Enjoy :) This one is a bit long and has a lot going on. Hopefully I did a good job. Don't forget to review!

Meara was going to go crazy. She knew it deep down in her soul that if she stayed in Caras Galadhon any longer than she already had, the wolf would take over and find something entertaining for her to do. And that would be an absolute disaster.

After the first week of resting, as Lady Galadriel called it, she took up the sword once more, finding moving around when she wasn't digging through tomes and scrolls to be uplifting. Everyone seeing her wield a sword had been entertaining for her and shocking for everyone else. Haldir had explained that it wasn't that women couldn't wield a sword, at least in elven culture, but it wasn't likely among the Edain. That and Meara didn't look like she could wield a sword. Sure she had lean muscularity in her arms but for her to swing around a sword she asked to be made as heavy as possible like it was a simple stick for several hours without showing any signs of fatigue, save for a layer of sweat on her being?

An enigma she became. Of course she did remind them that her strength and stamina came from being a werewolf, not dedication to training. Though one could argue her few centuries of wielding a sword in wars and battles as a form of dedication before guns and ranged weapons became more popular. She could definitely hold her own against the elves, though she found her experience to be a bit more brutal and barbaric than they practiced. While grace and chivalry guided their movements with precision and deadly focus, calculated and quick movements with brutal strength and ferocity guided hers. She hindered herself a lot during their training sessions to keep from hurting them. Or scaring them.

Then there was the issue of her transformations. Many of the wolves had thought that the moon controlled their transformations but it wasn't true. The moon acted as a timer, a time table between each transformation that had been purposely lost as time continued. Meara found this out when she had travelled to the realm of shadows where eternal darkness existed and the moon was a bizarre idea that was never conceivable to the people of the shadow realm. A month existed between each transformation, regardless if it was a full moon or not, so while the night was currently flooded with the light of a full moon, Meara wasn't expecting her forced transformation until another two weeks. Her first time transforming, she had shown Lady Galadriel what she meant by two forms. It was a vulnerable moment for her, but she wanted to gain the trust of the Lady of Light.

Now, almost three months later, Meara was nowhere near finding the information she needed and Galadriel had expressed that what Meara wanted was not within her power. And now Meara sat in her chamber, braiding her curly hair into a tamable tail as Arwen, the granddaughter of Lady Galadriel sat and talked with her about her return trip to Imladris.

"Did you hear anything I said, Draugwen?" Arwen hid a smile behind her hand as she tilted her head at Meara, who simply paused in her braiding to blink owlishly at the elven princess.

"What?"

The elleth simply sniggered as she waved the letter in her hands in front of her. "I was saying that my brothers and Lord Glorfindel should be arriving any moment. Are you really going to meet them dressed like that?"

Meara tied the tail of her messily done braid, then looked down at her apparel. Simple pants that were made so well, they reminded her of leggings, knee high boots, and a simple linen shirt with a deep green jerkin that was slightly too long over it. Meara put her hands on her hips, "What's wrong with how I'm dressed?"

Arwen's grey eyes glinted with mischief, "Oh nothing at all, my dear Draugwen."

Meara couldn't help but chuckle at the girl. Arwen had been a good friend to Meara, introducing herself during the celebratory feast her first night in Caras Galadhon. Ever since their first conversation after Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn got up to dance, the two became quick friends. Meara had addressed her in her old tongue as "Banphrionsa" or "Princess", which then incited Arwen to give her the name Draugwen, or "Wolf Maiden".

The two women shared a laugh before leaving Meara's flet arm in arm to join the other nobles at the courtyard where their guests should be arriving. As soon as Meara and Arwen arrived, barely uttering their greetings to Galadriel and Celeborn, several elves rode into Caras Ghaladon on horseback. Immediately, Meara could pick out Arwen's twin brothers. Like Arwen, their hair was black where other elves had blonde or brown hair. When they took off their tufted helmets, Meara could see the family resemblance, and why people dread their presence. Down to their scent, the two ellyns looked exactly alike, and judging by the mischievous glints that shone in their eyes, they knew it too, and took advantage.

