Chapter Two

Aragorn shivered and tried in vain to brush the freezing snowflakes off his clothing. He looked out the mouth of the cave at the swirling snowstorm. They had been lucky to spot the small cave, or else they might have frozen outside.

“Aragorn!” he heard Gandalf cry from somewhere behind him. The snow was blocking was little sun was left, so the cave was almost completely dark. “There’s some wood back here, we should start a fire,” he said. Aragorn found Gandalf, seeing that his outer cloak was covered in a thin layer of white powdery snow, and snowflakes clung to his beard and bushy eyebrows. He collected an armful of wood and brought it back nearer to the mouth of the cave, but not so close that the snow would blow in.

“Gandalf,” he said, smiling at the old wizard. “Would you be so kind as to provide us with some fire?” he asked.

Gandalf knelt down to the pile of wood and a few blue sparks flew from his fingertips, creating a small flame.

“Thank you, my friend,” Aragorn said with a chuckle.

Gandalf smiled. “Don’t mention it.”

The fire didn’t grow too much bigger as most of the wood was damp, but it provided them with some warmth. Gandalf sat down on the floor of the cave and took off his outer cloak, placing it next to the fire to dry. Aragorn took off his cloak too, dismayed to find that his shirt was also soaking wet and freezing. He sat down by the fire, peeling off his shirt and laying it down. He picked up his pack and rummaged through its sparse contents, taking out a piece of bread to share with Gandalf. They both took a small drink from his canteen of Miruvor, then he got out his other cloak, the only thing remaining in his small sack. The cloak was far too thin for him to wear on their journey across the Misty Mountains, but it helped warm him as he put it over his bare shoulders.

They had begun their journey from Rivendell three days before, and had spent the first night at the foot of the Misty Mountains. The next night they had slept under the shelter of some trees, as the snow and wind was not too heavy. The night before they had found an alcove under a small pile of rocks, and they slept there. The weather had been nearly perfect, and they had covered a great distance. This day they had not been so fortunate. They had started off before dawn, but ere noon came a fierce snowstorm had started. They rested a short while a few hours ago, but they both knew that they could go no further in this weather. Gandalf had spotted the cave just as Aragorn felt he was going to collapse from weariness. With exceptional weather they would be off the mountains by late tomorrow. Their journey would have been faster, perhaps, if they had brought their horses, but Gandalf had insisted that they not bring the steeds across the Mistys.

Aragorn stood, squinting at the back of the dim cave. He grabbed a piece of wood from the fire, using it as a torch. “Gandalf,” he said. “I’m going to see about the back of the cave,” he said.

Gandalf nodded, lighting his wooden pipe. “Very well, call me if you find anything.”

Aragorn walked further back into the depths of the cave, finding that it was much larger than he had first thought. He jerked his head, sure that he heard a sound from near the back of the cave. He held the torch out farther, straining his eyes to see in the darkness. He smelled a foul stench from somewhere, but all he saw was a small puddle of water. Suddenly a rat came out, running about his feet and squeaking. Aragorn chuckled.

He returned to Gandalf, seeing the old man had almost dozed off while enjoying his pipe. Aragorn didn’t feel altogether right about their temporary dwelling place, but he lay down by the fire and allowed himself to drift off to sleep.

***

Aragorn’s eyes fluttered open, but he didn’t move or make a sound. From what he could see, it was a few hours before dawn and it was snowing softly. He heard a sound that slightly resembled a mouse scampering across the floor. He pressed his ear harder to the ground. The thing making the noise was far too large to be a mouse, that he could tell. He heard several more sounds of the same nature, but all very quiet. Suddenly the noises stopped. Aragorn’s heart skipped a beat. He should lie perfectly still for fear of alarming whatever it was that was hiding in the back of the cave, but if it was something that wanted to attack him, then Aragorn had no way of seeing what it was. He noticed a small puddle of melted snow a ways in front of him. He didn’t see anything in it at first, but then he saw a shadowy reflection of something creeping up behind him. Aragorn silently drew out his carving kinfe, not moving anything but his hand. Just as the thing was crouching to pounce on him, Aragorn bolted upright and thrust the knife into his attacker. He gasped, seeing that it was a small goblin. Goblins seldom were alone.

