Cúthalion

by TheBlueDreamer

This story is the beginning of the "Warriors of Doriath" trilogy, and follows Beleg Cúthalion throughout his life, through parts of his childhood, and up until his death at the hands of Túrin. {1 "Warriors of Doriath" Trilogy}

9. 8: Kindness Counts

Chapter 8: 7: Kindness Counts

Hi everyone! So to make up for all the angst in the last chapter, I thought I'd try to make this chapter fluffy. A bit hard, considering my very angsty writing… Oh well. I tried. Sorry if it isn't exactly fluffy per-se, but hopefully it's a bit less angsty. Enjoy!

---

Mornar stood in shock as he gazed upon the sleepy little province of Pessmenel. It was a vast change from the utter solitude of his exile, as well as his native village, which was rather large in comparison. The talans were all connected by rope bridges that swayed lazily in the breeze, and the dirt roads below kicked up little clouds of dust. The market was little more than a few vendors all set up around the fountain in the village square, which was the only area that was paved with cobblestone.

"Welcome to your new home sweet home!" He turned to find Alquawen standing beside him. The warm morning breeze blew a few of her silver locks into her face as they stood together on the ridge overlooking the village with the sunrise at their backs. "It's not much, even I'll admit that, but we're happy here." She continued, before looking up at him, her large blue eyes soft and sincere. "You're welcome to share that happiness with us, Mornar." A small smile crept across his chiseled features.

"I like it here already." He replied honestly as he once again took in the scenery. Alquawen smiled softly as she watched him looking around like a curious elfling. Over the past few days, she'd found that Mornar was far more inquisitive than he seemed. After gaining his full trust, Alquawen received a daily bombardment of questions about almost anything. He just seemed to have an unquenchable thirst for new experiences and information.

"Are you ready, though? This isn't going to be anything like you're used to." She pointed out as she looked at him with concern. Mornar bit his lip.

"I… I'm not sure." He admitted quietly. "But I think I can do this." A soft smile graced Alquawen's gentle face.

"I'm sure you can." she reassured him, placing a hand on his arm. "And we'll be with you all the way."

"I'll be with you." she mentally added.

"Good morning! I'm here in case no one has noticed!" The exile and healer both practically jumped out of their skin as Beleg laughed.

"Beleg! How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?!" Alquawen cried as she glared evenly at her brother. Beleg simply grinned cheekily. Mornar sighed, trying to calm his racing heart from the scare Beleg had given them.

It was strange, really, that at one point in his life, he would've given anything for a brother.

Now… he wasn't so sure.

A sister, maybe?

Yes, a sister sounded far better than a brother.

Particularly if all brothers were like Beleg.

"Oh, you're hopeless." Alquawen said with a huff as she pushed her brother lightly away.

"Well, that's no way to treat someone who came to tell you something important!" Beleg sniffed as he turned away in a haughty manner, pretending to be all prim and proper.

"Tell us what?" Mornar asked, his child's curiosity getting the best of him. Beleg only smiled.

"Unless Al treats me nicely, I'm not saying anything!"

"Beleg," Alquawen stated with a warning undertone.

"Oh, just tell her, you stubborn mule! Or else I'll demote you!" A voice growled as Beleg yelped, wheeling around to find himself face to face with Daecrist, who was staring him down with his infamous glare, and a mock dangerous smile on his face. Alquawen laughed, shaking her head at Daecrist and Beleg's antics. It was good to see Daecrist standing up however, with only his wooden brace and crutches.

His stubborn shenanigans had outlasted both Eleithel's and Aearon's persistence for him to stay in bed, and he'd been hobbling around for the past day or so.

Although Alquawen agreed with Eleithel and Aearon about Daecrist not walking quite yet, she had to admit that thanks to his charismatic commanding skills and knowledge of the area, they'd been able to move much faster than they would have been without Daecrist's help.

"We'll be moving out soon." Beleg stated, trembling under Daecrist's withering gaze. "The commanders all reckon we'll be back at Pessmenel within about two hours or so." Alquawen nodded.

"They may have to give us a little longer, considering the condition of some of the wounded." She pointed out, her eyes revealing she was deep in thought.

"What is the terrain like?" Maonar's quiet question broke through their thoughts. "That could factor into how long it takes us to get back." Daecrist smiled softly in return. He couldn't deny that Mornar had caught the eye of several commanders.

Strong, tall, and able to wield a sword like a master.

Perfect soldier material.

Being left handed also gave him a rather unique advantage.

"However, that reality is only in their wildest dreams." Daecrist reminded himself as he noticed the Nargothrondian lean to the side slightly to keep weight off his bad leg. Daecrist could also say that in all honesty, he didn't exactly see Mornar as a blank canvas. Far from it. "He can't fight like that. He shouldn't have to. The poor boy's been through enough."

"Yes, that would factor into it." Beleg replied. "Pessmenel is surrounded by woodland, as you can see, but there's a lot of loose stones on the path, so that's a bit of a problem. What should we do, General?" Daecrist smiled a little.

"Well, I'm not exactly a General anymore. I received word this morning that I've been officially relieved of duty."

His three companions gawked.

"It's alright though!" Daecrist reassured them. "It's actually not as bad as I thought it would be. I'll have to figure out a new job, but at least it means more time with Cal and Elei. Oh, and before I forget, I've already asked Lieutenant Elgonion and Captain Seregthoroniel if they could spare any men to scout ahead and clear the route of any hazards." The three of them were still stunned. "Oh, stop looking like a load of fish out of water!" Daecrist laughed. "Honestly, you're all looking at me like I have three heads!" A slow smile crept across Beleg's face.

"Does that mean you technically can't demote me anymore?"

"Oh believe me, I'll find a way to demote you, you rascal of a marchwarden!" Daecrist laughed as he playfully swatted at Beleg, purposely missing.

"Will you be staying in Pessmenel still?" Alquawen asked nervously. Her friendship with Eleithel and Daecrist was not something she wanted to lose.

"Of course." Daecrist replied kindly. "Callon's lived here his entire life. It wouldn't be right to take him away from here."

"We'd best start getting ready, then." Beleg commented as he noticed some soldiers moving around. "I think we're about to start leaving."

---

"But can't you spare ANYONE?!" Ruscdîr growled as he darted after the Captain.

"I already told you I can't!" Dînaerlinn snapped as she whirled around angrily to face him. "I only command ten soldiers! I don't have any to spare because my platoon was assigned as rear guard before I heard from General Gaeredhelion!"

"Ever heard the term 'make ten men feel like a hundred'? Surely you can make eight men feel like eighty!" Ruscdîr protested. "You're only guarding the back of the caravan!" Dînaerlinn glowered at him.

"And if we're attacked, I'll need each and every one of them to fight because the rest of our able-bodied fighters are guarding the front and sides of the caravan!" She snapped, turning sharply on her heel, her thick braid whacking the Lieutenant squarely in the face. Ruscdîr stumbled back a few paces in shock, rubbing his cheek as he glared daggers at her retreating back.

That elleth didn't even come up to his shoulder, yet she was twice as insufferable as any soldier he'd ever trained! He stormed away, grumbling under his breath all the while.

Dînaerlinn walked away as quickly, blinking away tears.

"Don't let him see weakness. Don't let him see weakness." She thought to herself as she wiped her eyes. "As soon as he sees me crying, he'll either yell at me to stop, or ask why I'm crying… if he yells, I'll get worse, and if he asks, the only explanation I have is the truth." She paused behind a tree, drawing a few deep breaths before she faced her men. All of them stood sharply at attention as they saw her.

"At ease." she commanded, her usually strong voice shaking slightly. They swiftly did as they were told. "As you all know, we are to guard the caravan from behind as we make our way back to Pessmenel. If the edain try to attack us on the road, it would be an ambush, so I expect all of you to keep your eyes and ears open for anything that might be following us through the undergrowth. There's not many of us, so I'll need you all to make every strike count if we are forced to fight. We are the only ones back here. If they attack us from behind, we are all that stands between them and those we are protecting. Do I make myself clear?" A murmured "Yes Ma'am." echoed throughout her troop.

They moved out swiftly afterwards, her troop following her lead. Dînaerlinn could feel her hands trembling as they rested warily beside her duel-crossbows strapped to her belt. Tears blinded her, but she doggedly pressed onwards, putting up a brave face. The sounds of the screams of the event that happened ten years prior still rang freshly in her ears, and would never cease to haunt her.

---

The bells on her sister's bridle jingled merrily as they continued on their journey. Dînaerlinn smiled to herself as her sister and mother laughed as they rode along side by side. Her father rode alongside her, silently taking in all that nature had to offer, sinking back to his Avari roots. She sighed softly, feeling the cool, comforting darkness of the forest.

"I can't see why others see the dark as a cold, threatening, evil thing." Dînaerlinn stated quietly as she closed her eyes, leaning backwards in the saddle.

"Hm." Seregthoron hummed in reply, his quiet nature shining through his rough exterior in the moment. "The Noldor simply do not understand. They lived in perpetual light before coming here."

"Sounds terrible." Dînaerlinn huffed. Seregthoron chuckled at his daughter's remark.

"Indeed it does." Dînaerlinn smiled as she sat back up, feeling refreshed by the darkness surrounding them. Not everything was dark really, the light filtered through the trees, casting golden rays helter skelter across the forest floor.

"Linn! Linn, look! A cardinal!" her younger sister, Roscelen, exclaimed as the bright red bird flew above their heads. Dînaerlinn laughed at her sister's enthusiasm, shaking her head slightly. Her sister had obviously inherited her mother's adventurous nature far more than she did. Roscelen even looked like their mother.

Blonde curls framed her fair, rosy cheeks, and her eyes were a soft hazel color. She was the life of the party in more ways than one. Dînaerlinn, however, took after their father, looking like a smaller, feminine version of him. Her bone-straight raven hair fell past her waist, her complexion was slightly ruddier than her sister's, and her features were much sharper compared to her sister's rounded cheeks. She was also rather small of stature, Roscelen was almost taller than she was, actually. Her left eye was brown, and her right eye was blue. Roscelen had always been more pleasing to the eye, but Dînaerlinn's mysterious and unique beauty had caught the attention of several ellyn in the past.

"Captain!" a voice cried out. Dînaerlinn turned around with her father, catching sight of his sergeant riding over to them.

"What is it?" Seregthoron demanded, his eyes filled with concern. Dînaerlinn watched on worriedly.

Her father and his troop consisting of ten men had been patrolling Doriath's borders for the past three days, watching out for anything suspicious. When she, her mother, and her sister had gotten word that Seregthoron was passing their general area, they'd ridden out to meet them, bringing provisions to supply the men for the next few days. If there was trouble now, her father's troop would have a lot more to take into consideration.

"There's a group of armed edain headed this way! We can't tell if they're hostile or-" he gave a scream of agony before falling forwards on the saddle, an arrow embedded deeply in his back.

It was like all hell had suddenly broken loose.

Her mother and Roscelen shrieked in terror, though Dînaerlinn herself was numb with shock. Her father purposefully got his family behind him, ordering them to go home. They were soon surrounded, however, by a group of edain well over tripling their groups' original size.

Her father's steed was shot from under him, and he tumbled to the ground, much to their mother's dismay. The next second, their mother fell off her own mount, her white dress stained crimson.

It was the only time Dînaerlinn had ever heard her father make a noise of pain.

Years later, she'd still be able to hear her father's anguished screams in her head.

