PERHAPS YOU'LL FIND YOURSELF RUNNING BACK HERE ONE DAY.

When the second day on Númenor arrived, Nimriel found herself standing at Galadriel's side in the throne room. Queen Míriel had summoned them to court to discuss not only what she planned to do with them, but to talk about Halbrand's sentence as well. Attacking and nearly killing four citizens was not something to take lightly.

Míriel stood across from the two Elves with all the documents found in the Hall of Lore laid out in front of her. There was a map of the Southlands showing how the landmarks matched Sauron's sigil, Halbrand's mark, and some sort of plan written in Black Speech that Galadriel had to translate for them. Elendil, who was there when she made those discoveries, stood a few feet to the side, overseeing the meeting.

Nimriel was really only there to watch over Galadriel and make sure she didn't offend Míriel and the kingdom any more than she already had. Since Halbrand could no longer be the voice of reason for the trio, the responsibility fell on Nim's shoulders.

"You vex me, Elf," Míriel said, looking up from the documents and up at Galadriel. "I welcome you as a guest, and you gallop off to our countryside to steal ancient scrolls whilst your Southlander companion assaults our citizenry. Is the royal amongst you the only one who knows how to act when treated as a guest in another's home?"

"Queen Míriel, he is understandably quick to temper," Nimriel spoke softly, wanting to defend Halbrand. And maybe she was stretching the truth a bit given the real reason he was thrown in the dungeon. "His people are dying."

"His people?" she questioned.

Galadriel spoke evenly. "We believe the man you hold in your dungeons is no common brawler, but the lost heir in exile to the throne of the Southlands."

"And I suppose Elendil here is a Rhûnic emperor," Míriel said dryly.

Elendil chuckled to himself, seemingly flattered by the implication. "Just a petty lord, actually." Though when Míriel shot him a look that clearly said she was in no joking mood, his crooked smile dropped.

"His people are scattered and leaderless," Nimriel said, trying to get back on track. "But with your backing, they might unite behind his banner and fight."

The Queen narrowed her eyes at her. "What do you mean 'backing'?"

"Sauron was once your people's enemy, as much as mine," Galadriel told her. "I call on you to finish the task left undone. To reforge the alliance between Númenor and Elves, and fight with me to save the men of the Southlands before Sauron claims their lands for his own."

For just a few short seconds, the Queen thought it over before setting the documents down and shaking her head. "In this court, we hear many proposals. I dare say yours is the most surprising and ambitious I've heard in weeks. Nevertheless, Númenor has chosen another path."

"We understand, Queen Regent," Nimriel told her, trying to stay in her good graces. "And we thank you for even hearing our proposition. We know we haven't put you in an easy situation with our sudden arrival. We understand why Númenor wishes to stay uninvolved."

"Not all Númenor," Galadriel said quickly. Elendil and Nim both shot her concerned looks, knowing she needed to tread lightly.

"King or carpenter, the Southlander will face judgment. This audience is ended," Míriel told Galadriel, ignoring her remark altogether.

As Míriel stepped away and headed down the stairs leading from the platform they were meeting on, Galadriel looked at Elendil desperately. But there was nothing he could do to aid her, as he was sworn to follow the Queen and her orders. Then when Galadriel closed her eyes and took in a furiously deep breath to try and calm down, Nimriel knew things were about to get worse.

Galadriel whirled around to glare at Míriel as she walked away. "Then I have little choice but to ask for another. One with Númenor's true ruler. Your father, the King."

It was enough to have the Queen Regent stop and turn back around, a guarded expression on her face. Clearly, bringing up her father was stirring up some kind of reaction. "You should not speak of matters you do not understand, Galadriel, daughter of Finarfin."

"And you should stand aside, that I might present my proposal to one who holds the authority to answer it," she replied, not backing down.

Elendil stepped up to defend his queen, his newfound fondness for the Elf quickly washing away. "Lady Galadriel, that is quite enough—"

"And with what authority do you speak, Elf?" Míriel asked, not needing anyone to defend her, as she could do it herself. "That of your people? Or are you a castaway, grasping for a handhold in a tempest?"

Galadriel raised her voice, practically shaking with anger. Nim had to take a step back, separating herself from the furious Elf who wasn't getting her way. "There is a tempest in me. It swept me to this island for a reason. And it will not be quelled by you, Regent." She spat the official title as an insult, reminding her that she wasn't the true leader of the kingdom.

Nimriel sighed heavily and put her head in her hands, knowing exactly how Míriel was going to quell that tempest, as it was exactly what her father would've done.

Five minutes later, two guards had Galadriel inside of the cell next to Halbrand, slamming the door shut in her face as she held her head high. Nimriel was standing back, having scurried after them as they escorted her out of the throne room, knowing there was no way she could fix this situation.

