15 | Lothlórien ft. Family Issues

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Location: Unknown, Middle Earth

Time: September 2941 T.A

Dreams are said to be images of wishes or impulses from childhood. Wishes such as wanting a favourite toy and meeting your favourite storybook character in real life, or perhaps wishing to have superpowers such as flight or superstrength. Maybe turning into a mermaid or having your very own fairy wings.

In the case of Illyria Strange: she never had those dreams.

Ever since she remembered up to this point: her nights were spent reminiscing scenes that were not her own. One of the more occurring dreams was a city, hidden under a surrounding landscape of mountains – and in the centre where the great white walls of the white city. How each gate she arrived at was of a different colour, and how in the centre was a beautiful palace adorned with jewels, paintings, and a tall tower.

She also dreamt of a forest-dwelling, with houses built atop treetops and figures wearing green holding spears. Mixed amongst them were those who wore red, who played with children and the blonde-haired figure chased them around – laughter filling her mind.

However, she also dreamt of the valley. A valley that never faltered its beauty, with waterfalls cascading down cliffs and houses dotted across with bridges connecting each dwelling. It was then that the dreams she thought she imagined from the books she read were not her own.

As her knowledge grew, dreams became visions. Visions of a past, present or future Illyria neither knew nor made up. When she began learning of the existence of possible alternative realities, it was then she knew that some higher being or even connection to some other higher power was giving her these visions.

Or sometimes Illyria just thought she was going crazy.

But if she did go to a therapist, she believed that they'll just wonder why a bunch of monks adopted a random child they found.

In conclusion, Illyria never went to a therapist for the dreams and decided to conduct her own research. She thought that the Ancient One might provide the answers she sought out once her dreams began to get realistic in times of the year – but all the Ancient One said was this.

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"Why do you believe someone is giving you these visions, little one?" The Ancient One asked her back.

A nine-year-old Illyria didn't know how to respond.

The Ancient One took one of her hands into their own and gazed down at her. "I know that you are young, Illyria. Far too young to know the vast realities." They said with sympathy. "But I assure you that neither any higher being can control you. We dictate our own paths, and those visions are your own."

Illyria – still so young and afraid – wept. "But why? Why do I have them?" She questioned them before crying out, "I don't want to see them! They hurt her so much!"

"Who?" The Ancient One asked?

Illyria answered, "The blonde-haired lady." She spoke, "Everything she sees, she loses. Her family, her friends." Tears littered her cheeks as she clenched her eyes.

Illyria felt the pain for the blonde-haired woman. The sorrow which the blonde-haired woman endured; watching the fires burn as a blonde knight fell into the abyss or the red-haired man toss themselves into the fiery chasm.

A hand cupped her face, and Illyria found the Ancient One draw her eyes to them.

Their eyes shone with wisdom and age. Illyria wondered how truly old they were. If they were older than some of the furniture in the Sanctuary.

"Your grief for her is your own," The Ancient One said softly. "And grief is the product of one's love that had never died. Do not be upset for the pain, for it shows that you are stronger than you believe."

Illyria searched her eyes and whispered, "I want them to go away." She asked, "Can you do that? Make the pain go away?"

"I cannot," The Ancient One replied, placing a hand over her forehead. "Memories and dreams differ. Memories and visions will forever be with you. But I believe you can strengthen yourself through thinking about another."

She asked, "Like what?"

"Think of good memories." The Ancient One explained. "One you will understand how your powers work, little one. And the first step to controlling them is to think of the happiness of those visions."

"All I have to do it think happy things?" Young Illyria questioned.

The Ancient One nodded, "Yes." She then stressed out lastly, "But remember Illyria. From time to time, you must allow your visions and memories to surface. You cannot always run from them. They are still a part of you and over time, you must accept a part of you that you wish not to have, or it will hurt you more than you expect."

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Ten years later: Illyria Strange was still trying.

Her consciousness waking and rising every moment asking herself what was happening. Where was she? What happened? Were the others alright?

She can hear voices, unsure if it was in her head or from her surroundings...wherever this place was. Her sight was still blurry, trying to pry her eyes though the bright light prevented her from fully adjusting.

Illyria began to hum, doing all she could to muster a word or a thought. Though as she tried to reach for any nearby mind, Illyria felt getting cut loose through the connection.

'Rest now...' Finally, a melodious voice caught into her head.

And Illyria felt herself drift off once more.

