Never Enough Time

Days had passed on the road but Nauriel had made excellent time. The weather was fair and she has packed light which allowed her lithe, jet black mare, Satine, to carry her all the way to Gehanna in just over 2 days. She had seen people on the road but people usually kept to themselves and no one even recognized her in her plain, riding clothes and hooded cloak.

Gehanna had grown yet again since the last time she had been here. There were now square turrets here and there on the walls. The last raid from the North had been particularly vicious but Gehanna’s battlements had repelled the attack and only a few soldiers had been killed or so the report had said. Normally Nauriel left such things to Elessar but when it involved Gehanna, she wanted to read them so her husband always made certain a copy of the report was left for her.

The gate was made of wood and iron now and an iron portcullis was behind that. The turrets that were on either side of the main gate looked as if they had large iron beams that were suspended at angles by thick, iron chains so if someone tried to batter down the gate they could drop them to further reinforce it. Then interlopers would still have to get past the portcullis that could be dropped down into what looked like metal sheaths. All the while being peppered with arrows or siege weapons that could be rolled out to fire at those who had broken through the gate. That kind of ingenuity was most definitely her father’s doing. He had a mind for war though he was only mostly just trying to protect the people he felt responsible for.

Inside the gates there were a mass of people going this way or that. Hawkers crying their wares and the sounds of wagon wheels on stone, people talking and hammers banging on metal or wooden dowels. High up on the hill, the manor still stood in all its glory. It looked exactly the same as it had before. Made entirely of stone now, it had painted white doors and a red shingled roof. Smoke rose from different fireplace flutes but that was no different than any other day.

There was no one that came out to her arrival. She wasn’t expected this soon and with her father being ill, likely everyone was working harder than they had been. But then the door did open and Beren stepped out onto the deck. "I felt you coming close," he said as he walked down the few steps toward her horse. he had his hands in his pockets and wore a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and gray pants with low, black boots. With the light of the elves in him he hadn't aged in years and as a result, looked a good deal younger than she. "Welcome back sister," he said affectionately then barely allowed her to dismount before he took her up into his arms.

Nauriel was worried. Yes, her father had gotten sick before, but whenever her mother asked for her to come it was usually serious. Being of Dunedain blood, like Elessar, he had a much longer life than normal men, but he wasn't immortal...and neither was her mother anymore. She knew that one day they both would pass from this world into the next, but she hoped it wouldn't be any time soon. Guilt gnawed at her for not having spent more time with them. She and Beren had spent the first 16 years of their lives in Lothlorien and then only two years after returning to Gehenna she met Aragorn and left with him. For many years they had traveled together throughout Middle Earth preparing for the forthcoming war. It had bonded herself to Aragorn, but had taken away time from her family. Then, after the war was over, Aragorn was crowned King of Gondor and she became Queen. She tried to return to Gehenna as much as possible, but it never seemed like enough time. She loved her husband and children greatly, but often longed for the village. In her lifetime she had not spent very much time there, but it was still home to her. It was where she had been born and where her life had ultimately changed by meeting her future husband. In her eyes that alone made it greater than big city of Minas Tirith.

Every time she returned to Gehenna she found something had changed about it. Gehenna was a very prosperous village and thus it had grown greatly since the time her parents had first come there. It was clear as she rode up that they were taking extra precautions against raiders. She had heard about the last attack and learned that her niece Narisa's new husband had nearly died from an injury received during the attack. Thankfully, he and her father had survived, but a few others hadn't been so lucky. Her parents both cared greatly for the people of Gehenna and wanted to protect them. She knew her mother was still upset that she could no longer go wolf hunting, but the protections that had been put up were enough to keep them out.

Nauriel was immediately recognized at the gate and let in with a bow. She rode through the streets towards the northern part of the village. There on a grassy hill stood the manor. The original house had burned during the war, but her father had rebuilt it for her mother and even made improvements on it. While her father and mother were the Lord and Lady of Gehenna, they welcomed all to their home and so no fence or other structure stood around the house.

Nauriel was tired from her journey, but anxious to see her father. As she rode up she saw the door open and her twin brother Beren emerged from the house. She and Beren shared their own bond that was strong enough for them to speak telepathically over long distances and feel each other's emotions. Nauriel loved her brother immensely and so she was very glad to see him. She dismounted her horse and felt Beren take her into his arms. She closed her eyes and hugged him back tightly.

"I wish I could have come on better circumstances," she replied as she took a step back. "How is he?"

