Okay, I know I said that the last fic was the end of Feywen's story, but I got another idea while working on another Lord of the Ring's fic and decided to start another one. This takes place 13,000 years after Feywen was sent back to Middle Earth by Eru. Hope you like it.

Disclaimer: I only own Feywen and her tale and her children. Names and or characters that appear from the actual trilogy are the property of J.R.R. Tolkein.

Enjoy!

She looked down at the dark mountains that formed the borders of the land of Mordor. No life has been seen it if for the last twenty thousand years, since Morgoth had been vanquished. She sighed as she looked at the castle and then rode down the rocky hill and to what was once the Black Gate. It had never closed after the defeat of the first dark lord. "Almost as if it's been waiting for me." She shuddered at the thought. After the War of the Ring, she and her husband had sailed to Valinor as she had chosen to be Elf kind and live among them. Then, she had been called back in the middle of the Fourth Age to fight a new evil that had risen in her absence, an evil she had not known about. It had been Morgoth, an evil that her grandparents had faced during the First Age. Her grandfather, Celebrant, had only managed to seal him beneath Mount Doom long before she had even been conceived. When she had returned, she had to take her grandmother's place and live in Morgoth's castle to give the people of Middle Earth a chance to live, and her a chance to destroy him. She had been forced into a dark marriage and turned into a full blooded Elf and bound to a poisoned jewel. She and Morgoth had both died at the end of the war as she had to destroy both jewels in order to rid the land of Morgoth's magic. Eru had sent her back to take her place as High Queen, a position given to her by the people of Middle Earth, and to her husband.

She shook her head to bring herself back to the present and dismounted the horse she was on and walked into the castle. It had been a hundred and thirty centuries since she had walked its halls. "What drove me here? You would think that I would never want to step foot into this place again." She mused, not caring that her spirit companions would say something. They didn't and she wandered the halls in silence, lingering in the throne room last. She took a deep breath and walked to the sword that she had once used. The hilt was still gold and the blade was almost black. She stooped to pick it up and the blade turned to a bright silver. Though, she thought that she saw a small hint of a dark tint still on it. She had used the sword to kill a Dark Elf and to fight Morgoth. After her marriage to Morgoth, it had started turning dark. Gandalf had told her that the blade had reacted to the purity in her and that it had started turning when Morgoth's dark magic was beginning to gain a stronger hold on her. She sighed and looked around again. The shards of metal were near her feet. The metal had been his crown. The dust from the Silmarilli had long since blown away. She looked at the thrones. Two still stood, his and the one meant for his heir. She had destroyed hers in the fight. "Why am I here?" She walked through the halls again, this time ending in the library where she had found the answers she needed to destroy the jewels. She found the ones she had read often and the one that had told the history of her family. She gathered them and a few others and walked out of the castle and to her horse. She found her husband waiting for her. "How did you find me?"

"A guess." He answered. "What are you doing here?"

"Not sure. Maybe feeling nostalgic. I haven't been here since I died." A chill ran down her back. She still wasn't comfortable with the fact that she had been brought back to life by Eru and the Valar. "And for these, I think." She nodded to the books and the sword in her hands and placed them in her saddle bags, carefully wrapping the sword in an extra blanket she had brought with her. "I'm ready to go home though. Being here, there's too many bad memories. For both of us." He nodded and she mounted her horse and they rode back out of the gates. By the look of him, she knew that she had been in the castle far longer than she had thought. Time hadn't mattered in Mandos and she had spent six thousand years there and then another thousand sleeping in the forests just north of the Shire. Even though she had been alive for thirteen thousand years now, she still found herself forgetting that she was alive and that time mattered.

"Naneth! Ada!" Two voices greeted them as they rode into the courtyard of their home. They smiled as they looked at their children, two, a son and a daughter. Both children had their father's blue eyes and their mother's dark hair. She was named Gilraen after her grandmother and he was Elrond. The names had been their father's idea and she had gone with it. The parents caught their children's hugs. They had been born five thousand years ago after a war had broken out between Gondor and Rohan. She had needed to intervene in order to stop further bloodshed.

"Lady Feywen!" Feywen turned to see Elrohir, Lord Elrond's youngest son, running to her. He was the last of the three children and had still not yet decided if he would sail like his brother and parents or stay and live a mortal life as his sister, Arwen, had done. They were in-laws as her brother had been the first King Elessar and Arwen's husband during the Fourth Age.

"What is it, Elrohir?" She asked, hoping there wasn't another war brewing. She and Glorfindel had just returned from Gondor on a political mission. The king had asked for her guidance on the matter of trade with the Eastern Peoples.

"I am never watching your children again." He huffed.

"Elrohir, they're hardly children. They do not need looking after when Glorfindel and I leave."

"Tell that to my house!" She chuckled. Before she and Glorfindel had left, she had left a present for Elrohir. It had been revenge for a prank he had pulled on her when Carolani and Legolas had been visiting the month before their departure. Gilraen and Elrond helped her whenever they could.