He stood silently, noticing that Gandalf was still fast asleep and that the fire was out. He crept slowly toward the back of the cave, then suddenly he stumbled over something. It was a dead goblin. He looked around in confusion as he saw several more dead goblins scattered all over the floor of the cave. He went on, hearing tittering noises again. He saw the luminous eyes of more goblins, staring at him. All at once they made a lunge for him. He cried aloud and drew out his sword, swinging it around feircly. The goblins shrieked as the arm of one was cut off. There seemed to be about three. Aragorn quickly gave the killing blow to the goblin whose arm he had sliced, and he felt one tackle him from behind. It wasn’t even half his size, but it had powerful claws that dug into his back, and sharp teeth that bit his neck. He cried out in pain and flipped it over so it landed on it’s back in front of them, sticking his sword deep into the squirming body. He drew out his weapon again, stained with the black blood of the goblins.

“Aragorn,” he heard Gandalf cry from the front of the cave. He looked back and saw the blue light of Glamdring approaching. A goblin ran quickly toward Gandalf, but then cowered back in fear of the sword. Gandalf finished it off with a nimble sword blow. He approached Aragorn. “What is going on, I thought this cave was empty?” he asked, sheathing Glamdring, whose light was now fading.

Aragorn shrugged, wincing from the pain in his neck. “I thought it was. But apparently there were goblins. And something else, I fear,” he said, showing Gandalf all the previously dead goblins, “For these I did not kill,” he finished.

Gandalf furrowed his bushy grey eyebrows, making them protrude even more. “We can only hope that it was an enemy of the goblins, yet also a friend to us,” he said. “For if the goblins themselves killed all these then they would surely have made a meal of them.”

Aragorn nodded. “I suppose there is no way to solve this puzzle.”

Gandalf then caught sight of the blood running down Aragorn’s neck. “My boy!” he cried, rushing over to get a better look at the wound. It was seeping through the thin cloak he wore.

Aragorn shrugged him off. “I shall be fine, it’s not too deep. I will last until we reach Mirkwood and can bind it properly,” he said, tearing off a strip of cloth from his cloak and winding it around his neck. He looked at the mouth of the cave. “Gandalf, we should go ahead and travel when we can, it looks as if the storm has stopped.

Gandalf nodded. “Quite right, I’ll get my things,” he said, heading back to the fireside and putting on his cloak again. Aragorn quickly put on his shirt and heavy cloak and slung his pack onto his shoulders. He stared out of the opening into the snow. It wasn’t too deep, and it had stopped falling. There was a faint hint of dawn close to the ground, but the sun would not come up for a while yet. The snow glittered with the last light of the moon and stars.

He looked at Gandalf. “Ready?” he asked.

Gandalf placed his hat on his head and picked up his staff, nodding. “Yes, ready. We should be off the mountains by tonight, if we can keep our pace quick and the weather remains good,” he said, and they departed from the cave.

***

It was a few hours after nightfall when Gandalf and Aragorn alighted from the mountains. They walked on for a few hours until they reached the river Anduin, then stopped for the night. In the morning they forded the river.

Aragorn and Gandalf had just crossed the river when dawn was beginning to break. Aragorn stared off eastward, in the direction of Mirkwood. He sighed. “If only the horses were here,” he said. “We could maybe make it to the woods this very day.”

Gandalf smiled at him, his eyes twinkling. “Yes…hm…” he said, looking south. “They should be close by now,” he said. Suddenly he gave three, long, almost ear piercing whistles, and Aragorn thought he heard faint stomping of horses hooves. His keen ears were not mistaken, for presently he saw his very own horse coming toward them at a fast pace, led by Shadowfax who, it seemed, was flying across the green grass. Aragorn looked in amazment as the horses drew ever closer.