Beren’s brow furled for a moment in irritation but then his expression changed quickly.

She doesn’t visit save for years at a time and ‘How is he, was it?’

“He is bleeding internally the healers say. And he has a fever,” Beren said softly but then his eyes scanned over her briefly as a wave of tiredness came through from her.

“Come, let us get you cleaned up. Rest a moment, Ithilwen shall make us some tea and get you something decent to eat,” he said calmly. “Mother is with him now and it would not due to see her...like that” he said diplomatically.  

The smell of wood smoke and fresh baked bread filled the entry hall and it looked as she had remembered it. Paintings, portraits and weavings decorated the stone and wood walls. Plants, flower pots, vases and statuettes were peppered here and there on the floor or on tall ornate stands, some gilded in silver or gold and some more plain. There were large windows that allowed in a good deal of light in most rooms save for the hallway which gave the house a bright feel to it from the inside unlike most homes made of stone.

Two women came to take her cloak. An older one with dark brown hair up in a tight bun at the back of her head. The younger had a blue ribbon that held her, long, blonde hair back. Lita and Milani. They were mother and daughter and had been a very good addition to the men and women Conleth and Serethiel employed to take care of the manor.

Milani curtsied, “I’ll get this cleaned up and fresh for you my queen,” the younger of the two said then departed down the hallway. A young man with bright blue eyes and short, black hair entered just then and Beren regarded him.

“Dael, please take the queen’s effects and put them in her room,” he said. “Have Tesslin tend her horse,” he added and the man bowed silently and headed toward the door.

NPCs
Lita, Milani, Dael and Tesslin

Nauriel could sense her brother's sudden irritation, but she was too tired to say anything. She had ridden hard and fast to get here and had barely rested or eaten in two days. She knew Beren wanted her to visit more often, but as Queen of Gondor she had many duties and a family of her own to take care of. She wanted to point out that he could come visit her, but she decided against it and kept her mouth shut. Tiredness and worry on both their parts was the cause of such thoughts and they both needed to be strong for their parents. Hearing Beren tell her that their father was bleeding internally and suffering from a fever she felt even more worried, but she told herself that he was a strong man and would pull through this. It wasn't his time yet...it couldn't be.

"Thank you," Nauriel replied when her brother offered her tea and something to eat. She was also dusty and dirty from her ride and needed to clean up. Stepping back inside the manor she couldn't help but smile a little because of the feeling she always got inside it. Even though it wasn't the original structure that she and Beren were born in, it still felt like home in every way. Despite it's size, it was comforting and cozy and always felt welcoming.

As several servants came to take her cloak and belongings Ithilwen appeared from the kitchen. She smiled upon seeing her sister-in-law and quickly walked over to embrace her.

"We are both so glad you are here and I know your parents will be as well."

"Has Lindariel also been informed?"

Ithilwen nodded. "Yes, I'm sure she will be here in the next day or so, but please come and sit down. I'll bring out some tea and bread. You must be tired."

Ithilwen then disappeared back into the kitchen leaving Nauriel alone with her brother.

The appearance of Ithilwen was like the appearance of the sun as it shined down between thick clouds. She was young, beautiful with an inner light that brightened the room. Each motion, each movement was as if it were completely deliberate in a graceful choreographed manner. She curtsied to Nauriel before she had departed. Once again Beren’s irritation fluttered across his face but it died a quickly as it had come.

The small breakfast nook was not all that small. It was a large, thick, oval table made of a dark, polished wood with chairs for 8 to sit comfortably. Ithilwen began to slice bread, a light, white bread and a dark bread that smelled like hazelnuts. Ithilwen loved to cook and bake most of all. Her dishes were often as a work of art and Beren held a great deal of avarice and appreciation for her culinary efforts. He showed her to the washroom where a white, porcelain basin of hot water had been set on the wooden wash stand and fresh towels scented with jasmine were set beside it. As Nauriel began to wash up he leaned up against the side of the doorway with his arms crossed in front of him as he watched her clean her face.

Nauriel's stomach almost started to grumble as she smelled the freshly baked bread. On the table there was also some butter, jams, and honey. She wanted to just sit down and start eating, but she knew she needed to clean up first. She walked with Beren to the washroom where she found a basin of hot water and clean towels. Her hair was still pulled into a messy braid for riding and thus it remained out of her face as she began to use the hot water to wash away the dirt and grime from two days of hard riding. She knew her brother was standing there in the doorway watching her and she finally sighed and grabbed a towel.