He swiftly demanded them to leave, as he pulled his massive claymore from its sheath, the cold steel shining brightly in the darkness of the forest. Dînaerlinn swiftly obeyed, grabbing her sister's reins as well as her own, as Roscelen's cries for her family grew. The pair raced onwards, blinded by tears and closely followed. Two edain jump out of the brush, spooking their horses, who threw both ellith to the ground as they bolted. Dînaerlinn found herself with a knife at her throat once she'd gained her bearings. She swiftly brought her knee up, just as she'd been taught. The man fell as he cursed in pain. Dînaerlinn wrestled the knife from his grasp, hitting him over the head with the hilt as hard as she could.

"LINN! Linn, help!" Dînaerlinn whirled around at the sound of her sister's scream. An adan had her sister headlock, his dirty fingers tangled in her golden hair.

"You make one move, lass, and she's dead!" the man shouted at her as he held a knife to Roscelen's throat. She froze in place, her stolen knife held in a white knuckled grip as she stared at her sister helplessly.

"Please," she begged, her heart pounding, although she was completely willing to do whatever was necessary to save her beloved younger sister "if you let her go, I'll take her place." Roscelen's eyes widened.

"LINN, DON'T!"

"I'll go with you without a fight, but only if she's not harmed!" Dînaerlinn pleaded, falling to her knees in submission.

It was such a strange experience, feeling defeat for the first time.

She, like her father, had always been a fighter.

But if defeat was the way to save Roscelen, then she would submit.

Two men stood behind her, looking to the other adan for an answer. He nodded, harshly throwing her sister to the ground. Dînaerlinn winced as the other two men pulled her roughly to her feet, their unfriendly hands holding her still as a rope tied her hands behind her back. Another rope was slipped between her teeth as a substitute gag, the knot tied painfully tight.

"Linn… Linn, don't do this." Roscelen sobbed as she rushed past the edain, straight to her sister.

"Ros, it's alright." Dînaerlinn whispered softly through their bond. "It's alright, don't cry for me."

"Do you realize what you very well could be putting yourself into?" Roscelen thought back, her voice and thoughts laced with grief.

"I know what I'm doing Ros. I've thought about the consequences." The images of her possible fate popped up in her mind again, making her stomach tie itself into knots. "And I'd rather it happen to me than you."

"Don't say that, Linn! Do you remember when we were younger, and we were both being bullied over Ada's Avari heritage, although we were only a quarter Avari? Do you remember how we both swore that we would go through everything in life together? All of life's ups and downs? We swore that we would share each other's joys and pain? Don't force me to break that promise!"

Tears stung Dînaerlinn's eyes over her sister's sentiment.

"I'm your older sister, Ros… I also swore to myself that I'd protect you."

Roscelen was silent, her tears staining her fair face.

She hugged her sister tightly. Dînaerlinn's tears finally fell as she leaned into her sister's embrace, wishing her hands were unbound.

The edain cruelly pulled them apart.

"I love you."

That was the last thought she would hear from her sister.

"I love you too Ros. Don't forget that." She blocked their bond right after. Dînaerlinn then found herself led at a forced march, jogging slightly to keep herself from being dragged.

Roscelen watched on silently, tears streaming down her cheeks.

A cold gleam suddenly caught her eye.

The knife her sister had dropped lay on the ground, cold and inviting.

Without thinking, and with only her determination to save her sister in mind, Roscelen took up the blade, and rushed forward, drawing blood from the nearest adan and she sliced his arm. Dînaerlinn looked over her shoulder in panic as the man screeched in pain, and another adan tackled her sister to the ground. Although the next few seconds were a blur, they seemed like an eternity to her as she struggled against her captors, screaming through the gag as the knife was wrenched away from Roscelen, and thrust through her stomach.

The adan got up, surveyed his handiwork, and walked away from her sister's crumpled form.

Tears blinded her as she took in her sister with a heavy heart.

If it hadn't been for the blood, Dînaerlinn would've guessed that her sister was asleep.

She was led past the rest of the corpses, a few adan, her father's entire troop of ten men, each one sprawled out in some grotesque manner, her mother laying on her side, mouth slightly ajar, her eyes closed, and then finally, her father, the mighty warrior, Seregthoron, his eyes staring blankly at the overcast sky.

She wept.

There was nothing more she could do, other than do her best to survive.

---

Mornar gave a quiet curse of pain as he stumbled, his leg throbbing beneath the bandages.

"Are you okay?" Callon asked as he looked up at his friend worriedly.

"Aye, I'm alright. Just getting old I suppose."

They'd only been walking for the past half an hour, and he already felt like he was going to collapse.

"Halt!" a voice shouted ahead. Everyone stopped abruptly, growing silent as Lieutenant Elgonion stood up on one of the wagons, his red hair blowing in the breeze. "We're taking a five minute break. Healers, use this time to check on the wounded. Soldiers and marchwardens, use this time to check supplies and weapons."

"Mornar!"

The exile wheeled around at the sound of his name, nearly falling over in the process. Daecrist stood there, looking just as commanding on a pair of crutches as he did on horseback.

"Sit down. If you stay standing any longer, you'll fall over." Mornar quietly obeyed, silent as always, clearly nervous. Daecrist could honestly say that he found it troubling. He carefully sat down beside the Nargothrondian, Callon scrambling into his lap soon after. "Are you alright?"

"Aye." the dark haired ellon muttered as he carefully checked his bandages, grimacing as he noticed some light spots of blood. He quickly did his best to hide it. Daecrist's brow furrowed as he sensed the exile's anxiety.

"Cal, why don't you go see if Nana needs any help." Callon was about to argue, but when he saw his father's expression, he quickly changed his mind and scampered off to find his mother.

"You're scared." The former General stated bluntly, getting right to the point.

"Am not." Mornar half-heartedly retorted.

"Mornar, I've commanded hundreds of soldiers in my time. I know fear when I see it." The exile made no reply. "What's troubling you?"

"I… I don't even know." Mornar admitted. "I liked Pessmenel from the moment I saw it, and I don't know why I'm hesitant to go."

"What are your past experiences with villages?" A flash of pain crossed Mornar's face at Daecrist's question.

"You don't want to know." he muttered, trying to keep his hands from shaking as he fought back the memories. A kind hand was on his shoulder.

"We're not going to hurt you, Mornar. I hope you know that."

"I know none of you will, but I can't help being a little paranoid." He fell silent after that, trying to cope with his inner demons.

"How bad is the bleeding?" Mornar looked up in shock at the question, his heart pounding out of his chest.

---

"How bad is the bleeding?" He asked.

Mornar didn't want to answer, but he knew for a fact that if he didn't get help soon, things would not turn out very well. He trembled from where he sat on the ground, helpless, his arm coated in blood trickling from a deep gash he'd gained during their sparring session.

"It… it's bad."

"Well, that won't do, now will it?" Erynaur purred, patronizing him as though he was an elfling. Mornar silently shook his head. He already knew what happened when he didn't agree with Erynaur. "It should be taken care of." Mornar shuddered, silently fearing whatever was in store for him.

Erynaur was an ex-warrior.

Not a healer.

He grimaced as his hand was pried away from the wound.

"Dear goodness, that's a nasty cut. It at least needs some bandages." He was off to the nearby first-aid kit in a flash, leaving his employee sitting in the snow, the blood staining the white carpet red. The outcast bit his lip, silently waiting.

Even he had to admit it was almost sad how he didn't resist anymore.

Erynaur came flying back, bandages in hand, and a triumphant smile on his face. Mornar knew from experience that that look only and always meant trouble.

He looked at the bandages warily as Erynaur knelt beside him, tugging at his arm.

They looked alright at first glance, but his sharp eyes soon noticed an odd, crusty substance on the cloth.

As soon as they touched his skin, he wanted to scream.

It stung!

His hand flew back to the injury, clawing a little at the bandage as he fought back tears. The substance was gritty under his fingers, and then it hit him like a thunderbolt.

Salt.

The bandages were coated with salt.

He was pulled out of his musing when Erynaur grabbed him by the hair, jerking his head upwards. The former warrior's once somewhat pleasant features had turned sour, and his eyes glittered menacingly in the shady sparring arena.

"Get up, you son of demons."

---

"Mornar? Mornar, are you alright?" Daecrist asked, concerned, as he placed a hand one the exile's shoulder. The Nargothrondian pulled away in alarm, raising an arm in self defence, but instead of lashing out, much to Daecrist's surprise and grief, he instead shielded his head, as if expecting a blow. "Hey," Daecrist murmured softly as he gently pulled the ellon's arm down "it's alright. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry for saying something that brought up unwanted memories." Mornar looked up at him, his eyes glistening with unbidden and unshed tears.

"How?" he asked, his husky voice sounding rougher than usual. "How did you know?" Daecrist sighed.

"As I told you earlier; I've led enough soldiers to know fear when I see it, but I also know trauma when I see it. By the way, you're not exactly the best at hiding injuries. If you want lessons on how to hide them better, talk to Ruscdîr, but I don't recommend it." Mornar hung his head in shame. "Here." Daecrist murmured gently. "Let me see." Mornar looked at him warily. "I'm not going to do anything." Daecrist reassured him firmly. "I just want to make sure you're alright."

The Nargothrondian hesitated slightly, but then quietly nodded, exposing the injury.

Mornar felt himself shuddering slightly under the former-General's scrutinizing gaze.

"It's alright." Mornar thought to himself. "He's not going to hurt me; I can trust him. I can trust him."

"You managed to bust two of the stitches while we were walking. The bleeding isn't too bad, though you should probably see Alquawen sooner than later."

"Thank you." he said quietly. Daecrist placed a hand on his shoulder, pleasantly surprised when Mornar didn't flinch.

"Anytime. I owe you for saving Cal."

"You owe me nothing. It was just the right thing to do."

"All the same," Daecrist smiled, "if you need anything at all, let me know."

"Move out!"

Mornar swiftly scrambled to his feet, swaying slightly before regaining his balance, and offering a hand to Daecrist.

"Are you sure?" He inquired. "You're not exactly stable either." Mornar simply shrugged in an answer.

"I'm not the one in crutches."

"Though you probably should be." Daecrist muttered under his breath as he accepted the help.

Alquawen and Eleithel turned around in alarm at the sound of the yelps of surprise, catching a glimpse of both Mornar and Daecrist falling over together due to a lack of balance. Alquawen swiftly rushed over, but Eleithel hung back for a minute, pinching the bridge of her nose in exasperation.

"Ellyn!" She muttered under her breath before darting over.

---

"Are you alright?" Culdôr looked up in surprise.

"Am I what?" He asked.

"Are you alright?" Maewen asked, her hazel eyes holding a troubled look in them. "You've been awfully quiet since the battle." Culdôr sighed softly, the young adan once again coming to mind. "Am I correct in believing that something happened during the fight?" Maewen asked softly, sensing her brother's conflicting emotions.

"Aye." Culdôr replied softly, a shuddery breath escaping his lips. "Something happened during the battle, and even though I know what I did was right, I'm worried that something might happen to you if anyone found out what I did."

"What did you do?" Maewen whispered somewhat fearfully as she gazed at her brother's face, wondering what her brother could've done to make him afraid that something could happen to her because of it.

"There… there was this adan." he began, looking around him to make sure nobody was listening. "He was rather young to be on the battlefield, and he… he saved my life." He glanced over, looking at his sister's reaction. She was surprisingly calm as she received the news, looking at him, her aura full of understanding. "So I saved his in return, and helped him escape. I know it was the right thing to do, and if anything happens to me because of it, I'll have no regrets, but I don't think I'd be able to bear it if anything happened to you, because chances are I won't be there to protect you if anything does, because I would've already been..." his voice trailed off, and he felt Maewen's hand slip into his.