"Don't tell me," Halbrand drawled, looking at Galadriel over his shoulder while he sat on the bench in his own cell. "Tavern brawl?"

"Sedition," Galadriel said, clenching her jaw before looking over at him.

Halbrand only laughed, finding it the funniest situation in all the world at the moment. He leaned his head back against the bars and slid his eyes past Galadriel and to the Sea Elf with an amused smile on her lips. "Don't suppose you'll be acting up anytime soon to join us?"

Nimriel crossed her arms and walked over to his cell. "I shall have you know that I have been nothing but a delight to everyone I have met since setting foot on land."

"And because of that, it now seems that all our plans rest on your shoulders," Galadriel said, looking at her intently.

"Oh," Nim said, tilting her head, "I hadn't realized there was a second part of the plan after her rejecting you."

Galadriel's shoulders sank for a moment, knowing she did not have a backup plan quite yet. "Once I think of a plan, then you will carry it out."

"Is that going to take a while?" she asked. When Galadriel didn't respond and instead began pacing, Nim sighed and took a seat on the floor, not wanting her legs to get tired while waiting. "This is going to take a while, isn't it?"

☆

It was taking a while. Galadriel never stopped her pacing as she thought, desperate for a way to get out of the cell and off the island. And there must have been a way to bring a Númenorean army with them. Eventually, Nimriel got bored of watching her pace while sitting in front of her cell, so she moved over to Halbrand's, who sat across from her on the floor with only the bars separating them.

They did not get the chance to talk much though, as Nim took one look at him and realized the day-old blood was still on his face. Before he could question what she was doing, Nimriel rushed out of the dungeons and returned several minutes later with a wet cloth. She surprised him even when instead of handing it to him, she reached through the bars and began gently wiping the blood from his upper lip and chin.

"I could do that myself, you know," Halbrand said, speaking in a surprisingly soft tone. "A princess shouldn't be doting on someone like me."

"Someone like you?" Nim asked, the amusement in her tone clear. She kept her focus on his lips as she wiped the rest of the blood off. "A king?"

Halbrand grabbed her wrist, stilling her movements. Though he didn't push her away and kept her hand close. "I am not the man you wish for me to be. It's foolish to convince yourself otherwise," he told her.

"What's so foolish about wishing to see your crown on your head as you heal Middle-Earth from the sins of your forebears?" she asked, tilting her head.

"It is not that simple," he told her, letting out a huff. "You do not know how this world works above the surface."

"No, I do not," she admitted. "But I shall learn more the longer I am here and when I leave this island. But do not act as if I don't know what it means to rule — the sacrifices that you'd have to make to claim your rightful place as ruler of the Southlands. Maybe it is foolish to want you on the ship with us when we depart, but my faith in you will remain unwavering."

"Your faith in me," Halbrand repeated, studying her face carefully. What he saw was a girl far too naive and trusting — too loyal to someone she hardly knew. "Your faith is misplaced, Princess. The day will come when you realize it. For your sake, make that time now and forget this notion. I shall not leave this place."

Nimriel's entire form drooped sadly, and she slipped her arm out of his hold, looking down. What was so bad about believing in Halbrand? About wanting to see him on a throne? If only he could see the same potential she saw in him.

"Very well," she said, giving up on convincing him for the time being.

Since Nim was looking at her lap, she didn't see the look Galadriel was sending Halbrand. Her eyes narrowed at him, displeased over him making the Sea Elf sad. Halbrand looked right back, raising an eyebrow as if to silently ask what he was supposed to do about it — he wasn't going to change his mind. Eventually, he sighed and looked back at Nimriel.

"I am sorry for letting you down, Princess," he told her.

"It's alright," Nim replied quietly. Then she tucked a strand of white hair behind her pointed ear. "And how many times must I tell you not to call me that."

"Oh, at least once more, Princess," Halbrand said in a teasing tone.

Nim couldn't fight the small smile that formed. "Even back in my home kingdom, everyone just uses my name unless it is at a royal event," she told him, shaking her head.

"And what is your home kingdom like?" he then asked, figuring that it might remedy her sour mood.

And it did. It didn't take Nimriel long at all to excitedly describe her home that her two friends would never be able to see. She talked about their grand castle that was miles below the surface, so deep that the sun didn't reach them. She told them about her closest friend Feldrin and his dislike for anything even remotely resembling an adventure. She listed her five older brothers, telling them a bit about them, while mainly focusing on the oldest, Deranthil, who would inherit the throne. She mentioned her father sparingly and only when necessary, though neither companion questioned it.

"One can see why you had no qualms about running from home so suddenly," Halbrand noted, leaning the side of his head against the bars and looking at her. They were both still on the floor across from each other. "With five brothers, you'd never see the throne. I suspect that gives you a bit more freedom than most nobility have."