"Are you planning to speak what's on your mind Beren, or just stand there staring at me?"

Beren considered chastising her for her sparse appearances and the poor excuse for a hello but as her words filtered through him he let that line of thought go. He sighed and let his irritation go as well but the arrogance in her tone made doing that more difficult.

“The raids make leaving more difficult,” Beren said plainly. He had heard her thoughts earlier, just bringing it out now. Her senses would pick up that he was holding in much: stress, worry, irritation almost outright anger. “I...missed you sister,” he said softly. “We’ve all missed you,” he added.

To him she was not a queen and he would never refer to her as such either, in mixed company or not. Even her mother and father spoke the honorifics when others were in the same room but Beren never did. Being given the gift of immortality had done little to change the parts of him that she would know would likely stay the same forever.
They had an unusual relationship as siblings, as twins who shared the same womb. They were sent together to Lothlorien to be taught by Galadriel. Later they became pillow friends as well but that had been a brief time when they needed one another the most.

Now Beren was wed to Ithilwen, the daughter of Thranduil and in that time he had changed her far more than she had changed him. Yet he was different, he had learned the mantle of responsibility. He had a chair on the council here and whenever he was called upon to lead Gehanna he did so without complaint.

“There is something odd about his wound. And often he speaks as if he were in the past, in the dark surrounded by enemies,” Beren said.”Ithilwen has been delving him and helping to keep him alive but mother says that she can feel nothing from their bond. She is...exhausted and afraid to close her eyes. She says only nightmares wait for her in sleep as if father is dragging her into darkness with him. I’ve never heard the like before,” he said softly and his face looked...troubled.

Nauriel dried her face and then reached back and pulled her hair from the braid it had been in for riding. Her dark hair fell around her shoulders and down her back in soft waves. She lightly ran her fingers through it to loosen any knots that may have formed. With her hair down and slightly messy she looked like the child she had once been. Nauriel preferred more casual clothes and to leave her hair down (as did Elessar who enjoyed running his fingers through it), but as Queen she was expected to look a certain way and so she did. But in Gehenna she could be herself and not worry about what anyone thought of her.

She listened closely to what her brother said about their father and he would feel a deep sense of fear and worry course through her. It seemed worse than she had originally feared. She could only hope that he was strong enough to survive this. A few tears filled her blue eyes before she slipped into her brother's arms. His scent and the feel of his arms around her felt comforting and familiar.

"I've missed you too...all of you."

She remained in his arms for a long while before pulling back and wiping the tears from her eyes. "Father is strong. He's survived before and he will do so again. What can I do to help?"

Instead of answering her directly he just looked at her for a moment. “You better get something to eat Nauriel...you’re going to need it I think,” he told her ominously. At the table Ithilwen hummed an Elven tune that Nauriel would know. It was called, ‘The Gifts of Galadriel’ and even the flowers in the vase on the table seemed to take heart from her voice. The tea smelled like cinnamon with a hint of Redbush and the breads were still warm on her plate. Ithilwen had taken the liberty to butter Nauriel’s and fix her tea how she knew she liked it. Her dress was of white silk and silver embroidery but she had so many of them that it wasn’t easy to know if the one she was wearing now was new or one she had worn before. Compared to her Beren looked very much the commoner but he had that inner glow as well which did seem to give him a more regal quality. It was then that Nauriel felt something not quite right. It was a cold feeling, and an image came into her mind of an old, battered wrought iron gate. It squeaked loudly as the wind blew. Beyond it was a field though the darkness made it difficult to see clearly. Swirls of a black mist moved about the field and she could hear the sound of hooves as if a large horse was out there somewhere.

As she came out of...whatever it was she looked down and saw that her cup of tea was filled with an opaque blackness. The hair on the back of her neck stood up when as she became aware of it, she realized that ‘it’ became aware of her. In another instant there was a woman, vaguely familiar with wild black, graying hair and a gaunt, pale face right then before her. She leaned down and her dark eyes that looked like 2 black pearls grew large in outrage.

“He is mine!” She growled and then in another instant she felt the stinging warmth of hot tea on her wrist as the room seemed to return to the breakfast nook. Beren waved a hand in front of her face as if he had been speaking to her and she had been ignoring him. “I’ll take that as a no?” He said as he set back down a bowl of fresh berries and cream.