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A clear blue sky hovered above the hidden valley, with the sun filling the city with warm light. Many of those who dwelled in the valley took the opportunity to spend their time under the conditions, as it was the first day since the turning of Spring.

Up in the upper levels of the city was a large house, along with many gardens and courtyards which decorated the lands with many plants, trees, and flowers.

A little girl raced down the path down to the garden, passing gardeners with the cutest smile before they greeted the young child. Her breathing became shallow, breathless from all the running until a pair of hands grabbed her from the back and picked her up in the air.

The little girl squealed as the blonde-haired woman spun her around in her grasp, both breathing heavily from all the running. The blonde-haired woman pushed the dark strands away from the little girl's face and stared at her with utter pride and joy – before grinning back and chuckling along.

"How long was that my Evenstar?" The blonde-haired woman asked her.

The little girl answered, "Not long enough." She pouted, "You're too fast, Nana!" [1]

The mother's eyes twinkled in contentment, "Well one day, you're going to be faster than me." She spoke. "Perhaps you might even be faster on a horse."

"Like Uncle Glorfindel and Asfaloth?" The little girl gasped, widening her grey eyes.

Of course, the mother couldn't resist those eyes and smiled warmly. "Maybe even swifter than them."

"But that's impossible!" The little girl exclaimed, waving her hands out. "Asfaloth is the fastest ever!"

As the mother carried her daughter towards the bench which overlooked the gardens and valley below, she placed her daughter down on her lap. "Fastest ever, you say?" The mother hummed, "I've heard of many other horses, ones that are faster than Asfaloth. A horse called Felarof was known to be the lord of all horses." [2]

"I want to travel so fast everywhere, Nana." The little girl sighed wistfully, a dreamy gaze over her. "Like you and Ada. Uncle and Dan and Ro." [3]

Letting the girl sit forward, the blonde-haired woman brought her daughter's hair and began braiding it much like her own. "One day you will," She spoke. "And we'll travel to all parts of Middle Earth."

"I want to see the white city of Minas Tirith and Dol Amroth by the sea. Oh! And I want to see Lothlorien and their golden trees and the Grey Havens." The little girl rambled on, causing her mother to grin along as she continued her work. "And Fangorn Forest! Is it true that the trees are alive there?" [4][5][6]

The mother replied, "I believe so. They are called the Onodrim, shepherds of the trees created by Illuvatar." She then took a spare ribbon from her own hair and began tying the end of her daughter's braid. "It is said that they once had wives though due to their gardens being destroyed, they disappeared." [7]

"Why Nana?" Her daughter turned around to glance up at her. "Why did they?"

The mother pondered a second, never truly delving into that question ever since. She had known that Sauron had destroyed their forests and gardens in the last age. Now numbers so scarce, the Ents had removed themselves from ever mingling with the other races.

She was about to begin until a voice answered instead.

"It is said that Ents preferred the wilderness of the forest whereas the Entwives chose their gardens. They would meet from time to time and find love." Entering the secluded garden, a tall dark-haired figure approached them – spotting them sitting idly on their favourite bench.

The little girl spotted them and asked, "But why? Why don't they make gardens in the forest, Ada?"

"Yes, why don't they live together?" The mother asked towards the dark-haired elf as he sat down beside them.

As he sat down, the little girl turned to the side – propping her bare feet upon her father's lap. He spoke, "Gardens need a lot of sunlight to grow. And the forest canopy much covered the ground we walk." He continued, "Only the East of the forest allowed space and thus the Entwives moved. However, the Ents loved their forest too much."

Her parents glanced at each other for a moment, a thought going through them as their daughter spoke, "Nana, are you going to leave?"

There was a moment of silence as the two parents stared at her.

"No, my darling!" The mother shook her head and tucked a strand of hair over her pointed ears. Pressing a kiss over her daughter's head, she spoke. "Not in all the ages will I leave you and your brothers, Arwen."

The little girl looked up to her father and questioned, "And you won't leave too Ada?"

The father, who was also taken in surprise at the question, drew his daughter close and his wife by his side. They were now squished despite how large this bench was, but he didn't mind it at all. His wife seated as she draped her head on his shoulder whilst their daughter was on their lap.