“What, how…?” he stuttered.

Gandalf looked pleased with himself. “I sent Shadowfax and Roheryn ahead the night before we left with instructions to pass through the Gap of Rohan, then come back north by following the Anduin. I knew we would meet here at about the same time.”

Aragorn chuckled and shook his head. The old wizard always seemed to be one step ahead of him. “Well, at least now it will be easier for us to travel,” he remarked, grabbing the reigns of his horse and mounting him swiftly. The bareback Shadowfax bent down for Gandalf to mount him, and Aragorn clucked his tounge. “That is an amazing horse, my friend.”

Gandalf nodded, stroking the horse’s mane lovingly. “Not a better animal in all of the Great Lands,” he said, turning Shadowfax east. “Let’s go, I want to see the trees of Mirkwood before the sun disappears.”

They rode on for several hours, not stopping at all. Aragorn was astonished at how much faster Roheryn ran, apparently stimulated by his newfound friend Shadowfax, who was obviously not running at his full great speed. The hours seemed to fly by, and soon the tall trees of Mirkwood were in view.

Gandalf and Aragorn stopped to eat a few miles from the edge of the forest, their last meal before they reached the woods.

Aragorn tore off a piece of bread, handing it to Gandalf. “How do you propose we travel all the way to the realm of Thranduil, Gandalf? The trees of Mirkwood are dense and thick.”

“I know many secret paths used by occupants of the woods themselves, most likely we will reach the palace by tomorrow. It should be easy going. Besides, that cut of yours isn’t looking any better, you need elvish medicine to help that heal properly,” he added, looking worridly at Aragorn’s wound.

Aragorn smiled softly at his old friend. “Don’t worry, Gandalf, I’m sure we’ll both feel better once we settle comfortably into the beds of Thranduil’s palace,” he said, chuckling.

Gandalf looked annoyed, searching through a small bag he had slung over Shadowfax. “Where is that pipe…I need a smoke!”

***

The very first time Aragorn had ever entered Mirkwood he had been a very young man. He had traveled many times to the thick dark woods since then, but still every time he journeyed there it was like entering a new and foreign world. He followed Gandalf along twisted and dark trails, but he could tell the old wizard knew where he was going. Shadowfax even seemed to know what to do, while he sensed that his own horse was slightly nervous. Their first night spent in the woods was relieving, for he knew that it would be his last night in the wild for a few days. Now they were only a few hours from the realm of the king, and Aragorn would be glad to see his friends again.

“Does evil still exist in these woods, Gandalf, as it did when Bilbo Baggins passed through here?” Aragorn asked, knowing the tale well.

Gandalf shook his head slowly. “Most of the foul things have been driven out, to be sure, but there is always bound to be evil if there is no one watching out for it. Be on your gaurd, though it is most likely that we won’t see anything dangerous,” he replied.

Aragorn knew Gandalf was right, but he sensed a presence nearby, whether good or evil he could not tell. He had felt it nearly the whole journey, and it was very nearly confirmed in his mind when he saw all the dead goblins in the cave. He leaned over to Gandalf, worry in his eyes.

“Gandalf, I feel something-”

“I know,” Gandalf said softly. “I’ve felt it too. I cannot be sure we are being tracked by someone, or something, but I feel very strongly that we are.”

“Do you think we are in danger?” he asked. Their voices barely rose above a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Gandalf said solemnly, looking ahead.

***

Aragorn felt excitement building within him, for they were no less than an hour away from the northwestern part of Mirkwood, the realm of King Thranduil. They had stopped in a clearing to rest for a time, have a drink of Miruvor, and smoke their pipes. Aragorn grabbed his pipe from his mouth and put it on the ground, standing quickly and resting his hand upon the hilt of his sword.

“What is it?” Gandalf asked quietly.

Aragorn listened intently to the sounds of the woods. “There is something out there, I know it,” he said. Gandalf put out his pipe, standing slowly.

“Gandalf!” Aragorn cried, pointing to the old man’s sword, but it was too late. An enormous group of orcs had come upon them, crying out in their own foul tongue.