Nauriel wasn't sure she liked the ominous tone of Beren's voice. She wanted to question him, but she could tell that he wasn't going to tell her anything more until after they had eaten. Nauriel wanted to see her father, but her stomach grumbled angrily and she followed her twin brother from the washroom to the dining room. The bread smelled wonderful and the tea had a comforting scent to it. Ithilwen looked as if she hadn't aged a day since the first time she had met her. She was still the same, beautiful silver haired elf princess...and yet she also wasn't. Spending so much time with mortals had changed her in ways...made her almost more human. She moved with an effortless grace and even her humming sounded like bells.

Nauriel moved to pick up her cup of tea when suddenly she sensed that something wasn't right. Images, sounds, and feelings flooded her mind. Coldness...the sound of a old, wrought iron gate squeaking in the wind...horses hoof beats off in the distance. Then, just as suddenly as the vision had begun it ended...or so she first thought. Looking down into her cup of tea she found it filled with a black liquid. Her entire body sensed that something was near...something dark. In another instant the image of an older woman with black, graying hair and black eyes came into her mind. He is mine! she heard echoing in her ears. Then, as if nothing had happened, the world became right again. Nauriel blinked and looked down into her tea cup. It had returned to its normal color and the cold feeling was gone. She heard Beren's voice and she looked at him and realized he had asked her a question...and she had no idea what it was.

"Oh...sorry," she said, trying to shake the image of the old woman from her mind. "I suppose I'm more tired than I thought."

“How are your little ones?” Ithilwen asked. “We hear that Ariana and Meliara are doing well and that Calista is due to give birth very soon,” She said in her usual soothing tones. “This will be Eldarion’s first yes?” She asked though knowing the answer already and chuckled lightly thinking about how nervous he likely was. “That one will be a very happy man…” She began and then stopped herself from divulging what she might already know. Beren gave her an exasperated look. He had told her not to speak about the future, even the near future but sometimes bits and pieces just slipped out of her in idle conversations. He cleared his throat and took a sip of tea. It was odd really. A man was dying upstairs, her own father-in-law and she seemed as calm and pleasant as she ever had. Beren on the other hand would sometimes look up as if in the direction of where their parents were on the 3rd floor and a worried look would pass across his face. A brief look but he did not have Ithilwen’s long years and experience to be able to control his emotions.

Nauriel was still feeling a little off, but she took a sip of her tea and that soothed her a little. She put the cup back on the saucer and looked over at Ithilwen when she asked her about her children. They are all doing well. Eldarion and Calista are both excited and understandably nervous about the arrival of the twins. She is very close to giving birth. It may happen while I am here. Calene and Deshane are wanting another child, but the process for them has been slow, though I am confident it will happen. Ariana and Meliara are doing well. Meliara is so beautiful. She is going to grow up to break many men's hearts, I can guarantee that. Kressara is growing up too fast for our liking. She is Elessar's last daughter and he remains protective of her. I can see much of the both of us in her and I have this feeling that she will not end up like the rest of her sisters. And Laenaya, well I hope to see her while I am here. I hope she is doing well. She doesn't write me as often as I would like.

A look passed between Ithilwen and Beren just then, a brief, uneasy glance at the mention of Laenaya. Then he turned back toward her.

“We have invited everyone for a small celebration dinner tomorrow’s eve. Word has already gotten around that you are here and,” Even as he spoke there were muffled words being spoken outside. As if alot of people were in a gaggle talking to one another. “I thought it might lift everyone’s spirits to declare tomorrow a holiday day,” Beren said. “In your honor ofcourse,” Ithilwen corrected though Beren rolled his eyes at that.

‘You may be a queen to everyone else but to me you are just my ‘Melda Onôre’. (Beloved sister in elvish)

There was more that passed between them, Ithilwen spoke about her and Berens children and their families. And they listened when Nauriel spoke of the build up of the Harad and the danger that lurked across the sea of Rhùn. The Corsairs were building alot of ships. And also of the Wose, an odd race of men that lived as if time had forgotten them. A people whose entire lives were centered around their gods and mysticism. And the Northman and Orc tribes as well. Gondor and the good races of middle earth managed to destroy an ultimate evil and yet everything seemed to be pressing in on them. Evidence, clear evidence that their allegiances to the Dark Lord was more about free choice than his control over them.

Nauriel noticed the uneasy glance between her brother and Ithilwen when she mentioned Laenaya. She knew that things had not been easy for them since their son Aslan had been taken by the Northmen. She wanted to question them about what might be going on with her eldest daughter when Beren spoke up about a small celebration dinner. Nauriel almost blushed and she shook her head. She opened her mouth to object to it, but quickly realized how rude it would be and so she remained quiet.

