The southerly winds wildly tore at the land all day. Luimëníssë and Idril helped tie down boats and fold sails at the water's edge. As the storm clouds pulled over the pine barrens, they took down fishing nets hung out to dry and hurried inside. 

"This is a strange storm," Artanis commented, peering out the windows of the healing house towards the turbulent sky. "It's unnatural."

Írissë sat on her cousin's work table in the back, sharpening her hunting knife. "Do you believe this is of the Enemy?"

Galadriel twirled a strand of shimmering hair around her finger, tapping her foot. "No. This storm is coming from Doriath."

"Doriath?" Luimëníssë rose from the hearth where she'd built up the fire. "Do you believe this is the work of the Queen?"

"Melian?" Artanis shivered. "Perhaps."

"Is she unhappy? Is this storm meant as a warning to the Enemy?"

"I am only conjecturing."

Írissë hopped to her feet and paced. "If she wants to do us some good, then she should talk to that husband of her's and convince him to hold a meeting with us. So we can prepare as a united force against the darkness."

"We need to learn how to unite ourselves first," Artanis added dryly, staring into the flames. "Without that, we are crippled as a people."

At midnight, the winds ceased. Luimëníssë was helping Artanis care for a couple restless patients. One hunter hacked up what looked like blood. As Luimëníssë gathered some clean cloths, the blustery force of the storm died. Like a candle being blown out.

The silence was deafening.

Luimëníssë approached the doorway, an empty bowl held lightly at her hip. The three ellith went pale with anticipation. Even their patients had ceased their moaning and coughing. The room, the whole of the camp, every one of the Eldar paused in a moment of listening.

"What's that?" Írissë breathed from the hearth, a hand resting on the knife hilt at her waist.

The swoop and rush of wings. Giant wings. 

Artanis' hands went to her mouth, her eyes widening in understanding.  "An eagle."

The camp emptied out into the night as a call went up from the guard post by the lake, silver horns blaring into the darkness. The winds had dispersed the deadly smog, the sky clean of clouds with only a blackened orb of the new moon. Against an encompassing sheet of stars, a shape swept over the water.

The silhouette of a massive bird gracefully slid over the calm surface of the water, only slowing it's speed as it approached the camp. The elves were silent as the eagle gently landed on the rocky beach, as easily as a moth on a leaf. 

Artanis fell to her knees, her hands raised in a position of worship. The Noldo maiden who had been too proud to prostrate herself on the Holy Mountain of Taniquetil was now struck dumb in holy awe of this bird of Manwë. 

"The Valar," Artanis whispered as Luimëníssë joined her on the chilled ground, grasping her hand. "They have not forgotten us."

The giant eagle's sentient gaze rested on them like the wisest of fathers. It dropped a wing, showing what it carried on it's back. Two beings. 

"Father!" Fingon called out hoarsely. "Finrod, someone help!"

Elves rushed to help their leader's son. Fingolfin was first. He let out a shout of joy that startled them all. 

"Bring him, bring him down!" 

Artanis and Luimëníssë pushed through the crowd and watched as they carefully handed an emaciated, half clothed body down to the waiting hands of Finrod, Turgon and Fingolfin.

"Maitimo," Írissë said bluntly. "He's done it. Fingon found him. Alive."

They swiftly carried the barely conscious Fëanorian into the camp. Luimëníssë remained with others, unable to leave the giant eagle just yet. Fingolfin turned to it, resting a hand over his heart and bowing his head. The eagle answered with a hot rush of breath before dipping it's body close to the ground and launching off into the night sky, flying westward. Where none of them would ever return.

 ***

Vantaro watched Iestiel sleep soundly by the fire. The wild storm out of the south had ceased earlier, sputtering to silence. Stars peeked through, shining down on them and waking Vantaro where he lay curled against the maiden. With some effort, he removed himself from her side.

He put another piece of wood on the fire, the dry branch catching flame and shedding a warm glow on her peaceful countenance. Her dreams had quieted with the storm. As she had tossed restlessly, her tangled mat of dark brown hair sticking to the sides of her perspiring face, Vantaro had been unable to bear watching her suffer alone.

He had never lain beside an elleth, not like that. Though nothing happened aside from the chaste kiss he'd pressed to her forehead, Vantaro was jarred by her presence. He knew she was several centuries older than him, her manner portrayed it. She was like his cousins Artanis or Írissë and he tried to remind himself to view her as such. 

But the seeds had been sewn the moment he had dropped down to the forest floor and startled her, then when she'd reached for him on the plains of Ard-galen, wild-eyed with relief at being rescued from her captivity. 

Vantaro was inexplicably drawn to her. Her mild voice matched with her perceptive, blue eyes, her expressed desire to learn and know more of the world outside Doriath and still her dedication to home. He had never known a home, perhaps that was what drew him to her the most. She possessed something he had no knowledge of, but desperately longed for just the same.

"You're awfully focused on that elleth there..."