"You did the right thing." Maewen gently whispered through their bond, seeing the images of Éadgel in her brother's mind. "He deserved to live."

"Thank you." Culdôr replied, sighed softly in relief. It felt so good to get such a secret off his chest. "I heard you've been hanging out with one of the cadets." She didn't even need to answer; the blush that colored her cheeks was enough of an answer for him. "What's his name?"

"Faron."

"Faron who?"

"I… I don't know. He only told me his first name."

Culdôr sighed.

"I just want you to be safe, Mae."

"I know."

"Why don't you invite him over for dinner?" Maewen looked up in surprise at her brother's statement. "That way we'll all get to know each other better."

"He'll probably end up bringing Alagos too."

"Who's Alagos?"

"His little brother."

"Can't he leave Alagos with his parents?"

Maewen fell silent.

"They… they don't have parents, Culdôr. Their parents were killed in a raid a few years ago."

Culdôr frowned.

"So, the same situation as us?"

"Aye." Maewen replied with a shuddery breath. He gently placed an arm around his sister, pulling her into a light hug.

"The tavern, seven-thirty, Alagos is welcome." Maewen looked up in shock.

"You…?"

"Yes, I mean it!" Culdôr exclaimed as he laughed at her facial expression.

"Thank you!" she squealed excitedly as she threw her arms around his neck.

"Alright, alright, you're welcome, there's no need to strangle me!"

---

"Captain!"

Dînaerlinn nearly leapt out of her skin.

She whirled around to find exactly who she didn't want to see standing behind her.

"Lieutenant." she greeted cordially, but with ice behind her words.

"Have you inspected your troops?" Ruscdîr asked through gritted teeth.

"Of course I have." Dînaerlinn snapped.

Daecrist watched from a distance, frowning in disapproval as he watched the pair quarrel.

"Enough!" He bellowed, gaining the attention of the both of them. "Get over here! Now!" Captain and Lieutenant obediently walked over, still glaring daggers at each other. "Listen. I know I'm not a General anymore, but you need to stop! Both of you!" he hissed so that Dînaerlinn's troop would not hear. "I have no idea what either of you are arguing about, and I don't want to hear the reason because it's probably stupid! Whatever the reason, I'm ending it here and now. I know you both well enough to know that you both have the defence of Doriath as a high priority."

"I have it as my highest." Ruscdîr bristled, giving a pointed look at Dînaerlinn.

She swallowed hard.

He had no idea how close to the truth he was.

Brennil would always be her top priority.

"I said, 'I'm. Ending. It.'" Daecrist growled, giving his former Lieutenant his famous glare, before looking over at Dînaerlinn with a somewhat softer gaze.

He knew her history.

"You both want what's best for our people. I know that, but if we argue about the littlest things, we become weaker, and therefore, more susceptible. I don't want to catch either of you arguing with each other for the rest of the trip. Is that understood?"

A muttered 'yes sir' was uttered, and Dînaerlinn went back to her troop. Ruscdîr began to walk away, only to be grabbed by the arm and lightly pulled back.

"What?" he grumbled, his cheeks still red from the embarrassment of being scolded.

"Listen." Daecrist murmured with a sigh, hoping he could mend their broken friendship. "I know you've been through a lot, and that the battle didn't help, but you have no idea what that elleth has been through. To be honest, if I knew she only commanded ten men, I wouldn't have asked her for backup." he mumbled, gazing over her small troop with sympathy.

"What are you talking about? She could easily spare some men!" Ruscdîr huffed as he glared in the general direction of the stubborn Captain. She noticed, and glared evenly back at him for a few seconds before turning her attention back to her troop.

Daecrist gave a small sigh.

"Her father was a Captain of the guard, and a renowned one at that." he stated quietly, praying that his fiery Lieutenant was listening. "His troop consisted of ten of the best warriors in the area, and they were all killed, except one, along with her entire family the day she went missing." Ruscdîr blinked in surprise.

"What do you mean she went missing?" he asked, looking back at his former commander with an odd, confused look in his eyes.

Daecrist sighed.

"That's not exactly our business, now is it?" he stated as he hobbled away.

Ruscdîr turned, quietly looking at the Captain with a new perspective.

The scar on her left cheek.

Where did it come from?

How did it happen?

What were the circumstances?

Was it from a knife, or an accident?

Who did it, if it was an act of aggression?

Where did it happen?

Why did it happen?

Did she fight back?

Did she submit?

Who was she, really?

Did she learn to fight because she wanted to, or out of necessity?

Who was she under that stony mask?

Was she truly as hard and cold as she seemed?

Or was there a scared child under the facade of the fearless warrior?

Who knew her well enough to know?

Did anyone know her well enough to know?

Was she truly alone, or did she have friends?

He was so caught up in his thoughts, he didn't notice that Dînaerlinn had caught him staring, and was giving him the meanest glare she could muster. He looked up, startled, and glared back. They stood there for a minute, before Dînaerlinn signed an insulting gesture towards him. Ruscdîr's cheeks reddened, and he swiftly signed something equally insulting back at her before walking away, just to let her know that they still shared a feeling of mutual contempt.

Dînaerlinn bit her lip to keep herself from yelling some sort of jibe at him as he walked away, allowing her to simmer in her anger.

"Son of a bitch." she growled under her breath.

---

Mablung huffed silently as they walked along, trying to keep his hands from traveling to his side as he glanced warily at the surrounding wilderness. He suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to find Beleg.

"I know." he murmured softly, looking up at his friend with empathy in his green eyes.

"I'm sorry." Mablung sighed. "I shouldn't-"

"No, it's alright." Beleg insisted. "It's only been five years since… since that pleasantry happened." Mablung could only shudder in reply as his memories took him back again.

---

His footsteps were muffled by the grass as he walked back towards the province, returning from his month-long patrol of the western border. It was critical to make sure that nothing was in between them and Menengroth, so his patrol was always a bit longer than Beleg and Culdôr's patrols of the northern and southern borders. Asgarsîr, blessedly, had the eastern border when it was their shift, which was the longest.

Nan Elmoth would always be a bit of a problem thanks to the orcs and Eöl.

Mablung did not envy him.

It made more sense though, as he and Asgarsîr had the most experience out of the four of them, being the eldest. Out of the two of them, however, Asgarsîr had the upper hand, so he was assigned to the most dangerous route.

"Hopefully, he'll be alright." he thought to himself as he bit his lip, remembering how Asgarsîr had come back the last time with several scrapes and bruises, as well as a sprained ankle the last time it was their shift. Hence the reason that this time, Asgarsîr had been allowed to take his steed with him so he didn't come stumbling into town half-alive like the last time. "With more than a bit of luck, those two morons will be alright as well." he thought to himself ruefully as he thought about the insane stunts he, Beleg, and Culdôr used to pull before they enlisted.

A feeling of dread suddenly came over him, and he looked around once more, just to be sure. There was nothing in sight.

Out of nowhere, something slammed into his back, sending him tumbling to the ground. He scrambled to his feet, only to find a goblin rushing towards him with a drawn sickle.

His spear made short work of the foul creature.

More and more goblins came flying out of the underbrush with the intent of taking his life.

"Oh, this isn't good." he thought to himself as sweat dripped down his brow.

Another goblin fell under his spear, it's black blood staining his boots.

The fight lasted for several minutes, with goblins falling like flies, their blood flying everywhere as he repatedly ripped his spearpoint out of their fell bodies. He tried to ignore the feeling of the warm liquid splattering his face.

He screamed in agony as burning pain seemed to spread through his side the way flames licked away the leaves of trees during a wildfire. He collapsed on the ground, struggling to get up again, as he caught sight of the brute who'd pulled the bowstring. With whatever was left of his strength, he hurled his spear, pinning the goblin to the tree behind it.

He curled up into a ball, praying that his death would be quick as he waited anxiously for the ending blow.

It never happened.

He opened an eye, and found that the goblins hadn't attacked in numbers as large as he had first thought, and he'd killed them all already. A shuddery sigh of relief passed his lips, causing him to grimace as the action made his side scream in pain. Whimpering, he pulled at his tunic to assess the injury.

He drew in his breath sharply.

The skin surrounding the arrow was blackened from poison.

"Dammit..." he mumbled, already starting to feel sick.

If he didn't get help soon, he was as good as dead.

He crawled over to a nearby tree, his stomach rolling all the while, threatening to make him throw up. He placed a hand on the tree's rough bark, and was only able to send out a single word before he blacked out.

"Help..."

…

"Medli! Mablung, wake up! Echuia!"

For some reason, it took far more effort than it should have to open his eyes.

When he finally did, he could only just make out the figure kneeling above him through his blurry vision.

An elf with silver hair that was cropped short and shaved on one side, with pale green eyes, and a concerned expression on his normally stony features.

"As… Asgar…"

"Hush, don't try to talk, you'll waste your strength."

"Asgar… it-it's…"

"It's poisoned, I know. Here, bite down on this, I need to pull out the arrow so I can drain this." a crossbow's bolt slipped between his teeth, muffling the scream that came out of his when Asgarsîr yanked the arrow free, cursing under his breath.

Not a good sign.

He spat out the bolt as his comrade started ripping his cloak apart and staunching the bleeding.

"As… how… how?"

"How bad is it?"

"A-aye."

Silence.

"I… I'm not going to lie to you, Medli. I wish I could say that you're going to be okay, but… things aren't exactly looking very favorable at the moment. I'm afraid we're going to need more than luck at this point."

Mablung closed his eyes, allowing the words to sink in.

It was almost eerie how he didn't feel any fear.

He gasped sharply in pain as he was pulled into a somewhat sitting position.

He opened his eyes to find Asgarsîr shirtless, substituting his tunic for a bandage to wrap around his friend's injury.

"As, your… your… "

"My tunic, I know. For the last time, shut up."

Mabung did as he was told, trying not to cry as the elder marchwarden lifted him up, supporting him as they walked over to Asgarsîr's horse, a small cry escaping his lips as his friend managed to get him on the horse, and climb up behind him. A chill washed over him, and he found his teeth chattering, unconsciously leaning back against Asgarsîr for warmth.

He only faintly heard his friend curse under his breath.

They both knew that chills were a clear sign that the poison was starting to take effect.

"We're going to get back home, Medli, I promise we will."

It was the first and only time he'd ever heard Asgarsîr sound weak.

He blacked out soon after.

---

Mablung released a shuddery breath once they were out of the area, earning a sympathetic glance from his friend.

Even Alquawen had doubted he'd make it through the night after Asgarsîr had brought him back to Pessmenel, miraculously still breathing.

"I really ought to thank them all again." he whispered, Beleg looking at him in concern. "If it weren't for them, I'd be dead right now."

"Alquawen's never been one to accept praise for her actions." Beleg reminded him quietly. "Neither is Asgarsîr. It's enough reward for them to know that you're alive."

"All the same, I can't thank them enough."

"They know." Beleg said with a kind smile as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Believe me, they know. By the way, Al wanted me to thank you for those flowers you got for her in the market to brighten up the house a little."

Mablung laughed in reply, wryly smiling as rubbed at the back of his neck.

"You see? You don't need to thank them anymore than you already do with your actions!" Beleg laughed, lightly poking fun at his friend. "If you get Alquawen any more flowers, you're going to condemn that talan to becoming a garden!"

"Alright, I'm a bit overdramatic!"

"Only slightly."

---

Mornar held his breath as Alquawen's needle slipped through his flesh once again, closing up the terrible injury.

"To be honest with you," Alquawen sighed "I'm surprised that you didn't pop more stitches than that." Mornar nodded silently in agreement, about to reply when the wagon they were currently riding in gave a sharp jolt, making him gasp in pain.

