Miril immediately left Aragorn and the group of hobbits to find her friends in Rivendell: Lindir, Oreleth, and of course the brothers, the sons of Elrond.  Her first try was in the banquet hall.

It was a large hall, larger than any building west of the Mountains except maybe the Great Smials of Tuckborough.  At one end was a massive fire, always tended to by an elf or two.  It tended to be a job for one of the teenage rascals that has gotten into too much trouble.  Other than the fire, the room was less than well lit, but the darkness added to the ambiance of the room.  The only people in there was a woman with several young elflings.  She was telling them a story and she looked up when Miril came into the firelight.

“Miril!”

“Oreleth!”

The elf smiled and stood up, walking over to give Miril a hug.  Oreleth was Lindir’s sister, and the two siblings had taken quite a fancy to Miril when the girl had first come to Rivendell.  Oreleth thought back to those days.

“Oreleth!”

“Settle down, Mir.  I’m coming!”

“You promised to teach me the flute today!”

Oreleth laughed, showing Miril that she was gripping two flutes.  Miril grinned widely, excited that her “aunt”(as she called Oreleth) was going to teach her to play today.  Both Oreleth and Lindir were great musicians, though Oreleth spent her time teaching young elves while Lindir preferred the company of his peers.

 “How are you doing, young lady,” Oreleth asked before in concern, looking at Miril more closely, “What happened to your cheek?”

“We were attacked,” Miril said, her hand traveling up subconsciously to her cheek, “Nothing serious.  One of my comrades, however, requires Elrond’s assistance.”

“How tragic,” Oreleth nodded.

“What are you teaching?”

Oreleth gestured to the children, “History.  We’re covering the Sinking of Numenor today.”

“Any idea where Lindir is,” Miril asked her.

“My brother was running an errand for Lord Elrond at the Stables,” Oreleth nodded, “He will be delighted to see you.”

“I’m sure,” she grinned, “I’ll talk to you later, Oreleth.”

“Farewell, Miril!”

Miril turned to leave the hall and walked with a brisk pace out the doors.  She stopped in the courtyard to look at the beautiful roses growing there, delighted to be once again back in Rivendell.  Truly this place was beautiful.

Shaking herself out of her stupor, Miril strolled peacefully through the gardens and over the bridge towards the stables.  She wondered how her old foal was, now that he had grown into a full-fledged stallion.  She hadn’t seen him in nearly eight years.  Daeroch was his name, Shadow Horse.  He was a beautiful grey dapple stallion whose coat glistened in the moonlight.

As Miril approached the stables she heard two elven men talking.

“Belegur, I have not seen you in some time!”

“Aye, Lindir, you don’t come by the stables much anymore.”

“I cannot bear to see Daeroch here without Miril,” the first said sadly.

“Lindir,” Miril interrupted, “I’m here!”

“Miril!”

Lindir grinned and embraced Miril.  Then, in concern, his hand went to her cheek.

“What is this?”

“Just a cut from the wilds,” she brushed it off.

Lindir looked at her disapprovingly, “Both your father and I did not wish this life upon you.  Those twins of Elrond were a bad influence on you growing up!”

“Oh please,” Miril laughed, “I would’ve become a Ranger without their help!  Even if I’d had to join a different company.”

Nonetheless, Lindir and Miril both thought back to the days that she lived in Rivendell.

“Elrohir!  Elrohir!”

“What is it, little one,” Elrohir asked Miril.

“Lindir says I cannot become a ranger,” Miril cried, close to tears.

Elrohir looked at the twelve year old child, “Do not listen to Lindir.  I believe you can become a formidable warrior, just you wait.”

“Will you and Elladan show me how to use a sword?”

“But of course,” Elrohir nodded swiftly, “Who else should instruct a daughter of the Dunedain, friend of our brother Aragorn, but us?!”

Miril brightened up instantly, “Where is Elladan?”

“My brother is with our father.  Come, We will go see them.”

