The week was almost over when we finally spotted a glimmer of white on the clear horizon.

Granted, it was getting dark, and also quite cloudy, but I was sure for a moment, far off into the green grasslands, stood a towering monument to the race of Men.

Legolas confirmed this by saying "We approach the white city, but we must rest outside for the night."

"Why?" Faewyn asked.

"Because the gates close every night at dusk," he said.

But I could tell there was another reason.

I spurred on my horse to canter beside Legolas and Arod.

"Why else?" I asked him."There are rumours of the Remnants within the city walls." he said softly.

Oh, wow, he actually answered my question. I pressed further.

"The what?"

"They are recluses of the war. Fighting on the losing side with evil in your heart and oppression in your blood takes a toll on you. You can never go back. They call themselves the Remnants."

"What do they seek?" I asked cautiously.

"Revenge, reconciliation. Some validation of the crimes they committed. They are usually of no harm, but today we must be watchful."

"My lord," Maldor said, riding up on Legolas's other side. "The king is not in the city."

Legolas looked up to what seemed to be an empty flag post hanging high above the watchtower. I could barely see the watchtower, but he must have gotten something out of it because his eyes narrowed and he looked at me quickly.

"I go seek council with the steward of this hold," he announced, turning Arod to face us. "If the king will be gone for a long time then we must know, as I would have him show us an heirloom only known to his house."

"I will go with you, my lord," Maldor said, spurring on his mount to flank Legolas.

"There is another position you must hold for me tonight, Maldor," Legolas said. "Faewyn will ride with me. Maldor, stay with Gianna."

Faewyn looked taken aback. "My Prince?"

Legolas smiled at her kindly.

"Just as your father has guarded my King, I know you are quite competent in the same. Do not doubt yourself."

Faewyn nodded mutely. Guarding the Prince of Mirkwood! I laughed to myself at her expression.

I looked over at Legolas and my amusement rapidly dissipated. I looked at him disapprovingly.

"Why must I say here?" I asked crossly.

Legolas eyed me with...was it concern? Worry? It was hard to tell in his carefully guarded expression. He dismounted his horse and walked over to me, and I irritably slid out of the saddle and landed lightly in front of him.

He leaned over, his blond hair lightly brushing my neck, and said in a low voice; "First, you will be tired as we will likely be out all night. Second, I don't want to have to worry about you being held and questioned, and it's better if you stay out here with Maldor just in case."

"Is that likely?" I said apprehensively.

Legolas sighed and looked around quickly before continuing. "There's another thing I heard from the stag—but you mustn't tell anyone. Apart from that, there's a chance that the reason you are blessed by Irmo is because you're related to beginning the "Eternal Sleep" for the evil in this world and that's why I shan't endanger your life by putting you in direct reach of the Remnants, who tend to be active without the king's presence. So therefore, Gianna, please stay here."

Faewyn exchanged glances with me, evidently having heard most of it.

My head spun. Eternal Sleep....The words rang a distant bell in my head.

"Legolas, wha—" I started, but he shook his head slightly and retreated. Defeated, I stepped back and nodded.

"Don't have too much fun without me, Fae," I said with a small smile.

She and Legolas flicked their reins and cantered off, heading into Gondor. With a sigh, I led Eärlin to a grassy knoll and sat down. Maldor came to sit next to me.

"The Prince is right, my Lady," he said reassuringly. "You shouldn't risk your safety in the city." I let out a frustrated sigh.

"Maldor, why must he treat me like a child? I can defend myself." He looked at me bemusedly.

"He doesn't, my Lady. I believe it is precisely that he thinks you important enough to protect."

"What?" I said, confused. "That makes absolutely no sense."

"I think it does," he said wryly. "Are you hungry, my Lady?"

**********

I don't know if elves are naturally talented at everything (at least Legolas was) but Maldor, over a warm fire, toasted a piece of soft bread and topped it with mushrooms, wild greens, cheese and nuts that were blended together and made a very fragrant and filling meal. Honestly, I don't know where he kept all these things, I was unaware that we were supposed to bring any of this. Much less jars of effortlessly delicious meals.