Apparently, Daecrist had only been slightly off when he did his swift examination with the results of two busted stitches.

Rather, there were three broken stitches.

"I want you on crutches once I'm done." A stern look was all it took to silence his complaints. "If you bust any more stitches than you already have, it'll take far longer to heal, and if crutches are the solution, then we'll go with them."

Mornar sighed in defeat.

"Very well."

"It just is going to be hard to find crutches that are big enough…" Alquawen muttered under her breath. Mornar winced.

His height had always been an issue.

He briefly wondered if it was even possible to get crutches in his size in the first place.

"There's nothing here!" Alquawen grumbled unhappily in frustration as she searched for a pair.

"It's alright." Mornar sighed. "I heard some saying we're over halfway, so I'll just stick it out." Alquawen bit her lip worriedly.

"Are you sure?"

"Aye."

A sigh of gentle concern passed her lips.

"Very well. Be careful."

"I will."

She could only watch as he carefully jumped out of the still moving wagon, landing lightly on his feet, taking the brunt of his weight and the impact on his good leg. She sighed softly in relief as he looked up at her with a nod to show that he was alright.

How was it that she could be so drawn to a total stranger she'd met only a few days prior?

She didn't even know him that well, and yet she felt as though she'd known him for a lifetime.

How could it be that in her dreams during the past few nights, a child had appeared before her mind's eye?

A child with blue eyes, dark hair with a silver sheen, and a smile that showed clearly who the father was?

She glanced over her shoulder at the Nargothrondian who was currently joking around with her brother, Mablung, and Culdôr, a rare, real smile on his face.

She sighed, her heart already belonging to him, despite the worry building up in her chest. Learning to love him meant learning how to heal the deepest wounds.

She bit her lip in quiet anxiety.

It wasn't the process of learning that scared her, rather, it was the possibility of failure.

Would she be able to be there for him all the time?

In truth, he didn't need someone to hold him all the time, but Eru knew he deserved that kind of love. He deserved it more than anyone she knew of, a fact which she found equally as frightening a prospect than failing to do so.

She's only known of his existence, let alone him, for so long.

It was frightening to think that emotions could be so wild and unpredictable. That he'd earned her heart in a matter of seconds, without even realizing or trying for that matter. It was so strange that she'd automatically responded the way she did. He hadn't done anything to win her heart, nor had he even asked for it.

Did he feel the same way?

Just because he'd offered comfort during her nightmares really didn't mean anything. He could've just been being kind. He could've just been mature. He could've just been being chivalrous.

Hell, he could've just felt bad for all she knew!

That was the problem with men as enigmatic as Mornar! It was impossible to tell what he was thinking!

She sighed in frustration, sinking to her knees.

"Why do ellyn and infatuations have to be so difficult?"

"Are you alright?"

She squeaked in surprise as she looked up to find that Mornar had somehow managed to jump back into the wagon without her noticing, and was looking at her with a concerned expression.

"Your face is awfully red…" he said worriedly. "Are you sure you don't have a fever or something?"

"Yes, I'm fine!" She said briskly. "What is it? Did you break more stitches already?"

"Only one!" He replied sheepishly as he pulled at his tunic to reveal the small spots of blood staining the bandage covering his shoulder. "I also wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked pretty upset about something… Are you sure you're alright?" she blushed deeply yet again at his words.

She found it so precious that someone who'd been through abuse their entire life was still able to care for others.

"A true testament to his character." she thought to herself.

"I'm fine." she replied. "Now, hold still." she murmured quietly as she loosed the bandage to clean and re-stitch the injury. "And you're staying here."

"What?"

"You heard me. I don't want you hurting yourself anymore."

"I'm not doing it intentionally…" Mornar murmured quietly, yet seriously. "I stopped doing that after… after everything I told Beleg about."

"I know, and I'm not accusing you of doing such, but it seems that you're busting stitches faster than almost everyone else. For your own good you should probably ride the rest of the way back. Even Daecrist decided to get in a wagon if you don't believe me."

Mornar sighed.

"Very well." he mumbled, clearly unhappy that he was being forced to stay on the sidelines. Alquawen sighed, disliking seeing him so downcast.

"Listen. Once we get to Pessmenel, would you like me to show you around?"

He brightened up a little, a small smile gracing his melancholy features.

"Aye. What's it like over there? Callon tried telling me earlier, but he was talking at a mile a minute."

"Well, that certainly sounds like Cal!" Alquawen laughed. "It's rather quiet in Pessmenel, and the majority of people there are commoners. There is a family of nobles though." she inwardly shuddered a little as she thought about how Mornar would unfortunately eventually come in contact with them. "About anything you could think of is sold at the market, but it's only open on Sundays, so we just have to make do all the other days of the week. There's one tavern that has a bar, and they're open pretty much all the time, but I really don't go there much, so I couldn't tell you what's there. Beleg and his friends might know, though." she continued on with her description, not missing how Mornar's eyes seemed to glow in wonder the whole time.

She knew the truth more than anyone.

Having the Nargothrondian in Pessmenel would change everything.

"Hopefully those changes will be for the better." she thought to herself before her gentle heart was pained by the prospect of certain individuals she knew of trying to hurt the innocent ellon even more. "I just wish I knew how to tell him that some of those changes will be for the worst…"

---

Mornar found himself gaping as he turned around in circles, trying to see everything in the village once he'd gotten off the wagon. Alquawen laughed as she watched the Nargothrondain literally spinning around in circles as he tried to take in all the new information.

"You're not going to see much that way! Here, let me show you around!" she exclaimed as she grabbed his hand and started walking.

"That's my talan up there. You're welcome to stay." Alquawen pointed with a smile. The smile on Mornar's face faltered for a split second, although Alquawen seemed not to notice.

"Thank you." He murmured softly, knowing that he wasn't going to accept the offer. He intruded on her life too much already without going into her home.

They continued walking, her calming voice giving him an outlet from the penetrating stares boring into him. He glanced around him from time to time, finding that, strangely enough, all of the stares he saw were of a curious nature rather than a malevolent one. Children shyly peeked out from behind their parents, looking at the strange newcomer. The ellith gossiped in hushed whispers, stealing glances occasionally, and the ellyn were clearly judging him from a distance, taking in each aspect of him: his height, his build, his strength, silently evaluating him and his potential abilities with weapons.

Considering if he was an asset or a downfall.

They couldn't afford someone who couldn't stand on their own two feet.

Pessmenel was small.

In order to defend themselves, they'd need every able bodied fighter they could get.

Picking up a deadbeat was not an option.

He could only pray that once he healed, he'd be able to be whatever they needed him to be.

"Good morning, milady." Mornar didn't know why, but his nape prickled at the sound of the strange voice. He wheeled around to find a coal-haired elf trying to talk to a rather unimpressed Alquawen. He immediately stood beside her, arms crossed, trying to look as imposing as possible. The strange elf smirked. He was dressed in fine clothes, and a family crest was embroidered on his sleeve.

"He must be one of those nobles Alquawen was talking about." he thought to himself.

"Good morning, Seregmîr." Alquawen mumbled unenthusiastically.

"And who might this be?" Seregmîr asked, approaching the Nargothrondian, a warning look in his blue eyes.

"An immigrant." Mornar replied before Alquawen could say anything, as he returned Seregmîr's glare. He'd learned to deal with people like Seregmîr long ago. Besides, he was a head taller than the noble, and broader across the chest and shoulders. The noble's hands were also unadultured by scars and calluses, so it was safe to say that whatever weapons training he had was minimal.

As far as Mornar was concerned, he was only outranked in social status.

"Are you now? Where are you from, immigrant?"

"Nargothrond."

"What's your name?"

"Mornar."

"Mornar who?"

"That's not your business."

"My family runs this town, of course it's my business." Seregmîr growled lowly, clearly getting annoyed with the imposing stance and one word answers.

Mornar remained silent.

A huff of frustration passed the noble's lips.

"Until we meet again, milady." he said through gritted teeth, glaring daggers at Mornar all the while. "Oh, and by the way," he commented as they started to leave "you might want to keep your dog on a leash." Mornar's hands clenched into fists at the words.

"Don't listen to him. Getting into a fight with him is the last thing you want to do." Alquawen whispered quietly, a fearful look in her eyes at the poisonous look in the eyes of her companion.

"I'm not." He muttered, his jaw tightly clenched.

To be honest with himself, he found it somewhat amusing that Seregmîr had compared him to a dog when he'd been comparing himself to an overgrown guard dog a few days prior.

"Though if he treats her like that again, he won't be dealing with an overgrown guard dog. More like a rabid wolf!" He thought to himself.

They continued walking around aimlessly, the exile's eyes still filled with wonder. They walked through the market, which was still bustling with life, even though the vendors were absent, as it wasn't Sunday. A soft smile graced their faces as they watched some of the elflings skipping stones across the fountain. They settled down on the ledge, out of harm's way.

"What do you think about it?" She asked, her blue eyes hopeful.

"It's beautiful." He responded with a smile. "Better than anything I could hope for."

"That's good! Any ques-"

"Ai!" They both shrieked in surprise as they were suddenly splashed from behind with water without warning.

They swiftly turned around to find a few incredibly shocked and guilty looking elflings standing on the other side of the fountain, their eyes the size of saucers.

"S-sorry!"

"We didn't mean to!"

"Honest!"

"It's alright!" Alquawen said with a laugh before Mornar could even comprehend what happened.

"Don't… don't worry about it." He added with an awkward smile.

They smiled awkwardly in return, slowly backing off.

"I nearly got into a fight with a noble, and accidentally scared a bunch of elflings." He said with a grimace once he and Alquawen were alone. "Not exactly the best start."

A soft, sympathetic smile graced her face."You'll get the hang of it." She murmured, placing a hand on his shoulder. He smiled a little, putting his hands atop hers, praying her words were true.

---

"How did he like it?" Alquawen looked up from the vegetables she was cutting up at the question.

"I think Mornar enjoyed it, but he was definitely uncertain about a few things."

"Give him some time." Eleithel said with a small smile. "This whole thing is nothing like he's used to. All he needs is some time to get used to all of this. You'll see. Once he's used to all of the people, others truly caring about him, and actually being social, all of these worries will just disappear."

Alquawen laughed a little in return.

"I most certainly hope so. He deserves some peace. He… he's been through too much."

Eleithel put down her spoon, and pushed the bowl of batter aside.

"Like what exactly? I want to help him just as much as you do, Al, but I can't do anything if I don't know how."

Alquawen bit her lip worriedly.

"He… he… well… it's… it's a lot."

"Alquawen." Eleithel said sternly, gripping her by the shoulders. "I can tell quite easily that you have something you need to get off your chest. You can trust me. No matter what he's been through, if it's causing you this much anxiety, you should tell someone for your own sake rather than going through all of this alone." Her deep brown eyes held a level of motherly worry and tenderness. "I'm here for you." she said, giving her friend a light shake. "You can tell me."

Alquawen sighed, looking down at her shoes.

"He… he admitted that he had been suicidal in the past, and that he'd intentionally hurt himself before." she felt Eleithel's hold tighten, pulling her into a gentle hug. "Please don't tell him I told you."

"I won't. But I'm glad that you told me. All of that is too much information for one elleth to bear."

"But what are we going to do? We need to do something!" Alquawen murmured nervously.

"I don't know… but I think that we're already somewhat on the right track because if he felt comfortable admitting that to you, because that means he must trust you."

"Hopefully, he'll be able to trust all of us." Alquawen sighed with a smile.