Aragorn and Gandalf drew out their swords quickly, Aragorn noticing how strongly his companion’s sword was glowing blue. Orcs came upon him, many at a time, but his skills as a ranger and woodsman did not let him down. He slew every orc that came close to him, but even so there seemed to be an overwhelming about of them. The swords of both men were slicing and clanging, never resting. A pair of nimble footed orcs had cornered Aragorn at a tree, both taunting him with little sword thrusts. As he blocked the blow of one the other leapt upon him, knocking Aragorn’s sword out of his hands and raising his filthy saber high in the air. Suddenly Aragorn heard the distinctive whiz of arrows, and the now dead orc on top of him began to fall forward, Aragorn rolling over just in time. The other orc had been shot too, and Aragorn saw that those had been the only remaining orcs, for Gandalf had finished off the rest of them.

“Gandalf,” cried Aragorn, standing and picking up his bloodied sword. “You carry arrows?” he asked, sheathing it. Gandalf shook his head, speechless, and nodded up toward a tree nearby. Aragorn looked toward it and gasped.

An elf woman hopped nimbly from a high branch of the tree, landing in a crouching position, then standing up slowly to her full height.

“What…?” Aragorn said, stumbling back a few feet.

Newra smiled, adjusting the quiver of arrows on her shoulder. “Le pennen Im tolel, Aragorn,” she said, smirking good naturedly. “I told you I was coming.”

Gandalf chuckled, reaching for his pipe again.

Aragorn bit his lip in anger. “Newra!” he cried. “Man agorech? Why are you here?”

“Aragorn,” Gandalf said, softly, looking into his eyes. “She just saved your life.”

Aragorn covered his face with a hand, walking over to where Newra was. He took her hand in his, kneeling with one knee. “Mae buiannen, hiril nin,” he said, kissing her hand. “You have my service, and my sword.”

She tossed her head slightly, fingering the hilt of her sword. “U-aniron, my lord, my own is able enough.”

Gandalf chuckled.

Aragorn bit his lip, standing. He grabbed Newra’s shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Newra, I told you not to come! Why are you here? You have spent your whole life in a haven of safety, you simply aren’t able enough to help us!” he cried.

She looked incredulously at him, wrenching away from his grasp. “My lord, who was it that slaughtered the orcs in the cave two nights before so you would not be harmed? Who just saved your life at the risk of exposing herself to your anger? Who has been following you throughout your whole journey, fending for herself and for you, just so she can save her sister?” Newra cried, her eyes boring holes in Aragorn’s face. She thrust her fist at her chest “Me. And, if I have not proved myself worthy and able in your eyes, then scales have been pulled over them.”

Aragorn looked at her, stunned to see her in such a feircly passionate state. Her blue eyes glittered with anger, for she had been unjustly treated, he knew that. He sighed.

“I apologize, Newra. I meant no harm for you, that is why I refused to bring you. I didn’t want to see you hurt. How did you get Elrond to allow you to go?” he asked. Gandalf chuckled when she didn’t say anything. Aragorn sighed. “Of course you didn’t ask him. Like a child.”

“Aragorn,” Gandalf said softly. “Look at her, see the fire and spirit in her eyes.”

Aragorn did look at her, seeing a young girl, yet at the same time seeing anything but a child. She was dressed in a dark green shirt and leggins with a sword hanging from her brown belt. A quiver and bow was slung over her back. She wore brown boots stained with the dirt of travel Her hair was hanging behind her back and she wore no jewels or finery. Her faced was smuged slightly with dirt and her hands bore a faint stain of dark blood. She looked anything but a princess.

He clapped his hand firmly on her shoulder. “Well, you aren’t exactly Caranloth anymore,” he said, smiling at her. “Gerich faer vara…but you have proved yourself well enough. I shall be glad of your company, my lady.

She smiled, placing her hand on his. “Avo ‘osto, hir nin, I shall not let you down.”

