "Estela."

"Elrond," she said in an amazingly musical voice. " Is something amiss?"

"Should it be?" Elrond asked. "It is very good to see you, even if it is not in person."

Estela's luminous emerald eyes blinked and she smiled. "Come now Elrond, I know you better than that. Something's happened. How did the King take the news?"

Elrond rolled his eyes but then grew serious. "Gil-Galad knows now that they are a threat, but he does not know to what extent. Nor does he. There was talk of spies, but to ask the Northmen and the Elendili to risk their lives more than they already have, especially as they are being put to death in terrible ways, is too much. As for sending elves in- well, that is more perilous as they are not stupid, and they know there are more differences between an elf and a human than pointed ears."

Estela looked grim. "And I presume they were talking about me?"

"Of course," Elrond groaned. "And as you wished, I gave nothing away."

"Good." Estela responded. "Because most I suspect, would rather face death than be rescued by a Fëanorian."

"You don't know that," Elrond said sharply.

"No," she replied. "You're right, I don't. But I also know that they will be assessing me and my kin, watching us to see, suspecting we may turn out like our fathers. We would live under suspicion and for all the talk that there are no prejudices amongst the Eldar, we would never be fully welcome. We have to redeem ourselves, by doing what is right. I know it's been centuries, but so was the War of Wrath."

Elrond looked firm. "Your father and uncle rescued us- my brother and I- and raised us. We have never forgotten that, not even Elros, on his dying day."

"Yet the whole world did not see such a thing," Estela interrupted. "Only you."

Elrond was silent. He didn't know what to say, for once.

"They did not see my grandfather on Aman before Morgoth came to him that day," she continued. "They did not see my father arrive late in Doriath, searching for Eluréd and Elurín, they did not know any of them at all. They only ever recorded what they built and made, and all their doings and kinslayings. Nothing else."

"The world knows that your father raised me and Elros and searched for my mother's brothers." Elrond argued.

"Even you can't deny that when those deeds are recorded, they are made pale in comparison, and barely noted next to the kinslayings. I do not care to live under shadow, Elrond. I want to help, to save, to do what is right. But if they know whose daughter and granddaughter I am, they would question my motives and those who follow me."

Elrond was silent.

"Gil-Galad wants to find out the extent of the doings of the King's Men. Very well, he shall. But he is never to know it is from me, or my kin." Then seeing Elrond's inner struggle quite clearly, she lowered her voice and gently added, "I know it is difficult, and I very well know that you see Gil-Galad as you once saw my father and uncle, but it is for him as well. No matter how compassionate and reasonable he is, no matter how just, he can never be seen to accept help from a Fëanorian- that would create far too much discord and they would question his authority and his reasoning as a leader. And no one can afford that."

"And how will you even find out what is going on in Númenor and in Umbar?" Elrond asked, eyebrow raised.

Estela's almond eyes, slanted and wide, framed with thick black lashes, held a fierce light in them. "I have my ways. Leave it to me."