"They say that time is the only real healer." Eleithel said softly. "Just let time and nature run their courses, and we'll see where it gets us."

---

Dînaerlinn walked through the trees, her hands unconsciously traveling to her crossbows as she looked around her surroundings warily. It was a habit she had developed over the past few years. Without warning, a blur of silver and green leapt out of the treetops, causing her to shriek in surprise as the figure landed in front of her.

"Linn, you're alright!" The elf cried as she found herself enveloped in a hug.

"Asgar!" she exclaimed with a sigh of relief, leaning into his embrace a little. "How many times do I have to tell you not to do that?"

"Sorry, Linn. I was just so happy you made it back in one piece!" Asgarsîr murmured, gently tucking a few strands of her unruly black hair behind her ear. "I didn't realize you were in the battle. Had I known, I would've gone to check on Bren."

"I told her to go to stay with the neighbors before I left, so there wouldn't have been anyone home anyway. In fact, I'm going over to get her once I get changed and dump these things off at home." she said with a small smile as she pointed to her crossbows. Asgarsîr returned her smile.

"Then I suppose I'll go with you."

They walked along together in silence, and Dînaerlinn allowed herself to relax a little. Asgarsîr was her closest, and perhaps only friend. She risked a glance at him. He stood several inches taller than her, his features hard and stoney, yet kind.

He'd looked far different, all those years ago when she'd first met him. His silver hair, now cropped short and side shaved, had once fallen to his waist, causing her father to constantly nag him about getting a haircut. His battle hardened face had once been full of boyish joy.

"What?"

She looked up, startled, to find Asgarsîr looking down at her with a funny look in his light green eyes.

"Nothing, Asgar. Just remembering the old days." Asgarsîr smiled. He remembered her, oh, so well. Every time he saw her, she was always wearing a deep green or brown dress, her hair loose with a few braids, plaited with gray ribbons. Her face had once been fair, full of life and love. He looked at her sadly.

She no longer wore dresses or ribbons.

Her face now held the look of a scared and haunted child rather than the fearless, adventurous elleth he'd once known.

"Always up a tree with a book!" he thought to himself with an inward laugh, thinking about all the times he'd gone to their talan, only to find Dînaerlinn perched on one of the branches, an old, leather-bound book in her hands, full of tales of wizards and knights and various fairy tales.

She had quite the imagination in her younger years.

She used to make incredible pictures with charcoal.

"What?"

A small, cheeky smile crossed his face as he looked at her.

"Just remembering the old days."

"Part of me wishes we could go back. Things were a lot less con-"

"Nana!"

"Brennil?!" Dînaerlinn darted forward, falling to her knees as she caught her child in her arms. Asgarsîr followed closely, confusion written across his face. "I thought I told you to stay with the neighbors until I got back." she said numbly.

Brennil had always been a remarkably obedient child.

She couldn't have disobeyed her mother.

"You did, but each time I went there, nobody opened the door."

"Each time?" Dînaerlinn questioned, her voice shaking as she prayed that what she thought was going on wasn't the case. Brennil nodded as Asgarsîr frowned, knowing exactly what his friend was thinking.

"I don't think anyone was home… Nana, are you alright?" she asked, her deep brown eyes full of worry.

"Aye… I'm alright. Just a little worn out, that's all. Wait a minute. What have you been eating?! I've been gone for days!"

"I remembered which nuts and berries were good to eat! Just like you showed me when we went camping that one time!" Brennil exclaimed proudly with a smile. Dînaerlinn sighed in relief and exasperation all at once as Asgarsîr smiled.

"Well! At least you know she can take care of herself!" he said with a laugh as he gave his friend a pat on the back.

"Let's get you home and fed with proper food." the raven haired elleth said softly as she picked up her child.

"Sounds good to me! I think I ate enough nuts and berries to fill twelve pies!" Brennil huffed as she buried her face into her mother's shoulder.

Dînaerlinn laughed.

"I'll bet you did, meleth. I think I have enough potatoes to make your favorite, by the way." Brennil immediately brightened.

"Potato soup?"

"Yes. You're welcome to stay, Asgar."

"I think I will. Your cooking is nothing to skip out on!" She chuckled at her friend's remark as she rolled her eyes.

"He hasn't changed that much, really. He still thinks with his stomach!"

"We'll go in a minute. I just have to call my other child."

"You mean your squirrly child?" Asgarsîr joked.

"Oh, stop it! I raised Chatter, so therefore she's my child as well!" Dînaerlinn laughed.

"And my sister!" Brennil quipped.

"Alright, you win!" he chuckled. "Just call her! I'm only getting hungrier, and I'll bet Bren's feeling the same way!"

Her odd, low whistle filled the woodland air, echoing eerily off of the foliage. Asgarsîr shuddered a little. It was a mysteriously frightening, yet hauntingly beautiful noise all at the same time. After a few seconds, faint rustling in the trees could be heard, gradually getting louder, before a red squirrel with graying fur bounded out of a nearby treetop, landing perfectly on Dînaerlinn's shoulder. Brennil laughed gaily as the creature sniffed her face, tickling the peredhel's nose with her whiskers.

"Hello, Chatter!"

Asgarsîr laughed, lightly shaking his head in amusement.

It was strange to think that a squirrel of all the creatures could be such a steadfast companion for so many years. The rodent stood upright on Dînaerlinn's shoulder, her front paws resting against her caretaker's cheek, her sharp little claws not leaving even the slightest mark on the elleth's delicate skin. He chuckled quietly, remembering the day that they'd found Dînaerlinn in the woods, the feisty baby squirrel in her care.

Her mother had always been picking up random little animals and taking care of them, so it made sense that her daughter would pick up the same trait and passion.

"Well then, now that we have everyone, shall we go?" She asked with a smile.

"Of course! My stomach commands you to lead on!" he laughed.

"You mean your bottomless pit?" Dînaerlinn retorted with a snort.

Brennil giggled as Asgarsîr sniffed indignantly at the playful insult.

"Very well, then. I'll just be on my merry way and leave you with a load of pesky leftovers because you always cook too much!"

"Please don't. Eru knows I don't have the storage space!"

Asgar laughed in reply as the four of them made their way through the woods.

---

"Are the stairs still as treacherous as they were last time?" Asgarsîr asked with a gulp as they all looked at the rickety old stairs leading up to the old talan.

Dînaerlinn's talan had been in her family for generations, but it was so far removed from the center of the province, it had no bridges from the village leading to it. It was of an older, practically forgotten design, the actual living space hollowed out of, but not hurting, the tree itself, and was surrounded by a wide deck. A staircase led up to the deck, although Dînaerlinn had to be careful, as most of the property had been taken over by swampy wetlands over the years.

"Aye, Asgar." She sighed. "Still as sturdy as eggshells. Mind your step."

Chatter leapt to the banister.

"Smart squirrel." Asgarsîr muttered under his breath.

"Smarter than you, at least!" Dînaerlinn snickered.

"Well then! If she's smarter than I am, then that must mean she's smarter than you!"

Dînaerlinn only rolled her eyes in response, a smirk on her features.

Brennil started going up the staircase, followed closely by her mother, who was looking over the top of her daughter's head, keeping an eye out for any rotting in the wood, and then Asgarsîr, who was looking about them just as warily as Dînaerlinn was.

Blessedly, none of them fell through the stairs, something which Dînaerlinn could say from experience was not a pleasant occurrence.

Particularly when one landed in a rose bush as she had.

"I'll start making lunch in a minute. I'm going to get changed quickly first." She stated as they got into the kitchen. "I won't be a minute."

She walked into the small bedroom she shared with Brennil, her skin suffocating under her uniform.

It never really fit her.

It was the smallest uniform they had and yet it was still too big!

"If only I were a bit taller… and not this measly five-feet and one lousey inch!" she thought to herself with a huff as she pulled off the cloth headband holding her hair back, allowing her dark bangs to fall into her face. Chatter leapt onto a nearby night table. She rolled her eyes with a snort.

"May I help you?"

The squirrel looked up at her, her eyes bright and inquisitive.

"Very well then. I suppose you can stay."

She pulled off her vest and crossbows, tossing them onto her bed. She grimaced as she pulled off her tunic. It was pulling at the bandages. Her eyes widened as she saw the blood coating the back of her tunic.

"Blast!" she cursed under her breath as she looked over her shoulder in the mirror at her bloodied bandages. The squirrel leapt onto her arm, sniffing the white cloth wrapped around her. "Oh, lay off of it." Dînaerlinn muttered as Chatter tried to claw at the foreign object on her mother.

"Nana, are you okay? You've been in there for a while…" a sweet, worried voice said from the other side of the door, causing her to jump.

"Yes, tithen-pen, I'm alright. I'll be out in just a minute." she called as she dug around for some strips of cloth she had laying about somewhere. Asgar joked that she was a hoarder sometimes, but you never knew when you were going to need something. After tying a strip around her slender frame, she got dressed and went to the kitchen. She started cooking, laughing and joking around with Brennil and Asgarsîr, who were both hovering around her, trying to steal a taste.

The kitchen was filled with warm smells of comfort.

It was her mother's recipe, and she always felt a pang of grief among the joy as she thought of her childhood, cooking and baking with her mother and Roscelen.

But Brennil's beaming smile and Asgarsîr's gentle "thank you" were enough to numb the pain.

"I think we have some bread as well." she added as she put the pot on the table. "I'll go check." She searched her cabinets, eventually finding a loaf of bread that was slightly stale, but not moldy.

Good enough.

The best thing she saw that day was the cheery joy in Brennil's face as she scarfed it down.

"Oh, Bren!" she laughed. "Slow down! You'll make yourself sick!"

Brennil suddenly started laughing.

"What? What is it?" she asked in befuddlement. Her child pointed at Asgarsîr, giggling away. She looked up to find her friend moving as slowly as humanly possible, almost in slow motion.

"Cheeky." she huffed, a smile in her voice.

"Only for you." He smiled.

They joked around and happily conversed until Asgarsîr had to leave.

"Nana, the blackberries are ripe! Can we go pick some?"A soft smile graced Dînaerlinn's harsh features at the innocent request.

"I'd love to, iel, but I have to go do something."

"Oh." Brennil mumbled, looking down at her shoes.

"But, I shouldn't be gone too long." Dînaerlinn added, trying to make up for the fact that she'd been away for so long, only to leave again. "If you want to start picking while I'm gone, I can hurry things up as much as I can, come home, finish picking the berries with you, and then we could bake a pie! Does that sound alright?"

"Yes!" Brennil squealed with excitement. Her mother laughed.

"Well then, that's settled! I'll go now so I can come back sooner! Be safe, alright?"

"I will! Love you!"

"I love you too penneth." she replied gently as she planted a gentle kiss on her daughter's forehead. "I'll be back before you know it." she got Brennil a basket, and then darted up onto the roof.

Dînaerlinn stood on the old, loose shingles, carefully calculating the distance between her and the nearest branch. After a few minutes of careful judgment, she rushed forward and leaped, landing on the thin branch perfectly. She quickly scrambled to the tops of the trees, running, leaping and landing each and every jump with the agility of a squirrel or mouse.

One of the few perks she relished about being as small as she was, was that she could tree jump at the very tops of the trees on the thinnest branches because she didn't weigh very much.

The higher she went, the more and more her head broke through the leafy canopy, allowing her a spectacular view of the forest.

It was strange how only the smallest individuals could see the massive expanse of beauty from such thrilling heights.

Soon, she was almost entirely topside, able to see the flowers that hid at the tops of the trees, and the lavender and lilac butterflies that lived above the elves of Doriath.

