Elbren was going through his gear and packing for the journey to Edoras when one of the Royal Guards of Rohan approached him.

"M'lord, King Eomer requests that you join him in his chambers," said the guard, "he says it is very important."

"Aye," Elbren nodded, not surprised to be called to the King's audience ere they left the safety of Helm's Deep.

*********************************

All of Helm's Deep was busy with activity: Before the mighty fortress, the bodies of the slain enemy were being taken to burial pits while the fallen of the Rohirrim and Aglarond Dwarves were given proper burial. Within, the Rohirrim prepared for the march to Edoras, having sent out scouts already, while the folk of Edoras waited and wondered if their homes would still be intact when Eomer sent word that it was safe for his people to return.

Some of the Mithril Knights had already departed on their journeys; Elbren could not help worrying about Tempest, but he kept reminding himself of her strength. And yet, the look that she had given him on the battlefield...so hollow.....empty...and angry.

A young, golden haired girl scattered by Elbren, bumped into him gently, while apparently chased by an older brother through the hall leading to Eomer's chambers. Elbren smiled at the girl who flushed and stammered an apology; his thoughts immediately went to his own daughters who awaited him in Lothlorien. The thought of going home lightened his step as he stepped around the playing siblings; yes, Erinhue was right, it had been too long.

But, Edoras first. Then home.

And then what?

Elbren's intuition told him that the battle with the Red Hammer was far from over. Far from over indeed.

Eomer welcomed Elbren into his private chamber with a mug of mulled wine and an offer of a rather well set meal. The two were alone though Elbren could hear the voices of the King's family in an adjoining chamber.

"Please, sit, Elbren," Eomer gestured, "soon we shall journey again and we have had little time to speak, you and I."

"Thank you," Elbren replied, taking the offered seat, "indeed, we have been busy since this whole business began back in Edoras."

"Your fellow Knights are beginning to depart but you shall still accompany us to Edoras?" The King asked, taking a bite of cold meat.

"Yes, indeed we shall. In fact, Rholarowyn, Athelos, Erinhue, Anorast, and Nienor Niniel will be going, perhaps more. We will aid you and tend to the Guild House."

"Let us hope that the Red Hammer leaves with little destruction," Eomer frowned.

"Homes can be rebuilt and the spring is coming; your crops will still be sown and harvested," Elbren sipped the wine.

"Indeed," Eomer smiled, "indeed, you speak well, Lord Elbren. And now, after all of the aid that you have offered to my people; after all of the deeds that your Order has done to waylay the Red Hammer, I must ask you for a favor of my own, if you will listen."

Elbren nodded, "Of course."

"I shall speak plainly: I would have you take my son, Marius, under your tutelage."

"Yes? As in....preparation for becoming an Initiated Mithril Knight?" Elbren could not hide his surprise.

"Indeed, yes." Eomer replied.

"But you....yourself declined to join after the War of the Ring--"

"One cannot serve the Order in full and be King,"Eomer interrupted, "or, that is how I see it. I would be torn as to my duty, and that cannot make for a good king."

Elbren nodded, "Agreed. I had not considered that....I see."

"But, Marius is my second son, and Eru willing, Elfwine will succeed me and Marius will never have to be torn in his loyalties. He will make a good, strong member of your Order."

"Of that I do not doubt," Elbren agreed, "but he is young, Eomer."

"To the Eldar, he must appear as a babe, but I have seen the young of Man within your ranks," Eomer noted, "I would like for him to be under your tutelage specifically, Elbren. There is much he can learn from you and your years of experience in Middle Earth."

Elbren nodded, "Well, then....I am honoured, but I will be plain with you as well, Eomer. He will be an apprentice longer than most because of his age. How will he feel about that?"

"Why don't we ask him?" Eomer suggested.

"Aye, indeed, we should."

And with that, Eomer sent for his second son.....

After the battle, Anorast had quietly slipped away. Definitely impressed by the power of the sickle, he nonetheless felt no need to stay and watch the aftermath. The battle had been won, and for the old elf, that was enough. He'd learned that if one had no role after a battle, it was better to leave, rest up, and prepare for the next one.

Though he doubted the Mithril Knights would be engaged in battle again in the near future, Anorast also knew he was one of the few who had escaped injury. Just as the injured needed their sleep, the rest needed their strength in case it were needed. And he'd spent almost all of the arrows he'd brought, so the next fight would be close and dirty.

The next morning, Anorast was summoned to the meeting with all the Mithril Knights. After learning that he'd be returning to Edoras with NN, Rho, Erinhue and Elbren, he left to gather his gear. After stopping by the kitchens for his usual replenishment stop, he took his packs down to the stables where he readied his horse for the journey. Riding out into the courtyard, he dismounted and sat, waiting for the rest of the group arrive.

Dirk had been entrusted with the shards of the Arkenstone. In addition, he was given once again the Spear of Orome. Both splintered relics were once again shrouded - the Spear in its velvet sac and the 'Stone in a richly carved wooden box.

The young Knight's instructions were clear: First, take the Spear to Orthanc and give it over to the Dwarven Knights in that garrison. The Spear would then become an addition to the newly-discovered shrine there. After that, he was to ride to Erebor with great haste and present the King Under the Mountain with the shattered Arkenstone, along with the sincere apologies of the Mithril Knights for not being able to recover their most beloved heirloom intact.

After saying his goodbyes, Dirk found his way to the stables. There he found, with no surprise whatsoever, the boy Hama brushing Endl—m‘.

"So how fared you during the battle, squire Hama?"

"Really well, Sir Dirk! I found this out on the battleground." He produced a miniature axe, well balanced for throwing. It was plain, but well made, and just the right size for the boy.

"An axe is hardly the proper weapon for a horseman of the Mark, especially one so small."

"I know," he rolled his eyes, "But I like it. Besides, when I am a man, I will get my father's sword. Then this can be for throwing."

"Indeed." Dirk stroked his own chin. "You have a warrior's spirit, boy. Perhaps when you grow up you can petition to be a Mithril Knight."

"Nah. I want to be a Royal Guard, like my father."

"A noble aspiration. I sincerely hope you realize it." Dirk swung up onto the back of the already-prepared stallion. "Thank you, Hama, for taking care of my horse. Fare you well."

The boy ran to the door of the stable and watched as Dirk wound his way out of the Deep. When Dirk turned in his saddle just before passing the gate out to the battleground, he saw Hama waving and smiling from the threshold of the stable door. Dirk waved back and spurred Endl—m‘.

After winding his way between the craters from the power of the sickle and the burial pits, the jet-black warhorse climbed its way out of the vale of Helm's Deep. Once back on the plain, Dirk turned his face into the late afternoon sun and gave over the reins to the mighty steed, who tossed his head fitfully and broke into a full gallop. A black spot on the wheaten fields of Rohan ablaze with the setting sun's crimson and gold light, the young warrior and the spirited horse thundered towards the Wizard's Vale.

"It is time. Your father calls for you, Marius."

Eonde, Eomer's faithful servant who had been with the family since Elfwine's birth, placed his hands upon the broad shoulders of the youth. The boy, quickly becoming a man though graced with still-soft stubble upon his chin, looked eagerly into the old man's patiently wise eyes, his own aquamarine orbs alight. For once he did not ask questions, as he knew the reason why his father called him. Today, his father would declare him a man and give him an honourable position as a warrior of Rohan.

For the past two years, Eomer had spoken of grand plans for his second son, of becoming a protector of their beloved homeland and all who live upon it. Marius had been trained by the best of the Riddermark, including his father, when Rohan was not at war. For the past few months, these lessons had been sadly neglected, but Marius watched the battles and learned techniques his father had not the time to teach.

He could taste the blood upon the air now, his sword Laikemuil chilled by the morning air, steaming where the blood congealed and dried. He was ready to protect his mother from the vile beings that roamed Middle Earth, ever prepared for the call...

"Marius?"

The boy, caught in his daydream, was startled for a moment until he found his focus and recalled that he was going to see his dreams realized this day. Following Eonde's bulky frame, Marius walked confidently to his father's private chambers, chin held high, glossy raven tresses reminiscent of his mother's fluttering in the breeze caused by his rapid strides.

As the door opened, Marius prepared the answer for his father.

To his shock, an Eldar accompanied his father--and no ordinary Eldar at that! Confused, he backed out of the room a couple of steps. Surely there was some mistake, for why would the leader of the Mithril Knights care that he was becoming a warrior for his land? Did his father not say that he was ready? Surely this Eldar was not here to train him for the Knights, as he was too young and too valuable for Rohan to lose.

"Marius, come forth, my son. I have news for you that cannot wait."

Throwing a pointed look at the Eldar, Marius warily moved forward and turned toward Eomer, anxious to hear his father's announcement.

Idril had been quiet for the most part since their departure of the Guild House in Edoras. She had done her duty and fought beside her fellow Knights and helped to heal any wounds that they acquired in the battle of the Amon Lhaw. She had given them all herbs that she new would rekindle strength during the ride to Helms Deep and finding some herbs along the way, replenished her stocks as time permitted for she knew that in time, she would again be needed to heal.

She realised that while she was riding that her forethought in grabbing her small daggers, hidden about her body, but also her bow and quiver and a set of smaller swords, would come in handy in the battles that were coming. How great these would be no one knew. The Clan of the Red Hammer were a fierce foe and they would not die easily. They would fight to the bitter end.

She thought of the others and the way that they had all fought bravely. And she heard the voice call her name again and again not only as they neared Amon Lhaw, but during the battle. She let it make her angry and she fought through it. But she saw the deep battle that took place in Tempest, the struggle, as she herself now had that same struggle, but it was not as deep. She had made eye contact with her briefly and when she watched Tempest flee, she knew somehow that she would return. Her return had given Idril renewed hope. She had been so busy that she had not had the time to speak with Tempest but she thought that they now shared somehow a common heart and maybe her prayers for her would be heard by her. She prayed all the way to Helm's Deep. She also asked to have a moment with her before the fighting; it did not come.

The onslaught was a fierce beginning and then with the sighting of Orodreth, renewed vigor seemed to hit her and the other Mithril Knights. She had helped to dispatch the attack on the wall with her arrows, her aim always true. The battle raged and as she watch Dirk dispatching a dwarf and then taking the ladder up and having it burned she thought of what a great addition to the Knights he had been already. He had great forethought and a "in stride planning" that few of his age ever acquired. She continued to fire her arrows as long as she had them. She then turned to using her sword in close combat. It was and always had been like and extension of her own arm and mind, cutting through the enemies as if they were hollow.

She was trying to pay attention to all that went on around her but she missed one nasty dwarf that came up behind her and struck a blow to her lower back. She pitched forward, turning in great pain, glad that her light armour and her knights cloak had kept her from being cut in two. She looked upon the dwarf and concentrated upon his face for a split second as he realized that somehow the planned blow, had not had the complete effect he had wished. His battle axe was large and his armour told her he was a foe to not mess with but to be alert. The pain shot up her back and down her legs but she gained the control she needed and turned the pain to her advantage. She took a stance with the battlement to her back and she paried with him a bit to see his method of fighting. He was not as clumsy as he had first looked and his planning of attacking her proved he had a good fighting mind. She worked him hard and fast, wearing him down while she controlled the pain and gained her breathing. Then she moved. She got him going left, then right and he was thinking her a untried warrior. She did this for a few paries and then she dove forward and rolled, kicking him in the chest. He did not have the protection of anything behind him and he fell backwards down the steps. She followed him and as he tried to get up from a head down position, she brought her sword down upon his neck, severing his head from his shoulders. Inso doing, she became covered with his blood and she turned to make her way back up to the battlement, pissed off that she had let her back so exposed. She would feel this for some time. She continued to fight her way back up the stairs and then to the battlement, taking stock of all around her and where her fellow Knights were and how they were doing.

Then with the Sickle's lightening had hit, they had all wondered at its power and strength yet feared to ride forth in case it was a trick of the evil one. She did not think that it was as it seemed too precise to be of the enemy but more for their side and from Ilœvatar. She took heart knowing that He was with them. She saw as Elbren clasped the arm of King ƒomer and she knew then that they would ride forth into the battle. She dispatched the enemies around her as best as she could and then she readied herself to ride, fighting in some manner all the way to Thalion.

The great warhorse stood out only due to the length of his blue/black mane and tail. There were many there that rode black steeds. Thalion was a descendant of the great Shadowfax and had speed and courage to match the great maiar's. He also somehow tended to spread that courage to the other animals around him. His mannerisms were much like his mistress's; quiet yet strong and determined. He stood ready and watching for Idril and stomped his feet, sending sparks all around his great feet, when he first glanced her coming towards him a second time for this time he knew they would ride. He nuzzled her as she got close and snorted in eagerness and then sensed her pain. He bowed down to make her mounting him easier and faster as he was extremely tall and he knew instictively that she would otherwise have trouble in her condition. She winced as she mounted him as the pain intensified with the lack of battle. Then as she sat astride him, his head moved in a continuous nodding movement, stomping his feet now with more earnest. They rode out into the throng of dwarves, each taking on as many as they could and dispersing them quickly.

She watched as Tempest seemed to come under some sort of spell and fall. She worked her way to her and killed the enemies that were near Tempest, hoping that whatever it was that they muttered, would be broken in death. She had hollared for help and they somehow got Tempest out of the battle. Idril had quickly crushed some herbs under her nose and then placed a bit of the leaf in Tempest's mouth hoping to bring her around quickly. When she first woke, she was not herself but came back into her right mind quickly.

Tempest spoke of a seal, something about Remembrance and then about how Saruman wanted to become Sauron. Idril put things together quickly and looked deeply into Tempest's eyes to be sure that it was her friend and not a concussion or blow to the head that might have caused this. She was sane. As sane as she ever had been. They made their way back to Helm's Deep. She wondered then how the other fortress's had made out and the other Mithril Knights that were dispatched to those area's. She had tended to Thalion before seeking out Athelos's help with her back. She got involved with helping to heal the others so she did not get to speak privately so asked her as if treating another. Athelos spoke of an herb she herself had in her bag so she quickly took a pinch of the herb under her tongue and continued to work. The stone hanging at her breast warmed and she felt its healing begin. But it would take some time. She worked her way among the people, speaking only when she needed to, and then to Elbren's side and took stock of his injuries. She also said little to him and took out some herbs and simply placed them into his hands. She started to moved away.

"Thank you Idril. How are you?"

"Fine" was her simple reply as she could not speak further without belying her pain. She moved to some of the other Knights and tended to their wounds or gave them a pinch of the herb to help ease their pain. She later found a small place looking out towards the field before Helm's Deep. She sat in silence. Later when Elbren spoke to them of dividing up and taking different course's and his request that she and Mirdain go with Parador to Orthanc left her wondering. She was drawn to Tempest's eyes as she spoke and she tried to let her know that she felt strongly that she should try to venture with her. But Tempest claimed to want to go alone. Her heart cry was that she needed to understand more deeply what had happened to her when under the Voice's control and yet she understood that Tempest needed to be alone, no matter the danger of that venture. She accepted that she would go to Orthanc and then on to LothLorien. She hoped to have a few words with Tempest and with Elbren before each went their own ways.

"Nurvilya," Elbren said when he found the Knight in Training sitting in the Common Room, "may I speak to you, please?" He motioned for her to follow him into the kitchen and then out onto the side porch of the Guild House. The sounds of Edoras were clearly heard and the Western sky was beginning to show the colors of an Autumn sunset. "I have gotten an herb that I think might put your body in such a deep sleep that not even the werewolf spirit will be able to arouse you to action," he said in a low voice. "Have you tried this before or are you willing to try it now?" He held out his hand and showed her a few of the dark leaves, "It is normally used in small amounts as a sleep potion, though even in small portions it is potent. What say you?"

Elbren's words echoed in her mind as the young woman raced across the Eastfold plains back to Edoras. Nerves shook her hands, gripping the reins of her small, bay horse until her knuckles were white, and her fingernails dug clefts into her palms. She could not help feeling as though her returning to the Golden city would be futile: surely Elbren was angry with her, not only for her long delayed decision, but also for choosing not to go with the Knights as they battled against the Red Hammer Clan. It was beyond her reckoning that he might forgive her and initiate her into the guild.

Nurvilya tried to comfort herself with the thought that perhaps Elbren would allow her to stay at the Guild house as a squire, though she could hardly endure the humiliation such a position would bring her, as one who had come so close to becoming a fully ranked knight. She quickly pushed the idea from her mind and focused on the bed and bath that she would recieve upon her arrival. Besideswhich, she would be able to hear the tales that the Knights brought back with them from battle. Nurvilya blinked back her tears as she thought that the stories might be the best she would ever get if Elbren refused to initiate her.

Her thoughts bounced back and forth in this way until at last the sun was falling into the west, and she could ride no further. Dismounting quickly, the woman tethered her horse and set about preparing a camp for the evening. When she had a small fire going, she wrapped her thin cloak about her, and tried to imagine it as a magnificent Mithril Cloak, firmly clasped at her throat, and cascading around her shoulders in a fall of midnight blue. She huddled closer to the fire and settled into her thoughts, recalling all that she knew about the events of the last weeks.

********

"You'll forgive me, m'lord, if I don't know right away what my decision is? May I have some time to think on it?"

He had given heronly a solemn nod in reply before he closed his palm and placed the leaves back in his pouch. Gently, Elbren had touched her shoulder before walking back into the Guild House, leaving her alone on the side porch, looking down over Edoras.

It had seemed only a matter of hours after that conversation before the whole city had fallen into chaos, with rumours flying wildly about murder and dwarves bearing the mark of the red eye. When King Eomer ordered his people to Helm's Deep, Nurvilya had left the city with them, only rather than turning North towards the mountain refuge, she had gone South, following the edge of the mountains until she was far within the Eastfold. Here she made her camp, gathering what news she could from the few people who passed that way, all the while meditating on what answer she would give to Lord Elbren regarding his offer to use the Hide Leaf on her. It was a difficult decision, both sides had their advantages and disadvantages. If she took the leaf at the next full moon, she would likely lose her gift of shapeshifting, something that she had found to be quite useful both in survival and in battle. If, however, she decided not to take it, she would only be perpetuating the danger she placed on those she loved. These and many other arguments played out in her head, until at last, she had reached a conclusion.

It was then, almost as if everything had come together at the same time, that Nurvilya had recieved tidings that Elbren would be returning to Edoras, though if he and the Knights had been victorious, the traveller could not say. Relief had washed through her when she heard that the Elf was unhurt, though she was still concerned for the fate of the other knights. She had packed up and left her camp within an hour of hearing the news.

********

That was nearly three days ago, Nurvilya realized with a start that brought her back to herself. The eastern sky was turning pale with approaching dawn.

"I must have fallen asleep," she yawned, stretching her sore limbs out.

It was not long until, she was ready to set off again. There was not far to go now before she reached Edoras, she would arrive well before sunset, and with any luck, Lord Elbren would be there to meet her.

Freahelm reached the Fords of Isen the day after the battle was won. He cursed himself for being absent, and unable to serve his lord and land. His embassage to the northern lands had taken him too far to return in time to take part in the battle. Determined to do whatever he could in the wake of the battle, however, he rode directly for Edoras.

He found the Guild House in some disorder, and he immediately set about his tasks as Steward. Among other things, the Edoras armory had a new collection of axes to be catalogued and added. If there was one thing Freahelm hated, it was the painstaking drudgery of such tasks. Give him a good open fight, or a stretch of land to till, or a horse to break, rather. But, he knew of his responsibilities before he accepted the position, and undertook to carry them out faithfully.

Elbren had mentioned also the possibility of another knight of Rohan entering training. Freahelm would not be able to actively participate in the training, but he would keep an eye on whomever the recruit was from a distance. It would do his heart good to have another Rider among the Mithril Knights.

Having already packed what few things she was carrying, including the Dwarven box she had taken to Orthanc, Rho sat silently in the chair, with Chirion laying at her feet, while she watched Nin slowly pack up her belongings. The woman looked pale and tired, a look that hadn't changed since the night she had held up the Sickle. The same night that the battle against the Clan of the Red Hammer had been won.

The mentor knight watched as the Knight-in-Training then picked up this sickle, unwrapped it for a moment, and ran her fingers over it, just as she had done when they first found it in the secret chamber in Orthanc. The woman and the weapon did have some type of connection or were bound together in some way, but what the implications of that were, Rho did not know. Was this to remain Nin's weapon? Was it now considered property of the Mithril Knights? Or did it have a different fate entirely? Rho wondered and hoped that she would have some opportunity to talk to either Elbren or Erinhue during there journey back to Edoras. There was still so much she did not understand about weapons which had special capabilities.

When Nin had finished packing, Rho smiled to her new friend and suggested that they get some food for their journey. Once they had, then the two women went outside to see if they could find some of the others who were going to be traveling back to Edoras. As they walked, Rho explained to Nin that when they reached the Guild House, she would be able to get some much needed rest before her Initiation Ceremony was to be held.

It didn't take them long to spot Anorast sitting near a tree holding the reins of his horse. The two women, along with the wolf, walked over to where he was waiting and greeted him.

'Anorast, hello. Have you been here long?' Rho asked

'For about a half hour.' He replied, while looking at Nin.

Rho noted the concern in his eyes and then turned to her friend. 'Nin, why don't you stay here with Anorast. I'll go see to getting our horses ready.'

When she finally agreed and sat down, Rho dropped her packs down next to the two of them, and commanded Chirion to stay.

'I'll be right back,' she said. Then just before she turned away, she glanced again at Anorast and knew that he would look after Nin.

It didn't take the Mithril Knight long to find the two horses and their tack. And it took her even less time to get them ready.

As she lead the two horses back to where the two Knights-in-Training were still sitting she saw that Erinhue had now joined the group. When Rho reached them, she smiled to her fellow Mentor Knight and then said to the three of them.

'Well it appears that we are all here...except Elbren. I know that he is anxious to get back, so I don't think that he'll be too much longer.'

"I dare say he'll be along any minute." Erinhue responded to Rho's speculation as he joined the group. "We shall be in Edoras before too long and more's the better."

The bard leaned in a little closer to Rholarowyn and let his voice drop to a conspirator's whisper. "I would feel much better about things if NN got a chance for some real rest before the initiation. It can be a draining experience" Here Erinhue winked and added "as you well know."

He nodded a seperate greeting to Chirion and the wolf seemed to return the gesture.

Taking the parchment she had been writing on she tucked it inside the satchel lying across Luinsul's beautifully inlayed Elven saddle'a gift of times long past. Parador stroked it lovingly with thoughts of pain and joy all at the same time. Luinsul turned his head nipping at her sleeve''Yes, I know', sighing with a heartfelt smile, 'Indeed, life goes on when loves last kiss walks away. At least I still have you my friend.' She ran her hand down the side of his soft mane and then patted him gently'

'I would have you to go to Orthanc, Parador, and begin the study of the Shrine. We must understand what we have found and what this power is that has awakened...both for us and for the Red Hammer.'

Elbren's words strode quickly across her thoughts'Parador looked again to Luinsul''We have been commissioned to ride to Orthanc old friend'our Lord has need of our services and we will not let him down', she said smiling.

Her smile quickly turned to surprise has Luinsul jerked his head up. Both startled the Mithril Knight turned on her heel to find another horse approaching them from behind. 'Hasel', she reached out to touch the horse'he hesitated watching her with the reflection of sadness in his large brown eyes.

Keying in on the horses hesitation, 'You blame me for your masters death, don't you? That is ok Hasel, I do too'we both should have been more careful'watchful. It was I who sent him to meet Lord Elbren and the others and not scouting out first his area of departure. And to this it has cost me a dear friend. I miss Halith as much as you do Hasel, although you probably more.' The Mearas took a step forward lowering his head; he nudged Parador's armour pushing her slightly off guard. She caught herself and smiled warmly. Finally she was allowed to stroke the soft grey nuzzle.

'I am very sorry mighty warrior of Orom‘ and protector of Rohan', she whispered softly and ever so gently, 'if I could bring him back I would'but I am only of flesh and bone'no power or recourse have I with the Valar'for if I did even then is it wise to bring back the dead from the Halls of Mandos without paying yet another price.'

Continuing to stroke his face and nuzzle, 'I hear Galadhon is young and full of spirit'a perfect match for you. Even Halith would approve! Give him a chance Hasel, you will see. Go now'Lord Elbren awaits you. I will be back soon and when I do return'it will be you who I seek out first.' Parador wrapped her arms around him gently as she thought of Halith''May EŠ be with us all.'

All had departed except Parador, Idril and Mirdain'they met outside of Helm's Gate readying for departure. Her thoughts rested with Tempest and Dirk as all three made their way out of Helms deep and on to Orthanc. They would make it before the sun of Arda was above them'the distance was short and without any complications. As they reached the Wizard's Vale'Parador bade farewell to her comrades wishing them safety and guidance as they continued their journey on to Lothl—rien. There would be much work for her to do in Orthanc'the days would count quickly she feared. As she and Luinsul rode toward the Tower of Isengard immediately she wondered if they had ever drained the blasted place'she chuckled to herself, 'of course, they've had to have'.its been seven long years'they should be done by now'...she smiled with a smirk and proceeded on. "I wonder where Treebeard keeps himself these days"

..Although hampered by his recent injuries, Orodreth had aquitted himself well during the battle and subsequent victory over the dwarves of the Red Hammer. Now,as he walked the battlements of Helm's Deep,he reflected on what had transpired over the last year. Since the recovery of Norod he had wandered across the the breadth of the realm, rarely checking in with the guild house, traveling alone, as was his wont. His travels had taken him to far Harad and points even further east, where he had first come in contact with the Red Hammer. Discovery had meant imprisonment by the fell dwarves and he counted himself lucky to have escaped thier clutches. Now, back among his brethren,he felt a stranger. So many new knights, faces he didn't recognize. He felt old. Was he losing his fire? What he needed was a good talk with Elbren. Turning, he made his down to the inner sanctum in hopes of finding the guild master......

