Luinwen sighed for what felt like the hundredth time. Alone in the dark cellar she wiped the tears from her eyes and wondered what her purpose would be. She had no one left on the whole plane of Arda. It was only she, alone, bereft of family. What misfortune, what tragedy. Yet she was not the only child to have been grieved by the war. True, her sire was no longer, but weeping wound not bring him back.

Standing to her feet, the elleth shrugged off her shoulders the lingering guilt. She had begged her father to sail with her, claiming she would not leave the world of Men without him. He had refused and gone to war against the servants of the Dark. And he hadn't returned. Like many others. His daughter would mourn, but it would be her heart that cried and not her eyes.

The war had ended. A new age had begun. And Luinwen would have a hand in the rebuilding if she could help it. She dusted the remnants of earth from her kirtle and a wave of energy coursed through her like a balm, succour for her wounds. With a light step she wandered to the door and opened it in one quiet motion.

The hall she stepped into was deserted. Luinwen carefully glided over the cobbled path, the atmosphere reflecting her sorrow. Or mayhap it was she who forced the forlorn mood upon the corridor. A lamp flickered, its flame looking ready to perish behind the glass. Taking pity on the burning light, Luinwen took the lamp in her hands and only then noticed the crack in the glass. "You are wounded as I," she exclaimed softly, hugging the lamp to her breast.

Fire had a will of its own and it had always held mystery for Luinwen. So warm was fire, yet so very dangerous. It could heal or kill, it could save or damage. She hurried all the way back to her bedchamber, placing the lamp on a small wooden table. She admired the glow it produced, though it hardly had any need, for the sun shone through the billowing curtains.

A gentle knock on the door startled her. Luinwen stood to her full height as it opened to admit in Erestor. One of Lord Elrond's kinsmen, Erestor stood proud before her, his dark mane of hair glistening as he stepped into the light. He gave her a small inclination of the head and spoke, without waiting on formalities. "I wish to have words with you, mistress Luinwen."

"Do have a seat," Luinwen invited politely. Seldom was she sought out, unless it was to receive lines from her father. She watched as Erestor sat down on a finely carved chair, then she took the seat opposite, putting herself face to face with the ellon.

"I was deeply saddened to hear about your father's death. We were kin, he and I, as you well know." Of course she knew. Luinwen folded her hand in her lap demurely and waited for what was to come. "It falls to me to secure a position for you, my dear elleth, and I should like to consult with you on the matter."

Having been born to Idhrenor and his then-lover a few centuries past, Luinwen came from a long line of peredhil, she herself no more and no less than a peredhel. Her mother had been a woman of the race of Men, a fair thing, gay and nimble, but ill and small. Perhaps it was the sheer tragedy of her existence that called to Luinwen's father. He had met the woman, Aeryn she had been named, on one of his many travels and was smitten with her. Despite her frail health and the fact that he would outlive her, for her father had chosen the life of the immortal, he still took her to be his own.

This Aeryn had bore him children other than Luinwen, but none of them survived infancy, having been born with the weakness of their mother. Only Luinwen, the last child born to them did. But after she had laboured to bring Luinwen into the world, poor Aeryn, exhausted from the trial, fell violently ill. She was dead before five years were past.

In truth, Luinwen had scarcely felt the absence of her motherly figure. She had been well cared for by her father, nursed and reared by the most loving of parents. The knowledhe that she was motherless had not been attentively weighed and analysed. It was the way she had grown, without a mother. Other children had them, but not Luinwen. Her father had often told her that while her mother could not be with her, she watched them from above, and smiled upon them. That, she had taken to heart and was happy for.

Yet, as Erestor sat before her, she cursed bitterly the fate which would leave her so utterly alone. Indeed, she should have liked to have perished alongside her father. But, as she knew not the way of weapons, having shown no interest in the art of war, Luinwen could not have marched with the army no matter how dearly she had wished to. That she understood. Was it wrong in her, though, to wish she had been granted mercy?

"What did my lord have in mind?" she finally asked when the silenced stretched out too long between them.

Erestor cleared his throat. "As you are dear to both myself and Lord Elrond we have thought that perhaps you may wish to sail to Valinor with us."

"Oh, my lord, that I would not," Luinwen spoke. "We are on the old world, I know. And yet, when your young brothers have been devastated by war, I cannot conceive of simply turning my back on them. I should like remain."

He acknowledged her answer with a short nod. "Then, mayhap, you would consider accompanying Lady Arwen on her journey."

Luinwen's eyes lit with interest. "What journey does Lady Arwen wish to undertake?"