He frowned for a moment, looking around. “You brought no horse, I presume. How did you follow us?”

She smiled. “Elf kind are known for swiftly running, are they not? And it helped when you stopped for a rest to give me an easier time of catching up to you.”

“You can ride with me until we reach the kingdom,” he replied, signaling to Gandalf that they were ready to go.

“No, noro i roch chin,” she said, shaking her head. “I can travel on my feet.”

“Not a chance,” Aragorn replied, mounting his horse and offering Newra his hand. “You must be weary. Elves have a strange way of sleeping anyway, you can rest while we ride.” She consented, hopping easily upon Roheryn’s back behind Aragorn.

Gandalf chuckled as he and Shadowfax took the lead. “Never before have I seen little Erthenin like this,” he said to Aragorn, and Newra giggled. “You may be in for the time of your life, my boy.”

***

Aragorn gazed about in wonder as they entered the kingdom of the Silvan wood-elves. Beautiful houses were all around and not too far away he could see the palace of King Thranduil, ruler of Mirkwood. The trees were tall and majestic, and he could see the elves walking around, going about their daily buisness. They led their horses up the street toward the palace. Several elves looked their way and hailed greetings to them, having met either Gandalf or Aragorn before. Newra walked quietly behind Aragorn, apparently trying to stay out of sight. When they approached the palace, an armed gaurd stood in front of the door.

“Mithrandir, Dunadan,” he said, smile breaking across his face. “How glad I am to see you! I’m sure the King shall be too, but we have heard nothing of your coming, what is the purpose?”

“The Lady Arwen of Rivendell is being held as a prisoner some ways south of here. We wanted to stop here on the way, as we are weary, and I have a wound of battle,” Aragorn said, grimacing.

The elf nodded, stepping aside so they could enter. “I am sorry to hear that. Please, talk to the king,” he said. As they walked through, he caught sight of Newra. “Erthenin!” he cried, and she smiled, embracing him.

“Anar,” she said. “It has been so long. I suspect you still maintain your title of the most excellent gaurd in Mirkwood, eh?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.

“Ah, hiril Newra,” he said. “I don’t know about that. But I haven’t changed too much.”

She smiled. “Neither have I, mellon.”

As they walked into the palace Aragorn noticed the splendor of it, even though he had seen it many times before. They entered the throne room to see the king sitting upon his throne.

Thranduil stood. “Ai, the men of the north return!” he cried, rushing down to meet them. He embraced both Gandalf and Aragorn warmly, not noticing Newra who stood slightly behind them. “How wonderful to see you both here. But come, sit and speak with an old elf,” he said.

Aragorn noticed that Thranduil looked as young as ever, being, as an elf, gifted with an ageless appearance. A small band of leaves sat upon his fair hair, and he looked as fresh and bright as a man not yet well along in his years.

***

Newra had tried hard to stay out of sight, but was very glad when Anar had seen her, for she missed her old friend. The king had not seen her, and now she was alone in the throne room, Aragorn and Gandalf having gone off with Thranduil. She had missed this old palace dearly throughout her life, and had longed to see it again. But now she was nervous and almost afraid of what she might see.

Suddenly she saw Aragorn and Thranduil enter the room again, Aragorn smiling at her. “There she is, sire, we had forgotten her for a moment.”

When Thranduil saw her he took her hand and kissed her cheek warmly. “It is beyond words to say how much I have missed you, my dear, we all have,” he said.

She smiled and kissed his hand, bowing. “It is wonderful to see you again, your highness. I have missed you as well, and often wished I could return and visit.”

Aragorn looked on with a smile. “I didn’t know you knew these woods, Newra.”

“I visited here when I was a child,” she hastily said quietly.

Thranduil smiled at her, patting her hand. “You must be tired, my dear. Go and rest, your room is still as you left it the last time you came here.”

She smiled gratefully. “Hannon le, hir nin,” she said, and walked from the room.

“Losto mae, Erthenin,” he called out to her.