"This is very good," I said, still amazed at everyone's veritable resourcefulness.

"Thank you, my Lady," he said with a smile. "It's one of my favourites."

"What kind of bread is it?" I asked, not recognising the warm, nutty taste.

"It is usually called "bragolbast"," he said with a small chuckle.

"Sudden bread?" I said, hesitating slightly on the translation. He nodded and smiled.

"'Sudden' because it is very fast to make and even faster to eat. It's a quick bread that's good to take short distances."

"So it doesn't keep as well as lembas, I'm assuming?" I asked, finishing off my dinner.

"No, but lembas isn't always available, so I keep the ingredients handy," he laughed. "I'm glad you liked it."

"Is the King known to bequeath lembas regularly?" I asked, knowing full well that only Elven kings or queens had authority to gift elvish waybread.

"Occasionally," he said thoughtfully. "During times of siege and war it is often given. After one of the sieges of the Fortress, our supplies were completely cut off and there was no way to obtain the usual resources from Esgaroth and Dale."

"I suppose Thranduil was cross that there wasn't any wine," I laughed. Maldor smiled at this.

"Ah, but for one who loves wine, he is always prepared."

"That is how I figured," I agreed.

"But he had great concern for his people," he said more seriously. "His reputation proceeds him."

"He is not as cold hearted as he seems, I think." I said. "He was benevolent enough to help us."

Maldor nodded. "The King has gone through loss too many times to trifle with risks."

"The Dagorlad," I remembered.

"Do not mention it to him," he warned. "He may have a good heart, but he has a hot head. It would behoove you not to incur his wrath."

"Do not worry, I will be sure to keep it to myself," I said. "He is certainly intimidating."  

"Was that your first impression of him?" he asked, with a small smile.

"I was a frightened little girl," I laughed. "Of course it was. But now I see that he...he's been through a lot. He and his son both hate death."

"Understandably," Maldor said pointedly.

"Well, yes, but many people think he's cold and distant and enjoys subjecting people to ruin." I said with a hint of sadness. "But that's not true—he's constantly thinking about keeping as many of his people safe as he can."

"Well said, Lady Gianna," he said.

"Why do you and the others call me Lady?" I asked suddenly. "Not that I mind—I simply do not think I deserve such a title."

"But of course you do," Maldor said, surprised. "You are here as a guest, and a guest of the King and Prince besides. No elf in this kingdom would disrespect the crown by diminishing your title. It works as such for any guest, be they royal or not."

That made more sense now.

"Thank you for conversing with me," I said, a little drowsily.

The fire was a thin wisp of colourless matter, spiraling into the darkened night sky. Faint ribbons of pink and orange still adorned the Sun's abandoned post, but stars twinkled from above. I imagined all of them were Lorien, winking down reassuringly, and I fell asleep.

As it happens, I fell into a haze of bewildering white fog, thicker than the coat of a polar bear and just as warm. Although my surroundings should have made me afraid, considering I could see nothing, I only felt a warm, tingling sense of peace wash over me. I was starting to suspect that this was another divine intervention type of meeting, but just as I was getting ready to comment on that fact, a voice spoke inside my head.

Welcome, Gianna, bearer of the dream world. 

I instinctively glanced around, expecting a fanfare of some sort and a far away throne but only whiteness met my eyes. No depth, no distance, no dimension.

"Thank you for indulging my presence," I said, rather meekly.

The voice, which I now recognised as the same voice that spoke through the stag, continued.

I see that you have much to ask, daughter of man.

I felt all the thoughts I had wondered about surface at once. But one was more prominent than the others. "What is the Eternal Sleep?"

I imagined that the voice sighed.

