The Waterdancer

Chapter 10

I was led to a table separate from my company. I was seated with Gandalf and Lord Elrond...and Nemirien. She uncomfortably sat next to me and was making an effort to not even turn her head towards me. The Elf lord had insisted that she sit with us so he could get to know her better. I didn't believe it. I saw the look on his face when he recognized her. He was testing her. He wanted to see if she would try anything.

I wanted to put him in his place. I could have shouted right then and there about how Nemirien was harmless. But I didn't. I couldn't have. Lord Elrond could have challenged my argument with anything that he saw out there. If she's so harmless, what's she doing with a Warg? If she's not dangerous, how would you explain her deadly nature with the spear?

I couldn't answer any of those questions because I didn't have the answers. I had known Nemirien since she was a wee babe, but when I looked at this woman next to me, I saw a stranger. The thought actually frightened me. Who was this Elf that I knew so long ago?

My thoughts were interrupted when Lord Elrond was inspecting the swords we found in the Troll hoard. He was handling mine first. "This is Orcrist, the Goblin Cleaver. A famous blade, forged by the High Elves of the West, my kin. May it serve you well." He handed the sword back to me, and I nodded in thanks. "And this is Glamdring, the Foe-hammer, sword of the King of Gondolin. These swords were made for the Goblin Wars of the First Age."

I looked at Nemirien, who was looking at Lord Elrond with interest. She always did love history. I remember when I would put her to bed, and it was never the fairytales that she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear about the true events of Middle Earth. I told her about the history of the Dwarves, and she would always listen. Every time. She never forgot the details, and it had even gotten to the point in which she was able to retell many of them better than Balin himself. I nearly smiled at the memory. The Nemirien I knew was still there, if only a little.

"Nemirien, how is your father? It's been some time since I've seen him." Lord Elrond said with a smile. My blood boiled at that. I recalled how she expressed her adoration for her father on the journey. I turned my head back in disgust. How could she have grown to admire someone who never wanted her around? She's not yours, remember? She never was. I was about ready to excuse myself when she answered.

"Er...I haven't spoken to Thranduil for nearly two centuries, my lord." she said.

I slightly furrowed my eyebrows at that. What? From what I heard her telling the Hobbit, she loved her father. How could she love Thranduil the way she said she did if the two of them hadn't spoken for almost two centuries? Hold on. Why did she refer to him by his first name? If they hadn't spoken for so long, it made sense, but why didn't she call him "father"? I could only think of one possible answer. But if it wasn't Thranduil that she had been referring to this whole time, then who was it?

There was something else. It had been nearly two centuries since Smaug attacked Erebor. I widened my eyes in realization. Nemirien didn't go back home after I...after it happened. But if she didn't go back to Thranduil, where did she go?

The Elf lord frowned at her answer. "Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that. Why haven't you spoken, if you don't mind me asking?" he asked.

Nemirien looked up at him. "For the same reason you wanted to have me shot earlier today." she said evenly. Lord Elrond had an apologetic look in his eyes, clearly admitting that he was wrong about her. Nemirien looked over at Gandalf, then down at her lap. "Would you mind getting off of that subject, my lord?" she asked.

Lord Elrond nodded and looked at the Wizard. "How did you come by these swords?" he asked.

"We found them in a Troll hoard on the Great East Road, shortly before we were ambushed by Orcs." Gandalf explained.