Author's Note: Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

~*~

The Wanderer

"Another one, mister?"

The man inclined his head slightly, silently acquiescing his agreement, face wreathed in shadows beneath the sweeping brim of his tall pointed grey hat. The tavern wench swept his empty tankard onto her tray, turning away with an exaggerated sway of the hips, before waddling over to where several pot-bellied patrons were waxing lyrical on the merits of bachelorhood, illustrating their points with various well-timed belches.

He made to pull out his pipe, only for a sharp chill to suddenly sweep around the room as the stout oak doors to the tavern burst open, revealing an oddly matched couple, the man elegant of bearing with almost feminine features, his clothes discreetly marking him of noble rank, his berry coloured cloak billowing back from surprisingly broad shoulders; the woman slatternly, with unwashed ebony hair and starry eyes dulled by despair, the neck of her gown cut too low, the bodice bulging outwards against her wasted flesh, the faded fabric hanging off her too thin frame.

Despite the harsh climate, she wore no cloak, enduring the elements with gritted teeth, arming herself against it with alcohol, abruptly signalling for two tankards as her companion led her over to a bench in a dark corner, obviously desiring somewhere discreet for discourse, amatory or otherwise. She sat down, crossing her legs, deliberately letting the ragged gown ride up, exposing a well-turned ankle, glancing over at the man by the mullioned window to see his reaction, only to apparently lose interest at the sight of his well-worn vesture, making the corners of his lips curl up in unseen amusement.

"Here you go," the tavern wench said abruptly, slamming his tankard down in front of him, froth spilling over the sides. She nonchalantly slopped up the spillage with a swipe of her billowing sleeve, before sashaying off, the man carelessly glancing around the room again, his eye catching the woman's once more, but she just looked away, her fingers wandering to her companion's thigh, nobody but the stranger with the shadowed face noticing how her hand shook.

~*~

"Mithrandir."

Gandalf turned around, the sound of Sindarin syllables sitting strangely on Naevys's lips, a cacophony of cultures clashing together. She stepped forwards, the moonlight striking her pale skin, turning it silver, and for one brief heartbeat, she was young and beautiful once more. But as a cloud passed overhead, she was cast into darkness, and Naevys was unnaturally old again, her fall of tangled black hair winged with white, her hands curling into almost claws.

"Naevys," he acknowledged, inclining his head. "I see you haven't forgotten an old friend after all."

"It doesn't do my business any good to have my benefactors thinking they're not the only one warming my bed," Naevys said lightly, stepping forwards, almost as if she was going to join him on the long road he was intent on wandering.

Gandalf's face darkened. "You do not need to exist in this fashion," he said quietly, his grip tightening around his staff. "It is not necessary, child."

"And it is for my child, I exist so," Naevys said coldly, "or it is she who would be earning her living thus."

Gandalf exhaled sharply, before reaching beneath his cloak, pulling out a cloth bag of gold coins that jangled. "Here," he said, holding it out to her, "take this and go home. Do not degrade yourself any further."

"I will not accept your charity," Naevys hissed, her grey eyes suddenly stormy. "Someone of my rank and bloodline does not beg in the gutter" -

- "No, they earn a crust on their back," Gandalf hissed back, suddenly looming over her, face almost inhuman, "carving out an existence alongside the other poor wretches who have lost their way."

"I did not lose my way," Naevys snarled, standing her ground, "my birthright was ripped from me" -

- "It is gone," Gandalf said tiredly, anger fading in the face of her desperate desire for what should have been hers, "but it does not have to take you and Elen with it. Let the past go and embrace your anonymity. Seeking secrets shall only lead to your mutual destruction."

"There is nothing left to destroy."

"There is Elen."

"With the blood of kings flowing through her veins!" Naevys cried, tossing her head back, briefly revealing the pointed tips of her ears. "Living like a pauper – with a leaking roof and a whore for a mother" -

- "Take this, and go home, alone," Gandalf reiterated, pressing the cloth bag of coins into her shaking hands, "do not turn anymore tricks." His pitying gaze met and held hers, both remembering how she'd mocked him in the tavern by displaying her ankle for his appraisal, the memory making Naevys half turn away from him, shame suddenly striking her.

"What happens when the money runs out?" she said in a low voice.

"There will be more," Gandalf said, clasping her shoulder, "you should have come to me long before now."

Naevys shook her head, full mouth suddenly mocking. "You are never here, Olórin," she said bitterly, "you are always wandering" -

- "Not far enough to avoid hearing that you have been talking with a loose tongue," Gandalf snapped, rounding on her, slamming his staff into the stony ground. "It is tomfoolery to boast of having the One Ring in your possession!"

Naevys stared at him, suddenly understanding his sudden appearance in her unravelling existence. "It was not but a jest," she said sulkily, pushing the hair out of her face, "a jape amongst old friends."

"One you have obviously saw fit to repeat as you travel from tavern to tavern," he said coldly, "attracting unwanted attention I warrant."

"I can protect myself," Naevys said, pulling out the dagger hidden beneath a billowing sleeve, "and I have instructed Elen also. We do not need you to stand between us and the enemy."