At such a young age for an elf, Arwen had become perceptive. Of course, she knew it wasn't true: her parents loved each other too much to leave each other. From time to time, Ada would leave to go to Lothlorien whilst Nana often visited Arnor and Gondor. One day, Arwen wanted to go out there, beyond the valley she called home and see what the rest of Middle Earth as well. But she knew that they would never leave each other.

Not even all the forces of Arda would separate them under Arwen's eyes.

"Never, my Evenstar." He placed a small kiss on Arwen's forehead. He then eyed his wife who gazed over him with the same bright light in her eyes. "And I will never leave you, Elemmírë."

"I will always be by your side, Elrond." Elemmírë softly spoke, a smile never leaving their lips.

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When her eyes fluttered open, she was met by her heart thumping against her ribcage.

However, her body never moved – a tingling mix of warmth and coldness seeping through her as she adjusted her vision.

And to find those same grey eyes that were once from the little girl in her memories, made Illyria breathlessly say her name.

Her daughter's name.

"Arwen."

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When you wake up after banishing a dark maia, you are not supposed to find out your sort-of-daughter looking down at you as if she were seeing a ghost.

Well technically-

Illyria snapped back to reality, or what she assumed it to be, and let her eyes linger over her. This was Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar – one of Illyria's favourite characters in both the books and movies.

Though now why she had to accept that Arwen was her daughter wasn't because of the dream as well: but because Illyria can see a clear resemblance of her in her. And like...real clear resemblance of her.

The elf in front of her wasn't entirely mirroring her appearance, paler in skin tone and rounder in the face. Not to mention that her hair was dark brown, almost black. Long and silky though with the waves that she had. Her lips and nose were hers whilst her eyes and eyebrows were perfectly identical apart from the colour of her irises. Grey eyes like Elrond's.

Noticing that she had been staring at her for about a minute, Illyria was glad that Arwen snapped her own shock by asking her;

"Do you...do you remember?" She questioned, almost in a whisper. At least Illyria was not the only one surprised.

Honestly, Illyria was conflicted about how to answer. All the memories of feeling and sensing the relationship with her daughter were all there in her head – but it felt foreign and yet familiar at the same time. It was like coming home after a long vacation, perhaps a month or so away, and then coming back to your house and you wonder how to work the oven or the microwave again.

Was this how people felt like coming back from the snap? Her dad must have felt this way after all the adrenaline from the battle ended. Even after having to sort through all the issues around the dimensions and earth, Illyria could tell that her dad was still unsure how to approach her. After all, she did age five years.

However, this can't match the hundreds or thousand years (she still didn't know the details of her death and that's going to be an entirely different conversation to ask about) since Arwen had last seen her.

Why did her heart suddenly slump onto the pit of her stomach?

Illyria hesitated as she answered, "I...I guess." Pulling herself up, she continued. "A memory of us...and..."

As she tried to push against the soft mattress (which in doubt was heavenly after two months using a bedroll or the hard ground), she felt her arms weaken under her. A sting of pain rose to the back of her head, her vision going dizzy around the room.

Arwen supported her back with her arms, easing her to a sitting position. "Do take care, Nana." She told her, "You have drained much of your power."

Half of that time, Illyria got whiplash after hearing that word.

God, this was strange. Stranger than even her name to begin with.

Illyria nervously chuckled, "It's going to be a while to get used to hearing the word mother."

That earned her a soft laugh from Arwen as she stood back and sat on the chair beside her bed. "I knew you would remember," She told her, underlined with such hope and joy that it almost broke Illyria into tears if she wasn't having to feel herself float in limbo in her mind still.

Wait.

Illyria tilted her head and asked, "Why do you say that?" Her hands rested over her lap, letting her feet cross over each other. "And how long have I been asleep?"

Her eyes darted around the room, to find most of the walls to be made of wood. Everything was ornate and darker than those from Imladris, with more curving archways and curling motifs outlining the columns. What awed her was that despite the sun shining in small rays through the large windows, it had been the cool glow of the lamps which awed her.

This must be Lothlorien. And from her knowledge from the story, this must be Caras Galadhon. Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn's domain. [8]

Arwen answered her question whilst her eyes were focused elsewhere, "A week." She explained, "Father and I have been making sure you've been drinking and eating. Do you remember anything else?"

Taking a deep breath, she exhaled in frustration. "No. I passed out in Dol Guldur." Illyria added, "Well I at least it wasn't anybody I didn't know that woke me up." Oh, she would've made a very big scene if some random elf decided to tend to her. Miriel was lovely and all, probably the only one she would probably not mind waking up to see after getting beaten down by monsters and a dark lord.