Nimriel shrugged, knowing she didn't have much freedom growing up with how overprotective those brothers were. "Well, I would never be High Queen. But Father was beginning to discuss marrying me off to one of the Princes in an Eastern kingdom to strengthen an allyship with them. So, if I ever return, then I'd have the power that comes with that."

"You are not opposed to an arranged marriage?" he questioned. Sure, it was still common practice, especially with those of noble birth, but Nim seemed the type to fight something like that tooth and nail. "You'd choose power over love?"

"I think the two are quite similar," she said even if she'd never been in love. "They go hand in hand. What is the point of wielding great power if you do not have someone you love at your side to help carry the weight of it?"

Halbrand let out a quiet hum, seeming surprisingly deep in thought as he contemplated her words. Then he raised an eyebrow, that teasing look returning. "And is this Eastern Prince someone that can help you accomplish this? Power and love?"

"I suppose I will not know until I've tasted both," she admitted, drawing patterns in the dust on the dungeon floor.

For just a moment, an offer was ready to leap off the tip of Halbrand's tongue — an offer that he quickly swallowed, having no idea where in the depths of his soul it had come from so suddenly. It was an offer of love, of power, but also of temptation and the darkness he was trying so hard to run away from to repent for the sins of his past. Instead, Halbrand quickly changed the topic.

"I am curious of something," he said, gaining her attention once more. "I admit there's still much to learn about Sea Elves if you're willing to answer such questions."

"Ask away, Mouth Breather," Nim said with a teasing smile.

Halbrand moved carefully, sliding his hand past the bars of his cell to reach her. He then took her arm and turned it so that the palm of her hand was facing the ceiling. Just over the pulse point of her right wrist was a small patch of nearly translucent, iridescent scales that morphed seamlessly into skin around the edges.

A chill ran down Nimriel's spine as he ran his thumb over them with a light touch, and she blamed it on how cold the dungeons were.

"Why are these not everywhere?" Halbrand questioned while looking at her. But he wasn't looking her in the eyes, instead taking in every inch of skin exposed by the dress that left her collarbones and shoulders uncovered. "For sea life, they're meant for protection. One would think you'd be covered from head to toe."

Nimriel didn't have many places on her body that had scales. Aside from her wrist, there was a patch underneath the left part of her collarbone and beside the opposite shoulder blade, a few on her thighs, some traveling along her right torso, and a hardly visible amount of small ones on her left temple. Some were larger patches than others, but all were durable despite feeling as soft as silk to touch.

"Thousands of years ago, that's what they were for — protection," she explained. "But we've evolved past that. Now, the number of scales one has just depends on lineage. My mother was covered in them, but my father hardly has a trace of them. Meaning some of my siblings have much more than I, and some who have less. Barishlin, my second oldest brother, only has some right in the middle of his eyebrows."

"Interesting," he murmured, still looking at her scales.

Nimriel smiled up at him. "Think of them like you humans with birthmarks and freckles." As she spoke, Nim reached for him and lightly brushed her finger across the bridge of his nose which had a light, hardly-noticeable dusting of freckles on it. Halbrand couldn't help it as the corners of his lips turned up from her touch. "They make us all unique and different."

"They're beautiful," Halbrand told her, remembering how they seemingly glowed underwater when he dove in to bring her back to the raft.

She could feel her cheeks heating up from the compliment, not expecting it from Halbrand. He was always so sarcastic and wry, so to hear him think some part of her was beautiful threw her for a moment.

"Thank you," Nimriel replied, trying to ignore how he was looking at her red cheeks. Then she shyly looked away and instead focused on Galadriel, who had remained fairly silent for the last half hour while Nim spoke about her home. She'd even gone back to pacing when Halbrand started what she could only describe as flirting. "So," Nim said, clearing her throat, "how goes the planning?"

"I will find a way to force her hand," Galadriel muttered, continuing to walk the length of her cell.

Halbrand watched her over his shoulder for a moment before sighing heavily, deciding to aid her along. "As much as I admire your habit of charging at every obstacle in your path, like a colt in full gallop—" Galadriel cut her eyes to him at the analogy but didn't stop pacing. "—Has it ever occurred to you that you're not battling trolls or Orcs, but Men?"

Galadriel rolled her eyes, knowing no one knew more about battle than she did. "Are you really about to advise me in the art of war?"

"No. No, I..." Halbrand trailed off and began to chuckle. Then he got to his feet. "I wouldn't dare. But then the Queen's court isn't exactly your usual battlefield, is it?"

Finally, she came to a stop and slowly began to entertain his idea. Even if the expression on her face made it evident that she didn't want to hear him out. "Go on."

"In an instance like this, it seems to me that you'd do well to identify what it is that your opponent most fears."

"And exploit it?" Galadriel assumed, stepping closer to the bars separating them.