"Nor do you need to have the Nazgûl on your trail," Gandalf said, making her take a step back, all the blood draining from her face, "during my travels, I have heard they are abroad" –

- "If I lied, it was for good reason," Naevys snapped, hiding her fear with false bravado, "there is men ready to commit to my cause, but only if they have incentive" -

- "What amentia have you attempted this time, eh?" Gandalf said sarcastically, circling her. "Go on, speak freely, you are amongst friends here."

Naevys glanced around her, only seeing the empty road and Gandalf's angry eyes, making her shrink into herself. "It is your fault," she said, her voice cracking, "if you had not sought me out as a child and told me the truth" -

- "I was a fool," Gandalf admitted, eyes suddenly old instead of angry, "a fool for having faith in fairytales, but I had a thirst for the forbidden..." His voice trailed off, leaving them standing in a void of silence. "Launching an assault against Elrond is not the answer," he said, shaking his head at her, "and your place is not amongst them anymore. You forfeited that right a long time ago."

"Because I thought love was worth it," she said bitterly, shaking back her black hair. "But I was a fool."

"Blood wills out though in the end," Gandalf said, his voice distant, studying her face, seeing the faint ghost of star-like beauty echoing down the ages in her ravaged features.

"I could have loved you," Naevys said simply, "but you would not let me."

"I would not have let myself," Gandalf said quietly, turning away from her. He had watched over her for many a long year, and when she'd become a woman, she had changed towards him, mistaking his kindness for something more, leading to a chasm cracking into existence between them.

Naevys studied him as he had her, noting his hunched shoulders, his grey beard. "I did it for Elen," she said softly, reaching for him, only for her hand to fall to her side, "to give her everything she should have had."

"It is not for you to give," Gandalf said, turning around, "and instead you have brought hell to your home and hearth."

~*~

She ducked behind a rock, pressing her back against it, the world shaking around her. The dragon approached, the echoes of its footfall juddering through her frame. A wave of fire roiled overhead, suffocating the air -

Elen stirred, her dream fading in the face of harsh reality, the smell of acrid smoke suddenly making her sit upright, becoming blinded by her tangle of ebony hair as she wildly tried to discover the direction destruction beckoned in. Frantically pushing the hair out of her eyes, it was only to see that flames were licking the edges of her room, the sight forcing Elen to her bare feet, her hand grabbing the whitewashed wall for support, the brick becoming frighteningly warm beneath her palm.

Her mother had returned late that night, drunk and angry, tossing a cloth bag of gold coins into her lap, such riches startling Elen. But it meant they would eat, that the rent would be paid for that month, maybe even warm clothes for the winter. Naevys had then retired to her room, slamming the door behind her, mumbling about Maia bastards, Elen retreating to her own quarters, hiding the money under her pallet.

Yet now all her plans for the future were for naught, the shack they cautiously called home burning down around them. Elen pressed her nose into the crook of her arm, coughing as the smoke seized hold of her, wrapping itself around her like a snake. The door seemed like a thousand miles away, Elen still unable to move, still unable to believe what was happening, and then the sound of her mother's voice suddenly shattered the silence, high and furious, her rage reaching the rafters –

Elen's head snapped up, eyes widening in terror as Naevys's voice was suddenly cut off mid-scream, making Elen's heart stop at the same time. She slumped against the wall, stuffing her fist into her mouth as the sound of various heavy footsteps echoed around the shack, their owners ripping the rooms apart, edging closer and closer to where she was. If the flames didn't reach her first, they would, and who they were, she didn't know, only knowing they had murdered her mother, and that they would shed her blood next.

Gathering up the ragged skirts of her nightdress, Elen made for the window, the smoke making her eyes sting, the flames now throwing themselves across the walls, almost taunting her, taking hold of what she had once called home. There was no time to grab anything, not even her dagger, the blade tangled up in her torn kirtle discarded for the night. Her trembling fingers turned the latch, Elen freezing at the sound of heavy footsteps outside her door, only for them to suddenly fall silent, almost expectant, awaiting her arrival.

With the tears streaming down her face, Elen clumsily executed her escape, swinging her legs over the sill, landing heavily on all fours onto the damp earth outside, before crawling into the shelter of the surrounding woods. The spit and snarl of flames filled the air along with the heavy crash of horse's hooves, and she knew they were seeking her, terror driving her further into the darkness, not knowing what was hunting her like a wolf with its prey.

Then a hand was clamped over her mouth, its unseen owner dragging her behind a tree, silencing her scream. She was roughly turned around, only to find herself face to face with the past, her terrified gaze crashing into Gandalf's blazingly blue one, Elen seeing the sky falling down within their depths. She fell still, half recognizing him, remembering his grey beard and kind face, but at the same time he was a stranger, his cloak covered in blood, a gash gouged across his forehead.

Gandalf glanced behind him, barely able to breathe, only one small step ahead of what sought to destroy him and the daughter of Naevys, all he'd come to care about. He had done this, seeking out half lost stories, letting their words lead him to the truth, to Naevys and Elen, sowing the seeds of their destruction, Naevys spinning a web of lies in one last attempt to win back past glories. Yes, he had started this, and so thus he would finish it.

Is it too late to come on home?
Are all those bridges now old stone?
Is it too late to come on home?
Can the city forgive? I hear its sad song...