Nauriel ate and drank some tea and felt more refreshed. She spoke with her brother and sister-in-law about various topics, but always in the back of her mind was the thought of her father. She felt horribly guilty sitting there enjoying a nice breakfast while he was upstairs possibly dying. As the breakfast concluded Nauriel looked at Beren.

"Would it be alright if I went upstairs to see him?"

Beren looked at Ithilwen again and Ithilwen nodded. “I’ll go with you,” Ithilwen said as she rose up. Lita came in with a basket filled with laundry just then and noted that the table will need to be taken care of and the food put away.

The stairs were just as grand as the rest of the house. The bannister was made from a dark, polished wood and in the rise was carved deer, rabbits, wolves and other forest creatures. The floor of the stairs was a white tile with a dark grouting and more paintings and tapestries hung on the stone and wood walls as they climbed up to the third floor.

Ithilwen made an odd gesture as they stepped into the hall. Nauriel would recognize it as a ward but a ward of what she would not be able to say. The hall was well decorated too with wooden doors some open, some closed that led to various rooms including a privy, a study and a nursery that still looked the same as she remembered. The double doors to the master suite were closed but Ithilwen made the gesture again and opened them wide. An odd wind blew past them just then and Ithilwen turned and smiled back at her. As they entered Serethiel stood from the rocking chair she had been sitting in. “I’ll speak to Milani about getting another basin of wash water,” she said and curtsied quickly and let herself out.

“Nauriel?” Serethial said in surprise as she rose from the chair. “We didn’t expect you so soon,” she said as she stepped toward her. There was more gray in her dark hair than there had been and more worry lines on her face as well but she still had a grip like a vice. Her arms enveloped her daughter and her eyes filled with tears. “Oh how I’ve missed you daughter,” she said just managing to hold onto her emotions.

Nauriel rose from the table and followed Ithilwen up the grand staircase. She remembered that the last time she had come her mother had just been attacked by the wolf, which nearly killed her. However, this house and the one that had stood in the same spot years before brought back warm memories. She still remembered the first time she and Elessar had traveled back to Gehenna after the war. Eldarion was only a few months old and she could remember her father holding him for the first time.

As they reached the third floor she saw Ithilwen make a warding gesture, which Nauriel thought odd. However, she then remembered Beren mentioning the odd wound and the nightmares her mother was having. She walked down the hallway towards the master suite. Inside, she spotted her mother sitting in a rocking chair. Her mother looked over and her eyes brightened upon seeing her. Nauriel smiled a little, though she could see the worry in her mother's eyes. She embraced her and rested her head against her.

"I rode almost nonstop for two days to get here quickly. I...I wasn't sure how bad things were with Father and wanted to get here as fast as I could." She pulled back and looked at her mother with a few tears in her own eyes. "I've missed you too."

Serethiel smiled and took Nauriel’s hand. “Come Nauriel,” she said softly and then led her to the bedside…

The bed was a massive 2 poster with a thick, blue quilt that covered Conleth up to his neck. His face looked pale and his eyes were closed. His chest rose and fell but he had an awful rasp with each breath. Serethiel let go of her hand and leaned over the side of the bed. She touched Conleth’s face and smiled at him. “Conleth, Nauriel is here,” she said and then gestured for her to come forward. Conleth’s head shifted but his eyes hadn’t opened. His mouth appeared to be moving but he said nothing audible just then.

Nauriel walked with her mother over to the bedside. Upon seeing her father fear gripped her heart. He looked pale and his breathing was raspy. She watched as her mother leaned over and gently and loving touched his face and told him that she was there. Nauriel slowly walked over to the bed. She sat down on the edge and looked at her father. She moved the quilt slightly and took hold of one of his hands. She brought it up to her cheek and held it there as new tears filled her eyes.

"Hello Ada,"she said gently. "I've missed you."

He winced and his head jerked from side to side. His eyes opened and closed a few times. “I...I can’t find ya…” he murmured. “Where are you?” he asked softly with parched, cracked lips. Serethiel touched his forehead then closed her eyes for a moment. She uttered an elven phrase that Nauriel knew as a minor magical phrase to clear the mind or focus it. After she drew her hand back Conleth’s eyes opened and he turned his head to look at them. It was then that his fingers that intertwined Nauriel’s suddenly gripped hers.