"No," he said with a smirk, pleased he knew more than her about this. "Give them a means of mastering it so that you can master them."

"So by your standards, I'm in this cell, because I've yet to identify what the Queen most fears?" she asked.

"My very low standards. Yes."

"And I suppose you did, having met her for all of a few moments?" Galadriel asked, raising an eyebrow.

"During which you managed to demand a ship, insult her people, defy her orders, none of which quickened her pulse." As Halbrand listed all of her actions, Nim was silently nodding in agreement. "Now, all of a sudden, she throws you in a cell. Why?"

"We asked her to fight for your people," Nim told him, getting up as well.

"But that wasn't what provoked her anger, was it?" Halbrand asked rhetorically while looking at Nim. "Or else you'd be in a cell as well."

Galadriel thought over the interaction that led to this, the realization washing over her. "I demanded to speak with her father. The king in the tower, whom no one has seen in years."

"See what happens when you stop galloping and you give yourself a moment to think?" Halbrand asked with a pleased expression on his face.

Galadriel narrowed her eyes at him and moved closer to his cell. "Cease comparing me to a horse," she ordered.

"Cease trying to convince me to leave this island and you have a deal," he shot back. "I do not even wish to leave this cell so long as you're still in this kingdom."

"I like horses," Nim said, hoping to break the tension between the two. She didn't want to argue with Halbrand anymore about what to do once they were ready to leave. The comment at least got them to stop glaring at each other and look at her instead.

"Nim, how do you know what a horse is?" Galadriel asked, tilting her head. She knew it was amongst the many creatures the Sea Elf wouldn't have heard of.

"I met a lovely one named Berek yesterday when Isi — oh!" Nimriel quickly turned and looked out a small, nearby window, seeing that the sun was quite high in the sky. "Oh, no. I've lost track of time. Surely, training is done — I was meant to meet him. But I'll try to ask around about the king."

"Who are you meeting?" Halbrand asked as Nim quickly rushed toward the stairs to lead her out of the dungeons.

"A boy!" she called over her shoulder before running off to meet Isildur, who hopefully hadn't been waiting for her for too long.

Halbrand watched her go, an odd, unfamiliar, angry emotion stirring in his chest. The Elf next to him studied him carefully, noting how his jaw twitched, he grabbed one of the bars tightly, his eyes darkened as they lost sight of Nimriel.

"I believe I have found a reason as to why you'd want to leave this cell," Galadriel spoke up, not bothering to hide her smirk. "You cannot easily fight the Captain's son for her attention while behind these bars."

"I do not need to fight for her attention," he scoffed, turning his back to the Elf.

"That is true," she agreed. "Though can it truly be called a fight if he is so clearly winning?"

☆

Nimriel and Isildur were meant to meet in the spot where they had watched the sunset the night before. Training for the Sea Guard ended shortly after lunchtime came around, and Nim wanted to be the first one there, but it seemed she was going to be late. It wasn't her fault though — your second friend also getting thrown in the dungeons was certainly distracting. She forgot all about meeting with her newest acquaintance.

"I am sorry for being late," she said once she spotted his form in the small cliff-side area.

Clearly, he arrived before her, already sitting on the stone bench and looking down at his hands rather than out at the sea. His shoulders were hunched over and his hair fell in his face. If he heard her coming toward him, he gave no indication.

"Isildur?" Nim called softly, slowing down a bit as she came around to his side. He hardly acknowledged her as she did, far too upset to look away from his hands. "You seem troubled. Has something happened?"

"I've ruined everything," he muttered, not elaborating on how.

Nim carefully sat next to him. "What happened? Did you talk to your father about deferring? Is that what this is about?"

"I tried to convince him last night, but he was furious. He wouldn't hear it," Isildur mumbled. "Then I - I went to training today. It happened again — that voice calling me away. So, I deliberately let go of a rope and sabotaged my work. The Sea Master dismissed me."

"Well, isn't that what you want? Now you cannot be made to join the Sea Guard," she said, trying to find out why he was so upset. Had his father already found out and yelled at him?

Isildur shook his head and closed his eyes. "Because of my mistake, Valandil and Ontamo were dismissed as well," he admitted, naming the two lifelong friends he'd told her all about the day before. "Ontamo is supposed to be getting married — what's he to do for a living now? And Valandil has wanted on that boat since he was big enough to hold an oar."

"Isil," Nim said gently, her heart aching over seeing him so upset. "It—"

"They hate me," he whispered, his voice breaking over the words. "They'll never forgive me and they should not. I've ruined their lives over some pointless dream of a life I cannot have."

"Everyone deserves forgiveness so long as they are truly repentant," Nimriel told him. Then she put her hand under his jaw and slowly guided him to look at her. His hazel eyes were shining with unshed tears.