As soon as Marius took note of Elbren, the Elven Lord sensed about the youth an air of curiousity that bordered upon mistrust. Carefully, Elbren watched the visual exchange between Eomer and his son and saw that indeed Marius was baffled. It was almost as if the lad had been expecting someone else. No....Elbren frowned...that wasn't quite right.

"Marius, you have met Lord Elbren before," Eomer motioned for Marius to come closer, "he is Lord of the Galadrim and Guild Master for the Mithril Knights."

Marius stood motionless for but a moment, and seeming to recover his momentary loss of composure, he bowed his head slightly and took a step closer to the table, "It is an honour, Lord Elbren."

Elbren nodded at the Prince, approving of how the boy had recovered himself in spite of the apparent surprise. The Elven Lord stood and bowed his head in return, "Well met indeed, Prince Marius."

"We ride at dawn for Edoras, Marius, and some of the Mithril Knights will accompany us," Eomer began to explain, "and I would have you ride in their Company."

Marius was hard pressed to conceal his bewilderment, but then, he cocked his head and said simply, "This is an honour, Father, thank you. I will ride proudly with the Mithril Knights."

Silence fell upon the chamber then with all the weight of a smith's anvil. Elbren instantly felt uncomfortable and wondered at the gathering tension between Eomer and Marius. The boy had clearly been expecting some other reason for his summons; Elbren's eyes went to Marius's belt and the sword that hung there at his side.

"You fought in the battle," Elbren said softly, now remembering Marius riding out at Eomer's side, "and from what I saw, you fought well, Marius."

The pride in the youth's eyes shone like a lantern, "Thank you, M'lord."

"Marius," Eomer seemed to have finally determined what to say to his son, "You have trained with the very best warriors in our lands and your sword defends Rohan with much might. Now, to complete your training, Lord Elbren has agreed that you should be his Knight Apprentice, in preparation for Initiation as a Mithril Knight. What you will be able to learn from this tutelage, Marius, is akin to a treasure chest full of gold and jewels."

Elbren was not sure if Marius was gladdened, shocked, or angered by Eomer's words, for the boy's face was a hard one to read. His eyes moved to Elbren's and then to his father's, though he did not speak.

"Well," Elbren said finally, standing up, "I must prepare for the morrow's ride. Marius, I shall see you then and we shall speak more during the ride. Until then, namarie."

*****************************************

Elbren strode back through the halls of the Deep with much on his mind, not the least his new apprentice. With all of the responsibilities that he had, did he truly need one more? Especially the son of a King? A Prince? Not only was Elbren responsible for completing the boy's training, he was, of course, responsible for making sure that he remained safe. For though Elfwine was healthy and should succeed his father when that time came, the second son was also inherently important to the successfion of the line of Rohan's Kings.

Elbren shook his head. Yet, the youth looked fit, and from what Elbren had seen, he was a fine warrior in battle. Strong, stout, and skilled with a sword....what would there be left to teach the Prince? Surely not the skills of arms; but, as Elbren well knew, there was more to being a warrior than wielding a weapon. The Mithril Knights were known for their relentless pursuit of the truth, regardless of who or what that truth might affect and how.

Their swords and their counsels shall have two edges.

Yes....this was something that Elbren could teach to Marius. Indeed, simply by experiencing life as a Mithril Knight, Marius would be subject to it. Willing...or no.

That night, Elbren settled into his pallet, but he could not sleep. Tossing and turning, he finally abandoned his bed and walked the battlements of the fortress. It was there that he encountered Idril who spoke to him in confidence of her heart's forebodings. Elbren listened intently to his friend. They spoke long into the night, under Elbereth's stars, of the many paths that could be taken. They spoke especially of the newly found Shrine of Orthanc and what this might mean to not only the Mithril Knights, but all of Middle Earth.

Near dawn, they both retreated to the stables and saddled their horses. Leading Erelas out into the pink light of dawn, Elbren found his companions waiting near the gate to the Hornburg.

"Mae govannon and good morning," Elbren greeted.

"Good morning, Elbren," Erinhue grinned, and then stepping closer he said in a low voice, "when we get back to Edoras, I want to take a good look at the Sickle that Nienor Niniel is carrying and make sure that both Knights in Training get some sound rest."

Elbren nodded, "Of course, worry not, dear friend, I would not have them witness the Giliath Londe unless they were well rested and whole." To the others he said, "let us prepare to ride. There are two eoreds that are already ahead of us and will report back to the main host ere we reach Edoras." Glancing up at the grey skies, "I pray for rain, mellyn, so that if the Red Hammer choose to burn, they will have fate against them."

The entire party turned when a lone rider approached. A young Rohirrim lad, though he was strong by the looks of him and proud.

"Marius," Elbren greeted, "welcome. This is Lady Rholarowyn, Lord Erinhue, Lady Athelos, Nienor Niniel, and Anorast. They will be in our company as we ride to Edoras. My friends, this is Marius, son of Eomer, who is now under my tutelage as a Knight Apprentice of our Order."

Greetings were exchanged, even as some looks of curiousity were as well, but in the end, they all mounted their horses and trotted out of the gates and down the causeway. They heard galloping hooves behind them and turning, they saw Orodreth rushing to join them.

Elbren smiled as he placed his helm upon his head, "Come, Orodreth, ride with me. I would hear of your travels to the East, perhaps they will help us find the answers to our many riddles."

"Riddles? Riddles, indeed, Elbren, you have no idea," Orodreth said as he pulled his mount alongside of Erelas.

"Oh, I am sure that you will tell me," Elbren laughed.

Soon, a drizzling and freezing rain was falling from the grey, wintry skies....

***************************************

The ride to Edoras was uneventful save for the scouts reading the signs of the few who managed to retreat from the battle at Helm's Deep. Travel was slow, for the weather had turned poor with sleet, ice, and snow falling without relief. Camp each night was almost fireless and the cold was bone chilling. Elbren had but a few bottles of the Elven miruvor to share amongst the Knights, but share it they did and were glad of it.

Reports began to arrive as they neared Edoras: The Red Hammer had burned many of the buildings and homes near the lower sections of the Rohirrim city, but the uppermost parts of Edoras had been spared. The reasons for this were unknown, and it was true that the city had been plundered of many of its treasures, but Meduseld still stood, even if its wooden sides were singed with what looked like attempts to burn it to the ground.

The Rohirrim were heartened and the pace to complete the journey to Edoras was quickened. Elbren had heard Orodreth's tale almost in full and together, the two had discussed what this new information gleaned might mean to the situation as a whole. Marius had stayed with Elbren and the Knights for the duration of the journey, and though he had been quiet, Elbren had sensed his watchfulness. Once they were within the Guild House and rested, the Elven Lord planned to have a long talk with Eomer's son.

"We must speak on this more," Elbren said to Orodreth as they entered the gates of Edoras, "and I hope that you will remain with me long enough to do so. Or, will you be riding out again soon?"

"Not yet," Orodreth replied, "not yet. I, too, have more questions than answers."

Erinhue then rode up, "I'd like to use Agarak to do some sniffing around, if you don't mind. He's quite useful at noticing things that aren't quite right."

"I would have you warm yourself and rest a bit first," Elbren said, "but I can see that you wish to do this first. Very well, we'll see you at the Guild House."

When they reached the Guild House, they found the House still standing and, indeed, it seemed, untouched. The stableman took their horses and led them to their warm stalls while the Knights entered the House. Stamping the snow off of their boots, they were all surprised to see a fire roaring in the hearth and the smells of food, along with the sounds of activity, emitting from within.

"Elbren!"

Strong hands clasped Elbren's shoulders and turned him around....to see the familiar face of Freahelm staring back at him in delight.

"Freahelm!" Elbren replied in earnest, "good to see you! GOOD to see you! When did you arrive?"

"Just a day or so ago," the Rohirrim Lord answered, "in time to see the last of the Red Hammer leave, cursing the rain that kept putting their fires out. The Guild House, as you can see, was not touched. I don't even think that they tried to enter."

"Good," Elbren nodded, "meet Rholarowyn, one of our newest Knights, and Anorast and Nienor Niniel, who will be initiated soon. You know Orodreth and Athelos, of course, and Erinhue will be here shortly. This, I am sure you know, is Marius, Eomer's son. He is my new Knight Apprentice."

Freahelm gave his greetings and especially to Marius, "Well, you are just in time to a fine supper, and from the looks of all of you, you could use it."

********************************

They were all shown to their rooms where fires burned in the hearths and warm tea was soon served in anticipation of dinner. Elbren was delighted to hear that Nurvilya was at the House and had requested to speak with him at his earliest convenience. Nurvilya. He had meant to speak to Tempest about Nurvilya and her...shapeshifting abilities. Alas, he had not had the opportunity. Now, what would he do? He knew nothing of shapeshifting. Well, he knew the tales of Luthien's shapeshifting...and Finrod's ability to do this...and of course the Maiar ability to do this at will, it seemed. Sauron immediately came to mind; Elbren and several of the Knights had witnessed this themselves when Sauron had done battle with Huan, Hound of Valinor.

Carnimiriel might be able to help, if Tempest and he did not meet again soon enough. Nurvilya might well have to accompany him to Lothlorien and meet with his wife. Wise in the ways of the mystics, Carnimiriel knew many things instinctively that Elbren could never hope to know. Yes, perhaps that was the route to take.

And what of Marius? The son of Eomer had been roomed next to Elbren's, but still, the boy had not said much at all since their first meeting. Elbren sighed. Did he have a reluctant apprentice or simply a quiet one?

Stripping off his nearly frozen clothing, Elbren climbed into the tub of steaming water that had been brought in for him. For a short while, the Elven Lord was able to forget the puzzles before him; closing his eyes, he nearly fell asleep.

Until he heard someone calling that dinner was served. Quickly, he dried himself and dressed in a simple tunic of grey and breeches of dark green. He chose a pair of comfortable leather shoes and then made his way to the Guild House dining room, where he found many of the Order already seated and admiring the fine setting that Freahelm had prepared for them.

Smiling at Nienor Niniel and Anorast, Elbren nodded at the food, "Eat well tonight, my friends, and sleep to your content. For tomorrow we must ask that you neither eat nor leave your chambers and that you spend the day and evening in meditation upon your initiation. But tonight," Elbren raised his wine glass to them all, "tonight we celebrate our being together again here in the city of Edoras. To our brethern that are not among us, may Varda keep them safe. And to our fallen, Halith, let us pass a moment in silence and pray him good journey to the Halls of Mandos, where he will await the Final Battle."

The silence passed and the Knights sat down to enjoy the meal....

Two days had passed since Nurvilya came to Edoras. She had borne a heavy mind, watching as the ashes of the city were slowly brought back to life, and waiting for news of Elbren's arrival. The Knight Steward, Freahelm, had welcomed her warmly, and the two had become acquainted while cleaning and preparing the Guild House for the return of the Knights.

On the second day, two eoreds of Riders rode into Edoras, bringing with them the news that the Mithril Knights would be there before sundown. Nurvilya did what she could to help Freahelm with the preparations, then took a quiet supper in her room to think on what she would tell Elbren when the time came.

Her dreams were confused that night. She dreamt that she walked alone in a wood that was strange to her eyes, but she knew from tales and legends that it must be Lothlorien, Elbren's home. Wandering about the columns of silver-grey mallorn, Nurvilya suddenly felt as though she was being watched by unfriendly eyes. With a swift hand, she quickly reached for her bow, but found it was not at her back.

"Don't be alarmed, Nurvilya," a familiar voice said gently, "We are not here to harm you, nor you us."

Nurvilya raised her eyes to see Elbren standing ahead of her, flanked by two strangers. One was a Man, proud and tall, and fair of face, but still very young and naive. The other she recognized as an elf lady, but her face was unknown to the girl.

"You seek answers here," Elbren continued, "but our counsel is no aid to you without some answers of your own. You must first--"

A sharp knock from the hallway woke Nurvilya from her dreaming. Grumbling softly, she put on a robe and opened the door, letting pools of orange sunlight spill into the room. Athelos stood there, smiling and looking as though she had been awake for hours.

"It is wonderful to see you again Lady Athelos, and I'm sure you have many stories to tell of your adventures, but can it not wait for a later hour?" From the sun, it looked to be about six o'clock in the morning. "Surely you are tired after your journey?"

"Indeed I am, my friend, but the sun rises early, and so must I. Evidently Lord Elbren feels the same way. He wishes to speak with you as soon as you're ready, dear," the Knight said. Nurvilya caught her eye quickly scan the room beyond.

"Good work on the room, by the way," Athelos gave Nurvilya a small wink before she turned away down the hallway.

Nurvilya quickly dressed herself in a dun tunic and navy leggings and made her way down to Elbren's study. The door was open, but no one was inside, so the woman strode in and took a seat by the hearth, waiting in the auburn sunrise for the elf to arrive.

It took all of Marius's strength to keep his face emotionless, though he doubted not that his father could see directly through him as he spoke with icy politeness toward the Mithril Knight. While he had much respect for the Order and for its Guild Master, this was not what he had expected.

Disappointment ran rampant through his veins, burning as though he had drunk too much mead. The tips of his ears grew warm as he understood that he was not to be promoted as his father had so promised--and in fact, he was being traded off to another for further training! This infuriated him rather than disappointed now, for he knew that he was ready to ride out as the leader of the Riddermark, his father had even said so, though not in those exact terms. Could he have been so misled by his own father?

However, his manners remained obstinately in place, and he was able to respond to Lord Elbren's soft comment to the effect that he had seen him fight. This made the bruise of injustice feel less painful, for here was someone who thought him a warrior. Oh, how he desired to point this out to his father, but he could not, especially not with such an honored guest in their midst. Later, his father would be preparing to leave for Edoras and would not be bothered by a frustrated second son. Now, if it were Elfwine, thought Marius bitterly, unable to complete the thought in his head for fear of showing his emotions externally.

As Lord Elbren left, all Marius could do was politely bow to the retreating figure and follow after him. His father would not be bothered tonight.

In the morning, after much tossing in his sleep and speaking to the shadows, Marius went to the stables to seek out Berrog, his chestnut stallion. Berrog had been sired when Marius was a small child and had been the only horse he had ever ridden. Indeed it seemed that the two were made for one another--free-spirited and proud, cognizant of their noble lineage. But even today, the stallion could not make the boy smile, even when he snorted and blew the hair that hung in Marius's eyes as he leaned over.

"Not today, Berrog," Marius spoke softly to his friend as the horse nudged his pocket. "I have no carrot for you. Once we return home, you may have all that you like, but the kitchen was out this morning."

As Marius saddled the horse, he recalled that soon he would have to ride out to meet Lord Elbren. His usually warm aquamarine eyes glittered icily as he thought of how his father, instead of giving him the position he was promised, had thrown him upon another for training he did not need. Once more, he ran through each moment of the conversation the night before and wished that he had indeed said something to his father, though he knew that Eomer's mind was made up.

Finally, when he knew that he could tarry no longer, he mounted Berrog and rode to the gate, looking with great longing at the dawn. He now wished for his paints that sat within his room in Edoras, for the colours in their transient hues seemed to symbolize great change. This moment he wished to capture forever; he knew that whether for good or for ill, change was upon him.

Keeping his expression as emotionless as possible, he nodded to each of the Lords and Ladies mentioned by the Lord Elbren, his eyes lingering upon the beautiful ladies, especially one of obvious Rohirrim background.

After some interruptions by others joining them, they soon were on their way, both to Marius's relief and torment. The rain he knew and weathered well, but the colder elements ripped through even his thick cloak, and so he saved his energy by not speaking. Besides, the longer he watched them, the more he felt sure that he did not belong with this band of Knights. Surely his father had made a mistake?

As the journey reached its end, Edoras came into sight and Marius's heart soared in pride as it always did when he saw his noble birthplace. For this place he would give his life, for his people, he would die. However, seeing the singed edges invoked his anger within, his body tensing in anticipation of the enemy still being near. The others did not seem bothered, nor did they expect to see the perpetrators, so he relaxed, though not completely.

They rode past his home and to the Guild House, though Marius would have much preferred to spend a quiet dinner with his family. He also needed some time to meditate on his situation and to work past this rage that continued to bubble beneath his cool exterior. His art was the only quiet outlet for such contemplation and all of his supplies were within his chambers. He was not one to make a scene in front of fellow warriors, and so he said nothing.

When Marius saw Freahelm, he was gladdened, for it was good to see another Rohirrim in the Guild. However, still angered by his father, he did not give him the usual warm greeting, but instead a simple nod.

He was shown to his quarters, a small, brightly lit room that emanated comforting warmth for one who had traveled in the chilly elements. As with most youths, he was not tired and was ready in a few moments to eat supper. His clothes had been neatly placed upon the bed, most likely chosen by his mother, Eru bless her. Marius smiled for the first time in days as he thought of her putting together his pack, her eyes tearing up as they often did when she saw that he was growing up. Thankful for the warm clothes, Marius slid into the deep russet tunic with the symbol of his father's house embroidered in gold thread, and the black breeches that were still a bit long for his stature.

The call for dinner came soon after and he found himself seated not directly next to Elbren. This was comforting to him and he found that it was much easier to listen to his speech to the two initiates who wished to become members of the Order and to eat the splendidly decorated meal. It had been a long time since he had dined so well; indeed, it had not been since his family left Edoras.

Elbren retired early that evening, falling asleep quickly and deeply. It felt good to lie in the feather bed, covered in blankets, with a fire softly burning nearby. His hands were healing well, though they were still raw in places from the burns and the skin was beginning to peel in its effort to replenish and regenerate.

There was much to do the next day and so he rose early, even though the comfort of the bed beckoned him to linger. He first went and broke his fast with Athelos and Freahelm, and then the three of them went to prepare the Initiation Chamber for the upcoming ritual for Nienor Niniel and Anorast. Elbren took stock of the herbs and incense, candles and oils, and then spent the remainder of the morning with the Mithril Cloaks that would be gifted.

That was when his thoughts strayed to Nurvilya. What would happen to her if she entered the vision quest and changed shape? The very thought unnerved him so that he nearly dropped one of the Cloaks. Athelos and Freahelm noted the reaction, though they said nothing.

"I will return," Elbren said suddenly and left the chamber, making for the library.

There, he began to browse the scrolls once again for anything lending knowledge of shapeshifting, specifically the dreaded werewolf form. He finally came across a reference scroll entitled, "Servants of Morgoth." Sitting down near the fire, Elbren began to read...

'....werewolves, fell beasts inhabited by dreadful spirits that he had imprisoned in their bodies.'

The "he" was Morgoth; the dreadful spirits were.....Elbren could not tell from the notes. Yet, here again, it was stated that the werewolf was a spirit form. They had primarily inhabited wolves, even though Sauron had once shapeshifted into one himself. During a time of great need...great fear.....a time when he was less powerful and losing a battle.

Spirits. Dreadful spirits.

Elbren was so deep in his thought that it took him a moment to notice that Nurvilya had entered the room.

"You sent for me, Lord Elbren, and I waited..." she said quietly.

"Yes, indeed, I am so sorry, Nurvilya, please sit," Elbren motioned to a chair at the table, "I was actually doing some research on your....dilemma. See here? The scrolls, all that I can find, point to there being a spirit other than your own within you. The fact that yours awakens with the moon tells me that perhaps there is some link between the dread spirit and Minas Ithil...or Minas Morgul as it was called during the days of Sauron. Is there some link? Does that make any sense? If it does, then it may be a matter of banishing the spirit."

Nurvilya was about to speak when another entered the room: Marius, son of Eomer. He looked embarrassed at finding the library occupied and was about to simply leave when Elbren asked him to stay.

"We can speak of this a little later, Nurvilya," Elbren said, "and I will tell you my fear right now: If I allow you to enter the vision quest...as things are now....within you, we run a risk of tragedy occurring. I cannot, in good conscience, allow this. Think upon it and let us meet in my quarters in an hour."

Elbren could see that Nurvilya was troubled by their conversation, as was he, but he saw little choice in the matter. Allowing the dread spirit to experience the Giliath Londe, as part of Nurvilya, could not be allowed.

Shaking his head, Elbren put away the scroll and turned to Marius.

"Please, sit, Marius," Elbren invited.

The boy sat down rather stiffly and, at first, would not meet Elbren's gaze.

"It is obvious to me, Marius, that you are none too pleased with the arrangement that your father has made concerning your being my Knight Apprentice," Elbren began, "and though many would consider it an honour and privilege, I am willing to accept that you do not see it as such. However, regardless of how you view it, the fact of the matter remains that the deed is done. So, shall our relationship be one of discord? Or, are you ready to learn what I can teach you? You need not worry that I plan to take you to the exercise yard and work your sword skills, though that may happen at some point, what I am most interested in is teaching you, Marius, how to use your other warrior skills. Mayhap, I can teach you some skill with the bow, spear, and sword, but we shall start with your mind first. Your ability to overcome your present state would be a good starting point, don't you think?"

During the entire voyage, Nienor-Niniel had seen the concern in the eyes of the two mentor knights. Did she look that tired? Indeed, without exactly knowing, the use of the sickle had somehow left her weakened, but also strengthened. She felt weary, and would have wanted to sleep, but yet, she felt restless.

What the light of the stars had done to her, and what it had meant to the dwarves, she could not tell exactly. But as soon as she closed her eyes, she could see the light again, and the music falling from the stars, like an echo of the times and tidings of old. This memory of beauty fulfilled her with a great inner quiet, completely sure about what had happened and that she had acted well.

But as soon as she tried to think reasonably about the last days, doubts and questions filled her mind. Was she meant to carry that weapon? But how could it be? She did not feel that she deserved it. And even if, she were not sure that she would want it. Ever since she had left Rivendell, she had avoided coming into contact with strong powers, and now it had fallen upon her. On the other hand, it could be seen as a sign of hope ' that she was indeed able to do good, as she had hoped, when asking to join the guild.

During the day of riding, she watched Marius, son of Eomer, carefully. He seemed tense and sulking ' and very, very young. Young enough to be foolish. Marius ' a strange name for a Rohirrim ' much more likely for someone from the south. Had he rather inherited the blood of Dol Amroth from his mother Lothiriel? She wondered. One day, it would be nice to talk to him in his native language, and to guess weather

her son would speak alike or not. But today she was too much lost in her own thoughts and nervosity to care for the new apprentice, however noble and interesting he should proof to be.

After a while, Rholarowyn came to her side, still with the look of concern in her eyes. I must have a glance in a mirror, thought Nienor-Niniel; maybe I look like a wraith. The two women began to talk about various things- but most of all NN was interested in the wolf, which accompanied Rho. She had never seen such a wild animal tamed before, and the Shield maiden promised her to tell her one day in length how it had happened, for now she just had the wolf obey to some simple orders, so that it was perfectly clear that he obeyed to his mistress voice and gestures.

Finally they arrived, and the Steward of the Rohirrim Guild house welcomed them, very obviously to the delight of Elbren. Once the room that had been given to her, NN took a little moment to contemplate her reflect in the mug of water ' she was indeed very pale. Well after the dinner, she would have time to find rest, if ever her thoughts allowed her to. But it was not only the influence of magic to which she was not used. She was nervous too, knowing that soon she would have to speek with the Guild Master. Also, among the mighty and noble Knights, she was not sure to have her place and felt small and insignificant. Her room, she had seen, was next to Anorasts and slightly a part from the other knights ' so the two knights in training could easily retire and find themselves together.

The announcement of the Guild Master, that tomorrow already, they should prepare themselves mentally for the initiation. From this moment on, NN could hardly swallow anything. She knew that she had to find Elbren and talk to him at some point before this ceremony. The food was indeed delicious, even if to her great regret, the desert was not chocolate. When the meal approached its end, it was very obvious that the Elbren was tired. She had thought it over and did not want to put further weight on his shoulders for this night. The following day should give her and Anorast the occasion to meditate over their decision. Thus she would do and talk to him when she had thought over her words. For the first time since they had left Orthanc, she fell asleep quickly and deeply.

Marius was torn.

First, he had entered the sanctity of the library, hoping to find something that would enrich his mind. Surely, there were old texts speaking of the heroic battles fought in Rohan, some of which his father was involved. Or perhaps there were tomes of poetry scrawled in elegantly gilded letters waiting for his eager mind. The library loomed large as he stepped within, though not as large as the library in his home, yet with so many new and wondrous texts.

His footsteps halted as soon as he heard voices, and trying not to be overly interested, he looked over at the couple. Stepping back to retreat from the peaceful sanctum, Marius noted with surprise that it was Lord Elbren with a troubled female, his cheeks growing pink at the edges. How he wished that he could not be seen by the Lord Elbren, for he felt much guilt at not paying the warrior the respect that he deserved, and yet he could not like him, for he was now at the beck and call of the Guildmaster. However, as Elbren had asked him to stay, so was he required.

As Elbren finished his conversation with the Lady, Marius chose to move away to the furthest point of the library, so that he could not hear their soft words. His heart was racing'what would the head of the Order have to say to him today? He had spoken nary a word to him, except explaining a few of the rules and introducing him to the other Ladies and Lords. Could he sense Marius's unease and unhappiness? These things Marius pondered as he pulled a scroll from a shelf, unrolling it with the soft hands of a lover.

The smell of the old ink and the ancient paper wafted around him and he smiled. There was nothing better than the smell of an ancient text, he thought happily. However, he did not have time to read any more than the ornately scrawled title: "A Treatise on War in the Second Age". Making a note to himself to return later and read it in its entirety, Marius made his way toward Lord Elbren, who had invited him to sit before him.

Sit he did indeed, though a bit stiffly. His unease was surely apparent to one as experienced as the Eldar, but the rest of his emotions he cloaked well. Then, Elbren spoke, patience in his tone:

""It is obvious to me, Marius, that you are none too pleased with the arrangement that your father has made concerning your being my Knight Apprentice and though many would consider it an honour and privilege, I am willing to accept that you do not see it as such. However, regardless of how you view it, the fact of the matter remains that the deed is done. So, shall our relationship be one of discord? Or, are you ready to learn what I can teach you? You need not worry that I plan to take you to the exercise yard and work your sword skills, though that may happen at some point, what I am most interested in is teaching you, Marius, how to use your other warrior skills. Mayhap, I can teach you some skill with the bow, spear, and sword, but we shall start with your mind first. Your ability to overcome your present state would be a good starting point, don't you think?""