Vantaro leaped to his feet, alert and ready for combat with his hunting knife drawn. A dry laugh like rustling leaves followed light footsteps. A wild figure stepped into the circle of firelight. Vantaro let out an aggravated groan and stuck his blade back in it's sheath.

Celonion, the wandering grey elf that frequented Amras and Fingon's company at times, ambled towards the fire. He stirred the pot of athelas, his dark brows narrowing.

"One of you wounded?" He asked, sniffing the spoon.

Vantaro motioned towards Iestiel. "She was captured by orcs. Found her just in time before they were able to cart her off to Angband."

Celonion's grey eyes swept over the campsite before he sat down beside the fire, undoing the top button on his oil skin tunic. "How long you been here?"

"Just tonight. Fingon left us not long ago. He... he had another errand to run."

Celonion smirked. "Errand? Noldor business?"

Vantaro nodded.

The grey elf smirked. "No interest in that then. Unless there is silver to be had. And if there is one thing you Noldor are in abundance of, it's silver."

"We'll be returning to my people at first light. And from there, I'll bring her back to Doriath myself if I must."

"Doriath?"

"Yes, that's her home."

Celonion sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studied Iesitel, his face scrunching in the faint light. "Ah. Yes. I recognize that one."

"You do?"

"Mmhmm. Her father... you said she was captured by orcs. Where is Lalvon?"

Vantaro shook his head, digging his heels into the earth and clenching his hands together. "We found them too late. Ambush."

"The enemy is pushing his borders. I am sorry to hear it. The Stonemason was known in these parts, helping build fortifications against the servants of the darkness among our people for very little in return. He was a good ellon."

"Yes. He was."

Celonion sniffed and peered up at the sky. Clouds were shielding the stars again, silently creeping in from the north. "And she is something known in her kingdom as well. Iestiel. Weaver, student of Melian, great magician with the wind."

"That I've seen first hand-"

"And of late," Celonion interrupted, catching Vantaro's eye with a wry expression. "The betrothed of Mablung."

Vantaro's breath caught in his throat, but he managed to keep his face plain. "Mablung. The chief captain of King Thingol?"

"The very ellon." Celonion cocked his head to the side as Iestiel let out a soft breath in her sleep. "She didn't tell you that, did she?"

Vantaro set his jaw hard. "No. She didn't."

"You still want to see her all the way to the gates of Doriath?"

Straightening his spine, Vantaro retrieved the stag from his pocket, turning it over in his hands. A drifting snowfall dusted the ground from overhead. His breath plumed in the air as he sighed. "I will. This news has not changed my present path." 

***

His hand was bound tightly. No. Not his hand. His wrist. 

Luimëníssë stood in the chamber in the Meeting House where the eldest prince of the House of Finwe slept. His dreams had been dark. Artanis had to call for both Angrod and Finrod several times to hold Maitimo down as he thrashed in his bed, endangering his wound. 

Artanis cauterized it herself with a hot poker. Luimëníssë had to look away, clutching the bowl of hot water and herbs to her side and trying not to flinch. Maitimo, murmuring nonsense, didn't even scream. He merely stared up at the ceiling with numb eyes, his lips mumbling about songs from his childhood.

What remained of his once lustrous, red swath of hair had to be shorn off. Luimëníssë saw to this as Artanis mixed concoctions for his various wounds. His bony chest was a maze of scars and burns. His scalp had been slashed, scarring over in places. He would have a line curving from his temple and down to the back of his mangled ear that would never grow hair again. Gingerly, she washed his bare scalp, trying to see the handsome face that entranced so many ellith back in Tirion before their banishment.

"He burns," Artanis murmured. "But his heart is strong. Stronger than it should be, seeing as what he's gone through."

"He is a Fëanorian. They are difficult to defeat," Luimëníssë whispered as she gathered her cloths and wash bowl. "Believe me. I know. I'm married to one."

Atanis shared a sad smile with her, their eyes glazed with exhaustion. Her cousin pressed a hand to her shoulder. "Go to your chamber and rest for a bit. I'll send for you if I need you. There is nothing else we can do tonight."

"Have his kin been alerted yet of his return?" Luimëníssë asked blandly.

"Fingolfin asked that we don't speak of it publicly, but yes. Despite the bad blood between the two camps of Lake Mithrim, Maitimo must have his brothers around him now. The sons of Fëanor, they depend on each other. More than even they realize, I think."

Luimëníssë shuddered and turned away. It was a fact she knew quite well after years without her husband. He had never made an effort to reach out to her and nor did she in return. And yet, things felt so open ended between them, so many things not talked of, apologies made or forgiveness bestowed. Her marriage to Curufin was a open wound. She didn't know how it would ever heal.

Releasing a heavy breath as she entered her bed chamber, Luimëníssë stripped down to her shift and fell into her bed. She didn't even bother to close the cracked window over her wash stand. 

She had only been asleep for a few moments when a sound broke through her rest. Howling echoed from the pine barrens beyond, disturbing the eerie winter night. She knew she was still asleep even as she rose from her bed. Barefoot, she walked out of her chamber and wandered out of the Great Hall. The alleys and yards of the camp were barren, snow collecting on peaked roofs and freezing the brown grass.