Lucky for Meara, their underlying scents were different. At first whiff, the two smelled like some sort of flower that reminded Meara of a water lily. As they greeted their grandparents and sister though, her second catch of their smell told her that the one on the left with the blood bay horse held a hint of an herbal note while the other on the right with the grey horse held a hint of a forest-like smell. "And who might this Lady be?"

Meara smiled at the twin with the grey steed, noting the slight indifference the other twin had for her presence. "I'm Meara of Clan Lowell, a guest of sorts."

"Ah, Lady Meara," The elf grinned, "I am Elladan and this is my brother, Elrohir. A pleasure to meet you."

The other twin didn't seem so pleased. "I've never heard of a Clan Lowell."

Meara glanced at Arwen who was rolling her eyes at the ellyn, before shrugging, "Well, you wouldn't since I hail from... far off lands."

Lady Galadriel spoke, chastising her grandsons briefly before greeting the rest of the elves' arrival. "Peace, dearest, Lady Meara is a special guest of ours. And she will be returning to Imladris with you."

"What?" Meara, Elrohir, Elladan and Arwen said simultaneously. Only Arwen seemed to be pleased with the idea.

Galadriel ignored them though in favor of greeting another ellyn. His hair looked like spun gold with eyes so bright, they nearly glowed. Meara surmised that this must be the fabled Lord Glorfindel that Arwen had been telling her about. The ellyn was definitely pleasing to the eye as much as Meara hated to admit it. A familiar snicker caught her ear. Meara gave Arwen a dry look as she turned her attention away from the golden elf in favor of turning her attention to her brothers.

"How was your trip here? Uneventful, hopefully?"

The two arched a brow at her. In unison. Meara almost found it impressive.

"So if you're from far off lands…" Elladan started.

"How did you end up here?" Elrohir finished.

Arwen spoke before Meara could answer. "She was magically transported here by an unknown god-mom!"

Meara scratched her ear, uncomfortably, as she thought more about how she arrived so long ago. "The short version of that tell is; I fell. And most likely sent here by a spiteful sorceress."

Arwen blinked at her, "A sorceress? I thought you said it was a god-mom?"

"Ah," Meara hit her fist against her palm. "The confusion is the language. I meant godmother, but I mixed it with my first tongue which is where the confusion came from."

At the appalled looks the siblings were giving her, Meara shrugged. "We have a complicated relationship."

"Complicated? She's trying to get you killed!" Arwen covered her mouth.

"I mean," Meara felt the need to defend her godmother. "This isn't the first time she's tried to kill me. For all I know, she might not even be trying to kill me. The last time she sent me to a strange dimension, she wanted me to help some witch with her wolf guard."

"Something tells me you have quite a bit of stories to tell." Elladan exclaimed, curiosity lilting his voice.

"Oh, Draugwen definitely does." Arwen nodded.

Lord Celeborn interrupted their conversation. "Yes, perhaps that shall wait until supper though as Lady Draugwen is needed elsewhere."

Arwen sighed, squeezing both of Meara's hands in farewell before grabbing an arm of each of her brothers. "Come, I'll show you to your flets."

"But we know where our flets are…" Despite their protests, the twins allowed their dear baby sister to lead them away from the pavilion.

Meara smiled with fondness at their backs before tilting her head at Celeborn with curiosity. "I'm needed elsewhere?"

"Indeed," Celeborn motioned to the golden-haired ellyn. "This is Lord Glorfindel, he'll be leading the party back to Imladris."

Meara bowed her head with respect as she met his eyes, "My Lord."

Celeborn continued, "Lord Glorfindel, this is Lady Meara Draugwen of Clan Lowell. I'm sure you have an inkling of her troubles from the report Lady Galadriel sent to Elrond?"

"Yes, though I think it best Lady Draugwen explains it to me in more detail, you were saying a relative sent you here to be killed?" Lord Glorfindel tilted his head at her with a curious yet guarded look on his face.

