[Larien Telemnar]

Larien listened as Ginger spokeof the Elves, those who she once thought of as her people. She pondered how she was going to answer the question she knew would escape her friend's lips next. If I tell her, what would she think of me, an orphan, an outcast and a disgrace? She thought, rubbing even harder at the pan.

‘What were you doing there, living in Rivendell, and all?’ Larien almost jumped as the question she feared most passed Ginger's lips. Ginger saw her rubbing hard at the pan and laughed. ‘Rub a hole in that poor old pan, if you keep at it like that!’

'Sorry.' Larien muttered, laying the pan down and swatting away a wisp of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. She looked guiltily at Ginger, knowing she could not hide from herself forever.

'I lived in Rivendell my whole life, with the exception of a few months or years in Mirkwood or Lothlorien.' She fingered her apron and bit her lip. 'My parents were travelers, while alive. I was only a few months old when my parents were killed. We were traveling through the misty mountains, when they were attacked by Orcs. My mother had the presence of mind to hide me before they killed her. A passing Elf found me, and brought me to Imladris, where I was nursed by Lord Elrond. He raised me as his own daughter, which is why I grew up there. It's really an amazing place.' She smiled wistfully and handed her pan to Ginger.


You didn't tell her the whole story, A little voice in her whispered. She hung her head in shame.

'I have no memory of my parents.' She whispered.