The Exile's Daughter

A Fair Stronghold

Our going seemed quicker that day, even though we had been travelling as fast as we could for weeks. I could see on Aragorn's face that his heart was lightened by the presence of our new companion. What must it be to have the fate of his people resting on his shoulders?

"We should reach the hidden valley before nightfall", Legolas commented cheerfully, as Aragorn turned west into a setting sun.

"The hidden valley" I mused. "Like Gondolin of old".

A grin crossed Aragorn's face. "It is certainly not that impressive. Children and mothers live there, so it must be as hidden as we can make it. Do you remember Mallor?"

I nodded, recalling the shy, stringy sixteen-year-old who had accompanied the few rangers fighting with the elves on the day when Elrond had found us. "Tar has three other children, who have grown up here since we built the homes four years ago. They are not yet old enough to accompany him on his travels".

"Good thing too, I have enough trouble with one!" A familiar voice called from somewhere on our left. The next moment, Aragorn had dismounted with a cry of joy to greet Tar. I recognised his great, hulking figure, his surprisingly soft voice. I followed as Legolas and Gandalf dismounted too, walking over to the towering figure of the ranger.

"Legolas!" The man clapped him on the shoulder, a gesture which Legolas returned warmly. "We need your sharp eyes on the watch again."

"I will be glad to help, as always." Legolas assured. Once he had greeted his old friends, Tar turned to me and bowed his head, looking up questioningly at Aragorn

"Nesseldë is skilled with bow and sword. She is fated to aid men in these dark times." Aragorn announced, moving to stand beside me and squeeze my shoulder.

"You are welcome, Lady Nesseldë. I had not hoped to see you again."

"On the contrary, I thought we might see each other soon enough", I smiled, "though I wish our meeting was under more peaceful circumstances." Tar went to reply but paused as a woman walked towards us. She had faded red hair spilling out from under her dark hood and a stained sword in her hand. Tar looked pointedly at her, but she merely shrugged.

"Stray orcs, only three of them." Tar nodded then held out a hand to her.

"This is Firiel, my wife. My dear, this is Nesseldë, daughter of Ionwé – or Maglor, as we now must know him."

"I regret that this is how we must meet, Lady Nesseldë. Your father was good to us, despite what he may have been in the ancient days. I am sorry for what you have endured." Firiel's voice was quiet and husky, but she smiled kindly, her dark eyes crinkling.

"So am I", I smiled heavily back. "But alas I find myself homeless. All I can do now is follow in my father's footsteps and aid the Dúnedain in any way I can."

"You will be welcome among us, my lady." Firiel said solemnly.

"There is no need to call me that", I insisted, abashed. "I am just Nesseldë."

"Well then, just Nesseldë, we live just over those hills." Firiel raised a playful eyebrow and led the way. We walked on together, leading the horses by their reigns.

"Da!"

The six of us turned around. Young Mallor, Tar's tall, lanky-limbed son, was stumping towards us. "Raina keeps calling me a string bean". He wrinkled his long nose.

"Yes, she might have mentioned that once or twice." Firiel nodded, grinning at the mortified look on Mallor's face.

"Show some courtesy, now". Tar reprimanded, gesturing to Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf and myself.