***

When Newra reached her room she found that the king was right, everything seemed the same as when she had come here last. It had been so long ago, but she remembered every moment.

She laid her pack upon her bed and the bow and quiver beside it. She took the sword off her belt and laid it softly on the pillow. Her very own sword, given to her on her 100’th birthday by her grandparents. Erthenin, it was called, for her.

She went to the window and opened it, looking with a smile down at the trellice that covered the wall, dotted with small white flowers. Nothing had changed. She climbed down, as she used to do, then walked a few yards over to a small grove of trees. It was a very pretty place where she used to come and think while she was staying there. There was a small pond lined with beautiful colorful flowers, and long green leaves hanging from the fruit filled trees. There was a little stone bench by the side of the pond, and she sat down on it, looking solemnly into the water.

“I thought I’d find you here,” she heard a voice say from across the pond. She felt fluttering in her stomach as she looked up. A youthful looking elf stood on the other side of the pond, looking with laughing eyes at her. He was very tall, with jet black hair and misty grey eyes. The clothes he wore were very similar to hers.

“Legolas!” she cried, jumping up, but her feet seemed stuck to the ground. He smirked playfully, crossing his arms.

“That’s all?” he asked. She laughed, finally finding her feet, and she rushed over to him. He grabbed her in a hug and swung her around. “Newra!” he cried, kissing her temple.

“Oh Legolas,” she said, unable to stop smiling. “It’s so wonderful to see you!” she said, breaking the embrace and taking his hands.

He smiled at her and cupped her chin for a moment. “My, my, how you’ve grown. First thing I know you’re a little girl, now you’re all grown up.”

She pushed his hand away shyly. “Not all grown up,” she said, blushing.

He took her hand. “Come, let’s go back inside and you can tell me all about your journey,” he said, leading her out of the grove. “I have yet to find out why you’re here.”

***

Newra sat on her bed with her hands folded in her lap. “And so I followed them,” she said.

Legolas laughed. “How did I know that would happen?”

She blushed, smiling. “And it was this morning when they found me. When we reached the kingdom I was so excited, it has been so long since I have seen it.”

Legolas smiled. “I’m sure Anar was glad to see you,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

She laughed. “I was surprised to see him, but very glad.”

“He missed you,” he said, willing her to look into his clear grey eyes. “We all missed you.” Her stomach did a flip flop.

Suddenly the door of the room was opened and Aragorn walked in. He smiled at them. “Legolas, na vedui,” he said, and the two shared a masculine embrace.

Legolas clapped his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “It has been too long, mellon nin. We seldom hear from you men of the west nowadays.”

Aragorn looked happily at Newra. “Hiril nin, I see you know the prince already, though I am hardly surprised. You seem to know everybody. Thranduil has called for a feast to be held in our honor, it is being prepared presently. You should change and join us when it is ready.”

Newra bit her lip, touching the hem of her worn and faded shirt. “I am so sorry, Aragorn, for I brought nothing else but what I needed. I have no other clothing.”

Legolas smiled at her. “Ai, u-‘osto, Newra. There still remains a good many of your clothes here in this very room, from when you last stayed here.”

“Thank you, Legolas,” she said, as both men walked out of the door.

***

Aragorn looked over at Newra, who was seated a few chairs down from him on the other side of the table. She was very beautiful, adorned in a sleveless silk gown as green as the leaves of trees in summertime. Her brown hair had been pulled back behind her ears and on one of her arms she wore a small silver band a few inches below her shoulder. She once again looked like the princess she was.

Prince Greenleaf, who sat beside him, seemed very happy to see Aragorn and Gandalf, and especially Newra. Thranduil had informed Aragorn that the two were close friends as children, and had not seen each other for many hundreds of years.

He turned to Thranduil, who was seated at the head of the table. Legolas usually sat next to him, but for this meal Aragorn had been given that honor. “Sire,” he said. “Had you heard any word concerning this matter, or who might be the source of it?”

Thranduil shook his head sadly. “No, I am sorry I have not.” He paused for a moment, then continued to eat. “Except rumors, and they may be little more than nothing.”