Miril nodded and followed closely beside Elrohir.  They trekked through the houses of Rivendell until they reached the Last Homely House of Lord Elrond.  Crossing the small bridge that led to it, they were greeted by several younger elves as they walked through the doors.  Elrohir stopped as if trying to remember where his brother and father were.

“This way.”

Miril bounced up and down behind him, excited to go see Lord Elrond as well as Elladan.  Elrond did not see her much.  For some reason she got the impression he disliked her somewhat, though why that was she did not know.  Nonetheless, because of this she tried her hardest to impress the elf lord whenever she was in his presence.  Walking into a studio of some sort, Elladan and Elrond turned to see who was entering.

“Ah, Elrohir,” Elrond nodded, “What can I do for you, son?”

“Miril just wanted to ask Elladan something,” Elrohir gestured behind him to the little girl peeking out behind him.

Elrond gave a small smile and nodded his permission.

“Elladan,” Miril asked slowly, “Will you teach me to use a sword like Elrohir will?”

Elrond, looking up at his younger twin in surprise, looked then from Elladan to the girl, and finally back to Elrohir.  Elrohir shifted under his father’s scrutiny.

“Of course, Miril,” Elladan nodded without hesitation, causing Elrond to look at HIM in surprise.

“I am not sure Halbarad or Aragorn would approve…”

“Our brother did not say no to her becoming a ranger,” Elrohir protest, “Besides, it is imperative she learn to defend herself, is it not?”

“Miril,” Elrond looked at the girl sternly, “will you leave us for a moment?”

“You should never have become a ranger,” Lindir protested quickly, “You should have remained here, in Rivendell, learning more of your history as a half-elf.”

“Half-elf doesn’t suit me,” Miril shook her head, “Part-elf, more like.  I can’t have more than a smidge of elvish blood in me.  But then, I suppose we don’t know, do we?”

“Miril!”

Both Miril and Lindir turned to see who was calling.

“Elrohir,” Miril bowed happily, running over to see him.

“It is good to see you, little one,” he grinned happily using the nickname he always had for her, “It is what, ten years since you were last here?”

“Around that,” Miril laughed, “Close enough.”

“Well you know how the years flow for us,” Elrohir shrugged, “Time is a river ever-flowing.”

“I presume you’ve seen Aragorn,” Miril asked.

“Aye,” he nodded, “I was with him until just now.  Lord Elrond has finished with the Halfling and my brother and he wish to see you and Aragorn.  I was sent to retrieve you.”

“Duty calls, Lindir,” Miril shrugged, “Will I see you later.”

“Of course,” Lindir nodded before bowing, “Miril, Lord Elrohir.”

“Lindir,” Elrohir nodded back with a smile before he and Miril took off for the Last Homely House.

Elrohir thought back to what happened after that request to train her.  He and his brother had had a heated discussion with their father about little Miril.

“We cannot train her.”

“But Ada!  She is being hunted by the Dark Lord!  She must know when she is older how to defend herself,” Elrohir pointed out quickly.

“You only do not wish to train her because of her fore-fathers,” Elladan accused his father.

“You boys have become too attached to the cursed girl,” Elrond shook his head, “How do you not protest to her being here when you KNOW of her parentage!  Perhaps her mother and father were not to blame, nor their parents, nor the parents before that, but she has the blood of the Spirit of Fire.  The blood of Feanor.”

“Lady Galadriel is under the ban as well,” Elladan pointed out, “Is she not?”

“She is not a Feanorian,” Elrond spat angrily, “She did not take the oath.”

“Is that what you are afraid of,” Elrohir shouted, “That she will pursue the oath once she is made aware of her parentage?”

Elrond froze, “That is one thing you must never EVER reveal to her.  Go.  You may train the girl, but if you ever reveal her true lineage to her…”

“Fine.”

“-rohir?  Elrohir,” Miril was saying in concern.

“What?”

“I asked you a question but you were all, like, waking dream thing,” Miril tried to explain.

Elrohir smiled, “What was it?”

“How is Frodo,” she asked him.

“You must ask my father this,” Elrohir shrugged, “I believe he is well, but I am not sure.”

At last they arrived at the Last Homely House.