The guards at the gate didn't notice her. This barely disturbed her even as she passed them. It was as though she had become invisible. Drawn into the wild, she tip toed over the icy rocks at the edge of the lake and lost herself in the pine barrens.

Branches knitted a canopy beneath a black sky without a star. Snow fell in thick blossoms, Luimëníssë's feet sank into the drifts gathering in the forest. She passed under the archway of birches. Strangely, she noted how little the cold bothered her despite the fact that she only wore her shift. Despite the lack of moon and other heavenly bodies, the snow reflected light that had no visible source. The unearthly glow filled the air and showed Luimëníssë her way through the wood.

A wolf howled. Luimëníssë wrapped her arms around her torso and squinted in the faint light, dread filling her heart at the sound of panting animal breath and hoof beats. A flash of white screamed across the dark landscape, a stag bleeding from it's haunches as it struggled against it's wounds. Dark shapes loped after it, their snouts tasting the blood in the air. One paused and turned in her direction.

Fear struck her to the core as it moved towards her. Large paws padded through the snow, keen intelligence not of a common beast gleaming in it's eyes. Luimëníssë blinked, willing herself to awaken. Her senses muddled, she stirred to dull consciousness. But the scene didn't change. 

The wolf cocked it's head to the side then lowered itself to the snow. Gnashing it's bloodied teeth, the wolf leaped towards her only to be impaled by a silver lance as it hissed through the air. The animal fell at her feet, it's breath coming out in soggy gasps, pink bubbling around it's mouth.

An ellon strode out of the darkness, his silver breastplate gleaming and oxblood cape trembling around his shoulders. He removed his helm, coarse black hair falling around his all too familiar face. His eyes burned gold as he stared down at the animal and shook his head. Bracing the struggling body with a boot, he retrieved the weapon.

"I have given you ample warning about threatening my invited guests to the hunt," he chided the wolf as though he spoke to a child.

Luimëníssë winced as he stomped down on the base of the animal's skull and it stopped breathing. After wiping the gore from the lance on the ground, the oxblood prince turned his attention on her.

"I am glad to find you safe," he said with a charming smile that revealed sharp, elongated canine teeth. "Even after all these years."

Luimëníssë jolted. "Rembano," she breathed the name she had not said aloud in decades. "This is a dream."

"No. Not any longer," he said, approaching her and draping his cloak over her shoulders. Taking her face in his pale hands, he ran his thumbs under her eyes. "As lovely as the day you sought me at the forge of Alqualondë."

Tears sprang to her eyes. "No. You are wrong. This is a dream."

"Believe what you like, my love." He drew down to her face and spoke softly into her ear. The razor end of his canine grazed her earlobe. "As you believe yourself to be bound to that kinslayer. When you will always be mine."

She pulled away from him and blinked up into his otherworldly countenance. It was Rembano and yet, it wasn't. His features glowed with a white flame, like a lamp covered in silk. Only his eyes were pits of limitless fire. 

He lifted her hand and ran a thumb over her ring finger. "I know why you don't wear my ring anymore. You don't need to explain. And yet, it's still there. Branded deep in your heart. Like our love."

A band of gleaming silver burned around her finger where she had once worn her cherished black pearl ring. He pressed his icy lips to it.

"I will return when I can, my love," he spoke softly into her flesh.

Horse hoofs thundered through the forest, shattering the moment. Wolves howled. 

"Farewell." He turned into the darkness and set off running. His body bent and doubled over, growing and shrinking, shape shifting into a massive wolf.

Luimëníssë shrieked, fully coming into herself. She couldn't remember why she was lost in the woods in the middle of the night. Her finger burned and she wore a strange cloak around her shoulders. Odd words rang in her brain, but she could not place who had spoken them.

The wolves howled again. A pack racing straight for her. Horses panted and thundered through the pine barrens, running down the animals.

Bare feet like ice, she took off through the wood for the camp's torches in the distance. The beasts snapped at the edges of the cloak fluttering behind her as she ran. The lead horseman savagely kicked the wolf closest to her and sent it thudding into a tree trunk. 

A strong arm caught her by the waist, throwing her up onto the saddle in front of the rider. Her heaving chest pressed against a steel breastplate, she knew the torso well as she wrapped her arms around him. His breath stirred her hair as he laid a firm, gloved hand to the small of her back, his other clutching the reins.

"Wife-" Curufin gasped in shock. "What- what are you doing out here?"

"Dreaming," she managed to choke out of her burning throat. "I was dreaming." 

***

Author's Note: Hello all! I will continuing the story in the next book of the series, "Earthen Soul". I felt like what I'm trying to write would be better off broken down into three segments and maybe a fourth companion story... I'm having way too much fun with this. Thank you guys SO much for your support and comments, I love talking with everyone in the Tolkienverse community. You guys are rad! Thank you!!