"I'm not certain, but she's one of the only few people I know who is powerful enough to accomplish this." Meara bit her lip, crossing her arms over her chest as she tapped a finger rhythmically on her arm. As she thought, Celeborn motioned for them to move in the direction of his study where they could all comfortably sit. They sat and spoke for a few hours, Meara sharing her theories with Celeborn and Glorfindel about how she was sent to Arda, as well as the possible why.

"Isn't it arrogant of you to assume you are so important that an almighty being would purposefully send you to another plain of existence just to be rid of you?" Glorfindel arched a brow, a look of doubt on his face.

"Well when you put it like that, it sounds arrogant." Meara rolled her eyes, "And these are just theories based off of what I know and my experience. Magic has a smell, and the magic that sent me here had a very distinct smell, which a very limited number of people have. And of that limited number, only one is powerful enough to cast a spell strong enough to not only send me to a separate plane of existence but sever my pack bonds in the process."

Meara relaxed back into her chair, finding herself tensed from their discussion. "And I do have a rather complicated history with said person."

Glorfindel didn't look convinced, "Yes, your relative?"

"Of sorts," Meara sighed, tapping her finger against the table with a quick paced tempo. "She goes by many names. Demon-Witch, the crone, Hecate, Isis, Baba Yaga, Freya. She could practically be described as a "morally gray person". I unfortunately know her as my god-mother. She practically raised my mother and taught me what I know about magic. And she helped my mother give birth to me."

"And she wants to kill you?" Celeborn asked, an incredulous look on his face.

"That's not entirely clear…" Meara rubbed her face. "She has tried to kill me before, yes, but this is a rather unorthodox way to do it. And personally, I don't find it to be a method she would use. She likes deals and tricking people into their own death."

They lapsed into momentary silence as they tried piecing together what information they had. Then a thought occurred to Meara. She sat up straight, drawing the two ellyn's attention. Celeborn motioned to her, "You thought of something?"

"She's not trying to kill me," Meara thought hard, her gut telling her she was on the right track. "Her intention isn't for me to die, I still owe her a favor, and she always collects her favors...So I'm not here to die. And I'm not here for a favor, otherwise she'd have said or shown me something."

Glorfindel leaned back in his seat watching her inquisitively. Meara ignored his stare, preferring to stand and pace as she tried racking her brains as she muttered to herself. "It has something to do with the pack...it has to. There's no other reason to sever my connection…"

Celeborn sighed, "Perhaps a break is in order, Lord Glorfindel needs his rest and supper is only a few hours away. We can discuss this at another time, preferably with a focus on theories to get you home"-at this he gave Meara a wry look- " You are already here so to question why will only lead to stress, no?"

Meara felt her cheeks flush, the feeling of being a distracted child again flowing through her with a rush of nostalgia. "Of course, Lord Celeborn."

Supper had been uneventful with the twins dominating the conversation about the orcs in the mountain region to the northwest of Lorien. Meara had spent most of her time whispering with Arwen about when she would be returning to Imladris. She wouldn't admit it, but Meara would actually be pretty sad when the young elleth left. Presently though, the two were engaged in a friendly dance with another group of young elleths, their laughter of delight almost like music to Meara's ears.

The ever watchful eyes seemed to follow Meara's back and for once she was surprised to find the eyes of Glorfindel on her and not the eyes of Galadriel. The elf-queen enjoyed poking at Meara's mind, finding her mental fortifications fascinating. Ever since Meara had briefly let her into her mind to see the wolf and human at the same time, the elf-queen had tried to follow her way back in. Thus began their friendly mental banter during supper.

However that banter was absent today and Galadriel had retreated to her chambers early with Lord Celeborn and one of their advisors.

Curiosity got the better of her though, and Meara disengaged from the group dancing and made her way to stand beside the golden elf. She gave him an inquisitive look with a teasing smile, "Your gaze is so heavy I could have felt it in the dark. Is there something you are curious about?"