It was no great secret, the lady's love for the mortal ranger Luinwen had seen at Elrond's table. In fact, she knew well that Aragorn yet dwelled within these walls. They all waited with baited breath for their Halfling friend to wake from the healing sleep. Lady Arwen truly loved the man. She had refused to leave the dying world of Men so that she could be with him. It had been a brave decision, one that could have only been born out of love.

"When Elessar is crowned, Lady Arwen shall be crowned beside him. Lord Elrond wishes that she might have amid her women ladies she may trust." And Luinwen understood. Lord Elrond wished to shield his daughter from the troubles running a realm might put in her path, to smooth her journey as it were. "Is the prospect pleasing?"

"It would please me greatly to serve my lady Arwen," Luinwen answered. She had nothing left to tie her to the house of Elrond. In the service of Lady Arwen she would have a worthy purpose at least.

Her acceptance obtained, Erestor left her to her own device. Luinwen, having quite forgotten all bout her lamp, so that when her eyes clapped on it, a wave of tenderness crashed through her. Just like the glass, her heart had cracked. Yet Luinwen was determined to endure. The Valar had left her on Arda for a reason and she could not in good conscience depart without having fulfilled her duty, whichever that was.

Deciding that it would do her no good to sit indoors any longer, Luinwen decided to take a short walk through the gardens while the weather still permitted such pleasures. Imladris was a beautiful place. It was her home, and it had been such since she could remember. Even when her father left on one of his journeys, Luinwen was left behind, in the care of good elves until his return. She had known no other leaving place. The thought of leaving behind such splendour pained her somewhat. Fear of the unknown would not stop her though.

Silent as a shadow she moved through the halls, occasionally greeting one elf or another who happened to pass by her. They would smile and return her greeting with their own, but none offered to join her. Shy by her nature, Luinwen rarely sought out the company of others. She was only too happy to be left to her own thoughts when that could be. The behaviour exhibited by her fellow elves did not surprise her in the least. Yet, inexplicably, her soul cried out for companionship.

Luinwen suppressed a sound of anguish, burying it deep within herself. But just as she was about to turn towards the copse where she sometimes set in the shadow of the trees, her eyes landed on a small, child-like form sitting on a bench. Curiosity prompted her to walk closer. It was one of the Halflings.

The Halfling looked up at her. "Good day," he said, just as she opened her mouth to greet him.

Blushing at her own ineptitude, Luinwen bowed her head. "Good day to you as well, master hobbit." She looked at the bench. "May I join you."

"But of course," cane the reply.

She sat down, her kirtle dark against the white marble. "How is your friend?" she asked, admiring the way one of the sunrays played in the creature's golden locks. There was a certain beauty to the soul she saw inside. A true and courageous spirit dwelled beneath the flesh.

"Frodo," offered he. "He is well, just woke up actually."

"I am glad to her that," and then she hesitated. Luinwen could not place a name to his face. "Ah, may I have your name?"

"Merry," he replied promptly. "Everyone calls me Merry."

"Well then, master Merry, you may address me as Luinwen." If her voice trembled it was because the Common Tongue was not quite so common for her. Sindarin and Quenya did not hold much of a challenge to her, but the Common Tongue had proved quite bothersome to learn. "And I am very pleased to hear that your friend is well."

A strange looks passed on Merry's face just then. "I think I may have seen you somewhere before." His voice rose an octave and a flush stole over his cheeks at the admission, as if ashamed at having forgotten.

Far from being put out, Luinwen laughed sweetly. "I am not very memorable," she said in a forgiving tone, aware that, indeed, she was quite forgettable. By choice, that was. "You may have seen me in the Lord's library. I care for the scrolls and the books there."

"Ah, I tried to read one, but I fear my grasp of the language is quite poor." His explanation prompted a smile from her. "Mayhap 'tis so, mistress of the books." They shared a small laugh.

Scrolls and books were what Luinwen loved. The tranquillity of her name became the tranquillity of her nature. Most of her days were spent amid scrolls which needed to be copied and recopied, all sorts of tales unfolding before her eyes. The ballads were beautiful and sad. The tragedies stole tears from her eyes.

"I shall miss Rivendell," her partner said quite unexpectedly. "It is such a wonderful place."

"As shall I," Luinwen disclosed, she knew why not.

They shared a companionable silence afterwards, each with his own pressing thoughts. The need for companionship assuaged, Luinwen felt herself relax. How very nice to was to be able to breath again. She felt at peace. A bird thrilled a song somewhere above her, enchanting its listeners with the sweetness of the sound. Merry glanced up and smiled at it. Such beauty was to be appreciated. Luinwen did the same. Her dark eyes admired the plumage and her ears picked up the tune and she hummed along with their winged friend.