“But truth is usually the source, my friend,” said Gandalf, seated directly across from Aragorn.

Aragorn nodded. “Yes, mellon nin, what have you heard?”

Thranduil laid down his fork, looking with gravity at Aragorn. “Curunir,” he said.

Gandalf looked puzzled. “Saruman?”

Thranduil nodded. “Curunir is growing in his strength, it is true, and apparently his wisdom. I do not know whether he has fallen prey to the evil forces, but it is said that if he has, he worries over one thing alone.”

“What?” said Aragorn, listening intently.

Thranduil looked with aged, sad eyes into Aragorn’s face. “You, Estel.”

“What do you mean, me?”

“If he has indeed become a servant of the Dark Lord, then the rumors are no doubt true. He fears what you may become, my lord. He fears your blood, your strength.”

Aragorn turned his eyes downcast. “But what if he still remains our ally?” he asked.

Thranduil shrugged, picking up his fork again. “Then the rumors are untrue.”

Gandalf sighed, looking very disturbed. “It cannot be that it is true, or else I shall find out very quickly. On my journey I plan to pay a visit to Orthanc, to ask for wisdom from my friend Saruman, I’m sure all shall be revealed then.”

***

Newra sat silently as Aragorn and Gandalf talked with Thranduil. She knew she should be listening to what they had to say, but she was too distracted. Butterflies flew around within her, and she tried to keep her eyes glued to her plate. She felt like a foolish little girl. But she couldn’t help noticing Legolas, who, it seemed, had hardly changed since she last saw him. His grey eyes looked around at each person at the table, a smile lighting up within them when they rested on her face. She smiled shyly at him.

Earlier, when she had been preparing for dinner, she had remembered her last meeting with Legolas. The last time she had ever seen him. She had thought never to see him again, but Iluvatar and her own stubbornness had changed that.

She spoke not a word during the meal, the taste of the lush food bringing up memories from deep within her. This had been her home away from home, and how dearly she had missed it!

After dinner she went up to her room for the night after bidding a quick goodnight to Aragorn and Gandalf. Legolas and Thranduil seemed to disappear directly after the meal was over. She stepped into her room, inhaling the musty smell of age old furnishings mixed with the fresh scent of the greenery outside which filled the room. She ran her hand slowly across a sturdy, thick wooden dresser, pulling on one of the beautifully carved handles. The drawer was filled with several little items: a small worn book, flowers pressed between every page. A few small leaves from various trees.

“Man…?” she murmered, unwrapping an object in a white cloth that was about two feet long. A smile spread across her face as she saw what it was, dropping the cloth back into the drawer. It was a dagger, its blade smooth but no longer sharp. The handle was long and white with delicate carvings of elvish script runing up and down the sides. This was her old dagger, given to her by one of her brothers. Her very first weapon, and the only one she owned during her visits to Mirkwood. She had almost forgotten about it.

As she undressed for bed she looked out the window, seeing the way the sun still shone dimly, barely visible through the tall trees. She placed her hands on her warm face, wanting to think about Legolas, her childhood, unanswered questions that were nearly driving her mad. But she crept slowly into bed, resolving not to. She closed her eyes, snuggling under the thick quilt. She would think of nothing else but sleep.

(Sindarin)
Miruvor- a replenishing drink from Rivendell
Man agorech?- what did you do?
Mae buiannen, hiril nin- well served, my lady
U-aniron- I do not want it
Caranloth- Red Flower (the name given to Newra by Glorfindel in chapter one)
Gerich faer vara- you have a firey spirit
Avo ‘osto, hir nin- don’t worry, my lord
Noro i roch chin- ride your horse
Erthenin- Newra’s second name, meaning Abiding One
Mellon nin- my friend
Hannon le, hir nin- thank you, my lord
Losto mae- sleep well
Na vedui- at last
Ai, u-‘osto- ah, fear not
Iluvatar- the creator of Middle-earth (God)
Man?- what?