Arwen's eyebrows furrowed, and her mind set to confusion as she spoke, "I don't understand, Father told me you would not know-"

"I...I don't know to be honest," Illyria admitted, looking back to Arwen. "I just...it was just so close that..."

Trailing off, she then remembered all the moments in which several...certain people tried to dodge a particular question. Why Glorfindel had called Elrond his brother. Why the twins were so awkward as she asked how their mother died. And why Elrond was beginning to get rather close and didn't mind her holding her hand-

Illyria's mind jerked and her body twitched like a glitch. Her jaw tightened as she gave every single bit of her energy left from not bursting out of those doors and storming towards where those prickly pointed elves were.

Not only that, she was going to have some words with a certain wizard.

Very colourful words.

Illyria inhaled sharply and murmured a little lower than usual. "I am going to kill them." She then flashed back a smile at the elf in front of her and added, "But first, I am starving."

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So, food was a lovely affair...if you considered squishing up every bread roll your daughter (still might have to reconsider calling her in her head like that) would pass to you over the small dining table. Illyria ate with much gusto as any starving hobbit, eating the fruit and cheese whilst Arwen went over to get her some clothes.

Illyria was not having the greatest time at all. Don't get her wrong, the quarters were lovely and homely and ethereal. Everything felt fresh and mysterious (even the pillows were like a send-off to dreamland or something) and not to mention the wine that was on peak. Ten out of ten would have an Italian vineyard winemaker jealous.

However, it didn't delay her rather moody attitude as she healed her cuts and bruises. Arwen had caught her doing so, almost having to take a moment in shock before realising Illyria was using more of her magic and scolded her.

Honestly, at this point, she was beginning to think their relationship was the other way around.

That had been an awkward affair before she was left to her own devices.

Oh where to begin...

Right, about five certain people as well as countless others (who she can't exactly name and shame as of now (cough Lindir cough Erestor cough Miriel)) who have been involved in the process of believing that everything in Imladris and Middle Earth was all sunshine and flowers. The fact that no one told her Elemmírë was the real Lady of Rivendell all this time...

She needed more wine. Perhaps an entire casket. Or perhaps once she heads off to Mirkwood and Erebor, she might ask for that piece of utter trash Thranduil called a beverage.

It wasn't that she was angry. Hell, yes she was. (She can probably go green like the Hulk smash the entire tree if she could.) But it was how they dodged every bit thinking she would react like she would collapse any minutes. They've practically been talking to their dead mother/wife/sister/friend/lady/elf for possibly three months.

She should feel betrayed...though slightly impressed.

Even so, she then felt guilty. How did they feel the entire time? They had to carry the burden of watching her throw herself into these things and had to hide the pain-

It was there Illyria, now in her third glass – finally felt the reason as to why Elrond Peredhel lied to her.

She was sitting down on the platform that comprised this entire level of the tree. Most of the city was built from the ground up, with platforms and bridges and staircases all connecting to one another. When the evening grew, it was even more beautiful as the blue lamps glowed and the stars twinkled from the gaps of the golden-leaf trees. Illyria couldn't remember from any of Elemmírë's memories, though she did skim read through an excerpt from her journal about her trip here.

Not many elves have stumbled upon her, and those who did were the ones who brought food over to her. Even Elrond had not come up, which she was thankful for or else she might have done something stupid and perhaps slap his face.

(Darcy might even suggest the taser too, though Illyria was equally horrified and dying of laughter after that conversation. You don't normally find people who have tased a god before.)

(The god of thunder to be exact.)

Finishing her glass, she placed it at the side only to spot from her periphery the familiar blue dress that someone wore today approach where she sat. Illyria returned her face to stare out into the forest, before sensing her get close.

"I tend to sit here when I am lost in thought as well," Arwen spoke softly, sitting over the edge like her – dangling her legs over the platform.

Illyria glanced at her and smiled, "Not the only ones then." She nodded her head and introduced herself. "I'm Illyria now, but with you know...memories and all. But as you said, your father told you what's happened?"

"Yes," Arwen answered.

She then asked back, "Have you told him?"

To her surprise, Arwen replied honestly, "I haven't been able to." She explained, "He's been tending to Lady Galadriel as well."