To think that Thingol's pride and joy was the glittering caverns of Menegroth rather than the sea of white flowers and purple butterflies that lay above.

She slowed to a stop, enjoying the fresh air and the warmth of Arien on her face.

She'd long ago promised Brennil that she'd take her here for her tenth birthday.

Two more years to go.

She planned to take her at night so she could see a sight even more magical than the top of the forest in the daylight. Under the gentle light of Tilion, the forest took on an even more beautiful mantle. When it got dark, the flowers and butterflies produced a bioluminescent light that glowed softly under the stars and fireflies, creating an aura that was just as bright as the light of day.

Few had seen it.

Few bothered to even try.

They were too scared of falling.

She shook herself out of her reverie.

Brennil was patiently waiting.

She began running again.

---

Alquawen dug through her basket, carefully thinking.

Did she have enough walnuts for the salad?

She didn't have the energy or the ingredients to make anything special for dinner, but she had to make something for Beleg, Mornar, and herself.

So, salad it was.

Hopefully, it would be enough.

Also, it would be a nice change from rations.

"Alright! So we were home, but we wouldn't take in your peredhel daughter even if she was homeless!"

"Please, she's just a child! Besides, she's been raised among our own! She's harmless!"

She whirled around, stunned at the sound of the angered and pleading voices.

She gaped.

At the other end of the bridge, there were two ellith arguing.

One of them was Captain Seregthoroniel.

She looked anything but intimidating without her uniform, or the somber, solemn mask she always wore when on duty.

"I know it's a lot to ask, but I can't just leave her by herself, she's only eight! Please, I'll repay you in whatever way I can!"

"If you need someone to go watch your child while you go galavanting off into the wild blue yonder, why don't you get married? Oh, wait. You can't, because no ellon wants an elleth who gave her honor away to some adan!" the woman snarled condescendingly before slamming the door shut in Dînaerlinn's face, leaving the duo color eyed elleth standing on the doorstep, speechless, and close to tears.

Alquawen felt her gentle heart break a little.

Her brow furrowed as she noticed some light spots of blood on the back of the Captain's light blue tunic, right above the bandage she placed there a few days prior.

"Hey." Alquawen murmured as she approached. Dînaerlinn whirled around, her anxiety and stress present in her eyes and face.

"Oh… it's only you… Sorry about that, I'm just… a little worn out at the moment…" she mumbled, lightly rubbing at her temple.

She felt a migraine coming, but she didn't want to disappoint Brennil.

"Captain, I know that now may not be the time, but… you're bleeding." she said, keeping her voice low so that others couldn't hear. Dînaerlinn's eyes widened.

"What?!"

She tried to look over her shoulder, trying to see.

"Will you get off my front step already?!" the elleth who Dînaerlinn had been arguing with shouted as she stepped outside.

"Yes, Captain Seregthoroniel and I were just leaving!" Alquawen exclaimed cheerily, faking a smile as she grabbed the smaller elleth by the hand and darted away.

"I'd watch who you became friends with, healer!" the angry woman yelled after her as she ran, half-leading-half-dragging Dînaerlinn, who was given no choice but to try to keep up with her wider stride.

"Thank you for your concern, but I think I can decide who I choose to become friends with since I'm past my majority!" Alquawen called over her shoulder, trying to hide the condescending undertone in her voice.

The pair raced away, dodging other elves on the bridges, who shook their heads in annoyance at nearly being run over by two ellith running as though they were a pair of hoodlums being chased by law enforcement.

"Where are we going?!"

"My talan's not that far, and I have some supplies there!"

"Supplies for what?" Dînaerlinn asked as she nearly tripped over a flowerpot.

"To change your bandages! I have stuff we can use to clean off your tunic as well!"

"Why are we still running?!" the Captain yelped as the rope bridge swayed precariously as they flew across the wooden planks. They slowed down to a walk.

"I… I haven't the slightest idea, actually." Alquawen realized as she let go of her hand. Dînaerlinn stumbled over to a nearby banister, gasping for breath. "I… I'm sorry Captain. I guess I got carried away… and assumed you wanted to get out of there just as much as I did."

"I… I did want to get out of there." Dînaerlinn said with a smile. Alquawen was stunned.

She looked so much younger when she smiled.

"Just not as fast!" she laughed a little, loosening the tension in the air.

"Right then! How about we continue to my talan? Walking this time." Alquawen added with a sheepish grin.

"Alright, but I can't stay for too long; I have to get back home for my daughter."

"Let's go then so we don't waste time."

The pair walked in comfortable silence until they reached Alquawen's talan.

As soon as Dînaerlinn set foot inside, she nearly walked face-first into a small tree. She looked around in shock at the sheer amount of flora in the home.

"You… You like houseplants?" She asked, ducking under a large leaf.

"Yes. A bit too much though, I'm afraid…" Alquawen replied. "I really need to stop bringing plants indoors like this… but I like them all too much to get rid of them!"

"Maybe you could transplant the larger ones outside in the forest somewhere. That's not really getting rid of them as much as it is giving them a new home and more space to grow." she suggested as she managed to follow Alquawen out of the jungle-like environment and into another room with much smaller and far fewer plants.

"Perhaps."

Dînaerlinn looked around in silent wonder at the commodious bedchamber. Alquawen's bed lay by the window near a night table with a plant on it. The room was painted white, which contrasted nicely with the greenery in the light blue flower pots.

She couldn't tell if it was that the room itself was spacious, or if it was the paint.

"Where did you get the paint for the walls?" she found herself asking. It was a refreshing sort of color that would go well with the wooden accents of her own talan, now that she thought about it.

"The talan was painted like this before I bought it." Alquawen admitted as she drew the curtains, giving them a bit more privacy. "I think I saw a similar shade at the general store, though. I'll go boil some water." Alquawen walked out of the room, followed swiftly by Dînaerlinn, who didn't like being left alone, if she were to be honest with herself.

It was strange.

They were so different, but so alike.

Alquawen's talan and general lifestyle was clean and comfortably pristine where Dînaelinn's was an odd mix of coziness and chaos, yet Alquawen was the more impulsive of the two.

Perhaps Dînaerlinn's hesitant and cautious nature had come from trauma.

Or perhaps it was because she was a mother.

She didn't know.

Perhaps Alquawen's free spirit came with the fact that she knew she could heal herself and her companions if things went sideways.

Or perhaps it was something more.

Perhaps it was because her heart was so open to others.

She didn't know either.

It was almost strange how despite being so different, they balanced each other out.

Perhaps the statement "opposites attract" applied to friendships as well.

"I think we're going to have some excess water. We could make tea with it if you have time to stay a while." Alquawen commented, secretly hoping.

Dînaerlinn carefully weighed her decisions.

Tea did sound nice.

It might even clear up her headache.

But she had to get back for Brennil.

"Maybe for a few minutes, but only if there's time." she replied. Alquawen nodded in understanding.

"Let's not waste time then." she said as she took the kettle off the stove, pouring some of the warm water into a small bowl.

"What's going on in here?" Dînaerlinn looked down and became abruptly shy at the new voice. It was odd how she could command a whole platoon, but couldn't have a conversation with someone she didn't know.

"I'm taking care of a patient quickly, Beleg. Dînaerlinn, my twin brother, Beleg. Beleg, Dînaerlinn."

"Nice to meet- Captain?!" Beleg yelped, standing sharply at attention at the sudden realization that he was standing in front of a commanding officer.

"I'm not in uniform, or on duty, am I?" Dînaerlinn pointed out quietly. "And how did you realize I was a Captain? I don't believe we've met."

"We haven't, but nearly everyone knows about you."

"Oh." She murmured with a wince as she realized he probably only knew about her reputation. "Why?"

"Captain, you command one of the most highly disciplined and efficient troops in Doriath! Why wouldn't word spread of it?" She looked up in surprise at Beleg's statement. "If you think we've all only heard of the rumors, you're wrong. Not many people could do what you're doing now."

"You can stand at ease, you know." she said with a wry grin, trying to change the subject. She'd never been one to like praise. "Neither of us are on duty at the moment." Beleg relaxed slightly.

"Captain Seregthoroniel is definitely a strange one." he thought to himself. "Absolutely terrifying when she's working, but as soft spoken as Lúthien when she's not…"

"Beleg, where's Mornar?" Alquawen asked, suddenly realizing that the Nargothrondian was absent. "I thought he was staying with us." Beleg sighed.

"You know him, Al. He said he didn't want to intrude, so he was going to work something else out."

"Beleg… tell him I won't take no for an answer." Alquawen gently implored. "I know him well enough to realize that he's just going to stay outside all night. Please Beleg, it's going to get cold out there."

"I'll try, but I don't know if he'll listen."

He left quietly, hoping the stubborn ellon would listen to reason.

"Who's Mornar?" Dînaerlinn found herself asking, her curiosity getting the best of her.

"A Nargothrondian exile we picked up during the fight. He was badly wounded protecting General Gearedhelion's son from the edain. I was his assigned healer." Alquawen explained.

"Yes… I believe I heard something about that." she murmured, inwardly shuddering. "I wish General Gearedhelion's son was never sent out with us… children shouldn't be made to go with us as peace signs… I can't imagine Brennil being made to do that…"

"I know what you mean." Alquawen sighed sadly. "They shouldn't have to lose their innocence over our problems. Our job as parents and adults is to protect them from those problems… what's it like being a mother?" she asked quietly, praying she wasn't asking a question that made Dînaerlinn uncomfortable.

"It… it's a bit of everything I suppose." Dînaerlinn replied. "It's sadness, joy, and everything in between, really. But at the end of the day, it's all about making sure that your child is happy. Why do you ask?"

"I'd like to become one, someday, when I find the right person." she admitted quietly, a soft smile on her features. She turned around to the pleasant surprise of seeing that Dînaerlinn's facial expression was equally gentle.

"It's well worth it. Even if you don't plan on it happening, it's worth it." her smile faltered only for a second.

Even she had to admit how odd it was that she could go through such a traumatic experience, yet still love the result of that experience with all her heart.

"Let's get this done as quickly as possible so you can get home to your daughter." Alquawen said with a smile.

"Let's. Poor thing's been left alone for too long." Alquawen nodded in understanding as she led her back into the bedroom.

"You can put your tunic on the side there so we can clean it." the healer said as she indicated to the bed. Dînaerlinn nodded silently, lightly pulling off her tunic, grimacing at the bloodstains.

It was one of her only nice shirts too.

"Tried to take care of it yourself, hm?" Alquawen noted, startling her companion out of her thoughts, as she carefully undid the brown strip of cloth the Captain had substituted for a bandage.

"Aye…" she murmured softly, her cheeks reddening with embarrassment.

"So,... you knew you had bled through the bandages this entire time?"

"...aye…" she answered, hanging her head slightly in shame.

"You… you know you can ask for help, right?" Alquawen asked, her eyes softening.

She was answered with shakey silence.

She straightened up, walking in front of the smaller elleth.

"You can come to me for help, Dînaerlinn. I won't judge you."

She looked up at her companion in stunned silence, her duo-colored eyes bright, so shocked, no words came out, nor was any gesture made. She just stood there, a disbelieving look on her face.

Numb.

Alquawen silently finished all she had to do, removing the bandages, cleaning the cut, and getting the blood out of her silent friend's shirt, passing the garment back to Dînaerlinn, who, startled, took it almost hesitantly.

The silver-haired elf-maid quietly walked back to her supplies, carefully cleaning it all up.

"Alquawen…"

"Yes?" she asked, turning around.

She gaped. The strong, powerful, intimidating Captain had… tears in her eyes?

Tears?