His returning smile was nearly blinding, and Meara could see why so many of the elleths, both single and married alike, sighed dreamily as he passed. "I am curious, dear lady, how you came to speak the language so fluently in a short amount of time. From my understanding, my people are not present where you are from."

"Ah," Meara nodded, "It was a gift from a powerful ally. I can speak and read any language spoken to me."

"A powerful ally?" He questioned with a raised brow.

"She's the Queen of the Seelie Court in Tir Na Nog." At his curious look, Meara shook her head. "Don't ask. You think you want to know but you really don't."

"Well now that you've said, I believe I do want to know."

"The elven here seem to be very conservative with their ways here. Picture the exact opposite of that and you'll have the Seelie Court of Tir Na Nog." Meara gave a dry rapport, giving him a curious look at his calm nod.

"I believe you did just describe the elven kingdom of Mirkwood to me." The golden elf laughed, giving her another inquisitive look.

"I've read a couple of tomes on the elves of Mirkwood." Meara smiled, "I must try some of this dorwinnian wine. Alas," Meara nodded toward the few guarded glasses that were set out. "The Lord and Lady seem not to believe me when I tell them I've never been drunk and never will be."

"Well," Glorfindel gave her a strange look, "Dorwinnian wine is potent and meant to have even the strongest willed elf drunk by the end of the night. A human can become drunk and passed out from a mere sip."

Meara gave him a deadpan look, "I turn into a 350 Ibs wolf. I could hardly be called human."

He seemed to consider that for a moment. "How does that work exactly? You're hardly 350 Ibs now."

Meara shrugged, pouting slightly at his avoidance of getting her some of that wine. "My best guess is magic does what it wants and doesn't care for logic."

"A rather good point again."

Meara smiled again, "I'm rather good at pointing things out. Like the fact that the two elleth whispering to each other have a crush on you."

He rolled his eyes at that. "Please don't start with that, the twins tease me enough as it is."

Meara laughed, spying the two aforementioned arriving, a drink in their hands.

"What is it that we tease you about?" Elladan said, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Oh I do believe it was the countenance of his face." Elrohir snapped his fingers, "I mean he's just so handsome. The elleth can't help themselves."

"Neither can some of the ellon if the look on Sir Rumion's face is anything to go by." Elladan added.

Meara smacked a hand over her mouth, smothering the snicker that wanted to escape. "Oh you two are indeed trouble."

"I think you mean amusing," Glorfindel said, a feigned defeated sigh escaping him. "Don't you two have any other teasing material, it's been years."

"It can't be their fault they can tease you so easily about your looks." Meara gave him a knowing smile. "It seems to me that you provide excellent material for them."

"See! It's not just us!" Elladan motioned towards Meara, giving Glorfindel a look of fake exasperation. "Maybe you should try rubbing a bit of dirt on your cheek. Or a little bit of rouge."

"Oh well if you are trying to make people fawn more have him walk around without a shirt." Meara rolled her eyes, "Then you could tease him and get a good story out of it."

The twins paused and looked at each other then back at her. "Where have you been all our lives?"

"Please don't give them ideas, Lady Meara." Glorfindel shook his head, "They are trouble enough as it is."

"Oh please," Meara cocked a hip putting her hands on her hips, "They are still young, let them have some fun… What?"

The three were watching her as if she grew a third head though the twins looked more amused than Glorfindel who looked at her with more concerned amusement. "The twins are well over two thousand years old. As well as Arwen."

Meara snickered. "Right, you all keep assuming I'm a normal human who occasionally turns into a wolf every month."

"Well isn't that true?" Elrohir questioned.

"Eh. Slightly." Meara bit her lip trying to keep her smile down. "I am still older than you both and Arwen."

"What?" All three spoke at once.

"I am," Meara did quick math in her head. "Good lord, I am about forty five hundred years old."

"But…" Elladan looked confused. "You look about the same age as Estel?"