Marius's pride threatened to burst after this speech, but, being the son of his father, he remained in control of his emotions. Slowly, with much deliberation, he responded:

"Lord Elbren, I do not wish to give the impression that I am ungrateful nor do I wish to lightly push aside the great responsibility of being your honoured Apprentice. However, I am afraid that there was some mistake on my father's part, as I knew nothing of this until I was brought before the two of you in his chambers, when the deal was done. I was under the impression that he believed I was ready for the responsibility of the Riddermark, and I too felt that I was well-prepared. I have studied with the greatest of warriors, though not with your noble organization, and I hold you in the highest regard. My training has been arduous and thorough, as is the custom of Rohan.

"I do indeed understand that there is always something more to learn - every day I see this in the men of Rohan. A new strategy must be learned in order to defeat the enemy that continues a relentless march."

Marius paused a moment, fighting to keep back biting words as he recalled Elbren's next topic. His mind indeed! There was nothing wrong with his mind - it was more fit than many of his father's men, indeed even more so than his elder brother. This stung him, but once more he breathed deeply and continued.

"I am indeed sorry if my silence has dismayed or disappointed you in any way, m'Lord. This change has been sudden and I ask only time to find my place."

Yes, he was torn. His words were mostly true, though mainly spoken in politeness and in following the customs of apprenticeship, but he knew not how long it would take for him to find a clear path over his obstacle. He was angry with his father, and in being so, so too was he disrespecting the Lord Elbren. Only when he could understand why his father had chosen more training and even longer years under apprenticeship, could he forgive him, or so he thought.

When he had finished, Marius sat straight and tall in his seat, the wooden back rubbing slightly against his spine. His chin tilted slightly and he was completely blank once more in expression.

Nurvilya was startled by the entrance of the young man Elbren named Marius. His face was strangely familiar to her, though she could not place it. He reminded her of the stories she had heard of King Eomer in the days of the War of the Ring - there was no doubt that this young man too was of noble blood.

Then suddenly, it dawned on Nurvilya where she knew him from. He was the young man from her dream. Was he one of the Mithril Knights she had not yet met? But Freahelm had told her that he was the only Rohirrim Knight, so he couldn't be. Perhaps he was a new Knight in Training. The thought painfully reminded Nurvilya that two groups of KiTs had recieved their cloaks since Rho, Elenath, Aurandir and herself had returned from Orthanc with Elbren and Idril, and preparations were being made for the next group to go to the Chamber today. Perhaps this new Apprentice would pass her too. But his presense in her dream last night made her think his role was something more significant.

Elbren's dismissal seemed to echo with further foreboding. If the spirit, whatever it may be, could not be banished from her body, she would not be allowed to undergo the Initiation. What then would she do? She could not return home to Minas Tirith, nor could she afford to settle somewhere alone. Her heart yearned for a place where she could live amongst friends, but the opportunity to do so seemed to be getting ever more remote.

One hour after Nurvilya left Elbren and Marius in the library, the young woman was knocking on the door of the Elf Lord's chambers, her heart beating like a trapped beast in her chest. Elbren opened the door with a smile and gestured Nurvilya inside and into a small chair. She sat quietly with her head hung as he began to speak.

Elbren leaned back in his chair and studied Marius intently; which made the young man noticeably uncomfortable. Seeming to decide something, Elbren stood up. He unsheathed his sword; the broken edge was unmistakable.

"I broke it at Helm's Deep upon a Red Hammer axe," Elbren said and handed the sword to Marius, who took it with care. "It was forged in the First Age, Marius, in the Halls of Thingol when my father was young. Beautiful, isn't it?"

Marius nodded as he studied the sleek lines of the blade and the intricate and ornate hilt, "It is indeed, M'lord."

"Yet, it is broken. I will wait for our journey to Lothlorien to have it repaired," Elbren took the sword back and sheathed it again, "ask Athelos to take you to the armoury and find me a weapon to bear until this one is repaired. Spend some time in there and read the inscriptions that you find, especially the Oath upon the North wall. Oh," Elbren had started to depart but then stopped, "Eomer told me that you like to draw. Come by my quarters when you have found the weapon for me, and I will make sure that you have supplies for your craft. You see, Marius, I, too, am a painter."

Leaving the boy no time to respond, Elbren strode from the library and made his way quickly to his chamber. He quickly wrote a letter to Carnimiriel,

Dearest Carnimiriel,

I should be home within the next moon phase. Much has happened. Warn the border guards that a clan of Dwarves and Orcs have come from the East. There is so much to tell you and little time now to do so. I am bringing a Knight in Training with me, actually, two. Eomer's son, Marius, and Nurvilya, a young woman. Nurvilya is accursed with the dread spirit of a werewolf; I need your help in aiding us to dispel this wretched spirit from her. Look for me soon.

Namarie with much love,

Elbren

Sealing the parchment, Elbren had the letter given to Athelos, who dispatched it to a courier who would set out with the dawn for Lothlorien.

*************************

Elbren offered Nurvilya some tea and tried to put the young woman at ease, for she seemed very disraught and confused.

"If you will go with me to Lothlorien, Nurvilya, and seek the wisdom of Lady Carnimiriel, I am sure that we can help you," he said gently, "You have earned the right to Initiate, I do not deny that. But, if the fell spirit within you is witness to our Order's most sacred truths, what will happen once that spirit is banished from you and it roams freely in Middle Earth? I cannot risk that, and I am not sure what the vision quest would do to you...or to it.....I fear that the ritual might, in fact, kill you or harm you greatly."

Nurvilya said nothing but stared into her mug of steaming tea.

"Trust me, Nurvilya. Come with me to Lorien. We will seek your answers until we find them, I give you my word."

The journey back from Helm's Deep basically uneventful, and Rho was relieved that no difficulties prevented them from reaching Edoras in fairly good time. The weather being the only thing that slowed them down. But the weather had also provided Rho with her first opportunity to try Elven miruvor, something she discovered, quite quickly, that she had a taste for.

The only other unexpected event was the moment she saw Elbren and Marius walking over to join the two Knights-in-Training, herself, and Erinhue just before the group had departed from the Deep. When the Guild Master introduced Eomer's son to them, Rho had been a bit shocked that Marius had not shown any signs of knowing her or even acknowledged their relationship. But as the group continued to travel, she began to realize that something was bothering the young man and it wasn't her presence that was causing him to pull away.

When the group finally returned to the Guild House, it was not a moment too soon. The chill and the cold had taken it's toll on everyone, but Rho was mostly concerned about Nin. The two women had finally found an opportunity to talk during the ride back, and Nin's interest and affection towards the wolf did not go unnoticed on the Mentor Knight, so it was a friendship that she encouraged.

After Rho had done her best to dry off Chirion and Freahelm had greeted the new arrivals, she finally went over to Eomer's son and pulled him aside for just a minute.

'Marius, I don't understand all that is happening, or what is troubling you so, but please know that if you want someone to talk to, you can always come to me. After all we are kin.'

The distant look remained in his eyes, but he did at least nod, acknowledging that he had heard her. Rho hoped that he would take her up on the offer before things got too bad, remembering how the young man could be moody at times.

Finally the wolf and the woman reached their room. The burning fire was heating the room nicely. And over on the table was a pot of warm tea waiting for her. Sitting next to it was the letter that Freahelm had mentioned just shortly after she had made his acquaintance. It had arrived shortly after the Elbren and the Mithril Knights had departed to Amon Lhaw.

Rho slowly picked it up and looked it over. Immediately she recognized the unusual paper as well as the handwriting. It was from her friend, her friend from the East, but rarely did he write to her unless it was the utmost importance. Her heart sank for a moment, hoping that this letter was not the bearer bad news.

Picking up a chair, Rho slowly made her way over to the hearth where Chirion was curled up and already fast asleep. After placing it near the fire, she sat down and broke the seal. Taking a deep breath, she then unfolded the letter and began to read'

Hail Rholarowyn, Warrior/Bard and Mithril Knight! Greetings!

I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. Each day, as the sun rises, I ask the Gods of my country to pass over your lands with a generous spirit while on their travels to the West. When they arrive again, the next day, brightly in the East I ask what news they have of you.. and of my other Westron friends.

I hear good things.

Our offensive against the Sultan of Harad and his dishonorable Easterling mercenaries takes much time and much effort. Gratefully, King Elessar's forces in the Northwest are pressing hard, pushing the forces of Far Harad down the coast of Harondor, advancing on Umbar and making it difficult for the Sultan to gain on either front. Your King is a great and worthy man. Lucky are the peoples of the West to have such a Monarch.

As for our assault in the East, in these last weeks we have met a new weapon. The enemy now resorts to foulcraft, brutal and gruesome and disseminates it in small ways beastly ways that keep us policing and protecting the villagers and Bedouin when we should be engaging the Sultan's troops, face to face, in honorable battle. My men grow restless and the spark of fear is now in their eyes.

There is a particularly foul development afoot and I see that I must call for help. I have sent word for aid westwards calling you, the Rangers Alandriel, Edain and Mealgwn and the Dalewoman, Bardhwyn. I have even sent secret word abroad for Jiyadan, though I hear he has gone East, as most likely has the Barding woman.

Yes, I have called all of who were at that Inn on that fateful Autumn day. I see signs that tell me this is the right course, that because of our shared experience that day together we can defeat this new devilry. That is my conviction. I pray I am correct. I am still learning. There is so much to learn.

Come eastward, Rholarwyn and bring your sword and your noble heart. If you know of the whereabouts of our friends, encourage them, too. My troops are stationed south of the Easternmost spur of the Ephel Duath, on the border of Khand and bring this letter with you.

I hear the Black Land is still unfit to cross, so ring the Ephel Duath. Once across the River Poros, keep the river to your left shoulder then follow the Outer Fence and follow the supply road Eastwards, you should find the travel swift and safe, again - bring this letter with you. My Army holds that road and the crossing at the Harnen.

Ride hard, Rholarowyn. I am in need of my friends.

Moujhadin, El Zikher to His Majesty Prince Rizwan ibn Khalid ibn Fehad

Upon finishing his letter, Rho felt relief that no harm had come upon him or on Jiyadan, his brother. But still the news was not good. She reread the letter again, more slowly this time, paying specific attention to the details where he talked of or made references to evil.

When she had finished the letter the second time a different concern grew. Could the Red Hammer's Clan involved in some way? Could they be reaching their hand east and south, as well as in or own lands here? She thought to herself. If this was indeed a possibility, then this enemy might be larger than any of them originally thought.

Just then there was a knock on the door informing Rho that dinner would be served within the hour. Glancing down at the letter one last time, she then lifted herself off the chair and walked over to the table, placing the letter upon it.

About a half hour later, she was clean, warm, and feeling well rested. And with the new change of clothes, Rho felt she was now presentable for dinner. Picking up the letter and placing it in her pocket, the Knight hoped that she would have a chance to talk to Elbren soon. If not tonight, then perhaps tomorrow. With many of the other knight's off seeking information and clues in various lands, Rho was hopeful that she too could go off to her friend's aid, and could gather information from the lands towards the south, close to Harad. But tonight, if nothing else, she hoped to spend some time later in the library exploring the maps Elbren had once told her about.

Calling Chirion to her side, the two left the room and made their way to the dining hall. As she walked down the halls her thoughts again returned to Moujhadin's letter. The soonest she would be able to leave would be the day after tomorrow, after the Initiation Ceremony was over. As for Alandriel, it would not be possible for her to help out their Easterling friend this time. For she was off participating in her Mithril Knight training. Rho smiled knowing that her friend and new Knight-in-Training would be disappointed in missing the chance to see the Easterling again. But she was more than certain that Moujhadin would not only understand, he would be happy to hear that she was working towards gaining the title of Mithril Knight.

Elbren and Nurvilya spoke until well past sundown....and then Elbren had to excuse himself in order to prepare for the night's Initiations...

As midnight approached, Elbren strode into the Common Room of the Guild House and then stopped at the huge double doors. He opened them, peered out into the darkness of the deep night, waited a moment, and then shut them again.

He drew a key from around his neck, and locked the doors with a loud, audible click. It even sounded like the doors whispered something as a light breeze blew through the room and then a silence descended.

All through the night, distant sounds of battle horns, horses' screams, sword upon sword, the twang of bows, the scream of dragons, the dreadful cries of horrid, nameless things...the distinct clanging of metal gates resounds through the Guild House and the city of Edoras....

************************************

Elbren stood in his silver robes, lighting the candles in the meditation chamber as the incense layered the room in misty gray. He had the oils prepared on the tray, each one meticulously infused with the ancient recipes. He looked up to see the massive mural that surrounded all four walls...

The Invitees would face first the East wall where the battle of Dagor-nuin-Giliath was portrayed. His keen, grey eyes traveled the length of the painting, noting the intense life-like expressions of the paints. He shook his head; it was still impressive, even after seeing it so many times.

In the top left corner was the arrival of Feanor, his sons, and the Exiles with them, landing in the waste of Lammoth, the Great Echo, at the shores of the Firth of Drengist. They all had their mouths open and their fists raised as they screamed a mighty challenge to Morgoth that they had arrived.

Farther up, near the dark mountains, were orcs, Balrogs, and other dark creatures that were clearly listening in bewilderment and then anger. Elbren winced a bit as he fancied hearing the growls and foul language of the dark creatures, but then, he knew the murals contained life and energies of their own.

His eyes continued along the colors until he then focused upon the Exiles as they traveled the Firth into the land of Hithlum, and then finally to the long lake of Mithrim.

Elbren's heart stopped and his mouth went dry as he looked up to see the hosts of Morgoth moving at an unnaturally rapid pace through the passes of Ered Wethrin and then falling upon Feanor's people, completely caught off guard, with no defenses built or permanent dwelling yet raised.

But the Noldor were mighty and filled with the spirit of Exile that had led them back to Beleriand. The orcs actually fled from them, defeated and baffled at the incredible energy coming forth from the Exiles. Then there was the figure of Celegorm, pointing and drawing his sword, as more orcs joined the fleeing host. It was no matter; Celegorm's band fell upon them and left them in mounds of death. Ten days the battle lasted. A handful of orcs made their way sullenly back to Angband.

Morgoth was not pleased.

But then, Elbren's eyes moved near the end of the East wall mural, and there was Feanor, in his anger and white heat, pursuing the orcs alone and into certain peril. There he was, in his shining mail, his sword brandished mightily, fighting valiantly upon the Plain of Dor Daedeloth before Angband, Feanor's laughter echoed upon the iron walls before him.

Elbren's mouth went ghostly dry as Balrogs were let forth from Angband and with swift precision, surrounded Feanor, who stood alone.

Feanor never faltered nor did his pores issue the scent of fear; he fought on, determined, though he was wrapped in fire and lashed with whip again and again. Finally, though, a mightly Balrog, Gothmog, stepped forth and smote Feanor such a blow that the Elf Lord fell to his knees, dazed, and his sword fell from his hand.

His sons came then, finally, and drove off the Balrogs. But, Feanor had taken his death wound, and he knew it. They carried him from that field and tried to get him to their new home for tending, but Feanor, when they reached Ethel Sirion, he bade them stop. There he cursed Morgoth thrice and as death drew near, the veils between the spirit and mortal world began to intertwine. With anger in his heart, he was granted the foreknowledge that the Noldor would never overthrow Morgoth on their own.

He spoke to his sons of their Oath, and they kneeled next to him, swearing it again and swearing to always serve their own hearts and their own minds above anyone else's. Feanor then took one of the mightiest of talismans and gifted it to Maglor.

When he died, his spirit was so hot and full of fire that his body was consumed and turned to ash before their very eyes.

Thus ended the East wall mural.

Elbren stepped back, sweat upon his brow and his heart pounding. No matter how many times one studied the mural, its power was never lessened in any way. The power of its creator was pulsing like a Silmaril.

He then walked to the doors, opened them, and waited for the Invitees to enter and begin their dreamquest...

Mirdain looked upon the ominous ruins of Orthanc. Memory stirred in him. Turning to Parador and Idril, he remarked "You know, I was here before, not so long ago. Though, it seems like ages. It was some time before I actually joined the Mithril Knights."

"I'm surprised Orthanc is still standing then, if you were here without the resolve of your training as a Knight" Idril smirked.

"Truly! But I have you to thank mostly for the improvements that I think have come over me" he smiled back at her. Then to Parador; "I would stay and help you with your task for a little while at least, if you should ask it."

"No, that is alright. It's been a hard road for all of us. It was not that task assigned to you, and I expect that you would like to Lorien again. I thank you both for accompanying me though."

"It is no trouble. Very well, we will be off then. Shall we give your regards to our brethren in Lothlorien?"

"Indeed" Parador smiled. With that, they finally parted company for the time being, and Mirdain and Idril made their way home.

With the rout of the Red Hammer at Helm's Deep and their success at Amon Lhaw, there was no fear on the lands, at least for the time being. Mirdain and Idril met with little resistance on the road to Lorien. Mirdain was pretty sure he saw Radagast fly high overhead on the back of an eagle at least once, almost as if checking on them. Their horses bore them swiftly around the borders of Fangorn, and over the Wold. Within 2 days ride, Mirdain was able to once again look upon the golden eaves of the mallorn trees. He and Idril left their horses with the border guard, and made their way to the Lorien Guild House on foot. As they approached the door, Carnimiriel stepped out to greet them, to Mirdain's great surprise.

"Lady Carnimiriel! It is good to see you, and unharmed by the looks of things." said Mirdain bowing low. Idril politely followed.

"Of course," she smiled. "I was about to say the same of you. Some of our Lorien kinfolk were not so fortunate. You may know this already, but Lothlorien was assaulted by a small contigent of Red Hammer."

"No we did not know it!" exclaimed Mirdain. "We were only aware of attacks on Orthanc and Erebor, aside from the one we faced at Helm's Deep. Was there much damage done here?"

"No. As I said, it was only a small force. The border guard did well to repel the attack, though some were slain. I think that the Red Hammer hoped to overtake us by surprise, with so many of our resources dedicated to the defense of other areas. With Runya, I was able to sense them coming, and their element of surprise was rendered useless."

"Thank Eru that Lorien had you in it's time of need, Lady. I wish I had been here. But why would the Red Hammer wish to attack here? Lorien doesn't seem to be a strategic point, given their other areas of concern."

"I cannot say for certain, though perhaps they wished to strike a personal blow to the Knights for the damage you all did at Amon Lhaw, specifically to its leader Elbren. Tell me, where is he? I have been worried."

"Worry no longer, Lady Carnimiriel. He has made it safely through our recent troubles with the Red Hammer, along with the rest of us." Mirdain bowed his head. "That is except for our brother Halith. Elbren now busies himself with a memorial for Halith and initiation of new knights at the Edoras Guild House."

"Thank you for that bit of news, Mirdain. I'm sorry to hear about Halith."

Idril had looked thoughtful most of the time, but now she appeared worried. "Tell me, Lady Carnimiriel; were any of your children endangered? You said the Red Hammer's attack may have been a personal one against Elbren."

"No, they were kept safely away from harm, thank Eru. Galadhon desperately wanted to help me in the defense of Lorien, but I made sure he stayed in his room. Guards were set about," she added with a sigh. "I think he's rather upset with me now."

Mirdain smiled. "Well, you shouldn't have to worry about that much longer. I believe Lord Elbren is bringing a gift that should cheer him up."

"Well that is good news, haha! I will wait to find out what it is until Elbren comes and shows Galadhon himself."

Dearest Carnimiriel,

I should be home within the next moon phase. Much has happened. Warn the border guards that a clan of Dwarves and Orcs have come from the East. There is so much to tell you and little time now to do so. I am bringing a Knight in Training with me, actually, two. Eomer's son, Marius, and Nurvilya, a young woman. Nurvilya is accursed with the dread spirit of a werewolf; I need your help in aiding us to dispel this wretched spirit from her. Look for me soon.

Namarie with much love,

Elbren

Carnimiriel must have read the letter at least four times, overjoyed to hear from Elbren, and burning with curiosity about all the things that had happened since he was last in the Wood. She had some things to tell him as well, as he was probably unaware of the attack that she and the Galadrim had successfully repelled. She turned her gold wedding ring around her right index finger - once he was closer to Lothlorien, she could contact him through the enchantment of the rings that they had accomplished together, before they were married.

She was alone in Galadriel's study in the Great Tree, or at least she still thought of it as Galadriel's. She had done little to change the furnishings or decor, although the room was hers now. Reminders of her mentor were everywhere, and it seemed fitting that she should be reminded of her Great Aunt.

The door burst open suddenly, and she smiled as her twin daughters Rosmarien, with her father's silver hair, and Lorfindur, her hair a pale shade of gold like Carnimiriel's own, rushed in and ran to her, both talking at once.

"Father is coming, isn't he? I knew it!" Rosmarien's voice brimmed with excitement.

"When is he coming? Will he stay here?" Lorfindur was already asking questions.

Miriel smiled and stood to embrace both of her daughters. Her nephew Galadhon next strode into the room, trying to look nonchalant, though she was sure he was just as eager to hear about Elbren's return as the girls were.

"He is coming soon, and bringing two Knights in training with him." Carnimiriel replied, her grey eyes smiling to see how her children's faces lit up at the news.

"He is bringing someone you do not like. Or maybe do not trust." Rosmarien's eyes narrowed. She had inherited her mother's gift of perceiving the thoughts of others, though she had not yet learned the tact that came with this.

"No, it is not that," Miriel replied, frowning thoughtfully - was this what her daughter read from her? "He is bringing a puzzle for me to solve. Someone who needs my help."

Rosmarien nodded, but she did not seem convinced. But the family enjoyed a breakfast together in the smaller of the dining halls, and all they could talk about was Elbren's return and how long he might stay, what things or people he might bring with him. She said nothing about the mysterious gift to Galadhon that Mirdain had alluded to - it was probably better not to spoil the element of surprise.

Carnimiriel went to sleep that night with a smile on her face - it would be good to have her husband home again. But her dreams that night were not pleasant - she was pursued across some unknown landscape by werewolves, their eyes burning with hatred, their fangs dripping with blood.

Nienor-Niniel had thought that she was used to loneliness ' she had lived and travelled alone for so long, first for five years before she arrived in Rohan. Then, after those few years of bliss of happiness, once more long and lonely roads had been her most faithful companions.

But how different to be alone on the road or in the woods where she had lived than to be alone, be it only for a day, shut in in a room, with only little tidings to do and many thoughts to ruminate.

First, she took care of what was the most necessary, controlling the edge of her sword on eventual damage from the battle. Here she could certainly have it grind again by skilled hands ' if not she could so it herself and had done so before. So she only took care of sharpening her hunting and cooking knives.

She also took a look at her clothing ' the sleeves of her leather shirt had become so thin, that her skin was almost shining through. But of the tanned skins of this winter, she had kept only little, selling most of it and using some to add a layer on her leathern harness that was thick enough, to keep an arrow off. Metal she could not have afforded ' and maybe not carried.

Now the only piece left was the one in which she had wrapped the sickle. She did not want to unwrap it here and now. For once that the sense and fate of the weapon was not on her mind, she rather preferred to keep things like this. So nothing could be done about the poverty of her clothing now.

Suddenly, the rest of the day seemed very long. Her decision to join the training as a Mithril Knight had been well thought over. It had seemed the best way to her for paying the price to dedicate her life to a task, a way of giving it a sense that it had always lacked, a way to quieten the voice of remorse and anger and to show that for her the days of doubt were over.

How to avoid that more ancient and more grievous memories found their way back in her mind? Of course, the words that Elrond had said to her would not leave her for all her life. You will be guilty, as long as you live. He had been right. And Elbren needed to know. But even this decision, to conceal nothing, had been taken long ago. What if after this conversation, he would tell her that she could not join the guild? The risk was real and she was ready to take it, more she knew that she had to take it. It was not possible to start what she saw as a new part of her life on the base of a lie. In Rohan had been her first chance, and it seemed like an echo of fate that a second could be in Rohan too.

Still, the hours seemed too long. Nin began to walk up and down in the little room that had been given to her. Surely Elbren would refuse her. It could not be that someone like her should be accepted in such a prestigious guild. Who was she to hope for this? How could she dare? Better leave now, then being humiliated... When she stopped her comings and goings, she realized that she had started to chew her fingernails. Bad. Very bad.

NN took a deep breath in order to calm down. The only thing she could think about that would quieten her tension was music. She was not sure if she was allowed to, but as nobody had taken her flute, she just supposed it. Once she felt the cold silver in her hands, her fingers found the way on the claps alone. She closed her eyes and let the melody invade her. Under the swift movements of her hands, the notes fell like pearls on a string. First softly, then a bit louder, the melody forming an echo of the image of her mind. She thought of the starlight as it had touched her in the battle, and the soft and flowing melody of minor harmony filled the room, in a slow and steady rhythm, where the different notes were gliding together. She played for a while, not aware that the music could be heard far, and that she opened her soul to all those who listened.

When she stopped she felt very calm. The only important thing was to talk to Elbren. All the rest would follow.

Elbren heard the music of the flute as he made his way down the hall towards the Initiation Chamber. It was coming from Nienor-Niniel's room; he paused, for the tune was somewhat melancholy, though not tragic. He was dressed in his Guild Master's robe and already his mind was on the Giliath Londe. But, something was amiss, it seemed. He knocked lightly upon the door from whence the music had come, for now it had stopped, though the air of sadness, regret, lingered in the air.

"Nienor-Niniel, it is Elbren, may I come in?" he asked.

The door opened to reveal a rather anxious-faced young woman, "Come in, please," she said.

Elbren sat down in one of the chairs in the room and placed his hands upon his knees, "Your Initiation is to take place this night," he began.