"I can safely say that whatever happened to your house was not their handiwork. Though, maybe it will teach you not to pull pranks on the High Queen." She tried to be serious, but the sound of Elrond, Gilraen, and Glorfindel struggling to control their laughter set her off. Then Elrohir was laughing as well.

"Oh, it is good to have you home, Feywen."

"It is good to be home." She answered, feeling the contentment from her spirit companions.

"My Lord!" the circle of wolves looked down the slope at the man that was sprinting up to them. He had been sent to Mordor to watch the castle of their king. The body of their queen had been taken from it when they had died side by side. Her sword had been left in the throne room and the blade had become black while the hilt had stayed gold. One of the wolves in the circle changed into a man and stood as the other man reached the circle. He had shaggy gray hair that made a mane around his face and yellow eyes. The man bowed to him. "My Lord, I bring news." The chief motioned for the man to continue. "She lives. She returned to the castle a few months ago."

"Which she?" one of the wolves growled. The chief raised an eyebrow, indicating that he also wanted to know the answer.

"The Dark Queen. She returned and claimed her sword. The blade is silver again."

"So the dark magic that created her is not what returned her." The same wolf said.

"You didn't let me finish, Egan. I watched her as she walked the castle and picked up the sword. The sword isn't as bright as it had been when she first claimed it, before her marriage to the Dark King. There is a dark tint to the blade. Some of the darkness that made her the Dark Queen before their deaths is still there."

"You are sure that it is her?" The chief questioned.

"It is her. I would never forget the scent of my charge. His Majesty put my family in charge of keeping an eye on her before and after their marriage. It is her. What do we do?"

"The Wolves have always been the most loyal to the Dark King. After his death, we were forced to scatter and then regroup. It is plain to see that it was not the king's dark magic that brought the queen back to this world. But she is the one who has the ability to bring him back. As his most loyal servants, it falls upon us to bring him back to the world he conquered. What else did she take with her?"

"Some books. One of them was the history of Arda and the jewels that kept them alive."

"I know that book." The chief said. "Her ancestor was one of the four who helped make the jewels that she destroyed. She alone has the power to remake them. And if she can remake them, we can use the darkness in her to bring the king back and he can take complete control of this world." The chief lifted a stone from around his neck and placed it around the tracker's. "This is a call stone. I want you to follow the queen's scent and find her. Once you have, use this to call me and we will come to you and we will return the queen to her castle. And then return her husband to her as well." The wolves howled in agreement and the tracker changed and disappeared into the night. "To Mordor!" The chief changed into a large gray wolf and bounded to the east, his wolves followed.

She placed Nardin back on the wall and gently touched Nardil. Nardin had been her grandfather's, Lord Celebrant's, sword. Nardil was her grandmother's bow. They had died and their weapons had been left in Lorthlórien for when her father, Threndon, came of age to claim them. He never did and so the Lady Galadriel had given them to her when she and the Fellowship of the Ring had rested in Lórien after Gandalf's death.

"Why do you hang up your sword?" Alu questioned. They were all ancient and the voices of the spirits betrayed their strength and age.

"It is no longer my sword, Alu. It is my family's sword. When Gilraen or Elrond are ready, they can take it up."

"Then what will you use?" Naur asked from the nearby fireplace. Even though she had the power to manifest herself and speak without the flames alive, she preferred the fire as it took less energy. Feywen looked at the sword in her hand. No one had noticed the dark tint to the blade that she was sure was there. It was a reminder that no matter what she did, what she had done and what had happened in the past would never leave her.

"I will use this. I claimed this sword while in Mordor. It bonded to me. It changed as I did." The elemental spirits said nothing in response. They had been with her when she had gone back to the castle in Mordor. They had joined her five hundred years after she had walked into the Black Lands. She sighed and looked up at the mural. It was of her and her final battle, the battle with Morgoth. Her eyes were drawn to the jewels on their foreheads. His had been in his crown. Hers had been placed on a circlet of black gold and so had hung much as her shard of the Arkenstone now hung on her head. "I know why I had to go back." She said to her companions.

"Why?" Vilya asked.

"This sword. It's a reminder that the fight is never over. I was not brought back to govern the people of Middle Earth. I was brought back to be their champion against darkness. There is always going to be an ancient threat to these people and only my family has ever had the strength to fight them. It's time I tell the children what really happened in Mordor the second time. This sword is a reminder that we will always have to fight. When I finally cannot go on, one of them will have to take my place as the Champion of Middle Earth." She grabbed the abandoned sheath from the floor and sheathed the sword. The sheath had still been on her belt when she had died. Glorfindel had removed it before they had burned her body and had placed it beneath her old weapons. She was glad since it meant that she would not have to get another one made. She belted on the sword and walked out.

I hope that is a good start to what promises to be an awesome (hopefully awesome) fic. Thanks for reading and please review. I would like to know your thoughts on this.