"I don't know who that is." Meara blinked blankly at them. "If it helps I should technically be only roughly eight hundred years old."

"No, that is more confusing." Glorfindel said dryly.

"Well all you need to know is that I am pretty much immortal and I'm old as dirt."

Elrohir seemed to choke on his wine. "How eloquently put."

Meara winked at him, "It's part of my charm."

The stiffer of the twins seemed to have slowly warmed up to her over the conversation, much to Meara's delight. She would definitely be giving the two pointers on the mischief front in the days to come. As they spoke more about Glorfindel's attractiveness and Meara's age much to her chagrin. Of course, she did practically waive the ammunition under their nose with that 'old as dirt' comment but she found their easy banter amusing and nostalgic. The night ended on a pleasant note with the following days coming in a blissful peace. Meara spent much of her time either in Celeborn's study, talking with Glorfindel and Lady Galadriel of the plans to come as they prepared to leave Caras Galadhon, or in the library searching through the scrolls left. A part of her had known she wouldn't find anything but she had to be sure. The only thing she found useful was the fact that the Istari had their own records of magic kept in the tower of Isengard. She'd have to see if she could visit the place during her time in Imladris.

With nothing further to help her, Meara focused on re-training herself with a sword, often sparring with the twins who were quite formidable opponents. Even if she hadn't been keeping herself in check, she still would have had trouble fighting the two, though Elladan seemed to be less inclined to close quarter combat. Perhaps taking them on at once was not the best way to gauge their skills, however, Meara doubted the two would ever enter combat without the other in the near vicinity. Her skill with both a blade and a bow put the twins and even Glorfindel at ease as she proved to be formidable and would be able to hold her own if a battle were to spring up.

When the day came to begin their journey to Imladris, Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn saw them off with gifts and blessings. Much to Meara's surprise a simple circlet of woven leather and green gemstones was rested on her brow by Lady Galadriel. "Forever a friend of Caras Galadhon, Lady Draugwen. You are welcome here any time."

Your secret is safe with me, Narmotár.

Galadriel's words had whispered through Meara's head and had sent the blood rushing out of her face as she realized what Galadriel had spoken of. Not only had she found a weakness, Galadriel had gifted her a name that Meara knew she did not deserve nor would have ever wanted. At least, not anymore.

It had left her much to think about as they travelled to Imladris, Meara trying very hard to focus on Arwen's soft voice as she spoke of her father and the excitement of returning to her birthplace. The trek was rather uneventful with the most excitement coming from Meara's change into a wolf that startled the horses into a frenzy before they were calmed. Meara had never seen such funny expressions on the elves faces before when she returned to their small camp in her full wolf glory. Much to their disappointment, she could only huff and growl at them as a response to their questions. Arwen had been in awe of course.

"Your fur is silvery, Draugwen. I didn't realize it. Gold eyes and silver fur; we'll need to keep you away from the painters, they would have a soiree painting your wolf form."

The next day, back in her human form, she had been pestered with questions by nearly the entire troop save for Glorfindel who seemed intent on their surroundings. It was all for naught of course. They could have been screaming bloody murder and not have attracted a single predator with how uneventful their trip was.

Their long journey came to an end though and Meara found herself in awe once again at the cozy grandiose that could only describe Imladris, or as Lord Elrond spoke as he greeted them, "The Last Homely House in the West."

A celebratory feast had been erected in the honor of Arwen's return and Meara's arrival. Much to Meara's delight, one of the Istari was present, an old man with a grey beard and robes. He stood just as tall as his elven company despite his old age-Meara suspected his appearance was not what he seemed-especially with the youthful twinkle in his eyes as he greeted her. He introduced himself as Gandalf, though the present company referred to him as Mithrandir, much as Arwen referred to her as Draugwen and Galadriel referred to her as Narmotár. Meara found the old wizard much to her liking. He was witty and wise; kind and sarcastic; and he smelled of magic and smoking herb. An almost harmonious balance seemed to not only echo from the magic hat waved off of him but around him as well.