Long ago, there was an agreement drawn from the ashes of discord, and fueled with the promise of an eternal darkness. Those who allied and fought with Bauglir the Corrupter were sworn to a curse: they may have power now, but once Eru decided that their fate would be cast upon them, there would be no escape from the horrors of the prison of Eternity, no recompense for the evils wrought by his hand. It is there, behind the Doors of Night, where Morgoth himself lies. But there is one thing keeping the Corruptor alive—for alive he is, very much so. He may not be able to imagine to comprehend the extent of power that the Valar, the Ainur and that Eru himself have on his impenetrable doom, but far off in Middle Earth, his vassals still stand united. You are familiar with the One Ring? 

I nodded silently. An exciting tale for certain, but it seemed to not be over, by what I was gleaning.

"It's not possible to...bring Sauron back, is it?" I asked tentatively. A sense of amusement spread through the invisible voice.

No, child. But just as his soul lived on before the One was destroyed, so then does Morgoth, kept alive by the roots of all evil. Of all suffering, and disgrace, shame, anger, and hate that comes in this world. It is part of it now, part of the master song, and forever will be. But as the sun and moon hang in harmony, there must be a balance. The fall of the Necromancer has left something irreparable, Gianna. The resident evil contained in his soul still lives on, scattered, useless, but it exists. Part of those fragments come from Morgoth himself, from before the First Age, part of the terrible Turning of the Maiar and others to creatures of darkness and doom. They come from before the Eldar even walked this earth of yours, and it's wickedness and corruption seeks those willing to accept it. Morgoth knows this. He can feel it, and will exploit it as he may from his infinite prison. Do not give in to those who embrace the darkness, Gianna. 

"Is there any way to put the remnant of Sauron's soul to finality?" I asked, a cold dread settling in my stomach at the thought of an ancient evil having power in Middle earth once more.

There is only one way without causing further harm. Instead of simply scattering, the remaining remnants of dark power must be found and destroyed with a weapon touched by no evil in all eternity. 

Wow, sounds super easy, I thought sarcastically.

"Isn't war and blood and stabbing evil?" I asked. "If it's a weapon, it isn't exactly clean of all evil, since war and suffering are caused by hate."

That is correct, affirmed the voice. Therefore it must be only by divine purpose it would have ever been made, and must never be used for war or to cause suffering or revenge.

"But that's impossible," I said, bewildered.

Nothing is impossible, came the musical tone. Or you would not have come.

I felt a surge of emotions, then nothing.

"What must I do?" I sighed.

You will know, reassured the voice. Follow my stars. 

Irmo. That's who it was.

The whiteness melted into grey.

This is the reason... came a wind-borne answer. I found myself looking at a bizarre scene. I realised that I wasn't actually there, my vision was rounded at the edges, like looking through a fishbowl. But one thing was evident.

I was looking at myself.

I wasn't dead, surely? With all the people gathered around that ominous white cot, an oxygen mask across my face, and my dark hair strewn across the pillow?

I saw a heart monitor steadily beeping next to the hospital bed.

Oh. It must be a coma. 

I woke with a start, my mind whirling. I was in a coma. The flames...but no burns? The weapon of divine make, the remnants of a dark soul—all of it pounded within my head.

Morgoth...harmony...weapon...darkness...eternity...remnants. I sat up, my skin prickling. Remnants. The Remnants. Could they be one and the same?

Hadn't Legolas said—

"My Lady?" came a concerned voice from the darkness.

"I'm fine, Maldor," I sighed. "Just...a bad dream."

"You didn't—did you see anything?" he asked. 

I trusted him completely, but I wanted Legolas to hear of my meeting with Irmo first, so instead I said, "I saw myself. I'm...comatose, asleep. And I have no idea when I'm going to wake up."

Maldor looked over.

"Were you hurt at all in the fire?" I glanced at him, furrowing my eyebrows in thought.

"No, there were no burns, nothing." I said. But I remembered, remembered the flames eating at my skin.

"You are blessed indeed, Lady Gianna." he said. "As soon as our companions return, you must tell them."

"I shall, of course," I assured him. "How many hours until dawn?"

He stared at the moon for a few seconds. "About two hours, I think."

"I'll see you then," I said with a drowsy smile. I sunk into a dreamless sleep.