Arwen elaborated on what happened since she, the twins and the White Council several hours from Dol Guldur. Both Illyria and Galadriel had passed out to try and banish Sauron's own life force from the fortress all the way back into the East (assuming it must have been Mordor from her deduction). The Lady of Lothlórien had woken up first, aided by the healers along with Elrond. Lord Celeborn had not left her side for the entire time, afraid that his wife would fade.

Whereas for Illyria, she had been asleep for another five days, almost waking up before going back to sleep at times. Glorfindel and the twins visited her often, keeping her company when Elrond and Arwen weren't in. But the fact that Elrond tended to her despite what happened made her slightly guilty until she remembered who had forgotten to tell her who she was.

"Oh good, because I'm not going to tell him," Illyria said, a hint of irritation set from her tone.

Sensing the anger from her, Arwen inhaled and bit her lip nervously. "He did it to protect you, Nana." She looked over and spoke, "They all did."

Illyria tilted her head to her side and looked at her, "I know that they did," She straightened herself up, adjusting the dress that she wore. "But as Illyria, I just can't bear it when people hide the very thing that's been on my mind for months now."

Her voice trailed off in a whisper, already preparing for the pain that was ensued. Despite knowing now that this was her daughter, she couldn't do it to her – to any of them for that matter. She could not lie to them that she was this Elemmírë again and that everything can go back to normal.

When in fact, this entire remembering bit of this journey just made things so much more complicated. How was she going to approach them now after this? Will things now change when the world finally realised Elemmírë returned from the dead?

Illyria was not prepared for the world her past self once roamed, and she felt the fear eating her from the inside.

Perhaps Galadriel was right. Perhaps Illyria Strange and Elemmírë were just too hot-headed to fight over who gets this body.

Illyria knew the growing pain that was in Arwen's heart. How a daughter had thought that hope was so near but not as she wanted it to be.

Reaching towards her hand, Illyria squeezed as she began, "I know this isn't what you wanted, Arwen." Illyria apologised, "But please forgive me. Both of me."

The elven woman breathed, "I know." Arwen's eyes glistened, never removing her awe at her. "I just wonder if this is all a dream and that you're not really back."

Somewhere in her heart or mind, a small inch of her cracked open. Illyria whispered, "Oh Arwen." She shook her head, "No, my Evenstar. I...I remember you. Not through memories but in feelings. I don't know how but... don't ever think it's a dream."

Scooting closer to her, Illyria pulled Arwen into a slow embrace. She gave the elf a moment to consider the action before she silently welcomed herself in Illyria's side-hug. Her daughter nestled her head on her shoulder as Illyria gentle caressed her hair.

For some reason: it felt right for once. And Illyria heart calmed as they let the time pass by around them.

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The next morning, still forced to take it easy and sit in her allotted room, Illyria found herself spending breakfast over Arwen's presence. She began to know more about her daughter (again, still weird for her to think about) and asked what she did here in Lothlorien and if she was ever planning to head back to Imladris sometime.

Arwen thanked her for passing the raspberry conserve before continuing, "I've been living in Lothlórien for the past few decades."

Illyria should be focusing on what she was saying, but the fact that Arwen Undómiel preferred to put more cream than jam on her scone was the proudest moment a mother could say. Or just her for any matter because living in Oxford for a couple of months now, Illyria began to respect the idea of desserts and she should note that clotted cream was divine.

(She once ate an entire tub of clotted cream down from the corner shop where her post-graduate house was, and she didn't care about her budget if she could get this bad boy.)

Back to the subject, Illyria placed her teacup down and raised an eyebrow across the table. "Why?" She asked, "I would have thought your father would keep you back in Imladris."

She capped the jar of conserve before answering, "Father wishes I stay there, but sometimes many years at home you long for change." Arwen twitched her lips fondly but also added, "As well as that, Lady Galadriel has offered to aid me with my training."

"With what?" Illyria asked.

Dusting her hands clean, Arwen rose her hand outwards – palm up as she took a breath.

What formed on Arwen's palm shocked her.

There, Arwen had produced a similar ball of light like her own. However, the colour was warmer in tone, unlike her white glow.

Welp, this suddenly proves that she was definitely related to her alright.

The energy emitted from her hand was similar to hers, only cooler, with perhaps the potential to grow. She quirked her lips and said, "I guess it comes down the family..." Illyria then realised something and trailed off, "No wonder why those two..."

Okay, she was dumb. She was really dumb.