"Yes," she said simply, but the reply was tinged with both eagerness and hesitation.

He decided to get right to the point, "Is this your wish?"

"Yes," she replied again. "But."

And then it came forth in a rush of words and emotion: Death.

Banishment. Exile. Guilt.

Regret.

When she finished, Elbren did not reply immediately. Instead, he took a deep breath and waited until she met his gaze.

"Perhaps it will surprise you that I have heard something of these past deeds," he said, "I have spent much time in Imladris and know Elrond well; indeed, he is a distant kinsman. You have been judged, Nienor-Niniel, already by Lord Elrond. You have just now expressed to me your great regret and your desire to somehow redeem yourself and thus alleviate your guilt as much as you can. I am not your judge, though. Do you think that all of our Order have stainless pasts? One of the greatest of our Order, Turin Turambar, also considered himself a murderer. Indeed, he slew the greatest and most loyal of his friends.

There are others of our brethren that have blood upon their hands; even I am among them. Yes. Does that surprise you as well? I shall tell you a brief tale, then. Long ago, I was taken prisoner, along with some of my comrades, and waited to be killed and tortured by the enemy. One of my comrades managed to loosen his bonds and then chose me to be the first that he, in turn, freed. We intended to free the others, but the enemy was coming to the tent. There was no time. We had to flee, or be imprisoned again. We fled for our lives and left our friends to die. And die they did. Horribly. That is not murder, you say? Then, I will tell you another tale: When King Amdir was slain at the Battle of Dagorlad and his body profaned by the servants of Sauron, Amroth and the Galadrim were angered beyond reason. We took revenge, Nienor- Niniel, murderous revenge. When Sauron had been defeated, Amroth did not lead the Galadrim army directly back to the Golden Wood," Elbren paused, for his face had gone white and his breath was shallow, "indeed we murdered innocents in our vengeance."

Silence fell upon the small chamber.

"So, you see," Elbren said quietly, "I cannot be your judge." He stood then and wiped his hands upon his robe, "I must prepare the Chamber.

You will be summoned at midnight. It will be your choice to join the ritual; I, for one, would welcome you to our Order."

Another moment of silence followed. But Nin did not hear it. Her heart was beating so loudly that no other sound was left in her mind. She looked back at Elbren and later he would know that in this short moment he had witnessed something very rare : a smile of the Tear Maiden.

As long the hours of the day had seemed, as quickly went by those that still seperated her from midnight. Finally it almost surprised when someone knocked at the door. She was ready, mentally and physically. The knight whose name she could not recall in her excitement gave her a sign to follow him, and without a word she did. They arrived in a huge and beautiful room, wherefrom a door lead even further, to another room or hall which she could not see from the point where they stopped. But somehow it was feeling rather like a window lying behind the door, and a breath of wind seemed to come out of it.

There she stood, waiting for Anorast, whose footsteps she could already hear coming down the aisle.

Sitting quietly in the small room assigned to him, Anorast waited patiently to be summoned to the initiation. Upon being given these roooms, the two Knights in Training had been instructed to meditate on the coming event.

Not quite understanding the instructions, Anorast sat down and began to think. First, about why he decided to join the Mithril Knights, why he wanted to go through this ceremony. He'd thought about it before, but now he knew he had to be completely confident that this was what he should do. Before that though, he looked back at his past.

In his long life, there were plenty of strange things. The greatest facet of his past was the strange movements he'd made between Good and Evil. He'd been born a follower of the Light, but slowly drifted into darkness. Though he never completely crossed the line, he still remembered the darkness beneath Morgoth's throne, and the dark prisons where Sauron had held sway. From there, he had been brought back to the Light, but never completely making the last step to join the forces of Good. He'd always fought on the fringes, serving in his own way. But now, he was prepared to join the front line of the eternal conflict.

His mind made up, Anorast let himself slide into a trance. Seldom had he been given the chance to sit in perfect silence for an extended time. He was not going to lose the chance. Letting his consciousness slide deep down inside, he began to search the deepest parts of his spirit, looking, seeking. Finally, he felt the hot burn of power. Buried deep down, the glowing ember of the magic he had once wielded. Slowly, he nursed the flame, feeding it, protecting it. Anorast knew that it would be a long time till he reached his full potential again, but every chance he got, he worked to bring the power back.

A knock on the wooden door brought Anorast out of the trance. Looking out the small window, he saw bright stars. Clearly, it was close to time for the initiation. Standing, he walked to the door. Greeted by a knight he did not recognize, he was told to appear before the doors of the meditation chamber. Allowed a few minutes to change, he garbed himself in simple clothing, carrying no weapons.

As he walked towards the chamber, he prepared himself for the coming initiation. Walking up, he saw N-N standing before the doors. Smiling to her, he stopped and stood beside her, waiting.

When the hour of midnight finally approached, Rho rolled up the map of Lands near Harad she'd been studying, and set it down upon the table. Unfortunately, she hadn't had a chance to talk to Elbren the previous night or at all that day. It seemed he was in high demand, everyone needed his counsel or input lately. Perhaps later after the Initiation Ceremony, or in the morning she would have a chance to talk to him briefly. Rho was interested in knowing if he saw any value in her traveling to the distant land, besides helping out a friend in need, and what specifically she should watch for if indeed she did go.

Walking over to where Chirion was curled up and sleeping, Rho knelt down, petted him gently on the head. When he opened his eyes and raised his head up to look at her, she spoke quietly.

'You seem quite comfortable here my friend, so here is where I'll leave you. I shouldn't be gone too long.' Then she ruffled the hair on his head one last time and rose to her feet. The wolf set his head back down and quickly closed his eyes.

Once she left her room, the knight walked down the quiet dark halls and remembered how it wasn't that long ago she had been going to her own Initiation Ceremony. Elbren and Idril had both been her Mentor Knight's and Rho remembered how their presence in the room had helped to alleviate her fears. Well that and the conversation she'd had with Erinhue the night before. That had helped too.

As she approached the Chambers she saw both Nin and Anorast waiting patiently. Rho noticed how much better Nin looked. The color had returned to her face and she looked much more rested than the last time she had seen her. Anorast looked good too, and they both seemed to have a sense of calm about them.

When she finally approached the two Knights-in-Training she smiled and said. 'You two look much more settled at this point than I was, which wasn't all that long ago.'

Nin smiled back. 'Are you going to be joining us tonight?'

'Yes,' Rho nodded. ' I'll be in the room to assist Elbren in anyway that I can.'

Elbren motioned for Nienor-Niniel and Anorast, who had answered the summons, to sit on the floor. There were comfortable rugs and furs piled throughout the room and each one took a place. He then gestured silently for Rholarowyn follw him.

"You carry no weapons, yes?" he whispered to Rho.

She nodded her head.

"Pull your hood up and cover your head," he instructed.

Elbren went to the brazier and took some warm oil and several sprigs of rosemary. He walked to Nienor-Niniel and Anorast and anointed their foreheads with the oil, whispering words in Quenya that could just not quite be heard, and then he handed each of them a sprig of the herb.

To each he said, "This represents the life within you and the life around you, keep it in your hand, smell its aroma, know it is in this room, and when you wish to return, it will bring you here."

He walked to another corner of the room and retrieved a large, ceramic liquid vessel and put what looked like a piece of metal into it. He walked first to Nienor-Niniel, kneeling and holding the metal piece, which was hollow, towards her mouth.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients," he said, "within this room lies the present and the past...and to know one's self, one must see all aspects. Drink...and know the origins of this Order."

He then kneeled before Anorast, holding the metal tube towards his mouth.

"You have come to answer the summons of the Ancients," he said, "within this room lies the present and the past...and to know one's self, one must see all aspects. Drink...and know the origins of this Order."

The metal tube was black, so an observer could not tell if the liquid was ingested or not.

Elbren watched the Invitees as their minds opened and took their spirits to the Battle of Dagor nuin Giliath. His job was to monitor their bodies, make sure they were comfortable, did not thirst, and bring them back, if matters became too intense for them. So, he walked from one to the other, feeling for their breath with his hand, checking their heart rates, and offering them water by holding a mug just at their lips. Some drank, a purely instinctual response, and some were too far away to care.

Elbren then stood and walked to the brazier, using a gold covered spoon-like tool, he shoveled much of the visionquest incense into a golden bowl. The bowl had a chain that could be attached to it for carrying, and this is what Elbren did. He drew the hood of his midnight blue cloak up over his head, drawing it down in the front so that his face was in complete shadow, and then took the bowl of incense into his hands.

He walked to the middle of the East Wall mural and began to walk up and down it, swinging the golden bowl to and fro, and chanting words in a language that was as old as the stars themselves.

Some of the words reached through to the Invitees, even as far away as their spirits were, both in time and in distance.

...light of the stars will be shown to thee.....and you know that the power of the starlight can be used.....great power and strength......behold the makings of the Spirit of Fire, which resides in the stars...and the stars reside in him...and in thee....you have been chosen to witness the first giliath....BEHOLD!

Within the room, the ceiling became the starry, twilight sky of the First Age and each meditating figure began to glow with a silver aura. The middle portion of the East Wall mural, the Battle of Dagor nuin Giliath, began to move and sway as the figures came to life, battle screams and shouts emitting and echoing from it.

Nienor-Niniel kept the liquid for a second in her mouth, and then closing her eyes, she swallowed it. When she opened her eyes again, nothing had changed, at least it seemed like that. Rholarowyn was standing nearby turning her back on Nin, and her blonde hair was shimmering in the candlelight. When had she taken her hood off? Slowly, the noise began to rise in her head, screams of wrath and anger were echoing in her ears, in a language that she did not know and yet knew.

The floor seemed to move, like under the feet of a sailor who has been on a boat for too long. Nin tried to focus on Rholarowyn's hair, which all of a sudden began to move and twirl as if wind were blowing in it. Then the shield maiden turned her face to Nienor-Niniel ' but it was not her face any more. Under the long, blond floating hair was the face of a complete stranger. An elvish face, but unlike all those she had seen in her life before. Though the eyes seemed to be inhabited by a burning flame, this elf looked much more human than all those she had seen in the Forth Age, less ethereal, less detached, but like a child of the living earth, alive, strong and very, very angry.

The elf seemed to be shouting at her, but she among the clamour of the battle she could not distinguish any words. The noise was unbelievable, the clincing of sharp swords, the screaming of loud and resounding voices, calling for their soldiers. The elves were going to war.

The first warrior she had seen had moved forward, already out of sight. Instinctively, Nienor-Niniel wanted to draw her own sword, but when she headed for it, her weapon was not there. But she could not remember where she had put it, not how she had come here. The only thing present on her mind was the battle. All her conscious thoughts were drowned somewhere under the noise and the darkness. Even the smell in the air seemed to attract her to the fight. Had she not entered a room? But a room was there no more, only a vaster and open field under the cold air of the night.

Her eyes tried to find the lost elven warrior again. But as soon as she tried to look further, her glance met darkness, as she had never experienced before. Before, whispered the conscious part of her mind, when was that? This darkness was alive and it was moving towards them. Towards her. After a while she managed to distinguish some of the creatures, but not all she could name. Orcs were there, thousands of orcs; their hideous voices filled the air. But more fiery creatures followed them, more hideous even and more powerful. These had to be Balrogs. Nin had never seen any in her life and the draw of power and dread surrounding them was perceivable even from the far away point where she was standing.

But then all of a sudden, in midst of the breathing darkness, she saw a shining flame, the flame of an elvish spirit, so small among the night, which filled the entire space now. The entire world as it seemed. The very air had become heavy and difficult to breathe. Nienor-Niniel remembered the cries of the Nazgul ' and now it was as if the air itself was filled with a dreadful voice, fell and full of despair. Her heart grew heavy and the only thing to hold on to seemed to be that little flame in the dark. It was flickering now, like a candle in the wind. Something had hit the flame and immediately Nienor-Niniel knew that soon this light would go out.

She was more conscious now, knowing that this was not her world, that this was another age, an immeasurable amount time of time ago, yet a chapter of the fight that ruled the fate of Middle Earth.

She closed her eyes again, trying to breathe in the filthy air of hatred lying of the battlefield of Dagor-nuin-Giliath. When she saw again, she was much closer to the spirit of fire and now recognised it as a living being, not merely a fire. Feanor she whispered. Her field of vision shrinked focusing on his face, until she saw nothing no more but the expression of his eyes. A fierce strength was burning within them. But like fire it was not only a power of light, but also of destruction. In midst the howling darkness, however fierce, the spirit of fire seemed so light, so little. But rather a small light than no light at all.

She saw Feanor open his lips and form a scream, screaming out his curse of Morgoths name. She could not bear the word itself, closing her ears with her hands. The earth seemed to shake under the force of the hated name, as if it wanted to shake it off. Nin held her hands firmly over her ears, but she did not know that she herself was screaming too. The clamour, the darkness and the fire covered her own, weak voice.

There was no way out. There was no way out.

Then, all of a sudden, she felt as if her feet were taking off the ground and she was thrown in the air, floating, twirling towards the stars. And the stars were sinking down on her. All had become silent; there was no more distance between her and the dark skies. But this dark was neither threatening nor terrifying. With the sudden sharpness of the cold air in the night, she knew that this was a message for her. Seven stars stood clearly, distinctively before the others, forming in front of her eyes the sign that had become so familiar in the last days; the sickle. Shining brightly for a short, yet endless moment, they faded then, flew away with the warm wind. The clamour of the battle was back, and the smell of blood and ashes, but the air could be inhalated now, and throughout a music of infinite beauty that no scream of war would ever fully cover.

Somewhere from the outer darkness, she heard velvet words whispered in her ear: There is always a way out for the light. Find your way.

A distant horn sounded and Elbren turned to the mural, his eyes focusing upon the scene where Feanor was dying. He saw the figure of Nienor-Niniel appear on the mural, as if by magic, and Elbren thus knew that she was now a Witness to the Giliath Londe.

He walked to the Northeast corner of the Mural Room and opened a wooden cabinet with a key that hung from his belt. Drawing out a midnight blue, almost black, hooded cloak of velvet overlaid with a layer of wool, he walked back to where Nienor-Niniel was sitting, still in the trance.

The cloak looked lovely from a distance, and it was both warm and cool as needed, but when closely inspected, runes of power and Elvish script could be seen woven into the fabric in many places. On the inside of the hood was a map of the night sky.

Elbren took the cloak and laid it around the shoulders of the young woman, who stirred slightly. On the mural, Feanor was holding aloft a small phial that was filled with brilliant blue and silver light, and all around, his sons and others, were kneeling and seemed to be speaking in unison.

Elbren then motioned for Rho to bring over the fruit and warm, mulled wine that he had given to her moments before. The tray was laid down next to the new Mithril Knight and Elbren leaned forward, whispering, "You are safe, now, awaken and partake of the fruit and wine. Sit quietly for a short while..."

Feeling the cold liquid dribble down his throat, Anorast sat quietly. Gradually he began to sense the change the drug was causing inside him, and the great power in the room. Each was responding to the other, building inside him. Finally, with a gentle pull, Anorast felt his consciousness leave his body.

Darkness surrounded him, complete, silent. No sensations, merely thought. Yet slowly, the darkness lightened, turning to shadow. Gradually, Anorast could see a churning mass beneath him, while above became a pale dome of grey. As the black veil upon his mind lifted completely, he found himself high above a dark battlefield, covered in beings of all sorts. He could see great orcs, and elves in bright armor. He recognized the battle, he'd heard the tale from survivors, and he'd seen it upon the wall in the chamber.

Above the din of battle, Anorast heard a raven call, and felt himself dive down towards the center of the battle. There he saw the awesome shape of several balrogs, descending upon a lone figure, bright as lightning. Circling above, he watched as the figure was struck down. As several elves came up and drove the enemy from the fallen elf, Anorast again felt himself diving, till he was seeing the scene from right beside the small band of warriors.

Quiet, Anorast watched as the fallen warrior, now recognizable as Faenor, lived his last few breaths. He listened to the great elf's last words, and saw the greatest of the Eldar die. Silent again, he watched as the sons of Faenor stood.

Again, he felt a power pulling at him. Not resisting, it bore him away quickly, into darkness.

A distant horn sounded and Elbren turned to the mural, his eyes focusing upon the scene where Feanor was dying. He saw the figure of a Raven form upon the mural, flying high, but behind it was the shadowy form of Anorast, and Elbren thus knew thatAnorast was now a Witness to the Giliath Londe.

Elbren watched the Raven as it flew above the battle and always the shadow of Anorast with it. It was when the Raven began to fade that Elbren felt uneasy.

"Rho," Elbren spoke sharply, "help me."

Elbren kneeled before Anorast and bruised some of the rosemary that lay in the Elf's open hands. The pungent aroma quickly filled the room as Elbren called Anorast's name.

"What do you see upon the Mural?" Elbren asked.

"The Raven is flying...angry....lost...I cannot tell...and now it alights upon one of the fallen...and it is Anorast," she replied.

Elbren breathed a sigh of relief, "Have him drink some of the wine and put the fruit near him."

He walked to the Northeast corner of the Mural Room and opened a wooden cabinet with a key that hung from his belt. Drawing out a midnight blue, almost black, hooded cloak of velvet overlaid with a layer of wool, he walked back to where Anorast was sitting, still in the trance, but with Rholarowyn gingerly putting the wine to his lips.

The cloak looked lovely from a distance, and it was both warm and cool as needed, but when closely inspected, runes of power and Elvish script could be seen woven into the fabric in many places. On the inside of the hood was a map of the night sky.

Elbren took the cloak and laid it around the shoulders of the Elf, who stirred slightly. On the mural, Feanor was holding aloft a small phial that was filled with brilliant blue and silver light, and all around, his sons and others, were kneeling and seemed to be speaking in unison.

"Drink and eat, Brother," Elbren said, "soon, we will escort you both back to your rooms where you may sleep in peace until you are content."

Carnimiriel parted with Mirdain and Idril for the time being. They decided to busy themselves with preparing the Guild House for any new arrivals. Mirdain did not think it would take much work, since the servants of the house had kept things in good order. One of them, Finduiriel, had really taken charge and Mirdain went to her.

"Finduiriel, is everything as we left it?"

"Even better sir, as you might say. The border guard captured a lot of equipment from that Red Hammer clan, and they brought some it here. We've been trying to determine its make, in the hopes that we could figure out where exactly they come from."

"That's excellent! I knew I could count on you all. This place seems to be able to run itself."

"It's no trouble. The elves of Lorien are the best at what they do," she added with a wink.

"Ha. Indeed they are. Well listen, I have another task for you. Lord Elbren and several Knights in Training will be arriving here before long. Be sure that we have extra food stuffs ready."

"Certainly m'lord. I think we will manage."

After that, Mirdain retired to his study, and Idril to their bed chamber. He busied himself for several hours recording their latest adventures in the official log and in his diary. When he was nearly finished, Idril came into the room silently and surprised him with a hand on his shoulder, and he started a bit.

"I didn't even try to sneak up on you. You must be concentrating hard," she laughed.

"Ah yes, it seems that way," Mirdain smiled back at her. "We have been through so much recently that it gets tough to remember everything. But not to worry, dear Idril. I am as good as finished."

"Good. Then let's do something relaxing. I am not especially tired right now, but I would like some quiet time."

"That would be a good idea." Mirdain got up from his chair and together they left the room and went out into the dining area, where Finduiriel was busying herself.

"Finduiriel, the Lady and I will be going out for a time. I trust you will be have things ready for Lord Elbren when we return. Also, I would like to ride and out and meet Elbren when he is nearing Lorien. If it is possible, find someone you can spare and put them on the lookout for Elbren, so that I can be alerted when he is almost here."

"Very good, m'lord. I think I should be able to find someone. Please, you and the Lady enjoy yourselves."

"We will. Thank you Finduiriel."

Mirdain led Idril to a spot that was very important to him. It was the glade where Galadriel had kept her mirror. Idril knew instantly what it was when they stepped into the glade.

"Have been here often, Mirdain?"

"Not so much recently. I don't have power over the mirror the way Lady Galadriel did. Still, it is a nice place for peace and quiet. I had the honor of looking into the mirror several times when she was here, though I usually only saw visions of my own past."

"It is a nice thing. I'm sure she wanted you to hold on to your heritage."

Mirdain smiled faintly, but did not respond. Together they sat by the edge of the glade for a time and enjoyed the silence.

Elbren and Rholarowyn made sure that Nienor-Niniel and Anorast were resting comfortably in their rooms before retiring to the living area of the House and having a mug of warm tea.

"You will be leaving soon?" Rho asked.

Elbren nodded as he sipped the drink, "Yes, tomorrow if at all possible."

"I would show you something," Rho said.

Elbren raised his eyebrows at that, "Your tone sounds ominous."

Rho retrieved the letter from her friend and shared it with Elbren, who read it several times.

"Interesting," he finally said, "and perhaps timely. You wish to go, no doubt."

"I think it will aid us in our search for more knowledge of the Red Hammer," she nodded.

"Aye," Elbren agreed, "I needn't ask you to be careful. Traveling alone now is not the wisest of courses...but then, you are not alone." Elbren nodded at the wolf who lay so still by the woman's feet.

"No, not quite alone," Rho smiled.

"Then go and take what you need. It will be hard to get messages to you, Rho, but you can easily send them to me if you can manage a courier to find the nearest Guild House."

Again, the Gondorian woman nodded.

"Varda keep you safe, then," Elbren said, "and I will hope to see you soon."

Elbren was packing his things within his chamber while Athelos took notes as he spoke.

"...and make sure that the message gets to Elenath about the shipment. If I cannot meet them in Dol Amroth, then they will need to come North to Lothlorien," he was saying.

"What of your sword? You have the shard that I found at Helm's Deep?" Athelos asked.

"I have it; I will have it repaired in Caras Galadhon," Elbren paused, "where is Marius? I haven't seen him all day? He must be ready to ride at dawn."

Athelos frowned, "I haven't seen him, M'lord."

"What of Nurvilya?"

"I have not seen her either, M'lord."

Elbren sighed, "Well....send for Marius and have him prepare to leave. As for Nurvilya, we must seek her as well. It is not safe for her to remain--"

Athelos nodded curtly, "Aye, understood. I will seek her as well."

**********************

When finished packing, Elbren went to the stables to check on Hasel and was very pleased to find the horse healing nicely and growing stronger.

"I hear that he's going with you to the Golden Wood," said the stablemaster.

"Yes," Elbren confirmed, "please make sure that he is ready at dawn, as well as Erelas and Marius's horse. There may be others as well. We shall see."

A fire was roaring in the Common Room of the Edoras Guild house and the smells of the feast being prepared filled the house with delicious aromas. The celebration feast for the two new Knights, Nienor-Niniel and Anorast, was to be held that evening; and then in the morning, many of the Knights would be riding forth on their quests.

Athelos had already dismissed Elbren from the kitchen three times, but he found it amusing to sneak back in and spy upon the preparations, if only to annoy Athelos and the kitchen cooks. Finally, Athelos locked the door behind the Elven Lord, not even allowing him to keep the morsel of butter bread that he had managed to steal.

The table in the dining hall was eloquently set with silver goblets, plates, and cutlery. Dark, red wine filled many flagons and platters held roasted vegetables, baked fruits, and various meats. The feast, without a doubt, was going to be something to remember.

When the dinner bell was finally rang just after sunset, Elbren made his way to the dining hall, anticipating a wonderful evening; a celebration feast for new Initiates was always cause for merriment.

Time seemed to stand still for the moment as Parador entered the infamous Halls of Orthanc...if she listened carefully she might be able to hear the past speaking to her revealing secrets from its hidden faces that once walked these floors. Minas Tirith was her home at the time of Sauron's seemingly inescapable all Seeing Eye. Parador remembered that feeling of darkness coming over her thinking almost surely Sauron would end up the victor of human enslavement'but with perseverance and hearts of courage, two determined hobbits completed the task that had been awarded them. The washing of Orthanc by Treebeard and his colony of treehearders was an added reward to the downfall of Saruman.

'Well, if it tisn't the wee lassy of me yesteryears, and taller yet still!'...Thalos walked toward Parador with his broad Dwarven smile...the years had indeed been swept away by the winds of history.

'Where have you been keep...ing', a long pause waited on his lips as he eyed the Mithril knight patch as well as recognizing the unique cloak material itself. 'Aye, m'lady...I see, you too have joined the ranks of a Mithril Knight. Your father would have been proud Parador.'

She reached and touched the Dwarven relic of Orthanc gently, it had been a long time, but she indeed remembers Thalos. How could she forget? If it had not been for his champion axe wielding...she may never have escaped from Saruman's hands.

'Me bones are getting old and don't wish to stand here much longer when we could be setting comfortably by the fire...come...tell me what brings you back through the Ring's of Isengard'...Thalos took Parador's hand and walked with the humbled knight...she was glad to see Thalos once again.

Smiling and then winking at her short yet tall friend, ' I see they've had you hard at work Thalos...Orthanc has been drained...and you did a good job!'...grabbing his backside with the flat of her hand.

'I'll have a bit of your smarty mouth lassy and one up ya...I left a wee bit of a puddle still, so I guess I'll be putting ye to work, aye?'...winking back at the wide-eyed knight. Then they both busted out laughing as the joyous reunion rang out in the once darkened halls of Orthanc.

______________________________________________________________________

It had been a pleasure to visit and dine with Dirk and to meet his new Knight in Training, Arwen Sol. She felt more than confident in Dirks training abilities even though he questioned them... "You are ready, Dirk. Trust yourself. You only need to show your initiate how you live the Oath of the Mithril Knights in everything you do. You lived for truth and justice before you were initiated, and you do so now. You have every tool you need to lead Hiril Arwen Sol towards Knighthood."

She turned and winked at Arwen Sol giving her a reassuring smile. She bid them a goodnight and told Thalos they would talk more in the morning.