"Alquawen, … I…" her soft voice was choked off by a small, barely audible sob. She darted forward, catching Alquawen off guard with a hug. Alquawen looked at her in shock, her mind barely registering what just happened. She could only hold the shaking elleth gently, trying to figure out what just happened.

She'd… gotten a hug from such a strong individual… Who was… crying?

"Th-thank you." her heart broke even more at the sound of her gentle voice. Tears sprung to her deep blue eyes as she held her tighter.

"Don't thank me… Please don't thank me." She choked out, hugging her back.

"Why… why not?"

"Because you shouldn't have to thank someone for doing what any decent person would do." Alquawen replied, gently holding Dînaerlinn a little tighter as she wiped a few tears from her eyes, realizing with a warm sort of feeling that she and Dînaerlinn had somehow gotten on first-name terms. "Now that we've figured out that we're both as sentimental as each other," Alquawen said with a small giggle as she lightly pulled away from the embrace "how about that tea? I think we both need it!"

Dînaerlinn laughed, drying her tears with her sleeve.

"Tea sounds wonderful, but I can't stay long."

"Then let's not waste time." Alquawen said as she led Dînaerlinn into the kitchen where the water was blessedly still hot. "What kind of tea would you like?"

"Mint would be fantastic if you've got it." She answered, her head still dully throbbing from the earlier argument.

"Got you covered." Alquawen replied with a smile, pulling the tea out of a nearby cabinet. "There's also some chamomile and lavender on the side over there if you need something stronger to clear up that headache."

"How did you…?"

"That elleth you were arguing with runs the stand full of fresh herbs on sundays. I always get a headache after I talk to her!" Dînaerlinn laughed at her friend's statement as she grabbed some of the nearby herbs.

"Can't imagine why!"

"Dînaerlinn," Alquawen murmured seriously, handing the mug of tea to the dark-haired elleth. "I heard what the both of you were arguing about… if you need someone to watch your daughter, I'd be more than happy to."

"You… you don't mind that…?"

"That she's a peredhel? No, I don't mind in the slightest. She's still a child."

"When are you available? My busiest day of the week is Wednesday."

"I think fate may have brought us together on this one: Wednesday is my day off!"

"Thank you!" Dînaerlinn breathed, trying not to start crying again. "I… I can't even tell you how much of a rel-"

"Then don't. You don't need to thank me."

"Yes, I do. For all I know, you do other things that you need to do on Wednesday, and you could be pushing all that aside to help an elleth you hardly know."

They both fell into a comfortable silence, drinking the warm tea.

Alquawen's brow furrowed suddenly, and she walked over to the smaller elleth.

"What? What is it?" Dînaerlinn asked in confusion.

Alquawen plucked a few petals out of her hair that had been tangled in her dark locks.

"You've been above the trees?" She asked, her eyes holding a surprised look to them.

"Yes, how did you…"

"Wait a minute… if she knew what flower those petals came from, then…!"

"You've been up there?" Dînaerlinn asked disbelievingly, her duo-colored eyes as bright as twin stars at the prospect of having found a kindred spirit.

"A few times… long ago." she fell silent. "I'd love to see it again…"

"Then why don't you?"

Alquawen gave a humorless laugh.

"I fell out of a tree when I was a child, was badly wounded, and have been scared of falling ever since." she fell silent.

Dînaerlinn nodded quietly in understanding, finishing off the tea as she suddenly realized that her headache had broken.

"I should probably go now." she said with a small sigh, putting her mug in the sink.

"Yes, you probably should." Alquawen responded, snapping out of her reverie. "I'm sorry for keeping you so long. Your daughter's probably waiting."

"Don't apologize. I'm glad I came." she said with a smile. The healer smiled back.

"So am I. Farewell."

"Navaer. And, Alquawen?"

"Yes?"

"Being scared to fall doesn't mean you need to be scared to climb." With that she left, making her way to the forest floor, leaving a contemplative Alquawen behind her.

---

Beleg stared uncertainly at the entrance to the western wood.

He didn't know this part of the woods very well.

The majority of this part of the Pessmenel territory was swampland.

But someone had said they'd seen Mornar go this way.

He sighed.

"I hope he hasn't gotten himself into trouble…"

"Something the matter?"

Beleg nearly leapt out of his skin.

He whirled around to find Dînaerlinn standing behind him.

"Aye," he said with a sigh "I have a friend who went this way, but I haven't been this way."

"I live down here. I can help you."

"Really?" he asked, almost disbelievingly.

She had problems of her own. She didn't need to help him.

"Yes, really. I'm going this way anyway. If your friend's on the road, we're sure to run into him."

---

The dry leaves of autumn crunched lightly beneath his feet as he walked through the forest.

As far as Mornar was concerned, this part of the forest was nothing like Nargothrond. The ground was wet and muddy, and the air was somewhat humid. He scanned the treetops, looking for a sturdy place to spend the night, Alquawen's gentle implorings in the back of his mind, tempting him to accept her offering of hospitality.

"No." he thought to himself as he reluctantly pushed her sweet voice out of his head. "She's had enough trouble thanks to you!"

He kept on looking before deciding to take a break by some blackberry bushes. He sighed, lightly rubbing at the back of his neck.

He should've gone to a different part of the wo-

"AH!" he yelped, leaping up in shocked surprise as something or someone pulled his hair.

"AI!" a small voice shrieked in response, and a small basketful of blackberries went soaring over his head, a few of the berries splattering him with dark purple juice.

---

Dînaerlinn stopped dead in her tracks.

"That sounded like Brennil!" she cried in alarm, her mind racing at all the possible things that could've happened to her daughter.

"Let's go!" Beleg replied as he raced in the direction of the sound with Dînaerlinn hot on his heels.

---

Mornar wiped some of the berry pulp off his face.

What had just happened?

After the basket went flying, someone had fallen to the ground with a light grunt of surprise.

Something nudged his foot, and he looked down to see a small foot clad in a little shoe sticking out from under the bush. Curious to see the culprit and to figure out what happened, he peered over the top of the bush.

He gave a whispered gasp.

There, laying in the leaves, was a little girl, only about eight years old. Her hair was a dark shade of brown, almost the same color of his eyes, and oddly enough, her skin was slightly ruddier than the average Sinda or Nando.

"Congratulations, you idiot. You just scared the living daylights out of an elfling!" the voice in his head groaned as he extended a hand to her.

"I'm sorry… I didn't realize these blackberry bushes belonged to someone." he said guiltily.

"She must've accidentally grabbed my hair when she tried to pick some berries. If only my hair wasn't so dark!" he thought to himself as he realized what most likely had happened.

"It… it's okay. The bushes don't belong to anyone, actually." she said with a sigh of relief as she accepted his hand, allowing him to help her up. "I'm Brennil, by the way. Who are you? I don't go into the village much, but I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"My name is Mornar. I… I just immigrated here."

"What does im…immigra…?"

"I'm new here." he said, putting it more simply. "Were you planning on using those berries for anything?" he asked as he realized that every single berry in Brennil's basket was on the ground, either having splattered to a pulp, or having been coated in mud.

"Yes, Nana and I were going to bake a pie…"

"Here," he murmured as he passed her basket to her. "I scared you, so I'll help you pick some more."

"Only a little." Brennil huffed, her cheeks pink with embarrassment as she tried to act braver than she was.

"Yes, you weren't nearly as scared as I was." Mornar said with a smile, playing along. "What on Arda are you doing?" he asked as she started trying to make her way through the bush.

"I picked all the berries on my side, so I have to go to your's!" she said with a huff as she unsuccessfully tried to force her way through the brush and brambles.

"We're going to be here all night if you keep that up." Mornar said with an amused sigh as he reached out to her. "Here, I'll lift you out." she grinned with a nod as she clung to his arm, her little fingers curling around his sleeve.

"Whoa!" she squealed in excitement as he lifted her out of the foliage as easily as if she'd only weighed as much as a feather. He set her down gently on the earth, realizing how small she was.

She was far smaller than most elflings her age.

He also noticed that her ears were slightly rounded.

He pondered this quietly, too shy and scared to ask what was on his mind.

"You're different." he looked up, startled.

"Your eyes are different… like Nana's." Brennil continued, her eyes thoughtful. "You… you seem darker too."

Mornar was rendered speechless, unsure of how to respond to the child's statements.

"Brennil!"

"Nana!" Brennil squealed as she whirled around, looking for her mother, all her previous thoughts lost to the wind.

"Thank Eru for short attention spans!" Mornar thought to himself ruefully as Brennil raced towards her mother, happily hugging her.

Mornar smiled, enjoying seeing the child so happy.

Beleg stepped into view.

His smile faltered.

"Brennil, what happened? We heard screaming." Dînaerlinn asked, gripping her daughter tightly by the shoulders.

"Oh, Mornar and I just scared each other by accident!" she said cheerfully.

"Well, that's a relief!" Beleg laughed. "Sort of funny, though. I don't know how anyone could be scared of either of you!"

"We all should probably start going home now." Dînaerlinn said softly, her duo colored eyes scanning the sky. "Sunset can't be far off."

"True." Beleg agreed, brushing some of his blonde hair out of his face. "Come on, Mornar. Alquawen probably has dinner ready by now." Mornar nodded with a reluctant sigh.

"Very well."

"What's the matter?" Beleg asked once the ellyn were out of earshot, the only sounds being the crunching leaves beneath their feet. "You've been mopey ever since we've arrived. Did something happen?"

"No… nothing happened." Mornar answered, not sounding totally convincing. Beleg frowned.

"Then what's going on?" He turned around, walking backwards so that he could look the Nargothrondian in the face. "As much as I want to believe you, Mornar, it doesn't sound like 'nothing'."

"I just… I…" He mumbled before his voice trailed off, leaving him pondering what the right words to say were. "I just don't want to intrude on your lives more than I already have."

"Just because our paths happened to cross doesn't mean that you're an intruder." Beleg said, before smiling slightly. "All it makes you is an acquaintance we met on the road to Nargothrond, who became a friend on the way to Doriath."

A small smile spread across Mornar's face.

"And that friend is incredibly glad and thankful that he met his friends from Doriath." he answered, his dark eyes brightening slightly.

"Let's go home."

---

In the pelting rain from the thunderstorm, he couldn't tell the blood apart from the rain trickling in rivulets down his back, nor could he differentiate between the rain and the tears on his face. His breath hitched as the blade was pressed against the once unmarred back, cutting into him, dragging along his muscular frame, marking him for Eru knew how long with scars on his body, and forevermore with scars on his mind and heart.

He hissed quietly in pain as the knife found a particularly tense spot on his shoulder.

He tried to curl his fingers, which were numb from the lack of circulation thanks to the ropes tied around his wrists, pulling his arms outward, restricting his movements to the bare minimum. Blood and water pooled in the mud around his knees, giving the brown muck a reddish tinge.

The knife cut into him again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

"Strange." Erynaur's harsh voice was the only sound that cut through the the pounding rain and excruciating agony. "I expected more emotion from you. Instead you're shaking like a leaf, even though there's so much anger in you. Why do you refuse to let it all out? I know you want to."

It took all his strength to keep himself from snapping like he had earlier, which had earned him this punishment. Erynaur walked in front of him, the dark bruise on his cheek which his employee had given him during their recent sparring match looking incredibly wrong on his pale features.

And yet… to Mornar the injury looked so right.

To a point he was horrified that such an act of violence had come from him, and yet at the same time, he couldn't help but take some sort of pride in what he'd done.

Pride in the fact that he'd finally, finally, fought back.

