Four days went by and soon Frodo was healed. He woke up on the morning of October the 24th to a wise old wizard sitting in his room. They discussed many things and soon they came to the topic of Aragorn and Miril.

"Do you really mean that Strider is one of the people of the old Kings," said Frodo in wonder. "I thought they had all vanished long ago. I thought he was only a Ranger!"

"Only a Ranger!" cried Gandalf. "My dear Frodo, that is just what the Rangers are: the last remnant in the North of the great people, the Men of the West. They have helped me before; and I shall need their help in the days to come; for we have reached Rivendell, but the Ring is not yet at rest."

"What about Miril," Frodo asked, "What is she?"

A strange look came across Gandalf's face. He covered it up quickly and smiled.

"Miril is of elvish and dunedain descent. It is complicated."

"Very well," Frodo nodded, "Keep your secrets, Gandalf. I myself wish to rest for a while longer."

"There will be great feasting later today in honor of your recovery," Gandalf revealed to the hobbit, "So rest up."

Gandalf left the hobbit alone in his room and went to the great libraries of Rivendell. There he found Aragorn and Elrond deep in conversation.

"I am concerned for her, Lord," Aragorn was telling the Elf-Lord and Aragorn's adopted father.

"For Miril," Gandalf asked, butting in on their conversation.

"Yes," Aragorn nodded, making room for the wizard.

"She is a stout warrior, a girl of wonderful heart, and full of passion," Gandalf shook his head, "You need not be worried."

Elrond smirked, "So you always have said, Mithrandir. Even when we all doubted, you stood by Miril's side. Why is that?"

"Because only the foolish despair. Miril is as capable a warrior as her father, as gifted at lore as her mother, and as strong of heart as her companions."

"Where is she at the moment," Elrond asked.

"I last saw her with the twins," Gandalf revealed, "As usual."

Miril sat laughing hysterically at something Elladan had said. The twins and Miril were seated in one of the many gardens of Imladris, eating food and drinking wine.

"It wasn't funny," Elladan protested.

"Yes, it was, brother," Elrohir laughed along.

Elladan shook his head but chuckled as Miril struggled to regain control of herself. They hadn't heard her beautiful laugh in many years. Elrohir especially had missed it.

"How has the hunt come," Miril asked after several silent minutes in which the three of them merely enjoyed each other's company.

"Unfortunately there is rarely a shortage of orcs," Elladan told her.

Elrohir agreed, "We've stuck mostly to the areas of the Ettenmoors as of late, since our sister has been home. It has been long since we've seen her, so we wanted to stay close."

"How is the Lady Arwen," Miril asked.

"Wonderful," said a woman who approached them, "I am happy to have returned home after spending so long with my grandmother, though I do miss the golden leaves of Lorien."

"My Lady," Miril got up and bowed from her spot, "It is good to see you."

"Miril," she nodded with a small smile, "It is a pleasant surprise seeing you here after so many years."

"Sister," Elladan smiled, "You do realize that Lord Aragorn is here, don't you."

Elrohir snickered.

"Yes, I do," Arwen narrowed her eyes, "I was on my way to see him, brother."

"I am sure he cannot wait to lay eyes on you," Elrohir added as she walked away.

Arwen rolled her eyes at her brothers' teasing. She merely bid farewell to Miril and continued on her way to the library.

Miril jabbed Elrohir in the side, "That was mean."

"Was not! It was just a bit of fun!"

Miril rolled her eyes and laid back in the grass. She let the bright sun rest on her face, illuminating her pale, soft skin. It warmed her like a candle and she relished the wonderful feeling it brought her.

Elrohir watched the woman with a small smile. He felt warm inside while in her presence. It made him feel happier than any other time in his life, when Miril was by his side. He loved his brother, but it was something different with Miril, Elrohir simply couldn't place it.

Elladan watched his brother silently. Elladan knew what his brother was feeling, even if Elrohir himself did not. It made him laugh inside. Elladan reflected that he had two siblings that were hopelessly in love. For himself, he was fine with the wind in his hair and the sword in his hand. That was his life, and he liked it.

Frodo woke up later that day to Sam in his room. The two hobbits talked for a while before Sam revealed that the feast was soon. Fortunately Frodo had already changed and the two hobbits left the bedroom for the courtyard. There they ran into the other hobbits and Aragorn.

"Come, it is time for the feast," Aragorn smiled, letting the hobbits go before him into the great dining hall.

It was at the feast that Frodo first laid eyes on the Lady Arwen. So beautiful was she that Frodo marveled at her. Surely she was the most beautiful maiden alive!

Once everyone had processed in, they waited for Elrond to sit before the rest were allowed to do the same. Frodo found himself next to an old dwarf with a voluminous white beard.

"Welcome and well met," the dwarf said, "Gloin, at your service."

"Frodo Baggins at your service and your family's," Frodo bowed in surprise, "Am I right in assuming you are THE Gloin, one of Thorin Oakenshield's companions?"

"Quite right," Gloin answered, "And I have already been told that you are kinsman and adopted heir of Bilbo the renowned. Allow me to congratulate you on your recovery!"

"Thank you!"