Walking to her room Parador's memory had not failed in remembering that eventful day...already she knew the restless night would be stealing the sleep she was in need of...and her dreams taking advantage of the cold dark places she wished to stay way from'

Nurvilya celebrated the initiation of Ninior-Niniel and Anorast with the others, but she was mostly silent during the festivities. Her thoughts were distracted by the strange dream she had had two nights before. Why had Marius been there? What part did he have to play in her future? Throughout the congratulatory speeches from the knights, he had sat silently next to Elbren, not even raising his eyes to watch the faces of the speakers. Nurvilya watched the young man intently, wondering what could possibly be troubling him so.

It was approaching midnight when the feast finally came to a close. Nurvilya left the Common Room quickly, in the hopes that she might speak with Marius before he retired for the night.

**************************************

She found him standing alone outside of his chamber door, as though he could not decide whether he should enter or not.

"Unless you have mistakenly found my room instead of yours, I can assure you that there is no wild beast beyond that threshold," Nurvilya said as she approached, "Why do you hesitate?"

He turned to her with a start. "I am not afraid of wild beasts that hide behind closed doors," he said arrogantly, "I am, however, afraid of strange women who follow me to my room at night. Who are you?"

Nurvilya blushed and laughed then, as she realized how it must look, her trailing him from the feast to his bedroom door. "My name is Nurvilya, I am another knight in training of this guild. And, despite how it may seem, I am not here seeking your affections. I wanted to speak with you a minute. Do you have time?"

He looked at her blankly, then shrugged. "I suppose I do."

She was taken aback by this impassivity, but she continued, "Well, would you like to take a walk or shall we stand out here in the hall?"

Again, he gave her only unreadable eyes, but he said, "The hallway is fine for me, but if you want to walk, that is how it must be."

**************************************

The two KiT's walked in the dark night, discussing light-heartedly the time that they had spent in the company of the Knights. Nurvilya told Marius of her own training adventure at the tower of Orthanc, and she listened to his tale of the fight against the Red Hammer at Helm's Deep. They seemed to form an immediate friendship, such as Nurvilya hadn't felt since she had traveled in the wilds. Marius spoke with great pride of his skills as a warrior, but his answers were shielded when she asked him for stories of his family in the Golden Hall.

"There is nothing to tell," he said harshly. Then, before she could respond, he changed the subject. "What of you? Where is your family?"

Nurvilya suddenly became equally as guarded as he, and she said only, "I come from Gondor, but I have no family."

There was a long pause, as both searched for something to say to the other. Nurvilya hesitated a moment.

"What is it?" Marius asked.

"Nothing," she said quietly, "Only, I wanted to speak with you about a dream I had two nights ago. It seemed rather odd.

"You wanted to speak with me about it?," he laughed, "It must have been very odd indeed then. What was it?"

"Well," she began slowly, "I was in the Golden Wood, which in itself is peculiar, because I have never ventured under its eaves before, but there was something else out of place. I saw Elbren there, along with two others. One was an elf woman, and one, was you, Marius. I did not realise it at once, of course, because it was only yesterday that I first saw you, but since then I have been thinking constantly of my dream, and of you. I can only suppose that our futures are connected somehow."

"What do you mean?" Something very much like concern flashed across his eyes.

"I haven't told you everything about myself, Marius, but I feel that it is important you know this."

Nurvilya then revealed to the young Rohirrim her dark secrets of fell wolf spirits and cruel transformations. She watched him as she spoke, but his aqua eyes revealed nothing to her in the darkness. When she had finished her story, he was silent for a moment, then he looked up at the sky.

"The moon is now only three days from new, so there is no need for fear yet, it seems. Unless of course you should be found stalking the halls outside my room again," he added with a smile. "And besides, the sun is rising from his eastern bed, and Lord Elbren is likely seeking us. We will go inside and see what fun he has planned for us," he said with a touch of sarcasm. "But first, let us find some breakfast."

**************************************

It seemed that they had just sat down in the Common Room and managed only a meager few bites, when Athelos disrupted Nurvilya and Marius. The Knight was quite hurried as she rapidly informed them that Elbren was preparing to depart for Lothlorien immediately. Nurvilya quickly thanked Marius for the night, and went to her room to pack her things. Less than half an hour later, she was at the stables, waiting for Elbren and the others to arrive as she saddled her horse for the journey.

"Well, my friend," she whispered to the beast, "Perhaps the next time we visit the land of your fathers, you will be known as the valiant steed of Lady Nurvilya, Mithril Knight. And perhaps, if that day should come, I will give you a proper name to go with such a proper title."

She could hardly believe it and turned around in her blue cloak again and again. Was it real? Or was it he sky of the night that had come down on her shoulders? It smelled like the night, it felt like the night, and yet was soft and warm. A little home you could carry along with yourself.

Then the perfumes of the feast had called her down, and when she saw the table dressed, she could even less believe that it was true. A feast like that ' for her, well partly for her. Only a second after herself, she saw Anorast stepping in, maybe had he waited politely that she, being a lady should be arriving first. He was still a bit pale, and Nin wondered what he had seen in the Giliath Londe. Only one thing seemed sure for her: that they had not seen the same, that their experience had been unique- like the one of every Mithril Knight, like the cloak ' or how could it be explained that it was perfectly fitting for her. Any normal clothing in Middle-Earth would have been too large for her or too long (or both).

She listened to the congratulary speeches, only surprised by the attitude of Marius, who did not even rise. She tried to catch his glance for a moment, wondering if a few words of Rohirrim would make him feel better, but the boy seemed to have built a wall of arrogance around him.

So N-N rather turned to Rho, sitting at her left hand and the two women spent the major part of the evening talking. Rholarowyn told her about the letter she had received from the East, and her departure scheduled on the next day. Although Nin had greatly enjoyed the company of her mentor knight, she felt no desire to take the road eastwards so soon. What will you be doing now? inquired Rho. First, Nin had to admit that she had not really thought about it. The initiation had come sooner than she had thought, and her mind had been focused on it.

I hesitate, milady, she answered finally, I have not been in Rohan for a few years, but there are some friends I should maybe go and see. Nin paused for a little while, taking a draught of wine, wondering how to explain. My son is growing up in Rohan, and I have not seen him for three years now.

I understand perfectly, assured Rho, Elbren is going to see his family too. Nin had heard about it, but Elbren would go back to find a loving wife and a complete family. For her, things would be different, very different indeed, but there was no reason to insist on it now.

But then, I also feel the desire and necessity to know more about the sickle that has somehow fallen from heaven in my arms. I am not sure that I should keep it; I mean I do not think it is mine, it is.... Nin thought of the vision at the end of her initiation, but even now she could not fully tell the meaning. something I need to understand. So maybe I should go to Orthanc or even with the Guild Master to Lothlorien to seek for a wisdom I have not.

The feast had almost touched its end, and though all had been delicious, Nin hoped that maybe one day she would be allowed to cook for the Knights ' and when she saw a little flicker in Anorast's eyes when he was tasting one of the plates, she also thought that maybe she was not alone with this idea.

Tired and thoughtful she walked back to her room and fell asleep quickly ' the wine helping to send her a dreamless night. But even before dawn, noise in the guild house woke her up ' apparently the departure for Lothlorien was prepared earlier than foreseen. Nin felt widely awake within a blink. Awake and in full form for the road. After all, she had never entered the Golden Wood. Why not today, she wondered, while her hands were already packing her few things in her bundle. At least I can come with them to the Gap of Rohan and decide there. So there would be more time ot hinks things over. Quickly, she slipped out of the room, heading to the stables.

With the Initiation ceremony finished, Rho was glad to see that the Apprentice Knights, the one's that she and Erinhue had mentored, had now attained full membership into the Guild.

When the two newest Knights were safely in their rooms Rho finally had the chance to talk to Elbren. Once she had shown him the letter, which he'd read several times, the Elven Lord then gave her some good advice, a few words of encouragement, and blessings for a safe journey.

Sleep came easily and quickly for her, and when morning came, even Chirion had slept well past his normal waking hour. Once the two had risen and Rho had taken the wolf out for his normal morning walk, she returned to the Guild house and discovered that a special celebratory dinner was being prepared for Nin and Anorast. The knight had been thinking of departing for the East later in the afternoon, but now with the dinner happening, she quickly delayed her departure for one more day. This decision provided Rho the opportunity to better prepare for her journey, and even gave her some time to do things that she hadn't planned on.

In the early afternoon, after her packing was finished, she spent several hours up in her room working on letters, including one for Alandriel, and making her own copy of the Guild house map. The one that detailed the lands of the East. Moujhadin have given her detailed directions as to where he could be found, but having her own map could also provide information if certain roads or paths were no longer passable and also allow her to keep track of and update any recent changes in the she'd be traveling in.

Soon the wonderful smells from the dinner preparations reached where she was sitting, while outside the sun was about to set, ending another day. Picking up her letters, she and Chirion left the room and made there way towards the dining hall. But first the two dropped of her letters. Rho was sure to place them in a safe spot where she knew Athelos would find and make sure they'd be properly sent out.

The dinner went well and Rho thoroughly enjoyed the time she spent sitting next to Nin. It had been nice just taking the time to talk about their personal lives, especially since they both had close ties to Rohan. Nin having spent several years there, and Rho having spent the first 13 years of her life in the land. Then the two talked about what they would be doing next. Rho mentioned her journey to the East and how she hoped to find out the specifics regarding the troubles happening there. Then Nin mentioned her son, which was the first time she had heard of him. Rho then hoped that the new knight would take some time to visit both him and her friends. Thinking to herself the importance of family.

When the feast was finished, Rho made one more attempt to talk to her cousin Marius before she went to bed. The young man seemed more willing to talk now, but would still not confided what was truly bothering him. So instead the two just talked about their families, Eowyn and Faramir, his brother Elfwine, and then she talked a little about her Rohirrim cousins, which for once he actually seemed interested in. It wasn't till later, when Rho was laying in bed and reflecting upon the day that she realized Marius never mentioned Eomer and wondered if that was the cause of Marius' recent withdrawal.

The chill of the Edoras dawn was heavy upon the morning. Elbren checked his saddlebags once again as Athelos walked behind him, updating him on the news and reminding him to send word when his party had reached Caras Galadhon.

Elbren nodded as he drew his Mithril Cloak closely around him and fastened the brooch beneath his chin, drawing his leather gauntlets, lined with wool, upon his hands, he glanced around the stable yard.

"Any sign of Marius?" he asked.

"I saw him and Nurvilya in the Common Room. They should be coming--ah, there is Nurvilya now," Athelos replied.

"Morning," Elbren almost growled at the young woman and immediately regretted his tone. He was grouchy, for certes, this morning, and he was not sure exactly why. He was going home, after all; should he not be elated?

"Good morning," Nurvilya returned the greeting and then attended to her own mount.

The horses stamped and snorted in the morning cold, the frozen ground hard and unrelenting to their protests. Elbren pulled up his hood as the wind picked up.

"It will be a cold ride to the Golden Wood," he murmured, not looking forward to the open Plains of Rohan and the bitterness of the lingering winter.

"Hail and good morning."

Elbren turned to see Nienor-Niniel lead her horse out of the stable; the sight brought a smile to the Elven Lord's face, "Mae Govannon! You will be joining us?"

The new Knight nodded and returned his smile, "At least as far as the Gap of Rohan."

"Good," Elbren was truly gladdened, "your company will be most welcome." Then he looked past her to the stable doors, "Is Marius in there?"

"Yes, he is coming," it was Nurvilya who answered.

True to her word, Marius then emerged from the stables, warmly dressed and armed, leading his warhorse. The youth greeted them all solemnly.

"Marius," Elbren said, "did you manage to get me a new weapon from the armoury?"

The son of Eomer flushed a bit at the inquiry, but then he approached Elbren, still leading his horse, and drew from his belt a short sword of fine making.

Elbren took the sword and scrutinized it carefully, then looked sideways at Marius, "Well chosen. Thank you." He then clasped the short sword to his belt, opposite the broken one, and mounted Erelas, who nearly jumped at the suddenness of the movement. "I expected to speak to you again ere we left," Elbren said in a low, almost scolding tone.

Athelos stepped to Elbren's stirrup, "Namarie, Elbren Galadrim, travel safe. May Varda watch over you and bring you all to the Golden Wood. Please give my regards to your family and to our brethern there."

"Namarie, Athelos," Elbren looked down at her and smiled, "may Varda keep you safe."

With that, Elbren nodded to his companions and together they took the road out of Edoras and onto the Plains of Rohan, Northward, as the winds began to sing of more snow....

Sitting in the quiet room, thinking again, Anorast watched a candle dance before his face. Now he was a Mithril Knight. Though light, he could feel the mithril cloak around him. Feeling it again, Anorast could sense the protection it offered him. Still, however, he was uncertain. He had taken the step to join the Mithril Knights, but he was troubled that he did not know what would result from his decision. Would he change, would he no longer walk the wilds, search for the secrets of magic, work to unlock the power within him? Only the future knew, and Anorast knew from long experience that none could see that perfectly, and only a few could make it past the veil of time.

Hearing voices, Anorast stood up, remembering that there was to be a feast in honor of NN and himself. Briefly changing into his normal, comfortable clothes, he drew the cloak about him once again, and left the room. Listening, he heard footsteps he recognized as NN's walking away towards a loud commotion, clearly the feast. Choosing to hang back, Anorast let NN arrive first. She seemed much more comfortable with the Mithril Knights, while he preferred, as always, to stand in the background. After she entered the hall, Anorast slipped in behind her. An usher noticed him, and pointed towards two empty seats near the front of the hall, with NN just about to sit in one. Sighing, Anorast resigned himself to being a guest of honor, and after all, he reminded himself, it was in his honor, as well.

After the feast, Anorast stayed up late, tending to his gear, as he always did. Often he used it to ease his mind when troubled, for it reminded him of the open road, where things were simple, and he could forget so many of the troubles. Including his past. Against his will, his memory turned back to the mountain city, far to the east. Cold in the winters, warm in the summers. Often since he'd returned to the western realms he'd heard stories of the easterlings, but none fit the country he'd left. It hadn't been a desert, but endless forests and rolling hills. And one blasted mound of rock.

He could still remember the smell, the scent of the pale flowers he'd placed upon the grave. Beneath the tall spreading trees, only a white stone and his memories marked the spot, a monument to a failed life, a failed love, and his lost birthright. He'd found healing in that city, and the touch that was leading him from the pain of the ages. Yet even there he'd faced evil, and it had taken everything from him.

Lost in memories, Anorast had stopped his oiling. Surprisingly, no one had ever commented on the strange peculiarity he had, of never removing his gloves. Pulling them off now, he looked down at his wrists. Around each was a momento of his past. Encircling his right was the silver filligrie studded with blue gems he'd been given by his love, and around his left, the white scar of a manacle of Morgoth. Love, and evil. He bore them with him always. The eternal memories of the past. And now he bore another mark, though invisible. This one Anorast counted as his future.

The next morning, cold and quiet, saw Anorast standing upon the walls of the Mithril Knights enclave. He'd stood there since early morning, watching the stars above, waiting for the sun. The night of memories had driven him out, to wait and watch for the sun, his mark of birth. At the first daybreak he'd been found, and occasionally, Anorast renewed his connection with the light. He'd lived a long time, and wondered still how much longer he'd be kept here. Perhaps until the last setting of the sun, as fitting as it would be.

Turning, he watched as the several Mithril Knights scheduled to leave that morning gathered beside the stables. Among them he spotted the new apprentice of Lord Elbren, and another Knight in Training, whom he'd not met. Also, he spotted NN. He wondered when he'd see the young woman again, who he'd befriended during their time together. Soon, Anorast knew he'd leave, and bearing the mark of the Mithril Knight, return to his wandering. Such was his life.

The lids of her eyes weighed heavily as Parador slowly closed them'sleep came quickly but only to be greeted by a vengeful dream... infesting the solitude she had felt before she laid down to rest. With a jolt her eyes snapped open'she laid there in a stupor for a moment then slowly rose and sat at the edge of her bed. Was she still in the realm of dreams or had the night quickly turned to 'day'?...she was not sure. Taking strength of heart she raised to her feet cautiously...her body feeling lighter than usual as she walked to the door. Reaching for the door's latch and opening the door cautiously she could hear voices far off in the distance of the tower's hall. The Mithril Knight hesitated and then walked out into the hall quietly.

She climbed the stairway to the second floor unnoticed looking for those who voices she heard. Thalos...where was he she thought to herself straining her ear to catch the direction of the sound.

Rounding the banister she began to walk toward the west end of the hall then stopped short a little ways from the balcony hidden still by the shadows. Standing erect was a tall figure she recognized...its personification filled the air with an ambiance of power...sheathed in white stood Saruman!

Parador stood frozen with her heart racing. She began to feel weak and almost dropped to her knees.

'This cannot be', she whispered'

Blankly she looked around trying to figure what cursed trick was being played on her...where was Thalos? Then she felt the blood drain from her body as the one voice spoke...

'Your silver tongue Saruman speaks nothing but treachery. What care do ye have of Durin's folk...or of Middle-earth for that matter?

'Watch your words Dwarven Lord', spoke Saruman in a deep disciplined voice. 'They may come to haunt you one day.' Saruman's voice lowered and became deceptively compassionate.

'Gondor is still without a king...for a thousand years it has groveled at the feet of Stewards who know nothing of leadership or sacrifice...and its land and people grow weaker by the day. Even Rohan's king grows weaker... You, Thalos may yet play a part in its recovery. A reward might even be given to you and your kind."

"Sauron's powers continue to grow...I can feel it...we will all suffer greatly if he is allowed to regain all his powers...and more.'

'What devilry have ye concocted Saruman?' snarled Thalos, "I came at your request, but I couldn' bring the Arkenstone...it is not somethin' one can just pick up and take!"

"What mightin' be your intentions with the Arkenstone?"...Thalos eyes narrowed with suspicion. He felt the wizard he thought he trusted was becomming more devious than Dark Lord, Sauron.

Turning and walking off the balcony into the halls with staff in hand, Saruman motioned to the Chieftain of Durin's folk to follow him.

Running quietly to the foot of the stairs the Mithril Knight ascended them quickly without breath of air...she had held it in until reaching the Pinnacle then exhaling forcefully all the while panting wildly.

'Thalos'what is he doing?"...

It seemed she had stepped back into time through a vision. Saruman was dead, at least in her time he was. Parador remembered coming to Isengard back when Sauron's powers were beginning to strengthen, but she did not remember this part of it. The vision apparently was showing her what she was not able to see or remember. Who was behind this visionquest? Elbren had sent her to find more information about the Shrine and its connections with the Red Hammer. Something told her she had help.

The ascending footsteps alerted her to hide even though she was not sure either Saruman or Thalos could see her. Finding a place of shadow she blended in with her dark clothing...taking a deep breath she held it only to breath shallow through her nose. The light off of the wizard's staff gave adequate lighting as the two drew close. The reflection off the light deepened the dwarf's sullen features giving way to an uncertain feeling of what Saruman was up to.

To Parador and Thalos surprise, a hidden door open...the dampness of the narrow walls filled the air with the smell of thick muck from years of being sealed off from the outside world. Holding the staff up high, Saruman entered stepping down and disappearing into the darkness. Parador almost reached out to her Dwarven friend to caution him, but thought it not wise for the moment. She was about to move when another figure entered the room...cloaked in black it followed Thalos down into the chamber.

'What is this now'...she thought to her self...'I don't remember anybody else being invited'...shaking her head in frustration she pushed her self away from the stone wall and followed.

The room was coated in mithril stars, Varda's finest'all along the ceiling, walls, and floor'the treasures of Middle-earth were also lined on shelves, many which had been found or taken by Saruman. Leaning the staff up against the wall he turned to a small casket made of steel with a mithril inlay of the moon adorning the top along with the written word in Tengwar, Isilya'meaning Moon-day or third day of the enqui‘

Thalos stood to the right of Saruman thoroughly intrigued with what he was about to show him. He lifted the small casket from its ancient quarters and laid it on the alter in the middle of the room. The shadowy figure that had followed Thalos down to the chamber was near by watching intently hoping not to be noticed.

'In here lies the remains of a Dœnadan and who will as last be able to avenge his death through me'. Saruman slowly lifted the casket's lid to reveal human bones neatly layed on a soft cushion of Elven silk.

With a voice of disappointment, 'And who's bone's mightin they be?'

Looking at the Dwarven Lord with a tightened smile that only Saruman could deliver, 'These bones belong to...Isildur...eldest son of Elendil''a gnarled smiled crossed his face...'A foolish son.'

A gasp came from the corner of the room...Saruman called out, 'Who dares to steal these chambers unannounced? Show yourself'...picking the staff up from where it lay and holding it high'the light fell upon the interloper's cloak revealing half of his hidden face.

But the one, who was most surprised, was Parador herself, who stood at the base of the stairs behind him!

Marius sighed softly. The night had been long and arduous, with pleading eyes from the Mithril Knights, as though they were begging him to reconsider his stance, though few, if any other than Lord Elbren, knew. He could not face the stares of the others, nor could he look into the eyes of those now initiated. In his mind's eye, he could see their slightly flushed faces, excited, yet innately calm despite the rigors they had faced. He knew nothing of their journeys, only that he assumed that their test had been a difficult one.

So, silently he ate, looking at no one. His stubborn ways were yielding slowly, but he would not face them yet, not in this weak stance of half-yielding. He listened to all around him, taking note of each knight, storing everything deep in the realms of his mind for a future time, his mind acute. After they were dismissed from the table, he made his way quickly to his room, hesitating when he heard soft footsteps behind him.

Surprising even himself, he revealed some of his thoughts to Nurvilya, the woman whose eyes had never left him. He was strangely attracted to her, as he was becoming to all women, but something about her left a strange aversion upon his mind as well'perhaps even a warning. He was no magical creature, nor was he a sorcerer, but his instincts were strong as a Rohirrim, a man close to nature and the baser traits that allowed for survival. At times, he found himself drawn into her alluring ways, and at others, he found himself clutching his sword as though he sensed a predator. She was cryptic at times in her explanation, but he did not fear her or the creature that took abode within.

For a short time, he left Lady Nurvilya's side, for he had a summons to his cousin, Rholarowyn. He feared that she would delve too deeply into that which caused him to suffer, but found that she had much tact in the subject. For this he was grateful, as he was not ready to talk with her or with the others about his father's betrayal. Thankful for the change of subject, he found that he truly enjoyed hearing about the cousins with whom he had never spent time due to his training. For a moment, he wished that he had had more of a childhood in which he could have played with such adventurous children. But the moment was fleeting and his prevailing mood returned once more.

After such happy reminiscence, he returned to the dark ruminations with Nurvilya, trying to decipher her dream and his part in it all. To their surprise, their conversation made its way into the early hours of the morn. So, briskly they departed from the Common Room, where they had turned when the dew began to form upon the grass, so that they could dress and prepare for the day.

With a swift pat upon his bag, Marius looked around the small room he had been given. What a waste of a room, he thought to himself, for it had been used only to store his belongings, as he had slept little within its cozy walls. His two blades were placed into their sheaths, both Laikemuil, his father's gift on his 15th birthday, and his own forged short sword bedecked with semi-precious stones in the form of a mural showing his father fighting off orcs. Looking at the latter, he sheathed it quickly, lest his anger rise once more at the likeness of his father. A third blade, a short, ornately carved sword, was placed in his belt. This was the blade he had chosen for the Lord Elbren, for it was akin to those made by the elves, despite its Rohirric markings and marksmanship. It was more delicate and more ornately designed than most blades held by the Rohirrim and held a keen resemblance to Laikemuil, though Lord Elbren's blade did not hold the blood of its bearer, as Laikemuil did.

Quickly the young Rohirrim moved, gathering his small parcels and disappearing from the room with naught a glance back. He intended to tend to his steed before the Lord Elbren could catch him for not speaking the previous day, for surely he had noticed his silence.

When he stepped out from the protection of the building, the frigid air carrying the scent of snow gusted around his muscular frame, causing him to tense up at the sudden chills. He nearly ran to the stables, where he hoped that Berrog was anxious to ride. If he were not, there would be little motivation to move along with the knights, other than the fact that he was told to follow.

However, when he reached the stables, there sat Lord Elbren upon his horse. Moving with stealth, he raced into the doors opposite those facing the Eldar and, breathing with a bit of effort in the chill, he tended to his friend, grooming him and speaking soothing words in an equine language that only the Rohirrim know. He knew that sooner or later he would have to face the elf lord, so after a bit of procrastination and unnecessary extra grooming that Berrog nonetheless appreciated, he led his warhorse into the biting wind and out of the security of the stables.

Not more than a minute after Elbren spotted him, the Mithril Knight was upon him, asking for the promised blade. His face colored, for he knew that he should have given the knight the blade as soon as he had procured it, but knew not when to give it to him, for there were many activities that needed the attention of such an important person. Slowly, he pulled the blade from his belt, marvelling at the light-play upon it, even in the dreary morning air, and watched with awe as the Eldar placed it by his side. He took the compliment of his choice with a slight smile and a short nod, but merely acknowledged that he was supposed to have spoken with Lord Elbren before this time. It was possible that he could tell him that he had been speaking with the other members, namely Nurvilya and Rholarowyn, but that would be akin to making excuses, and that he would not do. So, he preferred to remain silent, yet responsive to his Lord's commands.

Marius followed closely behind Elbren, though it was more through Berrog's doing than his own. He was too busy looking back upon his homeland, his eyes moist, though drying in the wind, saying a silent goodbye to his people and his family.

I shall return, and when I do, I shall make you proud.

The stairwell began to fade out of light as voices became muffled...taking her into a void of darkness...back again, she lay on her bed. Bolting up and leaping out of the bed landing her hard upon the floor she looked around carefully eyeing every crevice and cautioning at every shadow that showed itself. With a feeling of reassurance and trusting her surroundings again she realized she was back in her room.

Whispering still''What the devilry just happened?'