No one that made laughter seem like such a gift should ever look so sorrowful.

"They do not hate you, Isildur, and if all the wonderful things you told me about them are true, then they will forgive you in time once their futures have sorted themselves out and are more stable," she told him. "And your dream is not pointless."

Isildur found himself savoring her touch while looking into her eyes. "It feels that way, even now with the Sea Guard behind me," he mumbled. "But you were right yesterday. The calling was so loud today that I could not ignore it. I heard her voice and have never wanted to go West, to the real Númenor, so badly."

"Heard whose voice?" she questioned. Nimriel knew the sea was alive and made its own decisions, but even someone like her — someone who could talk to fish — had never heard the waves speak with anything but actions.

"My mother," Isildur told her, so sure of what he'd heard. "I was but a child when she was lost, but I know it was her." Isildur looked to the side, feeling embarrassed all of the sudden. "You must think me mad — laughable."

Nim tilted her head to the side with a frown. "What in the world would be laughable about that?"

"She drowned," he whispered. He'd mentioned the day before that his mother was dead but didn't go into how.

Suddenly, Nimriel felt quite guilty about telling Isildur that the sea was always right. It likely felt like a slap in the face any time he heard someone say it.

"Isildur," Nim said as softly as she could. He closed his eyes and once again leaned into her touch. "I know the grief you carry of losing a mother young, and I do not think you're mad or hearing things that are not there. You are meant for more, and your mother is working against the very powers of the Valar to make sure you know that."

Isildur opened his eyes again to look at her, covering her hand on his cheek with his own. "You lost your own mother?"

"A very long time ago, and my father was not entirely innocent in the matter," she told him vaguely, her throat feeling tight as sixty years of repressed anger tried to claw back to the surface. But she pushed it right back down. "I don't think I'd be able to recognize her voice if she called for me."

That was one of Isildur's fears — he'd wake up one day and be unable to remember her smile or the sound of her laugh. Without saying anything more, Isildur ended up pulling Nimriel into his arms, hugging her. As she pressed her face to his chest, his own found her neck, seeking out comfort in each other.

"How can it feel as if I've known you my whole life?" Isildur asked quietly, his lips brushing her skin as he spoke.

"I don't know, but I feel the same," Nimriel admitted, unable to keep from smiling. Then they pulled back a bit, though his arms were still around her waist as she looked up at him. "I'm grateful Berek almost killed me so that we could meet."

Isildur smiled his first real smile all day as he laughed, shaking his head. "Berek was not going to kill you! He is a gentle boy," he insisted. "You are just one easily-frightened princess."

"Easily-frightened?" she repeated, letting out a mock sound of offense. "I have faced sea monsters that would give you nightmares." Not counting the one she, Galadriel, and Halbrand narrowly escaped from. Some battles simply weren't winnable. "I may be a princess, but that does not make me less of a warrior with five brothers to ensure I could defend myself."

"So, you chose to defend yourself from Berek by running away?" he asked, raising a mocking eyebrow. He just couldn't imagine someone like Nim as a warrior.

"I did not have a weapon," she grumbled. Then she poked his chest. "Speaking of, your father, I imagine, was the last person to see my trident. I'll be needing that back from him."

"Well, if he doesn't hand it over, I'm sure you can use the distraction of me telling him about what happened today to steal your trident back," Isildur said, already dreading the conversation. No doubt, Elendil would hear it from the Sea Master before Isildur had a chance to explain himself. He'd come home ready to yell at him. "You'll have to show me exactly how you would have defended yourself against such a terrifying beast like Berek."

"Stop mocking me," Nim said, giggling as he smiled teasingly down at her. "I could kill you in seconds."

"Sure, you could," he said doubtfully.

It wasn't his fault, and he wasn't the only one that couldn't picture Nimriel fighting on a battlefield. Isildur thought she was meant to sit on a throne in a regal gown with a crown on her head while men like him did the fighting for her.

"Are you still open to an afternoon around the city with a failure like me?" Isildur asked, a hopeful glint in his eyes. His only friends and his father were furious at him, and his sister was starting her first day as a Guild Apprentice. Nimriel was the only comfort he had, and he wouldn't complain about that one bit.

"You are not a failure, Isil," Nim assured him. Then she smiled teasingly. "Perhaps a bit impulsive — disastrously so — but I think I quite like that about you."

☆

There wasn't any more talk about what happened and the Sea Guard. It was just Nimriel and Isildur as he showed her more of the city he didn't get a chance to show her the day before.

And they learned more about each other. He'd tell her a story about growing up with Elendil, Eärien, and his older brother Anárion, then she'd tell him about how chaotic it was being raised by five brothers, as her mother was gone and her father was too busy.