Elladan and Elrohir had the ability to telepathically connect because of her genes. They've been speaking freely to her through their mind as if they already knew each other.

That's because they technically did.

If it wasn't breakfast and Illyria wasn't trying to spit out the tea in her mouth: she would be slapping her face.

Arwen already deduced from her disappointment and pointed, "I assume you've known about the twins' tricks."

Groaning, she heard Arwen chuckle as Illyria complained, "Do you know how annoying they are?" She had her free hand making a waving gesture. "I literally travelled with them for three weeks with Gandalf and they talk constantly to each other! Not to mention the number of times I've caught them talking about what rumours are going about in Imladris."

She told Arwen that her older brothers were talking about Erestor's secret affections to Glorfindel and vice versa, which Arwen then already knew about it (to Illyria's annoyance because her brother should have mentioned about it already) and only heard through eavesdropping the gardeners about the house.

Ha, she liked her already.

As her ball of light disappeared, she returned to eating her breakfast. "You were the only one that can handle them." Arwen told her, "Even Ada cannot tame the two constantly using their abilities."

Illyria glanced at her and asked, "Do your brothers have them?"

She received a shake from Arwen. "Not as strong as I do." Her daughter explained, "Elladan and Elrohir both had theirs later than I."

'Well, that's interesting...' Illyria wondered to herself, taking another sip before grabbing another scone. She must consult with the masters she grew up with within Kamar-Taj and ask when she began to show her powers. She had yet to know if it was possible to transfer her powers so it must have been passed down or within her own DNA.

She could ask Uncle Wong and Dad, but then Illyria did remember who she was going to explain to.

Oh fuck. How was she going to explain to her dad about all of this?

'Oh hey, Dad. It's been a while. Just found out that I'm a reincarnated elf who has a family that you might have heard of,' Illyria wryly thought before biting into the food. "Well, I'm glad only one of you three got this. Is that why you're here?" She asked Arwen.

"In honesty, Lady Galadriel has only been able to help me control them." Arwen smiled softly towards her and continued, "You used to teach me before, and how to wield it in many ways."

Illyria admitted back, "I don't even know the extent of them myself." She then clapped her hands after finishing the scone and spoke with a grin, "Well, tell you what. I can give you one quick lesson right now. Have you ever heard of meditation?"

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Getting along with your so-called daughter from a past life was surprisingly easy. Illyria and Arwen spent the entire morning practising and teaching all she could to her.

They did agree on the condition to not mention Illyria's revelation, which Arwen was a little hesitant on going but then casually shrugged as no one was going to be hurt. (Apart from some egos and whatnot but oh well.)

Ha, time to get revenge on those four (excluding the wizard) for hiding the very thing.

"You and Arwen get along well." Glorfindel pointed out.

Finally, Illyria wasn't on bed-arrest and could wander about the city wherever she pleased. She had spent her own free time sorting out her clothes as well as grabbing some pictures of the beautiful forest city with her phone. More elves were beginning to glance at her as she walked amongst the bridges and staircases, wondering how this imposter was allowed in their secret home.

Illyria asked herself as well and wondered if she had some beef around here, especially with certain ones who spoke about 'Noldorin elves' in a suspicious or even disgusting matter. Well, at least all civilisations and societies had some form of racism in this world or else she would call this all an illusion.

Even to her shock, some Silvan elves gave Glorfindel some odd looks, and he was probably one of the most known elves of the Third Age. But after their little wandering, she and Glorfindel decided to head up to more open parts of the city as they found a secluded platform that showed the starry night sky.

Illyria turned to her brother and grinned, "She's a very pleasant person to talk to." She then questioned, "Was anyone going to mention Arwen and I share the same power? I was able to help her tap into a little bit of shield protection spells."

Glorfindel easily dodged the question (again, she's going to give payback for his little lying) and took a deep shuddering breath, "I am pleased that you're enjoying your recovery, but I am not happy with what you did."

As they found a bench to sit on, Illyria plopped down and sighed, "I knew you'd say that." She waved her hand and added, "Come on, tell me off blondie."

"Illyria, we did it to protect you. You have not encountered him in this life, and I don't even know you remember him." He peered his eyes and added, "...Unless you did know."

She took a moment to process her thoughts and began, "I knew the moment he tried to get inside my head." Illyria's hand began to rub her chest through the dress, feeling a slight burn in her. "He was trying to get somewhere. I don't where but maybe my powers. But I don't even know how I even manifested these. Do you?"