Trying to take charge of the overwhelming sensation she was feeling from what she had just experienced and a bit of unsteadiness on her feet, she turned to grabbed her cloak that she had laid on the chair earlier before going to bed...but to her surprise she was already wearing it...

'If this was a dream', She spoke to herself, 'Then why am I wearing my cloak that I laid across the chair's backing before going to bed last night?' Looking out the widow proved it had been a long night. The early morning sun was beginning its ascent from behind Misty Mountain.

______________________________________________________________________

Her breakfast remained untouched...Thalos was watching her intently, sensing something was wrong. Did she have the same dream has he had had last night? He was not quite sure what to say to his friend for the first time ever. The discomfort and intensity in the air was driving him mad and began to irritate him.

'Ok lassy, what mightin' you be thinking? You look as if ye lost a friend'...a thick Dwarven finger flashed in front of her face...'and before your answer, I say...ya havn't'

'I was there and yer a knowin' it too'

Thalos small husky frame stood up motioning for the leaden knight to follow him. The climb to the Pinnacle tower was less stressful this time all the while Thalos muttered to himself. Entering the room the Dwarven spoke quietly, 'Vilya'. Parador recognized the door as it opened...the musty smell filled her nostrils making her shutter. Their footsteps echoed the chamber's narrow stairwell as they descended down into the room lit-up with Arda's mithril stars.

Taking the steel casket from its ancient quarters once again Thalos placed it on the altar...opening it he spoke, 'The old foolish wizard whose robe of many colors once held a bit of a notion that if he were ta die'surely there mightin' be a way back to finish his roguish plans he had been conjuring up. Notin' was going to stand in his way...he y' wasn't goin' to have the Dark Lord Sauron one up'em'...shaking his head. "And ere I thought he was on our side".

Parador stepped closer to look into the casket, to her surprise Isildur's bones were missing!...and who was the cloaked intruder who stood before her in the visionquest.

Some of the leaves of Lorien seemed an unpleasant shade of grey. Mirdain's heart was heavy as he ascended the Great Tree that had once been the dwelling place of Galadriel. He thought he would find Carnimiriel there, and sure enough he found her in the old study, bent over a book.

"Forgive me Lady Carnimiriel; I hope i'm not intruding."

"No, that is fine. What is it Mirdain?"

"Lorien seems saddened today. I can't pinpoint the reason, but I feel as if a heavy physical weight is placed on me."

"I feel the same thing, and probably to a greater extent. Lorien seems to be fading faster than usual. Of course, we all knew that something like this would be inevitable. Lorien is fighting a long defeat of its own." Then Carnimiriel displayed Runya, and its beauty was silhoutted against the moonlight in the window. "But of course, all hope will not be lost as long as I am here."

"Nor as long as I am here, dear Lady."

They both smiled then, and there was a pleasant moment of silence. At length, Carnimiriel broke the silence. "Idril did not come with you?"

"No. She went back to the Guild House to take care of our affairs there. I told her that this meeting was not important and I would not be long. I'm hoping to set out to meet Elbren on the road soon. I expect the new initiations have already taken place."

"They have. Passing birds have confirmed the news. They also say that many orcs are wandering on the mountain borders of our beloved Wood. They seem hesitant to enter, but for how long I wonder?"

"Hmm yes. That is disturbing news. Perhaps I should..."

At that moment, they were interrupted by a messenger at the entrance. His face was pale with exhaustion, or was it fear?

"M'Lord, M'Lady..." he greeted them. "I have some terrible news. The Nimrodel has been poisoned. Two of the border guard company to which I belong drank from it and perished. We hunted a band of orcs nearly to the Nimrodel's source, slaying many, until we had to turn back for fear of orc reinforcements.

"This is alarming! All of Lorien could be in danger!" exclaimed Mirdain.

Carnimiriel did not seem as distressed. "I doubt it if all of our people are in grave danger. The Nimrodel, and the Silverlode, are pure waters. I can't imagine any poison that could taint them permanently. The two who perished must have drank from the river very soon after the poison was applied. Still it would be best to check and make sure everything is safe. Mirdain, I think the power in your crystal will purify the river if there is any poison left."

"I will go there immediately and use it immediately, Lady Carnimiriel. Should we not also warn all of our people against the increased danger as soon as possible?"

"That is already being done, m'lord. As soon as my company returned from hunting the orc band, they set about the task. Only I did not participate, so that I could bring the message to you. But, it would still be a great comfort to have Lord Mirdain with us."

"Certainly I will go with you. I have my bow, quiver, dagger, and crystal with me, so we need not even make the detour to the Guild House. Lady Carnimiriel, would you please tell Idril what has happened and where I am if you see her?"

"Of course. My guess is that she may already know. Good fortune be with you, both of you."

Mirdain and the messenger nodded together and then departed from the Great Tree, making for the northern fences of Lorien.

Soon, snowflakes had begun to dance around their horses and the wind had become chilly. Before she had parted from the rest of the group, Nienor-Niniel had given the sickle to Elbren, asking her to keep it for a while.

I am on a road, which I want to walk simply, without any sign of magic. She hesitated a little while. I am not sure that it is mine to keep this weapon, anyway. Maybe it should have gone back to Orthanc, but when the other Mithril Knights were leaving, I had my mind focused on other questions. Elbren remembered the conversation they had shared shortly before her initiation. Do not worry, Nienor-Niniel, he answered, the sickle will be safe with us. I have no doubts, it would be safe with us too, but if thus is your wish, I shall keep it for a while.

Nin had left then, turning back one last time, Elbren, Marius and Nurvilya already three almost invisible figures, around which the snowflakes were twirling. She hurried then, the snow was beginning to fall heavily and she was afraid that a storm was rising. In less than one hour she had reached the village, but as soon as the first roofs came in sight, she halted, and attached her horse to a tree. She was not sure, that she wanted to be seen. A group of children was playing in on of the courts, throwing snowballs at each other. They looked healthy and happy, warmly dressed with red cheeks. Nin watched them with pleasure, listening to the screams and shouts of their innocent battles. Slowly it was becoming darker and most of the families began to call the children in. Then she heard a voice, calling the name she had been waiting for: Haleth, Haleth. A tall boy turned around, his flaxen hair covered with snow. Nienor-Niniel watched him fascinated. He must be ten years now - another two and he would be taller than herself. He ran towards the woman who had been calling him and Nin recognised Eolynd, who slung her arms around him. Of course, she could not hear a word of what they were saying, but both of them were smiling. She closed her eyes and sighed. Despite some regular doubts, she was sure that she had made the right choice. Her child had got a chance to grow up surrounded by the love of his aunt and uncle, rather than with parents who had hurt each other too deeply. When she saw him now, she felt a stranger. This was the past, and the past was over.

Nin walked back to her horse, which seemed to be freezing. She was beginning to feel cold too, and the rising darkness and the snowstorm, which was now breaking out openly, made it almost impossible to see anything. But she wanted to leave, move away from this place, and despite of the risk it represented, she rode off into the night. It was silly, in fact.

Soon, Gedeon was unable to go on, his hooves sinking deeply into the fresh snow. In her memories, the forest had seemed closer and she had intended to look for shelter there. NN decided to keep on by foot; at least she would try to keep on, until she should reach the border of the forest, where the ground should be free of snow or at least practicable. Snowflakes were blowing in her face, gliding inside the sleeves of her shirt, in her boots. She was freezing up to her very bones and slowly realising how stupid she had been to take the risk of a lonely ride in the night of a snowstorm. Now it was too late to turn back. A few minutes later, a hole in the ground hidden by the snow, made her fall down. She managed to rise again, but her teeth were clinging and she was wet and deadly cold.

Help, she thought, I need somebody's help. An even if there was no hope of anybody else being foolish enough to walk around in the storm, she called out for help, her own weak voice echoing in the dark. For a short moment, she felt completely hopeless.

Then, when she lifted her eyes, she saw a light in the dark, first flickering, then coming closer. However small the hope had been, someone must have heard her, and came to save her. While the light came closer, she understood that whoever was carrying it, did not sink into the snow like she had done. But nothing else was visible in the middle of this blizzard.

Elbren, Marius, Nurvilya, and Nienor-Niniel rode first West, the mountains on their left capped in white, but then turned Northward as they approached the Gap of Rohan.

"Well," Elbren said as they set camp in the tall grasses, "tomorrow we must determine our course, mellyn. I will make for the Southern borders of Lothlorien with the quickest route that I can take."

"And what road is that?" Marius asked, seeming to be genuinely curious.

Elbren tossed more dried dung onto the smoldering fire, "Good job on getting the fire going," he nodded at the son of Eomer, "with these winds, tis not an easy task."

Nurvilya was handing around the dried wafer known as cram while Nienor-Niniel tied the last rope down on their small shelter. Joining them at the fire, she gave Elbren a look that told him that she had made up her mind.

"I will leave you at dawn," Nienor-Niniel said softly, "and take my own road. I shall send word when I can and seek you when the summons is sent forth for us to meet again."

"Good," Elbren smiled and nodded, "I confess that I was looking forward to traveling with you to Lothlorien, but I well understand and respect your own desires. If you need any supplies, go to Orthanc and replenish as you need. Travel safe, Nienor-Niniel."

The look within the Elven Lord's eyes was understanding if a little unsettling; it was as if he knew more than he said, but then, hadn't he confessed to having blood upon his own hands that was unjustifiably shed?

"What road do you mean to take? Will we, too, go to Orthanc?" Nurvilya shuddred involuntarily at the name, or was it the sudden wind that came down out of the West and North?

Elbren pulled his Mithril Coat more tightly around his shoulders and stared into the flames of the small fire, "We will turn North and use a little known path that runs through the heart of Fangorn."

"Fangorn?" Marius frowned, but then said nothing else, his eyes shaded by the darkness of night.

"Yes," Elbren took off his gloves and tossed them on the grass beside him as he sat down a blanket, "who has first watch?"

"You really mean to go through the Fangorn?" Nurvilya asked and Elbren could not tell which made the young woman more uncomfortable: Orthanc or the ancient forest.

"It will be perfectly safe, I assure you, and I do not feel that the Wold would be safe passage for us....just a feeling that I have. We will be to the first Galadrim border garrison less than a day outside the Northern border of Fangorn, and the sooner that we are within my own lands, the better that I, for one, will feel."

"You suspect that the Red Hammer has moved this far North? To the Elven lands?" Nienor-Niniel's eyes narrowed.

"Yes, I do. While we were at Edoras, we received word from the North that Edoras had been attacked already; I have a feeling.....there is a very dark shadow that stretches all along the unknown Eastern borders of known Middle Earth. Many of the Wise have left us for the shores of Eldamar, but some do remain. I suspect that we will hear from Radagast again soon and I am very anxious to hear what Carnimiriel will have to say as well."

"About?"

"About the Red Hammer...the new chamber...the name of Orthanc....that Sickle.....the battle at Helm's Deep...using the Spear of Orome..." Elbren chuckled, "there are indeed volumes to ponder..." suddenly a vision of Parador, walking the shadowy halls of Orthanc entered into Elbren's mind, but she looked troubled....afraid, even, and her sword was drawn.

"Lord Elbren?"

Elbren blinked his eyes and looked over at Marius, who had spoken to him, "You...looked rather strange." The son of Eomer watched the Elf carefully.

Elbren swallowed and nodded slowly; yes, that had been strange. Was something wrong at Orthanc or was Elbren just tired and in need of sleep?

"Well then," Nurvilya moved over to the small shelter and pulled the flap aside to step in, "Marius and Elbren have the first watch. I feel snow in the air, so we had best get some sleep."

Nienor-Niniel agreed as she stood up and went to join Nurvilya in the tent, "I bid you good night."

Elbren and Marius sat alone at the fire, saying nothing for quite some time. The night was cold, almost bitterly so, but the winds had died down and slowly the stars began to fade behind more thick clouds of winter.

"Nurvilya is right," Elbren said, "it will snow tomorrow."

"Where will I stay while we are in Lothlorien?"

"At the Guild House, " Elbren replied, "but we will not be in Caras Galadhon for very long. We may be going to Dol Amroth or perhaps even Northward."

"When will you know?"

Elbren laughed and tossed a stick onto the fire, "I do not know that either, Marius. I do know that I am looking forward to being home again, seeing my family, and sleeping in my own bed. I suspect that you, too, will be missing your homeland."

"Aye," Marius said simply, but there was an honesty in the young man's reply that caused Elbren to look over and find the young Rohirrim looking squarely back at him.

****************************

At dawn, Nienor-Niniel parted company from the others with fond farewells. "Namarie," Elbren spoke to the new Knight, and then wished her safe journeys.

By late afternoon, Elbren, Marius, and Nurvilya had reached the Southern borders of Fangorn...

It was Chirion's cold nose, nuzzling her awake, that finally caused Rho to realize morning had come. Taking her hand out from under the warm blanket and placing it upon the wolf's head she spoke, 'Five more minutes, just five more minutes.' Then she ruffled his fur, and brought her hand back under the blanket.

As her mind slowly began to think of the day ahead, she couldn't help but feel the excitement build. Not only would she begin her journey to a new land, but also there was the possibility of seeing several friends when she arrived. Friends that she hadn't seen in well over a year.

Thinking back to his letter, it sounded like Moujhadin had done well. Still a man of honor and high rank in his land along with holding a position of high command in the Prince's Army. Then her mind drifted to the others. Alandriel was in training and would hopefully become a Mithril Knight soon. Bardhwyn she'd heard rumors about, but wasn't certain how true they were. Edain and Maelgwn were the two that she hadn't heard from at all and wondered if Moujhadin's request had reached them.

Finally her thoughts settled on Jiyadan. In the last year he had been able to send two letters to her. Which considering his lifestyle was a difficult thing to do. The first letter had been to congratulate her on attaining Warrior Bard status; the second had been a collection of what he considered his best poetry. Both times she'd been able to reply, not only to thank him, but to also share some of her writing with him.

Once again Chirion's nose pressed against her cheek. Smiling, Rho turned over to face her friend. 'Yes you're right, you've given me five minutes.'

Pushing the blankets aside, she quickly rolled out of bed and began preparing herself for the day. A short time later she and the wolf were heading down the hall towards the kitchen. When the two arrived, Rho found the pack of food that had been prepared for her journey. Picking up a piece of bread and cheese, the woman and the wolf made there way out of the Guild house and went towards the stables.

When they arrived Rho discovered Anorast, whose horse was in the next stall next to hers, was also preparing his horse to leave.

'Hello, how are you doing this morning?' Rho asked.

'I'm fine he replied. And you?'

'Just getting ready to head towards a new land.' She answered while beginning to brush Tamir.

The two continued to talk until their horses were tacked up. Together they then led them down the isle and out into the fresh morning air. After a few more minutes of friendly conversation the two Mithril Knights mounted their horses and rode towards the gates of Edoras. Once they had passed between them, Rho turned to her former knight-in-training.

'I wish you safe travel where ever your path may take you Anorast, until we meet again.'

'I wish the same for you Rholarowyn, and be careful in the land of the East.'

Nodding her head she then turned Tamir towards the East and nudged him into a gentle gallop, with Chirion running along side. Behind her Anorast had turned his horse westward.

Watching Rho ride off eastward, Anorast silently wished her well. He had no wish to go with her, the east held nothing for him. Perhaps one day he would return there, but not now. Sighing, he mounted his horse and turned towards the west.

Immediately Anorast realized he would not have an easy journey. Up ahead great clouds reared, thrusting down out of the Misty Mountains. The old wanderer could tell that it carried snow, and lots of it. Looking down at his packs, he thanked his long experience which had led him to prepare for any weather. Though he wasn't bothered by the cold, he knew never to underestimate the forces of nature; they always seemed to enjoy making innocents suffer. Especially those that came down from the mountains bearing snow. Hopefully no one would be caught in that storm.

Unfortunately, he had to go through. For all his preparation, it would still be risky. Sighing, he patted the saddlebag where he'd stashed his Mithril cloak. At least he had that extra protection. Urging the stallion on, he made for the Gap of Rohan. The longer and faster he rode now would mean less he'd have to slog through snow.

As he closed with the storm, a strange feeling began to grow in him. It seemed to indicate danger, yet it was impersonal, not directed towards him. And it was less a sense of danger as of fear. Curious, yet troubled, Anorast looked about him. Nothing.

Stopping the horse, he concentrated. The sense he was getting was oddly familiar, yet in two differing ways. He recognized the sensation, he'd felt it before, but could not remember where. And the focus, the sense of whoever was involved, that was familiar as well, and much more recent. He just couldn't place it.

Sighing again, this time with annoyance, Anorast decided to take more direct measures. Letting his sense of the world dim, he drew his awareness in. Instantly, he could feel the sensation much stronger, and now, as he suspected, he could tell in which direction it came from. North and west. Near Fangorn. Concentrating, he began to prepare to send his consciousness out, to try to discover who it was, when suddenly he recognized the essence.

'Nin!'

Calling out loud, Anorast was shocked from his trance. His fellow Mithril Knight and fellow ex-trainee was in danger! Spinning, he leaped and twisted onto his stallions back. Urging him forwards, Anorast shouted in elvish, and the horse redoubled its speed. Thanking the steward in Imladris that had given him such a fine steed, Anorast urged the beast forwards. Though it did not feel like she was in immediate danger, Anorast knew not what was threatening her. He had a creeping suspicion that she had been caught unawares by the storm, and his sight soon confirmed it. Heavy, heavy snow was falling ahead.

And what snow! Even he, who'd wandered for so long, was amazed at the storm. Already flakes were whirling about him, and he was not even beneath the clouds yet. This was a storm not even he had prepared for. Seldom had he seen its match.

Soon, he spotted a forest, fast becoming obscured, off to the side. NN must have been making for it, since he could tell she was close. Deciding to depart the straight path towards her, and take to the easier, less snow covered ground of the forest, Anorast slowed his horse. He was still far from her, but the stallion could not go much further at such speed. Dismounting, and whispering a few words in the horse's ear, he pulled his Mithril cloak from its enclosure, and swiftly began running atop the snow towards NN, still far away.

Running as quickly as he could, it still took Anorast almost an hour to close with NN. Already, it was beginning to grow dark. Whispering a word in elvish, he lifted his hand and called forth a glowing light to see by. She was close, very close, and clearly fading. The bitter cold of the storm was touching even him; he could only imagine what it was doing to her.

After a few more moments, he spotted a dark shadow against the building snow. Quickly, he made his way towards it. Kneeling in the snow, he gazed down upon NN. She was clearly freezing, barely conscious. Yet he saw her recognize him, looming above her. She gave him a wan, tired smile, then her head fell back. Afraid of the worst, Anorast leaned down to feel for her life; she merely slept, but whether she would wake was now in his hands.

Seeing that she wore only a thin cloak, Anorast thanked his foresight to bring his Mithril cloak as well as his older wool cloak. Taking his older cloak, he wrapped it around NN, and lifted her easily. He had to get her out of the snow, and warmed up. Turning, he strode towards the forest. It would be the best he could manage at this time, and with luck, his horse would be waiting with his extra gear. Reaching the protection of the overhanging trees, he looked around for the best place to set up camp. The wind was blowing the snow in beneath the eaves of the forest, so he picked a large tree to place between the freezing NN and the winds.

Laying the young woman down between two great, ancient roots, Anorast stood and whistled loudly. Turning, he cleared the snow from among a fork in the roots. There he would make a fire to warm the two as they weathered the storm. Looking back at NN, he saw she had woken up, responding the the warmth of his cloak.

"Do not worry now. You are safe from the storm, my friend. You are still at risk from the cold though. Rest. Soon I will have an encampment set up, and I'll make some food."

Smiling at NN, he waited to see if she would say anything. Anorast was curious about why she had been out in the storm. However, all that mattered now was that she was safe. Several questions remained in his mind about the sense of fear which had brought him to her side, but that would wait. For now, it was enough that she was safe.

NN had seen the light come closer, and at least for a moment given up her effort to stay standing, alive, awake. Clearly, she had overestimated herself, or underestimated the effects of the last days, the draught, the vision and the exhaustion that it had brought upon her.

Finally, when in the halo of the light, looming above her, she recognised Anorast; she was not surprised at all. She knew now that she was safe. Somehow, she managed a weak smile, and just let herself glide away, let the weakness overcome her and for once, count on somebody, and give up the idea of doing all on her own. She did not even realise that Anorast wrapped her in a cloak and carried her away. Luckily, she was small and light, so would not a huge burden and hardly for the tall elven Lord.

When she woke up, Nin felt a lot warmer and it took her a little while to see, that over her own thin shirt and her Mithril cloak, she wore another one, of warm wool, simple and yet beautiful, it astonished that even a simple object like this could be elvish. First, she said nothing and watched Anorast in silence. He seemed to be perfectly prepared for this unexpected tempest, unusual for both, the season and the region. There must have been no moment of hesitation in the slightest of his gestures, the choice of the place, the way to lay her down, the preparation of the encampment where he would surely make a fire.

Nin was glad that she could have a little moment, however short to recover, before Anorast was aware that she was awake. They had travelled only for a short while together, and she wondered why it still seemed perfectly normal for her, that off all people in Middle Earth he would walk out of a storm where none of them should be and safe her. She had no answer to this question. She looked down and touched the soft tissue of the cloak with her hands, surprised how bitter the cold was, once she ventured only a fingertip out of the protection that the cloak had given to her. His cloak. His protection.

Anorast had seen now, that she was awake, turned to her, and smiled.

"Do not worry now. You are safe from the storm, my friend. You are still at risk from the cold though. Rest. Soon I will have an encampment set up, and I'll make some food."

I do not worry no more, she answered, expecting more questions, for she knew very well that it must seem foolish to set out alone, when a storm is rising and that Anorast must wonder why she had done so. But for the moment, other things were more important. Soon, the ground immediately around them was freed from snow, and under his hands even the frozen branches quickly turned into a fire. In the warm light of the flickering flames, Nin watched the elven's face, silently, glad that she did not have to talk and explain herself, glad for the time that he was giving her. His silver hair was reflecting the shades of the flames, almost as if he were surrounded by the flames that illuminated the night around them. She remembered still very well the first impression she had felt about him, not so long ago. There had been immediate glimpse of power about Anorast that had intimidated her. Now, he seemed much more human. Like with all the elves, his features were regular, harmonious and seemed untouched by time or grief. Yet, it was not only an ageless face, it was eternal. And the expression of his grey eyes usually so enigmatic, was for once clear in Nin's mind, as if she had opened a door to understand him. He was concerned for her, he was even worried. The flames build a circle of light and warmth around them and even if the howling of the wind could still be heard, even if the snowflakes were falling around them, they had now a little place of shelter from the wilderness.

Once the fire was up, Anorast put a small pot above the flames, and Nin remembered that he had talked about getting her something to eat. It almost made her smile, so much like herself was the reaction. All breaks down around you? Eat something, first, think later.

He was melting snow, certainly to prepare her something warm to drink and warm her from inside, so that she could be really safe. While waiting, he turned now towards Nin, looking at her with this expression of concern that she had so clearly seen before.

This is the second time you save my life. she said, maybe I should stay around you. Both of them smiled less than a second.

I hope that your life is indeed safe now, he answered. You must still beware of the cold. Nin could only nod. Most of her clothes were wet, and so she did not manage to get completely rid of the feeling of freezing. But nothing could be done about that now.

Nin took a deep breath of chilly air. And just wanted to ask: what were ' but her voice was covered by the voice of her fellow Mithril knight, asking the same words. A little odd moment followed, then Nin revised herself. No, please ask first.

What were you doing out there in a storm like this, alone? Anorast was looking straight into her eyes and Nin tried to hold his glance, at least for a moment.

I was leaving, she answered finally, I think I was. But from what or where, she did not tell. And she also kept a part of the answer that came to her mind for herself: I was looking for you.

Instead she answered back: And you?

"I do not worry no more."

Hearing NN speak Anorast was very relieved. She had not succumbed to the cold. Though it was not a strong voice he knew she had not drifted beyond his aid. To lose a friend would be unbearable for him, and especially if it were her. He still did not know why he was so close to the young woman, but he undeniably was. His concern for NN's survival had driven him into the snowstorm which still raged around them, and it drove him now to save her from the cold.

Just as he had finished banking the earth against the roots to form a fire pit, his horse came trotting to the tree. Quickly Anorast pulled his bags and saddle from the stallions back, and covered him with the blanket he'd brought in case of foul weather. Turning back, he pulled out his cooking gear and began to prepare a stew for NN. As that was starting, he looked about for a couple long sticks to use as poles to support the shelter he wished to construct to cover NN from the cold air. Not finding any immediately, he returned to the fire to check the soup. Looking over at NN, Anorast saw she was watching him.

'This is the second time you save my life,' she said. 'Maybe I should stay around you.'

Smiling at her briefly, Anorast turned solemn again. 'I hope that your life is indeed safe now. You must still beware the cold.' Anorast could see that she was still quite cold beneath the two cloaks she was wrapped in. 'What were-' began Anorast as NN started to say the same.

'No, please ask first,' id NN after a short pause.

'What were you doing out in a storm like this, alone?' asked Anorast. He did not want to pressure NN in her current delicate state, but he wanted to know. She surely must have had a reason.

'I was leaving,' she said. 'I think I was.' Looking at her, Anorast felt she was not saying everything.

'And you?'

Anorast turned back to the soup. It would be done soon. He'd made soup instead of stew deliberately; it would be easier for NN to eat, needing only one hand free to drink. Pulling several blankets out of the saddlebags, he turned back towards NN, and placed them over her, giving her more protection.

'I was looking for you.'

At his answer NN closed her eyes. Thinking she had decided to sleep, Anorast stood, and went to look for sticks deeper in the forest. Finally finding a few, he returned. Looking at the camp, he decided he had chosen well. To each side, within feet, the snow was piling up, but upon NN, only a few flakes had fallen. Lying under several blankets, both her Mithril cloak and his own elvish cloak drawn up about her head, only her face showing, she seemed so peaceful. Yet at the same time, so vulnerable. He knew so little about her, but sensed that she had lived through hardship. There was a sense of sadness in her face, yet also in sleep, great beauty was revealed. Standing among the swirling snowflakes, Anorast was content to look at her, a beautiful face at repose amidst falling petals of snow.