After the sun sank — they'd returned to their bench for a short while to watch the sunset again — the pair of them went to dinner. Isildur didn't have plans to meet his family, which was probably a good thing, as he wanted to put off the inevitable altercation. He took Nimriel to a different spot to get dinner. It was a market area in the upper part of town near the castle, and there were several stalls selling different varieties of food.

"I have never had this cooked before," Nimriel noted, poking at the tilapia on her plate that had some kind of crispy crust on the outside. She also had more of those potatoes, but these were mashed into a fluffy pile.

"You'll love it. Trust me," Isildur said while nudging her with his elbow. They were sitting side by side instead of in front of each other. His own plate had tuna with some kind of sauce drizzled on it. "And then you'll try mine. Hector has some of the best food on the island. I cannot send you off to Middle-Earth without knowing you've tried it."

At the mention of her leaving, Nim's face fell. When she was with Galadriel, she wanted nothing more than to rush off and help her friend in every way possible. She wanted to save the Southlands. She wanted to bring Halbrand and see him with a crown on his head. But when Nimriel was with Isildur, she found herself wanting to stay right where she was at his side, doing this every day no matter how impractical it was.

"I suppose Queen Míriel could still decide to not give us passage out of here," Nimriel said. "Especially with Galadriel in prison with Halbrand. We've not made the best first impression."

"Well, they haven't — you've been perfect company," Isildur told her. "And from the legends about Galadriel, I do not think our Queen could keep her caged for long."

"Oh, certainly not," she said, smiling at him. "I am sure if she is not released, she'll just break herself out. And I'll follow her wherever she runs."

"Perhaps you'll find yourself running back here one day," he said, leaning a bit closer. Isildur couldn't help but think she looked beautiful in the warm glow coming from the lanterns around them. And Nimriel thought the same of him.

"Back to you one day?" Nim couldn't help but boldly ask, her eyes falling on his lips that were forming a small, playful smirk.

"You were the one to say it, but yes," he told her, glad she seemingly wanted to be around him just as much as he wanted. "I fear once you leave, I'll find myself watching the horizon each morning, waiting to see if you'll ever return."

"I'll return," Nim found herself promising even though she had no clue what was waiting for them in the Southlands.

"I'll wait," Isildur whispered.

Whatever either was thinking of saying — or doing — next was forced to the back of their minds when someone joined them at their table. Eärien slid into the seat across from them, and both Nimriel and Isildur put some distance between themselves and focused back on their plates of food.

"Hello again, Eärien," Nimriel greeted, smiling at the girl.

"What are you doing up here?" Isildur asked her before she could greet the Sea Elf. A part of him was annoyed his alone time with Nim was interrupted, but also, he figured she'd be home after a long day of working as an apprentice.

Eärien smiled softly, her cheeks heating up a bit. "I had a dinner."

He leaned in with a smirk on his face. "Who is he?"

She avoided the question and looked him over, seeing that he was in regular attire. "Where's your uniform?" she asked. Though Isildur didn't respond verbally, Eärien caught the look he and Nimriel shared. "Resigned from the cadets, did you?"

"No, worse."

"You got dismissed?" she asked, her eyes going wide.

"Got us all dismissed," he specified, his head hanging. Nim reached under the table and held his hand. Isildur squeezed her hand and ran his thumb over her knuckles.

"Isil..." Eärien said, trailing off. It was clear he was upset, and she didn't want to make him feel worse. "Well, you've won. Now you can go west."

"I just ruined my friends' lives, shamed our family name. I don't deserve to go west," Isildur mumbled guiltily. Then he managed to attempt a joke. "Plus, Father won't let me take Berek." Eärien let out a short, huff of a laugh, knowing there was some truth to it.

"Did you at least have a good first day, Eärien?" Nimriel asked, knowing Isildur didn't want to keep talking about it. "I cannot imagine the things you will be learning."

"Yes, such great lessons to be learned in the art of scrubbing floors," she grumbled, putting her elbows on the table. The other two gave her sympathetic looks, but after a moment, Eärien smiled softly again. "Though not everyone was as unbearable as the work."

"Right," Nim said in a teasing tone. "And that would be the one you had a dinner with?"

"Maybe," she said, rolling her eyes. Then she chuckled. "And where does your interest come from? You know no one on this island aside from my father and brother."

"Well, given how you intruded on our dinner together," Isildur spoke up, his smirk returning, "it's natural to be curious, Sister."

"And I am a master of annoying secrets out of people given all my brothers," Nim told her. "So, if you'd rather not say who, at least go on about how much you enjoyed—"

A loud thud echoed throughout the streets, gathering everyone's attention in the surrounding area. Both Nimriel and Isildur stood, wanting to get a better look at the commotion. Soldiers from the palace ran past, all shouting out orders.

"It's the Elf! She's escaped."

"Search every alley."