He visits here quite often, then, Meara thought to herself.

She was shown to a set of rooms, close to Arwen's, where she would stay for an extended amount of time. It was strange how Meara felt so at ease in Imladris upon arrival, but she surmised it had something to do with the magic that surrounded the valley, however subtle it was. Arwen and the Twins also contributed to her ease. She found the siblings a nostalgic presence that reminded her of Luka and Jules, the youngest of her pack. Galadriel had been correct in her first musings on that first night in Caras Galadhon. The twins had taken to her like flies on honey though it took a slight bit more persuasion for Elrohir to accept her hand of friendship. Unfortunately, this meant the elven diplomats would never find peace in Imladris again.

There were many moments of deja vu where Meara stood before Elrond and Glorfindel, the Twins standing beside her with sheepish looks on their face as the two scolded them for their antics. More often than not the three were sentenced to muck out the stables until it became a group effort on all of Imladris' part to keep the three separated without adult supervision.

"Meara you are over four thousand years old, we shouldn't have to scold you as if you were a child." Glorfindel scowled at her from his seat in his study.

Currently. Meara was sprawled across his floor with an unearthly amount of books and scrolls around her. "And you, good sir, are a stick in the mud."

Meara turned a page to exclaim her point.

"You've been here for nearly a year already and you've yet to search through even half of our records." Glorfindel drawled, sitting back in his seat as he gave her a pointed look.

"Well we all seem to have all the time in the world," She childishly stuck her tongue out at him, "besides I think I would have better luck searching the records at Isengard."

"As you so eloquently put the other day, tough shit. You get to search Imladris records."

"Stick in the mud."

"Pup."

Meara looked up from her book and squinted at the elf. He gave her a pleasant smile. With a scowl Meara turned back to her book and concentrated on the passage in front of her. A name caught her attention and an evil grin spread on her face as she glanced up at the elf who had turned his attention back to the papers on his desk. Meara stood and began to read out loud.

"The golden tresses of…" Meara moved quickly, as the elf practically jumped his desk to snatch the book away, "such radiant joy in his eyes and strength in his hands!"

"Confound it, Draugwen, give it here!" Glorfindel reached for the book as he rushed for her.

"Oh come now, Laurefindl." Meara laughed. "It's a handsome description."

The elf simply reached for the book she held behind her, gripping onto the spine with a vise-like grip. "I don't have time…"

Meara tilted her head, wondering why he stopped talking when she finally realized how close they had gotten to each other. They were practically chest to chest, his chin only centimeters from her forehead. When she had tilted her head to look at him, it had exposed half her neck and angled her face that much closer to his own. With each of them holding onto the book and him leaning over her as such, they were in a pretty compromising position.

It was a tense moment, charged with feelings both hesitated to explore.

And then the moment ended. The two separated, Meara back amongst the books and Glorfindel leaning over the table as if nothing had conspired. Just in time too as a knock sounded and was then immediately opened, Elladan popping his head in.

"Oh," The elf looked back and forth between the two suspiciously stiff occupants of the room. "Did I interrupt something?"

"Not at all." Meara sniffed, snapping the book shut. "What brings you here, dear Elladan."

He blinked at her. Probably because she never called him dear. "Uh, did you want to join us for a scouting party."

"Absolutely." Meara stood, abandoning the books and scrolls, on the floor. She turned back to Glorfindel before leaving the room. "I'll be back for those. Don't put them away."

He had a carefully blank look on his face as they connected eyes. "Very well."

Meara escaped from the room, nearly running Elladan over in her haste.

She didn't know what it was that freaked her out more. That she felt an urge to get close to the golden elf or that for once in the year and a half she'd been in Arda, she had smelled the heat of an elf. Meara shook her head. He was simply riled is all, it had absolutely nothing to do with attraction. Besides, she couldn't…

Changing her train of thought, Meara turned her attention to Elladan. "What is this scouting party for anyways?"

"Wargs were seen in the area."