Shaking off his trance, Anorast set about erecting a shelter above the sleeping woman. While searching the wood, he'd recognized the other sense he'd felt earlier. When his mentor had taken the woman he'd come to love, in that hill city in the east, he'd felt her in danger. Responding to her unspoken call, he had rushed towards her, but arrived too late. When he had sensed NN in danger, the same sense had been present. It was the sense that a loved one was in peril.

Pulling a light elvish cloth cover over the frame he'd constructed above her, he looked down at NN. She was looking up at him, an expression on her face he didn't recognize.

'Why, Anorast, were you looking for me? How could you have known?'

'I felt you were in danger. I do not know why, but a sense came to me that it was so. I could not let you perish.'

'Why?'

Taking a moment to finish fastening the cover into place, Anorast sat down beside the fire and pulled his Mithril cloak around him tighter. He'd pulled the cloth to the ground on the other side of the shelter, but left it open towards the fire. Looking over at NN, he saw her still looking at him, watching his every move.

'Because I have grown to care about you deeply since I met you, nienor-niniel. You've seemed to me so lonely, lost in this world. So often, I have felt the same. That drew me to you, a kindred spirit. I know, I'm an elf, and you are a human. Yet I do not want to be parted from you.'

Misty eyed, Anorast turned away. He hadn't expected to say so much, yet it had flown out of him. It was not all there was, he still had not completely discovered why he cared for her. But every word had been truth. It had been so long since he'd felt close to anyone. But he knew that what he felt was more than friendship.

'Are you warm enough in there,' Anorast asked, not looking at her, staring into the fire. 'The soup is just about done.'

I was looking for you.

NN for a moment doubted her reason ' it was just as if he had taken the words out of her mind and spoken them out loudly. She closed her eyes ' wishing to escape, to gather her mind for a moment, to understand what was happening to her.

When she opened them again, Nin saw that she must have been sleeping, despite of the cold. But all was still there, and Anorast had built a protection around her. So, she thought I have not dreamed, and it is true.

'Why, Anorast, were you looking for me? How could you have known?'

She wanted to know, and she wanted to know now, what he had meant, what it all meant, how to explain that she had lost herself to be found by him. She did not leave him for single moment out of her eyes, like earlier, watching every of his movements. She did want to doubt again that this was really happening, that she was in deliration. In an almost imperceptible gesture, he pulled his Mithril cloak around him tighter. Even he must be freezing, she thought, and immediately felt responsible for this. She could see her breath form steam in the air, but around the fire it was warm, and she was wrapped up in a multitude of tissue to protect her, whereas Anorast was not. He had taken care of her, before taking care of himself.

'Because I have grown to care about you deeply since I met you, Nienor-Niniel. You've seemed to me so lonely, lost in this world. So often, I have felt the same. That drew me to you, a kindred spirit. I know, I'm an elf, and you are a human. Yet I do not want to be parted from you.'

Nin had not expected his answer to be so long and so clear. She herself would not have dared, but she felt the depth behind the words in the very moment he said them. She did not release her glance on him, her eyes full of wondering, wishing to register every single second of this magic moment. For she was sure, it would not last.

'Are you warm enough in there,' Anorast asked, not looking at her, staring into the fire. 'The soup is just about done.'

He filled a little bowl with the steaming soup; she only would have to stretch out her hand to take it. Now at last, he turned towards her and finally, she met his glance, his grey eyes were shimmering in the light of the fire, as if they were alive, and the expression warmed her heart more than all fires in all Middle-Earth could ever do.

She stretched out her hand, not only to take the bowl ' she knew she needed it ' but also because now he had come almost close enough that she could feel his breath, and she let her fingers glide along his cheek. But she did not yet speak. In fact, Nin was afraid, afraid of what she could feel, if she would let herself allow doing so, afraid of what she could loose.

Then, when her hands touched the carved wood of the little bowl in a moment of complete silence, when even the storm seemed to hold his breath for them, she felt the small Tengwar Runes graved on it, that brought her violently back to reality. It was the sign of Rivendell.

Anorast, she whispered, you should better part from me. I am doomed.

She took a deep breath. I know you brought this from Rivendell. she set out to speak, and she knew that once she would have begun, it would be better not to be interrupted. But seeing the beauty of this tiny object, feeling it brought back her childhood and the grief of her exile, the guilt. She tried to gain control over herself, but before she even knew, she was crying. Not only for the memories, but already because she was sure, that in a few moments the magic between them would be broken and the short moment of hope would be lost forever. But the words were flowing out of her. She had sworn to herself to construct nothing more in her life on a lie.

So, she told about her ban from Rivendell and the day that had doomed her life, the day, she had wished to die with her elvish lover, but only he had perished under her hand. Her eyes had become dark, while she was speaking, showing the abyss of sadness that had filled a huge part of her life.

While she was speaking, she kept looking into Anorast's eyes, waiting for the moment when the expression of kindness and care would be gone. But it did not vanish; only change slightly, adding a dimension of asking, but of understanding too. She could not fully hold back her tears, but managed to keep a bit of self-control, not to let herself go down completely. Inside, she was shaking, and she could feel her heart beat as if it wanted to leap out of her breast.

Now, that she had ended her story, she finally lowered her eyes, detaching her glance from his, she finally took the little bowl to her lips, her hands shaking and all of her body tensed in anticipation.

Not waiting for a response from NN Anorast filled a cup with soup and handed it to her. As she reached out to take it, she looked up at him and smiled. Seeing her face so close, and so happy, his heart melted. Instead of reaching for the bowl, NN touched his cheek with her hand, and though her skin was cold, the touch was like fire to Anorast. He wished that they could have stayed like that for eternity, but soon she reached down to take the cup from him.

Watching NN's face as Anorast was, so close, he immediately saw the emotions that showed on it as she touched the cup. Fear, pain, loss all flickered across her beautiful features. Looking down at the cup, he saw she had placed her fingers over the sign of Imladris. Most of his gear had it, for he'd lived there several years and it was of the fine work of the elves. Looking back at NN, she had turned very pale.

'Anorast, you should better part with me,' she whispered, barely loud enough to hear. 'I am doomed. I know you brought this from Rivendell.'

Anorast nodded, but she had stopped speaking. Shaking her head a bit, she seemed to be fighting an impulse, until suddenly she started to cry. Shocked, Anorast did not know what to do for NN. He did not want her to be weeping. But soon, through her sobs, he could tell she was trying to tell him something. It was about her old life, in Rivendell.

As NN spoke Anorast listened intently. Coming only recently to Imladris, he had not been there while she was, and had never heard that one such as her had ever been in Rivendell. He watched as her story unfolded, listened to the pain in her voice, telling of her love she had lost. So much sorrow in her life that she had not deserved. As he listened, the care and love he felt for her only grew, for he knew NN was like himself, losing a love.

Watching NN, Anorast could tell she was waiting for his feelings towards her to evaporate. She had loved an elf before, and in the end, slain him. Yet he was not afraid, and it did nothing to lessen the love he had for her. Anorast knew what true love was like, and had nearly destroyed himself over a lost one. Looking at NN he saw in her the sadness that held sway over him. He did not want to see that look in her eyes. So sad, yet so beautiful. Together, they could conquer their pasts, and live their lives in peace, and in happiness, with each other.

Yet there were also questions. Why had Elrond been so cruel. And why had the elves of Imladris not mentioned the incident. Anorast knew his kindred well, and had met the elf NN had slain. Liuderas had always strongly attracted women, both elven and human; Anorast doubted he would have stayed long with NN, and likely had not understood her love for him. Anorast knew why she had done the dreadful deed and understood why. Surely Elrond had acted, banishing her from Rivendell for eternity, without knowledge of either story.

Finishing her story NN lowered her face. Anorast was saddened that she seemed to expect him to cast her away from him. The expression on her face sent tore at his heart, the sad, forlorn look of loneliness. As she drank a bit of soup, Anorast waited. Seeing her done, he took the cup from her and placed it out of the way. Taking her hand, he looked at her, letting his feelings of love fully emerge onto his face.

'NN, I care not what you did in the past. I understand what brought you to do such an act, and I will not condemn you for it. Elrond was wrong when he banished you. I will not make his mistake.

'You have lived alone these past years. You had a home once, but was driven from it by a fool. I do not wish for you to stay alone any longer. Please, stay with me. I swear I shall protect you from any harm. I would not see you suffer in sadness. You deserve a second chance at love. Let me give you that chance, and you will never be alone again.'

Was the snow still falling? Was it day or night? Nienor-Niniel could not tell. The world had vanished from her mind, and nothing more existed outside the little shelter that Anorast had built for them. Nothing but the two of them, and even nothing outside her reflect in his fair eyes and the tension in the air between them, so real that she feared sparkles would break out of her fingertips as he took her hand. She did not have any other choice, but to look back at him, sure that, being a kind soul, he would find something nice to say to draw her back to the loneliness where she belonged, astonished how he could have been so wrong about her. But none of it happened.

'NN, I care not what you did in the past. I understand what brought you to do such an act, and I will not condemn you for it. Elrond was wrong when he banished you. I will not make his mistake.

'You have lived alone these past years. You had a home once, but was driven from it by a fool. I do not wish for you to stay alone any longer. Please, stay with me. I swear I shall protect you from any harm. I would not see you suffer in sadness. You deserve a second chance at love. Let me give you that chance, and you will never be alone again.'

He looked at her, and in this very moment seemed almost unbearable fair to NN. If even before, she had tried to read the expression in his eyes, now she could not detach herself from them. There was a light of comprehension and compassion within them, an echo of his own life, of the many years and errands, and the knowledge of what suffering was and how deep pain could go. He had the fair glance of a pure soul, and the shimmer of love was undeniable. NN could not believe that he was looking at her with this expression, at her little, insignificant person. She would just have wanted to stay there and look at him.

Please, stay with me

No, she had not dreamed those words, as she was not dreaming that she was holding his hand, and the soft touch of his skin on her hand was real. Nin could hardly breathe, and it took her a few moments to be able to speak.

Anorast, I look at you, and I see an elf, and yet I see my own soul in your eyes. You are not Liudares, and maybe, she paused a second, so new was the thought for her, maybe I am not doomed.

NN took his hand, firmly now, and lay it on her sleeve, closing her eyes.

"All the time of loneliness, and all the grief and the fear, I would take it again, and twice as much, if I knew that in the end this moment would come. I have been waiting for you all my life. I will stay with you as long as you wish."

She did not open her eyes again, just followed the impulsion, and closed his arms around her, Laying her head on his breast, she could hear his heart beat and was not even astonished that even in her innermost self, she could not tell any more, whose heart she was hearing in her ears, his or her own. There was only one rhythm.

Ronin watched as the leaves outside his window were blown by a gentle breeze, the sun streaming through the branches in a golden patchwork of light. He sighed in contentment, for he always loved the woods at this time of year and, in his heart, he enjoyed Lothlorien much more than the grassy fields of Rohan. Still, today he was restless. He had overhead someone say that more Mithril Knights were coming to the near-by Guildhouse with news about the recent attacks by dwarves carrying the symbol of a Red Hammer. Ronin found it all very fascinating, for war always had a stirring effect on his heart.

But, deeper than his desire to hear such tales recounted, Ronin hoped to see the familiar figure of his mother arrive in the company of the other Knights. He had not seen her for almost a year, and she had sent him no word except to say that she was well and hoped that he was enjoying his studies in Edoras. He was hurt by her lack of communication, for he assumed that it revealed a lack of interest in him. He loved her fiercely, but he wondered at times whether or not she thought of him more as a burden. When she was near him, her eyes always held an expression he could not understand.

He was reminded painfully of the separation between them whenever he saw the affection that Rosmarien and Lorfindur had for their mother. Carnimiriel and Elbren had always been so kind to him and it was the highlight of his life when he was invited to spend time with them in Lorien. He enjoyed the company of the twins, and they seemed to genuinely like him as well, so Ronin had come to consider them as his adopted sisters, though he never actually told them so. Galadhon was also there, and since he was two years older than him, Ronin looked up to him and asked him to help learn to use a bow. The boys were often seen together, and it warmed Carnimiriel's heart to see them happy, each having their own tragedies so early in their lives.

However, for the last few days Ronin had refused to go outside with the others. Instead, he had sat by the window facing the Guildhouse waiting for whatever news would arrive. He was in a feverish expectancy that the Mithril Knights would be arriving soon, and he did not want to miss them. How many times had he traced the emblem emblazoned on their cloaks? He wanted to be one of them; he wanted to be a warrior like his mother.

If Elbren came to Lorien, Ronin was determined to ask him if he could be trained as a Mithril Knight. Galadhon had laughed when he first told him. 'You're not strong enough to be a warrior yet,' Galadhon had told him, but this had only made him more convinced that he must do so. 'If he won't accept me now, then I'll train and train until I'm worthy.'

'You just want to see your mother,' the elven boy retorted.

Ronin turned his dark eyes toward him, his face suddenly a mirror of the coldness often displayed on Tempest's face. 'At least I have a mother,' he said.

In a distant part of their living quarters, Carnimiriel was suddenly surprised to hear muffled cries and the breaking of glass. In great fear she found her way to Ronin's room, where she found her nephew and Tempest's son wrestling and striking out at each other, both of their faces contorted with anger and, at least in Ronin's case, with tears.

The forest of Fangorn was thick and cool as the trio entered; it had taken longer than Elbren had anticipated to find the secret path that would lead them North towards Lothlorien. As a result, they had not gone far into the wood before the sun set and a nearly impenetrable darkness quickly descended upon them. Making a quick, fireless camp, Elbren, Nurvilya, and Marius settled into their sleeping blankets.

"Will we not set a watch?" Marius asked as Elbren handed out lembas bread for their evening meal.

"No," Elbren shook his head, "within the borders of this forest, we need not fear any enemy. The Ents guard it well these days. Rest well and with a hard ride tomorrow, we may reach the Northern border and soon be in my own lands."

Lying within his blankets, Elbren did not find sleep, though. He could tell by his breathing that Marius, too, lay awake and even Nurvilya seemed uneasy. Indeed, even though the Ents were allies of the Free Peoples, Fangorn still felt foreboding and angry at times. With the inky blackness that lay upon them that night, it was hard to imagine that they were safe to sleep and dream at will.

Elbren's thoughts wandered from the Red Hammer to Isengard to the Sickle and to each of his friends and fellow Mithril Knights. The pattern of his thoughts led him far and wide until finally he relaxed enough to allow the expectation of his homecoming to take precedence. He was anxious to see his wife and children, and young Ronin, and his Galadrim people. How had Lothlorien been faring, he wondered? Had they received news of the Red Hammer? Idril and Mirdain should have arrived already; had they arrived safely?

Elbren finally fell into a light sleep where he dreamt of trees swaying in the winds, their branches reaching down to touch him, and their whispering voices chanting some strange words that left the Elf Lord feeling as if he had been placed under a benevolent spell....

The next day's ride was close and long; the path seemed to move of its own will while the trees would bend down suddenly as if curious about the travelers. Elbren would sing quite frequently, his clear, Elven voice ringing through the wood, and the trees seemed to approve of his song. They did not find the Northern border that day, but Elbren assured his companions that they were close. Another night was spent in Fangorn, but by noon the following day, they had left the dark forest and were on the plains which would lead them to the Southern border of the Golden Wood.

************************************************

As Nurvilya, Marius, and Elbren approached the wood, Elbren slowed them and then finally came to a complete halt. The riderless horse that had been brought with them lifted his head and suddenly let out a ringing neigh.

"He seems anxious about something," Nurvilya said as her eyes watched the wood intently.

"He is excited," Marius corrected, "that was a neigh of joy."

"Indeed," Elbren agreed, "for look, the Border Guards are approaching."

Three Galadrim Elves rode out to meet them for their keen Elven eyes had seen that it was their Lord who had returned along with expected companions.

"Mae Govannon!" Elbren shouted and waved, all worry leaving him and only joy at being home in his voice.

"Nae saian luume'," spoke one of the guards with a big grin, "Lle maa quel, Elbren. Sut naa lle?"

"I am well," Elbren replied, taking the Elf's hand and clasping it heartily, "meet Nurvilya and Marius, two members of the Mithril Knight's guild."

"Mae Govannon," the Elf nodded in greeting, "I am Curulond, Captain of the Southern Border Guard. Welcome to Lothlorien. Let us not delay for many are anxious to see you all."

****************************************************

It was well into the night when the trio entered the gates of Caras Galadhon; Curulond and his escort had turned back not long after the Southern borders had been crossed and another escort of the Galadrim Cavalry had joined them thereafter. They did not go directly to the Guild House, though, for Elbren wanted Carnimiriel to meet his companions. In fact, he had already communicated with his wife through their wedding bands and had let her know that they were on their way.

Upon reaching the Great Tree, the horses were taken to the stables and bedded down while Elbren, Marius, and Nurvilya climbed the Elven ladders to the main chamber, once called Celeborn's Chamber, where Carnimiriel and the household awaited them...

Mirdain reached the Northern fences of Lorien with the messenger in the dead of night. There they met up with a fair-sized band of border guard, fifty at least. They all decided to make camp before setting out away from the relative safety of the trees. A heavy watch was set. The Guard that were already there were well-rested, and Mirdain was permitted to sleep the remaining few hours of the night. When he awoke in the early morning, the first thing he noticed was that the sun glowed red.

"An ill omen, I fear" whispered Mirdain mostly to himself.

The company set out immediately once they were ready. The first task was to purify the Nimrodel of the damage that had already been done. Mirdain was wary, yet confident because of Lady Carnimiriel's assurance. The messenger he had come with and some of the other border guard who had witnessed the previous attack led the party to the spot where orcs had first poisoned the river, as far as they could tell.

"Lord Mirdain, here it is." spoke one of them. "We are not sure what to do. As you can see, the waters are mirky, not at all normaly for the Nimrodel."

"No, certainly not. This is a most foul occurance, and it grieves me. But I think I have the proper remedy. Now I want everyone to be careful not to touch the water until I am finished."

Mirdain stepped lightly to the very edge of the water. There were rocks jutting out of the Nimrodel, and with a leap, he found the nearest one. He breathed a sigh of relief that he did not fall in the water. Mirdain carefully removed the crystal from his shirt. Not sure what to do at that point, he thought long and hard in order to find an incantation that would induce the crystal. Suddenly, he recalled some particular words of healing that he had learned from Galadriel what seemed a long time ago. The words spoke of water, and seemed the best option. Holding his crystal just above the water, Mirdain spoke the incantation softly, and the crystal began to glow a soft blue in response. Then he dipped the crystal into the water, careful not to touch the surface with his hand. At first nothing happened, but after a minute the Nimrodel began to glow with same soft glow as the crystal and it slowly spread outward and consumed all of the visibly affected water. Once this was done, Mirdain looked at his companions, then confidently stepped into the water and strode over to join them, unharmed. A smile went across his face.

"The Nimrodel is safe. It has the power of Galadriel on it now, and no orcs will be able to poison it. In fact, they would dare not even touch its waters again, if they were wise."

Mirdain's smile suddenly turned to a frown as a large raven swooped down out of the sky, barreled into the company, made a wide circle, and finally settled on the ground next to Mirdain. It was not afraid of him, and Mirdain realized that he was not afraid of it. However, several of the guard drew there bows.

"No, stop!" shouted Mirdain. "I do not think this bad bears us ill will. Not all ravens are bad, as we learned from the people of Erebor."

"Aye," croaked the raven. "Verily I come from there. My message to you is urgent. Fly from here this instant! You are beset both behind and in front. It's lucky for me that orcs don't usually suspect ravens, or I could not have brought this message to you. I must hurry on. Goodbye!"

"Wait!" pleaded Mirdain. "What is your name? Who sent you?" But the bird had already lifted into the air was speeding on its way. It did seem that they could hear it calling faintly "fly! fly!" Suddenly it occured to Mirdain that he did not understand the speach of ravens, and the creature had been speaking in the common tongue. "Radagast?" he thought to himself.

Not another moment passed before one of the guard shouted "M'Lord!" pointing frantically in the direction of the distant mountains. A dark wave moved across the grass down out of some mountain pass. "Yrch!" Mirdain muttered loudly. Waiting not moment longer, he commanded the company "Fly! As the raven advised, make for the trees. Even our fifty is no match for that band. There will be more border guard waiting, for they will surely see this danger as well."

The company sped back across the relatively short distance between the Nimrodel and the woods of Lorien. Mirdain was encourage by the thought that the pursuing orcs would be slowed by the newly enchanted Nimrodel. However, his hopes again turned to fear when a new company of orcs and possibly dwarves as well appeared over a knoll to the west, very near to the trees.

"The will cut us off! We must fight! But they are not many, and we should prevail. Take heart! Now I see what the raven meant by 'both behind and in front'."

Right in front of the trees the two parties clashed. The battle was viscious but short. Even as Mirdain and his company were being driven back toward the other band of orcs, a huge company of border guard poured out of the trees and decimated the Red Hammer (for Mirdain was sure now that this was the Red Hammer attacking them). All of the orcs and ideed the dwarves that had attacked Mirdain and the border guard were slain. The orcs that pursued from behind apparently were not able to cross the Nimrodel, and were attempting to find a way around. Mirdain turned to address all of the Galadhrim that were were near him.

"Well done everyone. I think the pursuing ors will not dare to attack us so brazenly as these ones have, now that we outnumber them. Let us retreat hastily into the trees and take some rest. Carry the bodies of those of our brethren who were lost back into the trees, and then we will give them their proper burials."

Some hours later, with that task complete, Mirdain searched for and found the captain of the company of border guard who had turned the tide of their mini-battle.

"I commed you. You have done our people a great service. I will be in your debt."

"No, m'lord. I was merely doing what was right. We became aware of the existence of that band of orcs shortly after you set out for the Nimrodel. I only hope we can rest easy now, at least for a little while."

"I think we shall be able to. As for myself, I will make haste to Caras Galadhon as soon as I am rested. I will give Lady Carnimiriel news of what has happened, and hopefully Elbren if he has arrived." With that, they each took shelter in the own way among the tops of the golden trees.

Galadhon was furiously hurt at Ronin's words and even moreso by the fight that had broken out between them once they had been spoken. Ronin was like his foster-brother and he loved him well, but in those moments when Ronin's face grew pale and his eyes began to smolder, Galadhon would grow cold with fear and wonder...for it seemed that THAT Ronin, Galadhon did not know at all.

When Carnimirel had ceased the fight, she had separated them with a tone and look that promised a stern lecture of disappointment and anger. Galadhon had gone to his bed chamber in silence but his heart still burned wthin his chest at the betrayal.

"At least I have a mother," Ronin had said.

Galadhon drove his fist into the pillow on his bed as he sat down heavily.

"At least my father died a hero," Galadhon whispered through clenched teeth, though he would never have said that to Ronin.

Standing just outside of Galadon's chamber door, Lorfindur pursed her lips in concern as she overheard her cousin's angry words....for Lor knew the truth of who had killed Glorelion; worse, she knew that it would nearly destroy Galadhon if he were to ever learn that truth.

Time had stopped. All Anorast could feel was N-N's embrace. As he felt her arms encircle him, he was overwhelmed by his emotions. Alone so long, never having been truly loved, her touch melted his heart. An outpouring of love for her came over Anorast. Yet it was tempered by another feeling, of responsibility, of protectiveness. Having sworn to protect N-N, and knowing he cared for her so deeply, Anorast knew he would let nothing harm his love while he lived and breathed.

Sliding a hand up to hold her head, Anorast leaned down to look at N-N's face. For the first time, he saw a smile on her face. A radiant expression lit her features as they looked at each other. Anorast had never seen such a smile upon any face that looked upon him, and inside him he felt warmed by the affection N-N displayed towards him. He felt contentment, and knew that he had at last found a kindred soul. Though their experiences were far different, the two were amazingly alike. And looking into her face, Anorast knew he would never wish to leave N-N.

'I do not wish to ever see you leave. Stay by my side always, my love.'

After his last word, Anorast leaned forwards and gently kissed N-N. As their lips touched, the two lost track of all time; everything besides them disappeared. Only the two of them existed, completely alone, completely together. For Anorast, his previous emotions were nothing compared to the explosion of love and yearning that came from N-N, and that he felt for her. Around both of them, a storm of emotions raged: love, fear, pain, wonder, hope. The two spirits, so similar in experience, separated until now, swept together in a powerful blend of passion and love.

However, the outer world made its presence known. It was still snowing, and the wind had not let up. Gradually Anorast and N-N became aware again. As night fully came down upon them, the temperature dropped. N-N shivered violently in the cold; the cloaks protecting her had slipped down as the two had embraced, letting the frigid wind reach her again. Anorast felt her shaking, and was shocked to feel her clothing. It was completely soaked, and still cold. As long as she still wore them, she was still at risk of freezing.

'My love, your clothes! They are so cold and wet. You need to get out of them, else the storm may still take your life!'

As soon as Anorast said the words, he realized what he had said. Instantly, his pale features turned scarlet. Glancing at N-N, he saw her cheeks were red as well. Looking down, he spoke again.

'I'm sorry if you thought I meant anything besides what I said. But it is true, my dear, you do need to change out of your wet garments. You can wrap yourself in the cloaks, and I have several blankets among my gear. I will turn my back.'

Anorast looked down at N-N, who nodded. True to his word, Anorast turned. After a few moments, he felt a hand upon his shoulder. Turning back, he found N-N buried under the cloaks he'd set about her, and a wet bundle of leather clothing.

'I won't bother trying to dry your garments in this weather. However, you will need some clothing to wear, eventually. Where is your gear?'

Elbren, Marius, and Nurvilya entered the Great Chamber and instantly two young Elves burst forth with cries of "Father!", accompanied by merry laughter. Elbren dropped to his knees and enveloped his daughters within his arms as they simultaneously began to tell him all that had transpired since he had departed more than a month before.