"Galadriel," Nim mumbled with a slightly-amused smile on her face. Honestly, she was surprised it took all day for her to find a way to escape. She also wondered if Halbrand was with her. Nim then turned back to the siblings. "I should probably try to find out what she'd gotten herself into while I was away—"

"There! The Sea Elf!" a guard shouted, spotting her in the crowd. "To the dungeons."

Before Nimriel even really registered it, two guards were grabbing at her and pulling her away. "Hey!" she exclaimed, trying to pull herself free. "What are you doing with me?"

"Let her go!" Isildur snapped, trying to pull her free. It only got him shoved harshly against a wall.

"Until the other Elf is found, she's to be kept in custody," one of the guards said gruffly, tightening his grip on her arms.

Nimriel didn't really fight for her freedom, but she made sure to shout the entire time. Every person they passed stopped and stared, wondering why she was making so much noise. She even dragged her feet childishly, though that didn't slow them down.

"When I get out of here, Queen Míriel will never hear the end of it!" Nimriel shouted as they took her down the stairs and led her to a cell. Halbrand was alert right away, not expecting to see her dragged down there just as he negotiated his freedom with the Chancellor, who left to retrieve a Guild Crest for him and would let him out when morning came. "How dare you treat the daughter of a High King this way? I could wipe out your city with a tidal wave in mere minutes!"

Alright, so that threat was a bit of an exaggeration. Nimriel could create some large waves if she had enough energy or lost control of her emotions, but to call on a wave great enough to destroy a kingdom would be nearly impossible for her. But she was being thrown in a jail cell for the first time in her life, so she had a right to complain.

Nimriel glared at the guards as they slammed the cell door shut and left her there. But when she heard Halbrand let out a little snicker, she turned the glare on him.

"So, you've finally stooped to our level," Halbrand said, crossing his arms. "What'd you do to land yourself here?"

"I didn't swim away when Gal jumped off that ship," she muttered, letting out a huff. The guards didn't stick around, so she didn't mind asking the next question. "Where's she gone?"

"She's gone to hunt down the King," he told her, leaning against the bars to get a better look at Nim. He was just glad she didn't have any new flowers in her hair. "The guards opened her door — the Queen seemed to have made a decision about what to do with us all — but the Elf easily overpowered them and ran off."

"Well, they won't think to search that tower," she muttered. "There are soldiers running all over town looking for her. That's where they found me and interrupted our dinner."

"Our?" Halbrand couldn't help but interrogate even if he knew the answer.

"Captain Elendil's children," Nim told him, not noticing how his jaw tightened. "This could be my last night on this island, and now I'm stuck in here."

"Yes, stuck with me. How awful," he managed to joke.

Her eyes softened as she moved closer to the bars separating them. "You know I did not mean it that way. I like your company, Halbrand."

"I know," he said teasingly, coming closer as well. "You don't hide it very well."

"What are the odds they'll actually let us leave this place now that Galadriel has done this?" Nim asked. "I've been treating today like my last night on this island, but Gal may have just extended our stay."

"I would not think that was such a bad thing," he admitted. "I believe I will find myself missing your slightly annoying presence if you leave."

Nimriel let out an amused scoff and reached a hand through the bars to smack his arm, but Halbrand easily caught her wrist and held it tightly. "I am not annoying!" she whined.

"No, you're just a brat from time to time," Halbrand said, smirking down at her. Then he gently brushed his thumb against the inside of her wrist.

"I'm not a brat either," she insisted, letting him pull her a little closer, only the bars separating them by a few inches. "But you are a menace."

"A menace that you will miss," he said with a knowing and pleased look on his face.

"I will," she admitted, not embarrassed to admit it. "I'd never have tried so hard to get you to come along if I would not. And now I will not have your help with reigning Galadriel in when she does things like this once we get to Middle-Earth."

"She will keep you on your toes which you refuse to cover with shoes."

"Shoes are useless."

"They actually have many common and valuable uses, Princess."

☆

It was impossibly early and the sun was not even in the sky when Nimriel was removed from the dungeons. Halbrand was let out as well, though he wasn't taken away like she was. The High Chancellor took him somewhere else, likely to carry out his end of the bargain they'd struck after Galadriel escaped.

Nimriel was taken to a chamber where Galadriel and Míriel were waiting. After a confrontation in the King's bed chambers and seeing some kind of vision in one of the few palantíri in existence, it was agreed upon that a ship would take the two Elves away from Númenor right away. Míriel was convinced their arrival would bring about the end of Númenor, which was part of the reason why she would not help them with their mission in the Southlands.

So, that was how Nimriel and Galadriel found themselves ready to board a ship and leave the kingdom behind before most people had even woken for breakfast. Several soldiers and a few citizens were quietly standing in the harbor, waiting to see them off.