"How very pleasant," Merry declared, joining his voice to hers. He sang well.

"Mistress Luinwen! Mistress Luinwen!" called out an elleth, coming forth from within white walls. Her step was hurried, her face flushed with exertion. "There you are." Luinwen was already standing by the time the elleth reached them. "My Lord Elrond wishes to have words with you, mistress."

"It seems I must take my leave of you, master Merry," Luinwen said, a smile crossing her face as she glanced at Merry. "I bid thee farewell."

"And fare thee well too, mistress of the books," her partner returned, a smile of his own lighting his features.

Elrond awaited her in one of the well lit chambers, alone. Luinwen did not think he wished to speak to her of scrolls. For in truth she had been diligent about her work, and he could not complain on that point. Nay, if he wished to have word, then it was to be on the subject of his fair daughter. Luinwen stepped into the room with a calm gait, holding her head high as her father had taught her. And also to add some to her rather unimpressive height. Lamenting her lack of stature, however, was not what she wished to do at the moment.

"You have asked for me, my lord," she said softly, stopping before the sitting Elrond.

"Indeed. Erestor tells me you have chosen to join my daughter," he offered. There was a question in his voice, a certain 'why' which was in need of explanation. "Have you chosen the mortal path?"

"I have not chosen, my lord, one way or another." She did not have anyone to hold her from eternity, like Lady Arwen did. "Yet I shan't leave before I have fulfilled my purpose."

"Your purpose?" the lord questioned.

"Aye. I must find my purpose and fulfil it, if I am to ever find peace." Luinwen's determination ran deep in that he saw. "I shall serve my lady to the best of my abilities," she promised.

"I do not doubt you shall," Elrond agreed. "What I ask of you concern my daughter only in part."

"What would you have of me, my lord?" Her dark eyes glinted in the light as she spoke.

"Only that you keep your eyes and ears open at the King's court. My daughter is to be Queen, yet I should not wish her friendless in a strange land. She will have need of those she can trust."

Men could be brought together by great causes. They would make war on common enemies and they would win. But when the fight was over, instead of living in peace, they often found quarrels among themselves. Aye, men could do great, brave things. But a single gust of unfavourable wind could knock them over. They thought over individual beliefs. They fought over inconsequential matters, trivial and not worthy of the blood spilled in their name. And Lady Arwen would be surrounded by such creatures. Her wisdom and kindness may not suffice in helping them better themselves.

With that understanding between them, Luinwen was released for the moment. But before she went, she had one request to make. "My lord, I have left inside the library a scroll which I dearly love, tales of ages past. May I be permitted to retrieve it and take it with me?"

The books and scrolls in that library had been painstakingly collected over centuries and ages. It was a great thing of her to ask. "You refer to the Tales of Ages Past, I presume." Her nod came to confirm. "You may have it, mistress Luinwen. Consider it a gift. A farewell gift."

"Many thanks, my lord." Her wish granted, Luinwen stepped into the library and walked to where she knew the scroll to be. She pulled out the weathered paper, taking in its scent. She held it open and peered at the faded writing. The tales it contained could be restored and mayhap translated into the Common Tongue. The exercise would do her good, she reckoned. And so it was that she carefully held the scroll in her arms and took it to her own chamber, placing it next to the lamp which she blew out. "Waste not your fire," she whispered to the candle.

It was soon after that the guests of Lord Elrond departed. On the fair day when they left, Luinwen had bestirred herself to step outside and bid them farewell. It was Merry that she sought to see, of course, for him she knew best of them, having spent quite a bit of time in his presence after their initial meeting. It was to him that she relied her wish to translate the ancient tales.

As she bent to kiss the top of his head, Merry could not help but say, "I shall look forward to a story when we meet again."

"And I shall be happy to oblige," Luinwen replied. If the exchanged was taken note of, she could not say, as most of her brethren were looking at the ring bearer. Lady Arwen too was present, her brilliant beauty shining for all to behold. "May the stars guide you to joy and happiness, master Merry of the Shire."

What songs they sung and what cheer they made at the sight of the realm's heroes, one can only imagine. Suffice to say that Frodo Baggins and his company were led away with the pomp they were deserving of.

It was with peace that Luinwen saw the departure of her friend. It was perhaps the knowledge that she would see him again soon that made the sweetness of the moment. In the group only one man held doubt in his heart. Luinwen looked towards the ranger who would become king. Their eyes met momentarily and she lowered her head in recognition of his merits. Yet her eyes did not rise again. She continued to look at the ground, hiding a small smile from the sight of all present there.