As she gazed up to him, Glorfindel shook his head. "In truth, never." He answered, "It was the very thing no one knew about you. A lot of our kind had some form of magic, though rather small. You, on the other hand, used to glow like a lamp in a dark room. Always wanting to spend the entire night under the stars."

The last bit made her lips twitch, imagining herself become like an elven glowstick getting chased by a big, tall blonde elf around Gondolin. If she had wings, she might have become a firefly.

Illyria grinned manically and asked, "What did we usually do together?" She leaned towards him and pushed on, "Come on Fin. Let me guess, I used to annoy you to no ends."

"And you still do to this day," Glorfindel answered back, never hiding the grin.

With a mocking gasp, Illyria swatted the elf's arm. "Hey!"

A laugh left his lips before he calmed down – a nostalgic smile as he looked back, "But when I wasn't away or busy, I would take you up one of the towers in the city. And the entire night we would stargaze, and you would teach me all the different constellations you and Idril learnt." Glorfindel gazed up, following her lead. "You always loved to see the stars up close, wishing that one day you would fly up to the skies and touch them with your hands."

Illyria sucked in her breath, taken back at the heartfelt memory from him. She had yet to speak of something about Gondolin to Glorfindel at all, almost feeling privileged that he would say it even if they were siblings. She knew his memories were beginning to fade most of his life before his death, so hearing about a time where they were happy together made her chest tighten.

He had given her a gift she didn't deserve, so touched that Illyria almost teared up hadn't she sucked it in and told herself that she'd been crying too many times lately. Not when they were happy once more.

Illyria continued to eye the sky as she whispered, "I still do it to this day." She continued, "I mean not upon a tower, but I study planets and the stars too. That's astrophysics. And actually, our world has now found a way to fly up there. Maybe one day...one day I'll take you up there. See the stars." She glanced to her side, hesitant from her proposal.

Looking down at her, Glorfindel smiled softly. "I would love that, little sister."

They continued their little sibling moment in silence, just keeping each other company as they stared up at the sky. Illyria never noticed how much she had meant to him, how important Elemmírë was to the golden-haired elf. She had been the last remnants of their kind, his last kin who knew what Gondolin was like.

Eventually, Illyria leaned her head and kept it on his shoulder, allowing his hands to wrap around her shoulders for support. This was something she could get used to.

However, five minutes later: her brother asked her a question.

"Oh, sister. The twins told me of your trip South. You told them about your so-called 'movies', I'm fascinated by how people on Earth portrayed me. Was I good?"

Illyria choked out a laugh, swearing that every elf in the city must have heard her. She probably sounded like a dying orc.

Because it was the ugliest laugh she had done since landing here.

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[1] - Nana/Naneth: Mother/Mummy in Sindarin.
[2] - Feralof: The ancestor of Shadowfax and was named Lord of all Horses.
[3] - Ada/Adar: Father/Daddy in Sindarin.
[4] - Minas Tirith: Sindarin as Tower of the Guard, is a city of Gondor formerly called Minas Arnor. It was situated on the Easternmost point of the White Mountains and close to the Anduin. It directly faces the East where Minas Morgul is.
[5] - Dol Amroth: A princedom situated on a peninsula in Gondor facing the Bay of Belfalas.
[6] - Fangorn Forest: A deep dark woodland growing beneath the southern Misty Mountains, under the eastern flanks. It was the habitats of the Ents in the Third Age.
[7] - Onodrim/Ents/Entwives: Sentient humanoid beings created at the request of Yavanna to protect the trees from other creatures. They live in Fangorn in the Third Age and will participate in the War of the Ring against Isengard.
[8] - Caras Galadhon: City and fortress of the Galadhrim of Lothlorien.

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A/N: Aaand thus she finally got it. Took her long enough as well as fighting a dark spirit to realise who she was to the Peredhil family and clearly, she ain't happy about it. Her relationship with Arwen though has got to be one of my favourite joys to write, especially knowing that Illyria's only twenty years of and Arwen's (if you convert it to that of elves and men) is considered slightly around that too.

I'm on a roll in posting so I'll probably post the next part now just to complete this segment of the story. After that, I'm not really sure when I'll update but hopefully, it won't be a long wait.

Thanks again. :)

Edited: 26/09/2021