They had given both women Númenorean cloaks, and traveling supplies were loaded onto the ship. Nim was informed her trident would be waiting for her, as they didn't want her armed until she was off the island. The golden crown she hadn't worn since arriving in order to not draw attention was in her hand as well, the only other thing she'd had with her other than the armored bodysuit, which she was wearing under the cloak.

Nimriel's head was constantly spinning, searching for any familiar face to say goodbye to. But Halbrand and Isildur were nowhere to be found. Isildur likely wouldn't even know they were gone until it was too late.

As Galadriel and Nim walked past Queen Míriel and Chancellor Pharazôn, they did not look at them — Galadriel was too furious with what was decided to say anything civilized. The two walked down a few steps and toward the pier. On the way, they passed Elendil, who fell into step with them for just a few feet.

"Go in peace," he whispered, speaking in Quenya, Galadriel's native tongue.

Galadriel nodded and continued on, but Nimriel stopped next to him at the edge of the pier. "Could you pass this along to Isildur?" she asked quietly. Nim held out a single forget-me-not, which she'd managed to grab before having to depart. "I did not get to say goodbye."

"I will ensure he receives it, My Lady," Elendil promised while carefully taking the flower. "May the sea guide you with care."

Nim managed a smile before following after Galadriel. Before stepping onto the small row boat that would take them to a larger ship, both Elves looked back at the city. Galadriel looked on in disappointment while Nimriel looked longingly, part of her feeling a call to stay behind because of who still resided on it.

"Your people will be relieved," Chancellor Pharazôn said to Míriel, watching as the rowboat pushed off, taking the Elves away. "They will be gathering soon in the court, and in the plaza, to hear your announcement."

"Then we ought not to keep them," Míriel said, tearing her eyes off of Galadriel.

Together, they turned away from the harbor and walked toward the nearest street that would take them back up to the palace. But Míriel hardly walked a hundred meters before something white floated past her vision — a leaf.

One after another, leaves from the great White Tree of the city blew through the air, spreading further from the tree they fell from. Dread settled in Míriel's stomach, seeing it as an omen and reminder of the nightmare shown to her in the palantíri.

Míriel stopped and spun quickly on her heel, looking back toward the harbor. Elendil was there, looking just as concerned as he knew what the leaves falling meant. The rowboat had almost reached the Númenorean ship, the wind carrying white leaves above it. Sending Galadriel away and not helping the Southlands would not keep the vision from coming to pass.

If anything, it was bringing it about faster.

☆

Elendil stood proudly in the plaza, a crowd of curious citizens gathered below the platform he was standing on. He held a scroll in his hand that he read aloud for all to hear, reciting the same speech that Queen Míriel and Chancellor Pharazôn were repeating elsewhere in the city.

"The faithful believe that when the petals of the White Tree fall, it is no idle thing, but the very tears of the Valar themselves — a living reminder that their eyes and their judgment are ever upon us. There is a fateful hour in the destinies of men. An hour of judgment in which each of us, every one, must decide who we shall be. Are our hearts become as the statues that surround our isle? Or do they yet beat with the blood of the heroes that carved them? Is our valor confined to the graves of our slumbering fathers? Or is it here, amongst us even now, waiting to burst forth as the rising sun? Our Queen Regent would neither command, nor invite you to any danger she herself would not face. And so, she has decided to personally escort the Elf and Princess back to Middle-Earth to aid our mortal brethren who are now besieged in the Southlands."

A murmur ran through the crowd at Elendil's announcement, and it only got louder when Nimriel appeared at his side. She stood proudly with her shoulders back and her crown once again on her head. The morning sun was shining against the golden trident she had clutched in her hand.

"Your queen has laid bare her intent," Elendil went on, the corners of his lips turning up as Nimriel joined him. "Our ships will depart in ten days. The expeditionary force will be made up of brave sons and daughters from across fair Númenor. Who is willing to commit themselves to our Queen Regent's protection? Step forward and make yourself known."

It took a few seconds, the silence amongst the crowd almost deafening. But then Nimriel spotted a young man with dark, curly hair a few rows back who stepped forward and raised his hand. "I will serve!" he declared. Then when the blonde boy next to him didn't budge, he elbowed him.

The second man begrudgingly raised his hand as well, joining his friend. "I will serve."

"I will serve!"

Nimriel quickly looked to the back at the person standing a bit away from the crowd and couldn't help but smile. Elendil did as well, seeing that it was his son who was volunteering. He didn't smile as the Sea Elf did though, thinking his youngest child going to war was his worst fear.

One after the other, people began volunteering. It was almost overwhelming as they pushed closer to the platform to sign their names. For the first time since arriving on this island, Nimriel actually had hope for those unknowingly waiting for them in the Southlands. They had a whole army coming to save them.

Now, they just needed their king.