Miril was conspicuously absent from the feast. However, everyone was so caught up in the celebration that no one missed her, except Elrond. Elrond wondered where the half-elf had gone to, but he did not pursue it. She was old enough to take care of herself. The only other people missing from the feast were Elladan and Elrohir, for Elrond had sent them on an errand that night and they were away from Rivendell. Goblins had been sighted leaving the Ettenmoors, and they needed to be kept in check.

As it was, Miril was wandering the empty halls of the Last Homely House. She was on her way to visiting her old room which she hoped they had kept like it had been eight years prior. Indeed, when she got there and opened the door, she breathed in the familiar scent of orchids that grew outside the window. Closing her eyes she took a big whiff of the comforting scent.

She went to the mirror and her hand went to her cheek. She felt the healing wound with her hand. It would leave a scar. But that was okay- one more battle scar to add to her dozen. Miril went to her desk and opened the bottom drawer. Drawing out the bottom of the drawer, she revealed a secret compartment which contained a dust-covered book. Miril removed the book and blew off the dust. She smiled sadly as the beautiful blue star on the black cover was revealed beneath the blanket of dust newly removed.

The book was an ancient one, one that told of days long since passed. Miril had found it in a troll hoard and had kept it hidden since. For within its covers were stories that told of the Elder Days, written by a master elf of the Noldor. Besides tales of the days before the Fall of Beleriand, it also contained herbal remedies, maps, and other coveted crafts from those days. She knew in her heart she should give it to the Lord Elrond, but somehow she felt a connection to it. Something unexplained refused to allow her to hand it over.

Miril looked up from the book when she heard a series of bells tolling in the distance. The feast was over, and it was time for story and song! Miril smiled and slipped the book back into the bottom drawer before pulling on a dress from her old closet. Miraculously, the beautiful dresses were still in prime shape despite the number of years that had passed since they had last been worn.

In her silver and blue dress, Miril did her hair back and slipped on some silver shoes. She rushed out the door of her room and made her way to the Hall of Fire. Once there, she waited to go in for everyone else first. She wished that Elladan and Elrohir were there, but wishing would do nothing. They would be back late tomorrow, anyways. They would miss the Council that was set to convene though.

For many people had shown up. Gloin and a company of dwarves had come as emissaries of Dain from the Lonely Mountain. Legolas Greenleaf and his Mirkwood elves had arrived some days prior to the feast. Elves of the Gray Havens lead by Galdor were there as well. Tomorrow, she and Aragorn would represent the race of Men. It was not the first time she had aligned herself with her Dunedain brethren, though she felt just as at home among the Elves.

"Miril," Gandalf greeted her, "Elrond told me you missed the feast. Why is that?"

"I was elsewhere," was all she told the wise old wizard.

Gandalf huffed, "Ever full of secrets."

"You know you like me that way," she smirked, "Have you seen Lindir?"

"Yes. He is with Bilbo in the corner."

"Thanks."

Miril made her way through the crowds to where Bilbo sat reciting some poem. It seems he was just finishing as Miril got there.

"Now, we better have it again," Lindir nodded to Bilbo.

"I am flattered, Lindir," he said, "But it would be too tiring to repeat it all."

"Not to tiring for you," another elf answered with a laught, "You know you are never tired of reciting your own verses. But really, we cannot answer you question at one hearing!"

"What," Bilbo cried, "You can't tell which parts were mine, and which were the Dunedan's?"

"It is not easy for us to tell the difference between two mortals," Lindir protested.

Bilbo told him this was nonsense.

"Maybe. To sheep, other sheep no doubt appear different. Or to shepherds. But mortals have not been our study. We have other business!"

"Very well, I will leave you to guess," Bilbo snorted.

Miril chuckled as Bilbo and Frodo left the little scene. She sat down beside Lindir on the floor.

"What was that about?"

"Oh you know, old Bilbo was telling us one of his pieces of poetry. Quite a good one, too. You'd have enjoyed it. It was about Earendil and his journey."

"Miril! Miril!"

The Ranger turned around to see who was calling her. It was Oreleth.

"Oreleth," Miril smiled, rising from her seat beside Lindir who himself took the stool to perform one of his own poems.

"Miril, come. It is time for us to perform the Hymn of Elbereth. Do you not wish to accompany me?"

"Of course," Miril grinned, hurrying behind the elf maid quickly. They arrived at the front of the Hall of Fire where a lute sat unplayed. Oreleth grabbed it and struck up a tune.

"A Elbereth Gilthoniel,

silivren penna miriel,

o menel aglar elenath!

Na-chaered palan-diriel

O galadhremmin ennorath,

Fanuilos, le linnathon

Nef aear, si nef aearon!"

Miril's clear voice rang out across the quieted room. Everyone listen to her sing the Hymn of Elbereth. It was a favorite among the Elves of Rivendell. It was a hymn of praise to Lady Elbereth, that is, Lady Varda, wife of Lord Manwe of the Valar. She is the Queen of the Stars, and the patron of the Elves for lack of a better word. All give her praise.

The rest of the night went like this, as Miril sang and enjoyed the songs of her elvish friends all around her. It was a long night, but elves need little sleep. However Miril retired early the next morning while the sky was still dark to her room, eager for a rest. Her cheek was stinging despite its progress healing, and she made sure to apply the ointment that Elrond had given her before bed. After all, tomorrow would be a long day. The Council was to convene.