The blade tilted his head upwards, forcing him to look into the cold eyes of the ellon he'd hated with all his being for so long, before gently exploring his sharp jawline, and then stopping at his throat.

"It's also incredibly strange," Erynaur continued, looking into the outcast's dark, defiant eyes, "that you say that you have no idea who you are, or who your family is." the knife started traveling around his skin again, before resting uncomfortably close to his eye. He couldn't help shuddering. "Yet, at the same time, you clearly know the truth to some extent. You've just been running from it this entire time… the reason you were thrown to the side as though you were worth nothing to them… the reason you feel so alone…"

"Shut up." Mornar growled, once again finding his courage, mentally fighting back against the lies Erynaur was weaving together into a web meant to trap his mind, meant to make him think his abuser was right.

He'd played enough of Erynaur's mind games to know when the bastard was trying to psychologically turn him against himself.

A smirk rested lazily on the ex-warrior's face.

"Would you like to hear the truth, penneth?"

"I don't believe you. Whatever it is, I don't believe you."

"You don't, or you won't?"

He had no response for that one.

"Let me tell you..."

---

Mornar woke up in a cold sweat, remaining stock still as his dark eyes roved about the room. His eyes finally rested on Beleg, who was sound asleep in the bed on the opposite side of the room. He sighed softly, a feeling of relief and dreadful guilt washing over him at the same time at the realization he was still in Alquawen's talan, sharing a room with Beleg. He sat up in the small cot, wincing slightly at the dull pain in his leg. His nightshirt clung to him, damp with perspiration.

He could feel the effects of the sleeping potion Alquawen had given him starting to wear off.

He sighed, trying to fall back asleep.

After twenty minutes, however, it became apparent that he wasn't going to fall back asleep any time soon.

He sighed, quietly strapping on his sword, occasionally glancing at the slumbering marchwarden, making sure he wouldn't waken him. He silently made his way outside, sitting down on the deck, allowing his legs to dangle off the edge as he looked at the world below him.

He sighed deeply, unsheathing the blade, and looking at his reflection in the cold steel.

The elf in the sword stared back at him, his violet eyes, oh, so strange.

The light of the eldar radiating off him was incredibly dim.

"You… you seem darker too."

Brennil's words echoed in his mind.

If he told anyone what Erynaur had told him, which, oddly enough, he had suspected to be true long before the bastard had used it as a threat, he could very well be in danger if anyone knew. He sighed, resting the naked blade on his knees.

He hoped that he'd be able to find his place in Pessmenel.

"What are you doing out here?"

Mornar jumped, looking over his shoulder to see Alquawen standing there, her hair unbound, and wearing a loose, thin, nightgown.

She looked even more beautiful than usual, standing there in the moonlight, looking almost vulnerable in the state she was in.

"Couldn't sleep." he answered softly, looking away.

She was far too beautiful to even look at.

She knelt beside him, gently placing a hand on his arm.

"Did the potion not work?"

"It worked, I just woke up." he responded, still baffled as to how she was able to sneak up on him the way she had. "Why are you awake? I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No, you didn't wake me up. I just had a feeling that something was wrong." she murmured. "Looks like I was right… Why'd you wake up? Bad dream?"

"Bad memory." he replied after some consideration. "It doesn't matter though."

She reached up, gently tilting his head towards her, her hand on his cheek.

Her deep blue eyes reflected the stars above, making her look almost angelic.

"It does to me." she whispered. "I want to help you."

Her words stunned him.

"But I understand if you don't want to tell me quite yet. Just know that whenever you need to tell someone, you can. I'm not going to push you away."

It took him a few minutes to swallow his fears so he could say something.

"Alquawen, I…" his voice trailed off. "Thank you. For everything. I don't want to think about where I might be right now if it weren't for you."

"You'd be up a tree in the cold." she said with a small smile as she caught him off guard with a hug. Mornar looked down at her, stunned, before a light grin spread across his face and he carefully hugged her back, realizing just how small and fragile she was compared to him.

The fact only made him even more resolute to guard and protect her.

"How are your injuries?" She asked, her eyes fearful and hopeful all at once.

"Fine. What's going on?" Mornar asked, concerned by her facial expression.

Had he done something wrong?

Was she going to ask him to leave?

"Nothing." She said, her voice shaking slightly, Dînaerlinn's words echoing in her head, and she hoped she'd have the courage to do it. "There… there's something I think you should see."

"What?" He asked, his curiosity roused. She only smiled.

"Follow me!" She darted off, leaving him stunned for a few seconds, before he sheathed his sword and raced after her.

They flew across the rope bridges, their bare feet against the wooden planks.

He followed without question, all the while wondering.

Soon, they were on the forest floor, the dew soaked grass cool beneath their feet. Without losing any momentum, Alquawen began to climb the nearest tree.

"I thought you said you were afraid of falling!" Mornar called up to her as he started to climb as well, cautiously looking above, making sure she was alright.

"Being scared to fall doesn't mean you need to be scared to climb!" Alquawen called back with a grin, Dînaerlinn's wisdom ever in the back of her mind. She continued to climb, adrenaline coursing through her veins. The bark felt rough beneath her soft hands, and the leaves brushing against her face felt cool, yet it all felt so familiar.

She heard the trees whispering.

They were excited to see her again.

They were reaching out to her, welcoming her back.

"They're happy that you're here." Mornar murmured, hearing the trees as well. "They missed you." Alquawen smiled in return.

"They're also happy to see you." she replied. "They like newcomers." they continued to climb, reaching ever higher.

Alquawen's head broke through the leafy canopy, and she greeted the night air with a sigh of contentment. She opened her eyes to find herself before a host of glowing white flowers, their light as soft as she remembered. Purple butterflies lazily floated through the air, mingling with the few fireflies that were left from the summer. The stars sparkled up above, giving the atmosphere a magical feeling. She looked beside her to find Mornar staring at it all in wonderment, his mouth agape, like he didn't know what to say.

"I never knew there was so much light…" he finally managed to say, all of the beauty reflected almost perfectly in his dark eyes, making the color far more noticeable.

"Places like this aren't common, but they're not as rare as most people think." Alquawen said, turning to her companion with a gentle smile. "You just have to look for them, and sometimes, it's when you're not looking that you find them. To be honest, it seems that the best things you find in life are the things you find when you're not looking." She grew quiet. "That's how we found each other, afterall."

He smiled.

"Aye. I was looking for an elfling who needed help, and I ended up finding an angel." the words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. They both blushed, eventually dissolving into giggles at the absurdity of it all.

"And I found a dear friend." she replied.

They sat together in silence, taking it all in.

For some reason, the stars seemed a bit brighter.

"Alquawen…" the silver-haired elleth looked up, startled at her friend's voice, though when she saw his predicament, she only laughed.

A rather large butterfly had landed on his nose, its large wings covering his face almost entirely. Mornar looked at the huge insect, his violet eyes alight from the butterfly's glowing wings, and going crosseyed.

Alquawen, having finally gotten over her case of the giggles, lightly blew the creature away, only for it to circle round again, and land on her head, its spindly legs tangled in her hair.

"I think that's our cue to leave." Mornar commented with a smirk as he carefully shooed it away.

"I believe so!"

They began climbing down, Mornar going first because he wanted to make sure that she got down safely. He reached the ground, looking up to make sure she did the same.

Alquawen looked around.

She was far too small to reach some of the footholds that Mornar had been able to reach, and there was nothing nearby that she could grab.

"Mornar?"

"Aye?"

"I… I'm stuck." his eyes widened, and he looked around for a way for her to get down, mentally berating himself all the while.

"Here," he said after assessing the situation "I'll help you."

He reached up to her, and she placed her hands firmly on his shoulders, using him for balance as he carefully supported her by holding her by her waist.

She took a deep breath and leapt down, her eyes tightly shut as she trusted nothing other than the fact that Mornar wouldn't let her fall.

She landed lightly on her feet, her hands sliding down from his shoulders to his chest due to the height difference between them.

"Are you alright?" he asked as she finally opened her eyes to look up at him.

"Yes." she breathed, shyly bringing her hands back to her sides. He did the same. "I'm alright."

"That's good. Shall we?" he indicated in the direction of her talan.

"Yes, let's go back."

They walked back in silence, and Alquawen couldn't help but notice that the light of the eldar radiating from Mornar was far dimmer than the light radiating from her.

She'd noticed in the past, but now, the more she thought about it, the more and more other aspects about the Nargothrondian became more apparent.

He prefered solidarity to company.

He was a very secretive and private person.

His hair and eyes were dark, contrasting sharply with his pale complexion.

And his light was dim.

The only conclusion she came to was one that made sense, yet could put his very life in danger if the information fell into the wrong hands.

"Mornar?" she asked, slowing to a stop on one of the bridges, ironically, as she prayed that the bridge of their friendship would not be broken by the question she was about to ask.

"Yes?"

"Do… Do you know anything about your heritage?" His face fell.

"No." He replied, glancing at her occasionally, his eyes betraying the fact that he knew what it all was going to lead.

"Have you… have you ever…?"

"Have I ever wondered?"

"… yeah…"

"Of course."

"Mornar, I'm not trying to make assumptions, but… have you ever thought that… that you might be an Avar? Or partially?"

"... aye. I've suspected that for a while, but there's really no way to tell if my parents were Avari or not… It would explain a lot though, wouldn't it?"

"It… it would. I'm sorry for bringing this all up, but I just couldn't stop thinking about it…"

"It's alright." he said, a smile on his face. "It's nice to have someone to talk to about this."

They walked back in silence, content with feeling comfortable in each other's presence.

"Do you think you'll need another sleeping potion?" Alquawen asked as they walked through the door.

"I'll be alright." he assured her, his eyes too truthful to hide a lie from her.

"Very well. Goodnight, Cúron." she said, the name slipping out before she could stop it.

"Cúron?" he asked, stopping midway in the doorway leading to the guest room.

"I-erm, well…" she stammered, trying to find the words. "Re-remember when you told me you didn't know your given name? I-I thought I'd come up with another name for you but-but I didn't tell you because I was afraid you wouldn't like it."

"No…" her heart sank a little. "I like it."

"Really?" she asked, looking up, surprised that there was nothing but honesty in his face.

"Yes, really!" he said with a small laugh. "Why'd you think I wouldn't like it?"

"The reason I decided on Cúron was sort of stupid…"

"What was the reason?"

She reached out placing a hand on the crescent shaped guard of his sword.

"This."

"And you thought that was a stupid reason?" he asked, looking like he was about to start laughing at it all. "It's rather clever, really." She blushed deeply at his praise.

"I'm glad you like it. Goodnight, Cúron."

"Goodnight, Alquawen."

They both went back to bed.

Sleep came easy for Mornar that night, as all his nightmares were chased away by butterflies, and the excitement of having a name.

---

Aaaaaannnnnd that's that for this chapter! :)

Sorry that it was still pretty angsty, and, I'll admit, probably not my best work, but I tried my best, folks!

I'm not going to do a list of translations because:

A. y'all probably know all of the elvish words used already.

B. I'm trying to keep this little author's note short because the last one was ridiculously long.

C. I'm currently writing this at 12:30 am and I'm tired! ;P

I'd also like to make it clear that I won't be writing anything for the "Rings of Power" TV series. Considering all that has been going on with this whole thing, I honestly just want to remind my fellow fanfiction authors that whenever you make any sort of fan content (regardless of the fandom you are doing it for), please respect the work that your fan content is inspired by. I'm not saying that writing and creating no-cannon or AU content is bad, but the original work and cannon really should be taken seriously.

Anyways, I apologize for my mini-rant lol, I just felt like that needed to be said, and other than that I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter! :3