His gray blue eyes looked over at her and to Serethiel. “Nauriel?” He said weakly. “Is it really you?” He asked as if he didn’t believe his own eyes. Serethiel winced at that. She didn’t want Nauriel to feel guilt from not being able to come more often. She was ‘the’ queen after all and had a family to raise and a country to run.

Nauriel looked over at her mother as her father began to jerk his head from side to side and mumble. She then watched as her mother moved close and touched his head and uttered an elven phrase that she recognized for the mind. It was then that her father's eyes opened and she felt his hand tighten around her own. She smiled at him through her tears and nodded.

"Yes, Ada. I'm here. I came as quickly as I could." She leaned forward and gently kissed his forehead.

Conleth smiled at her and indeed he was very happy to see her. He was so proud of his children but he knew very well that Nauriel had an integral part in the forces of good and light winning the day. For that he was quite the proud father. For that and the fact that she was a queen. No…’the queen’. “Did you ride that gelding or the mare?” he asked her. Out of the horses she had to choose from only those two would likely have carried her so far and so quick without falling over dead. The Gelding was her older white and the mare was the most recent one he had had brought to her on her name day.

OOC-In the very first post you wrote that it was a jet black mare so that's what I'll put here.

IC-Nauriel smiled lovingly at her father. She was very proud of both of her parents for all that they had accomplished. She had heard the stories about them and the hardships they had faced together and how much they had wanted to have children and then ended up with three. Nauriel had worked hard to ensure that her parents would be as proud of her as she was of them.

"I rode the black mare Ada and she got me here in two days." She could see his dry lips and she looked at him. "Would you like some water?"

He seemed lucid for the time being and he nodded. Serethiel handed Nauriel a small wooden bowl filled with cool water. “I’ll help set him up a little,” Serethiel said as Nauriel took the bowl. As she shifted Conleth he groaned and as the blanket fell down his chest it revealed pale, clammy flesh and something that made the hair on the back of Nauriel’s neck stand up. From his chest, possibly his heart, dark tendrils that looked like blackened veins spread out in a random pattern. They had no texture they were obviously below the skin. Hey had an obvious sinister look to them as if his blood was being poisoned or changed somehow. He took the water but only very little and it made him cough and sputter. He groaned again as Serethiel let him back down and Nauriel noticed that her mother appeared to be in some sort of distress as she took a step back. Her brow was furled as if she was experiencing pain and in truth she was.

Just touching him brought her pain it seemed though Nauriel herself felt nothing.

Nauriel waited as her mother helped Conleth to sit up a little more. However, as that happened the blankets covering him fell away and Nauriel was horrified by what she saw. Dark tendrils spread out across his chest. It looked as though they were coming from his heart. Nauriel glanced at her mother, but tried to give her father some water first. He took only a little and coughed some as he drank. She felt fear grip her as she watched her mother help lay him back down. Her mother appeared fearful suddenly and took a quick step back.

"Mother, what is this? What has happened to him?"

It took a moment for Serethiel to fight down the overwhelming sense of fear and frustration. However she knew what this was, if not completely. She shook her head as if she didn’t want to say anything.

“Its...it’s her!” She growled almost ferally.Conleth had begun to murmur again and his eyes closed. “Why? Why?” He began as if in outrage and then the rest was nothing she could make out. Ithilwen came in right then bearing a small, wooden pitcher. Nauriel might find that as odd as well. Her parents had all sorts of nicer cups and pitchers but they were using ones that were hand carved. They were ornate but basic for their taste. Ithilwen touched Serethiel’s arm then reached up and touched her forehead. For a moment she murmured something so softly Nauriel couldn’t make it out then she pulled her hand back from her.

“I will stay with him mother,” she said almost regally as she held the pitcher. And there wasn’t a hint of worry or concern in her voice. But then, Nauriel herself had trained with Galadriel. Life and death were just parts of the journey for elves. They held little or no fear of just about anything. Serethiel nodded and paused to let Nauriel set down the cup. As they walked out Serethiel took Nauriel’s hand and squeezed it hard.

She drew them to the smaller sitting room on the opposite side of the hall from the nursery. As soon as they entered she let go of Nauriel and spun to look at her. "I’m losing him Nauriel!” She said softly if a near wail could be soft. “She’s trying to take him from us, corrupting his heart so that he will be hers forever...I...I don’t know what to do. I...don’t know how to stop her!” She said as she fell into Nauriel’s arms then began to sob.