"Mercy!" Elbren laughed, kissing their rosy cheeks, "there is plenty of time for all of your tales of mischief and adventure!"

"Oh, we were very good, Father," Lorfindur suddenly grew serious and her voice dropped to a whisper, "it was Ronin and Galadhon who got into trouble."

Rosmarien's eyes narrowed in disapproval, "Lor, Mother will tell him all of that."

Elbren looked from one to the other and nodded, "Aye, let us not yet speak of unpleasant matters. Look, I have brought two new members of the Mithril Knight Guild. This is Marius, son of Eomer and Prince of Rohan," Marius bowed his head in greeting as the girls giggled and curtseyed in return, "and this is Nurvilya, a Knight in Training."

Lor and Rosmarien curtseyed again and then stepped aside as Galadhon approached quietly.

"Greetings and welcome home, Uncle Elbren," Galadhon said, his voice husky with emotion.

"Greetings, nephew," Elbren studied the young Elf's face, "I have brought you something from Edoras. We will speak of it tomorrow."

Galadhon's eyes brightened at Elbren's words, "Aye, Uncle!"

Elbren then walked to his wife, who stood proud and tall near the center of the chamber, very much looking like the Lady of the Golden Wood, and he kissed her cheek softly, "It is good to see you, Carnimiriel."

"And you, Elbren," she replied softly and took his hand into hers, clasping it warmly. "I have missed you," she said in a whisper meant only for him.

Their hands still entertwined, Elbren motioned for Marius and Nurvilya to join them, "Marius and Nurvilya, this is my wife, the Lady Carnimiriel, Lady of the Golden Wood who is both wise and knowing. Carnimiriel, this is Marius, son of Eomer, and Nurvilya, who are both in training to join the Mithril Knights."

As soon as he finished speaking, Elbren noticed Ronin standing to the side, almost hidden from view, but when the words "Mithril Knights" had been spoken, the boy had stepped forward slightly.

"Ah, Ronin," Elbren smiled, "it's good to see you, lad."

Ronin's eyes brightened at the words and he bowed slightly, "Welcome home, Lord Elbren."

He and Galadhon had an interesting confrontation earlier today , Carnimiriel told Elbren though their enchanted wedding rings.

Elbren nodded in acknowledgement and then said, "The hour is late, but my companions and I have had a long journey. Let us eat and visit to our content, and then we shall have chambers prepared for them in our house for this night, at least."

It was not long before the tables were laid with cold meats, nuts, fruits, breads, and cheeses. Wine, water, and ale flowed freely while chambers were prepared for Marius and Nurvilya. The Great Chamber was massive; the Great Tree was as its center while a mural covered the circular walls with images of the Galadrim history. Elbren sat at the center table with his wife and children close by, enjoying the meal and the company. It was then that Miriel told him about the attacks by the Red Hammer and that Mirdain and a company of Galadrim were even then out in the Wood investigating reports of orcs near their borders.

Elbren looked quite distressed at the news and frowned; Carnimiriel placed her hand on his arm, "The Red Hammer concerns you greatly, I can see."

"Indeed," Elbren nodded, "they are a formidable enemy not only because of their battle skills, but they also have some knowledge of the Dark Arts, for they were able to construct an energy source at the Falls of Rauros that used the Arkenstone as its catalyst. They very nearly succeeded in not only establishing themselves at the Falls but in also destroying the Knights who went to stop them."

Miriel's eyes grew dark, "That does sound foreboding."

Elbren went on to tell her that the Arkenstone had been splintered and that Dirk had it and was journeying to Erebor to return it to the Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain. It was quite late when Elbren finally told the tale in full to his wife, and others who were listening, and when they stood up to retire for the remainder of the night, they discovered that the twins had fallen asleep where they sat even though Ronin and Galadhon were both listening intently and with wide eyes.

"I'll put them to bed," Elbren told Miriel as he lifted his daughters into his arms.

*******************************************

With Lorfindur and Rosmarien tucked into their beds in the chamber that they shared, Elbren then ascended the Elven ladder to the double chamber shared by Ronin and Galadhon. Entering the chamber, Elbren first looked at Galadhon, whose eyes opened immediately and he sat up quickly.

"What did you bring me?" he asked excitedly.

Elbren smiled and sat down on the side of the bed, "I have brought you a horse that once belonged to one of the Mithril Knights. The horse's name is Hasel and he was wounded badly when his master fell. It will be your challenge to befriend him and ensure that his recovery is complete."

Galadhon grinned, "I will, Uncle."

"You and Ronin fought today," Elbren stated.

Galadhon looked away quickly, "Yes."

"We will speak more of it tomorrow," Elbren said firmly, "however, you should understand now, Galadhon, that I have enough to take care of in Lothlorien and elsewhere without having to scold you and Ronin on matters of which you know better."

Galadhon nodded, "I understand."

"Good," Elbren stood up, "I will expect no more incidents of this type."

When the Elven Lord entered Ronin's sleeping chamber, he found the boy standing by the window and staring out at the Elven city, the lanterns twinkling in the darkness.

"Did you see my mother?" Ronin asked quietly, turning his head slightly.

"Yes," Elbren replied, "I spent a great deal of time with her, in fact. She is well."

Ronin walked to his bed and climbed in, "Is she coming here?"

"Not directly," Elbren answered, "but I will be meeting up with her again soon."

"Did she send me a message?" Ronin asked hopefully.

Elbren's heart sunk at the question; he knew that Tempest loved her son and protected him with a fierceness that was almost frightening; yet, they had both forgotten to have her write a message to her son.

"We have been battling against the Red Hammer, Ronin, and we've hardly had a moment to breathe, in all honesty," Elbren began.

"She did not, then," Ronin stated firmly, almost angrily.

"She did not send a message in parchment, Ronin, but she knows that you are safe here and that gives her much peace of mind to do what she must," Elbren said gently, "you are always close to her heart and in her thoughts, I promise you that. She speaks of you often."

Ronin nodded at that and Elbren could see the same fierce devotion in his own eyes.

"I will see her soon, Ronin, and she may come here when she returns from her journey--"

"Where did she go?" He asked.

"South," Elbren said perhaps too quickly, for he would not tell him that she had gone to Mordor, where he had been born, "we are on a search for more news of the Red Hammer. She left Edoras almost a week ago. Now, get some sleep and tomorrow I want you to show me how you are doing with the bow; I hear that you are doing well."

Ronin's face broke out into a wide smile, "I am trying, Elbren."

"Good," Elbren tossled the boy's hair, "I will look forward to the demonstration then."

***************************************************

"So Nurvilya is the one who harbours the fell spirit," Carnimiriel said.

They were alone in their chamber and the night was deep and dark in the Elven city. Elbren had bathed and changed into comfortable robes and now lay upon the bed, loving the comfort of being in his own home.

"Elbren?"

"Yes?" he replied, turning his head to look at his wife as she brushed her long, golden hair.

"Nurvilya harbours the spirit?"

"Oh," Elbren yawned, "yes." He frowned then, "And I have no ideas on what to do to help her."

"I will speak to her tomorrow," Carnimiriel stated, putting down her brush and standing up, "I am not at all sure, Elbren, that I will be able to rid her of this spirit."

"I have faith in you," Elbren smiled and slid underneath the covers of the bed.

"I don't know what this may involve," Miriel continued, getting into bed beside him. "I can't even begin to guess."

"You will find the answer," Elbren yawned again.

"I am appreciative of your confidence," she replied, "but I need for you to understand that this is ancient knowledge and ancient spirits....I am just not...." she paused and looked over at her husband. His eyes had closed and his breathing had softened. "Ah well," she whispered, kissing his forehead, "we will speak of it tomorrow. Sweet dreams."

Ronin had been keenly disappointed not to see his mother's familiar figure among the arriving Knights, but he kept his hope alive by thinking that she must have sent word to him through Elbren. He had listened with fascination as Elbren had recounted the events of that last week, treasuring everything that was said that involved Tempest somehow.

He had sat near Galadhon at dinner, but their eyes never met. They had been avoiding each other since the incident, and Ronin was quite ashamed of the trouble he had caused. He wanted desperately to apologize, but his pride prevented him from doing so. He was nearly sick at the thought of the fight, and he had not been able to eat all day.

He was glad when Elbren had come to see him, though his heart ached when the elven lord informed him that he did not have any letters from his mother. A seed of bitterness had begun to grow in this year since he last saw her, and he realized, with the clarity of thought that is often given to children, that all this trouble with Galadhon was only a reaction to the deep seeded sadness that gnawed him inside. After Elbren had gone, he determined to apologize to Galadhon tomorrow.

What was it that Elbren had said? His mother had gone south. South? For what purpose? No, he could see it in the elven lord's eyes: his mother had gone to Mordor.

Mordor.

He thought of it often. For him, it held no shadows or grief. He had been happy there. She had been happy there. At least, he had thought she was happy. They had been together. That was the last time they had really been together. Ronin looked out upon the cloudy skies and wondered if somewhere, Tempest was watching the same moon.

The moon was almost full tonight. Was it just his imagination, or did he hear the distant howling of a lone wolf? His mother always liked having the wargs around the fortress, when they used to live in Mordor. She said they made her feel safe. She could even talk to them, and Ronin always begged to watch her as she held conversations with them.

"Can I learn to talk with them too?" he would ask.

She had smiled, one of her rare smiles, and said, "Perhaps someday, though I fear I would prove a poor teacher."

"Who taught you to speak the language of wolves and other beasts?" he had asked.

"A white wizard," she said, smoothing his hair back so that it didn't hang in his eyes.

"A wizard? Could he do magic tricks?" he asked in childish glee.

"He did many tricks, but he is gone now." Her tone suggested that the conversation was over, but Ronin was too fasinated to let it end there.

"Maybe he'll come back someday and teach me how to speak to animals...."

"I'm afraid he didn't like me very much, so I doubt he would agree to teach you. Besides, he won't be coming back because he's dead," Tempest said with finality.

"Maybe it was a magic trick!" he had said, and his eyes lit up at the thought.

Tempest leaned down and picked him up, holding him close and giving a little laugh. "I certainly hope it wasn't," she had said. "Though, I suppose with wizards, one can never be sure..."

Nienor-Niniel watched Anorast walking away in order to search for her gear. He had to find her horse and the bags it was carrying, bring her belongings to their sheltering place, she knew it very well. But the night had fallen, and it was dark and cold, and more even than the chill, she shivered of fear and worry. Wrapped up into a cloak and a blanket, Nin could not really get up, move and do anything, a situation she thoroughly disliked. It gave her the time to think, and maybe it was not the best for her to turn around ideas in her mind.

And what if he would not come back? Either hurt or lost, or not willing to come back. When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the taste of their kiss upon her lips. She had never felt anything alike, giving up her soul without any reserve. He had to come back. Maybe she would not have survived the storm without his help, but Anorast had so much more strength than she had, both physically and mentally. NN thought of what he said: I do not wish to ever see you leave ' but this was so easy to say and so hard to live up to. And what if it is not I who am leaving, but he? What can I add to a life like his? I want to be neither a burden, nor a mission.

Yet, when she heard the wind howling, and saw the snowflakes enter even into their shelter, some evaporating in the flames of the fire, she was afraid. She thought how he had taken care of her, all the time and felt the urge to be useful in any way. Waiting like this, without doing anything, but far too excited and worried to sleep was unbearable. She took the cloak he had covered her with when carrying her, it was of course rather long for her and fixed it around her with a belt, so she could get up and occupy at least her hands to make time go by. She put new branches on the fire, those that had been inside their shelter and were rather dry, put a pot over it, melting some snow. She knew that in her bag she always had a few herbs, which might as well warm them, clear her mind a bit or protect her from fever, if it would proof necessary. She spread some dried mint, vervain and raspberry leaves in the boiling water, and inhalated the scent rising from it, waiting.

And what if she would not wait? Why not leave, even if she had promised the contrary. So she could keep this moment as a jewel among her memories, a promise of hope that gave her a reason to live. Why wait until pain would create gaps between them? For pain there would be, Nin was sure of it. She had been through this before. Why take the risk again? It would be so much easier to run.

Only her hands were speaking an entirely different language. Even though she was feeling cold, wrapped up in a cloak only, she had folded neatly every inch of tissue that had covered her at some moment of this long and cold day, suspended her wet clothes as far as it was possible, prepared two little bowls to drink something warm and without any intention had chosen two alike, swept the newly fallen snow from the ground, done everything to keep this small place as comfortable as possible, to honour the care Anorast had taken in building it.

After a while that had seemed endless to her, she heard footsteps on the snow, footsteps only, no hooves. N-N did not turn around, waiting until Anorast was close enough to lay his hand on her shoulder. Nothing but this short touch made her shiver.

He carried her saddlebag over his shoulder and seeing it small and light, N-N was once more aware of the gap between them. She owned nothing, almost nothing and felt as if she had nothing to give as well. Anorast was alone and his face showed an expression of sadness that had not been there when he had left.

NN looked, no stared, at him and then around, and she knew. Gedeon, she whispered, the name of her horse.

Anorast nodded. I am sorry. He was already dead when I arrived. There was nothing to do.

Nienor-Niniel looked down to the ground, drawing her shoulders in, almost like a snail wishing to hide in its shell. Gedeon had been with her for long years, a faithful companion, but she was unable to shed any tears. Only now, she realized fully the danger that had been threatening her. It could have been me, she said, and maybe it should have been me.

Before she let this thought grow on her mind, she stretched her hand out to take her gear. She knew that somewhere inside she must have another set of clothing, probably even thinner than the one she had been wearing, but at least dry and at her size.

I would like to get dressed, she said with a very small echo of a smile, remembering the short moment of embarrassment earlier. Then, when neither of them was looking at the other, she continued to speak. Maybe I could stay for a little while, until the storm has completely calmed down. I would like to burry my horse.

Anorast's answer was immediate: Yes, we could stay and we could burry your horse.

Nin was aware of the difference in their words, and just wished that she would find the same strength to believe.

The howl of a wolf startled the gate guards of Caras Galadhon and caused them to eye the wood with some unease.

"I've never heard a wolf so close to the city," said one of the guards, stringing his Galadrim long bow.

"I've never heard a wolf in the Golden Wood at all," replied his comrade.

"Dark times are upon us. Orcs...Dwarves....the Nimrodel becoming poisoned.....evil never sleeps," said their commanding officer.

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Lorfindur awoke to Rosmarien's cries for help; she threw the covers away from her and ran to her sister's bedside, shaking her and calling her name.

"Rosmarien! Rosmarien!" Lor called.

Her twin suddenly drew in a quick breath, cried out as if in pain, and then sat bolt upright, her face pale and a thin veil of perspiration upon her skin.

"What's wrong?!" Lorfindur asked, truly frightened.

"Go and get Mother," Rosmarien whispered, "I have had a horrible dream."

"Of what?!"

"Evil never sleeps," came Rosmarien's ominous response.

Trodding through the deep snow, Anorast was focused on finding N-N's horse. He wanted to retrieve her packs, what little she had. He'd seen how little she owned, and knew that she would want it back. Anorast had no illusions about finding her horse alive; even under his blanket and the trees, his own stallion would be very cold. A horse out on the plains unprotected would be dead.

Though it seemed to be a futile search, the elf looked regardless. Seeing the look on his love's face after asking about her gear, Anorast had felt torn with the sadness in her eyes. He could not bear to see expression of loss. After hearing her story, he knew how little N-N had, and how much she had lost, since being driven from Imladris. If it was in his power, Anorast would keep that look off her face.

Looking into the driving snow, Anorast sighed. As much as he tried to forget, reality still forced its way into his thoughts. N-N was a mortal. She would die, and escape this world of pain and suffering. They would be parted, eventually. In death, N-N would leave his life, and he would stay, cursed to wander Middle Earth until its end. Anorast knew he would not be able to change her fate, for that power was given only to the Valar. If he were to pass into the west, perhaps he could take N-N with her, but the longing of the west had never touched him. Anorast was a creature of Middle Earth, and somehow, he was bound to it. Somewhere in himself the reason rested. Yet regardless, he would stay, and suffer the losses that his curse brought him. Though N-N would eventually die, Anorast would stay beside her until the end. He had sworn to stay, and stay he would. He would not leave. However, Anorast knew he would have to convince N-N. She knew he was an elf, and in her past doubt had resulted in catastrophic consequences. Anorast knew he had to work to keep N-N from losing hope, and faith in himself. Perhaps the future'but none but the Valar could know.

Anorast's thoughts were broken as his sharp elvish eyes spotted a large mound. The surrounding expanses of snow were completely flat, except for this one spot. If N-N's fallen horse lay beneath the snow there, it would be exactly where he expected it. Where he'd found her was not far away, and she couldn't of gone far in the snow. Running over, Anorast bent down and began pushing the snow away with his hands. He had several feet to go through, but it was light, and soon he uncovered a leather bag. Anorast was right; he recognized the bags. Feeling about the body of the horse, he found the buckle and pulled the bag away. He did not remember seeing any more gear, so Anorast picked up the few small bags he had gotten and turned back towards the camp.

As he walked around the large tree, he found N-N up and about. She'd cleared the campsite, and had put another pot of water over the fire, which now burned brightly. N-N seemed to have belted his cloak about her, keeping her warm and protected while allowing her to do things. She was facing away from Anorast as he returned, tending the fire. She did not turn as he walked up to her. Anorast reached out and touched her shoulder. As N-N turned, he saw her face light up at seeing him back, then fall as she saw her horse was not with him. When N-N looked at the saddlebags he held, Anorast felt her spirit shrink, depressed or saddened by some thought.

N-N looked up, and he sighed. 'Gedeon?' she asked. Anorast nodded sadly. 'I am sorry. He was already dead when I arrived. There was nothing to do.'

Saddened, N-N looked down, hunching over. Anorast watched, wishing there was something he could do to ease her suffering.

'It could have been me, and maybe it should have been me.'

Anorast heard her speak, and was saddened by her words. He could see N-N falling into despair. Yet before he could reach towards her to comfort her, N-N reached out her hands to take the cold bags he still held.

'I would like to get dressed. Maybe I could stay for a little while, until the storm has completely calmed down. I would like to bury my horse.'

Frightened by her phrasing, Anorast replied immediately. 'Yes, we could stay and we could bury your horse.' He knew N-N had already begun to doubt him, and perhaps herself. Anorast quickly moved to stop her doubt.

'There is no need to leave immediately, and I will take you anywhere you wish, once the storm clears. I would hardly be a good guardian if I let you wander away without any protection, and I would never freely let my love leave my side.'

Laying his hand on N-N's shoulder, Anorast drew her close to him. Holding her close, Anorast could feel that she was still cold, despite his cloak covering her. Regretfully, he pulled back, and looked down at her.

'In the meantime, you are right, you do need to get dressed. I'll work on getting a proper dinner started, you can stay under my blankets. It will be warmest there.'

N-N nodded, then taking her bags with her, went back to the makeshift bed. Sitting down, Anorast pulled some dried meat and vegetables out of his pack, sitting near the fire. Adding them to the hot water N-N had placed over the fire, he began to work on their dinner. He could hear N-N dressing behind him, but felt no urge to turn around. Though he loved N-N with all his heart, Anorast knew she was like a crystal goblet, if mishandled she would shatter. Many of the men and elves he'd met throughout his life would have chosen differently than he did, but Anorast cared too much for N-N to do such a trivial thing. Only N-N could give her love to him, and it was that he wished for more than anything. It mattered not to Anorast whether they ever touched, so long as they loved each other.

'That smells quite good. When will it be done?' Feeling a hand on his shoulder, Anorast looked over to see N-N kneeling beside him. She was dressed in old and thin, yet dry, leather clothing which she'd clearly made herself, with his cloak draped about her again. Smiling at her, Anorast put an arm about her shoulders.

'Quite soon. When we get to the next town, I will get you some warmer clothes.' Seeing N-N shake her head slightly, Anorast chuckled. 'No, it isn't any trouble. I may not have that much, but I have enough money to manage. Do you think I'd let you freeze? Life has been hard enough to you before now, and I intend to change that. You deserve much more than you have gotten.'

Leaning forwards to stir the stew, Anorast smiled at N-N. Protected by the shelter, and warmed by the fire in front of them, the two were set to stay, until the storm blew itself out above them. They had themselves, and needed nothing else.

Only later Nienor-Niniel learned that it had taken two days for the storm to calm down. . It had been the longest and coldest storm that men could remember in this part of the world and it was obvious that something about it was not natural. The cold and the fear had found a way to enter the homes of the country and it was only a question of time until a new battle would have to be fought. But for her it had been a moment out of time, endless, eternal and yet all too short. She could never forget a single second of those days, the days she spent with Anorast alone in the wilderness

So, he had come back, still with the same quiet, the same assurance, and the same expression of love. And despite her grief over Gedeon's death, she felt the excitement when he held her close to him. How long had she not been close to somebody, anybody, letting any feeling enter her heart? It was confusing, frightening, marvellous, all together and she could not tell what she was really experiencing. And when Anorast pulled her back, her regret was mingled with relief. NN did not want to loose herself in this living dream as if it had a chance to become real and alive. Not yet.

While she slipped into her summer clothing ' but dry and at her size ' she smelled the scent rising from the fire, and started to smile. Anorast was cooking something for her, and somehow it made her realize that she did not fear at all, he would turn around. 'You already trust him' she thought, not sure, once more what to think of it. Her clothes were far too thin for the season, so she pulled his cloak again around her. She would have wanted something of her own to shelter her, but even her Mithril Knight cloak was soaked.

'That smells quite good. When will it be done?' she put her hand on his shoulder, only lightly and only for a second, just to show her presence. But as soon as he looked at her, she removed it quickly, as if a sparkle of fire had burned her hand. Was he aware of it? Nin was not sure. Smiling at her, Anorast put an arm about her shoulders. However difficult she found it to make from her side a gesture towards him, she did not shrug back under his touch nor did she try to withdraw herself from it.

'Quite soon. When we get to the next town, I will get you some warmer clothes.' Seeing N-N shake her head slightly, Anorast chuckled. 'No, it isn't any trouble. I may not have that much, but I have enough money to manage. Do you think I'd let you freeze? Life has been hard enough to you before now, and I intend to change that. You deserve much more than you have gotten.'

Nienor-Niniel bit on her lips. She felt the gap between them again, between the poverty and brevity of her live and the glimpse of power and eternity that she had always felt about him. She realised that he tried to make her comfortable, to give her a feeling of security. And she would do anything to hear the sound of his chuckle again. Nevertheless she shook her head with some more energy.

I get so much more than I deserve. she answered. But I don't want you to get me anything warm except a bit of this stew, when it will be ready.

It was ready soon, and as delicious as the smell had promised. But probably Anorast could have served her a living snake; she would still have found it delicious. The warmth of the food chased the last remnants of the cold that had filled her. Suddenly, Nin felt as if an ocean of time was lying ahead of them, the feeling of emergency had gone. She was finally warm, and now for sure safe, saved indeed, rescued. In wonder, she looked straight into Anorast's eyes, still astonished by the look within them. For a short moment she felt that she could not bear the emotion getting holding of her, and she shivered again. How little she knew of him!

In fact, a huge part of those two days they just discovered each other. Nienor-Niniel could have listened to his clear elvish voice for ages, and he had tales of ages to tell. She drank every word of it, trying to understand what had driven them together, wishing to find where her place could be in his universe, how her own life was just like one raindrop in comparison to his, which seemed like an ocean. Her arms folded around her knees, she laid her head on them, watching Anorast intensely, but searching no other contact than with his eyes.

He had been found, just like herself, and all that he told about his early years recalled this feeling that had obsessed her for so long, this feeling of not having a place in the world where she had been living in, the feeling of being different from all those surrounding. She had never imagined that an elf could be lost in this world, just as lost as she had been. Yet, he had succeeded where she had failed, in giving a sense to his quest and an aim to his life. He had been able to distinguish between wrong and right, resisting not only temptation, but even torture.

NN did not want to insist on those dark memories in Anorast's life. His voice had become like ashes, and the darkness almost crept out of his words. She had not asked any questions, and hardly dared to breathe, for fear of making him stop, it seemed to her that anything could break the flow of words, that never again she should get a chance of such a complete trust. For a short moment, she closed her eyes, afraid of even the echo of the pain.

Immediately, Anorast stopped speaking and NN looked up in surprise, finding his glance again, looking puzzled. Have I made you tired? he asked softly and she could not believe that even now, her feelings had been his first concern.

Never, she answered. never could I be tired of your voice. But how could she show him what she had felt in his words?

Finally, she moved closer to him, just enough to take his hands in hers. Slowly, carefully, she took off the gloves he had been wearing all the time since she met him for the very first time, and to which she had never paid attention before. Before the elf could say anything, she put her finger on his lips, whispering only Don't speak.

She let her own thin fingers slowly glide over the palm of his hand, just like a blow, then raised his left hand to her face, holding it against it her cheek first, then in a slow and soft movement, letting it glide over to her lips. She covered each inch of the thin white scar around his wrist with a kiss, her eyes closed. NN had found no words inside herself to tell what she was feeling and just hoped that Anorast would understand her, maybe better than she understood herself.

Of her life she told much less, there was less to tell and however hard she was denying it, Nin was getting tired. However, she shared some of the moments of the first dreadful year after leaving Rivendell and she also told about the three years in Rohan, her child and her marriage, her voice veiled by fear of his reaction once more. She was afraid, that he might judge her weak, for having taken a harbour when it seemed to be possible and that now she might just have the same reasons. But as she had listened before, he did listen now.

When finally, she fell asleep, Anorast laid her softly on the ground, covering her with one of his blankets, which he wrapped closely around her. Already drifting away, Nin murmured something he did not understand and half in sleep, she nestled herself into his arms, not letting him any choice but to stay motionless if he did want to wake her. Her eyes were closed, her breath regular and her face peaceful