Arehin Feaelda had an extremely good reason to believe that all wizards were utterly and completely mad. The extremely good reason was one she could not at the moment remember, but, as she looked down, it suddenly came rushing back. Wizards could not be trusted to do anything that seemed in the least sensible, but would instead only do something that seemed exactly the opposite. What she saw as she looked down was a perfect example of that theory. What she saw as she looked down was a sleeping baby. Arehin let out a breath of frustration. Why she had agreed to this, she would never know. Never had known, she suspected. It had just seemed right at the time, to agree to carry the baby. The half-Istari baby. The half-Istari baby of her husband. However, it was proving impossible to be angry at her own decision, especially when he result was this cute. She’d always wanted a daughter… “No,” Arehin said aloud to herself. She’d done her part; it would have been impossible for her to take this baby home with her. Her father-in-law would have a conniption fit, and there was nothing she, not her husband Legolas could say to change his mind. And no one would dare go against a King’s word. Smiling faintly, Arehin strengthened her resolve to stick with her original decision: to take the baby not to Legolas, but to her other father, Mithrandir. Leaving her in Imladris, with Elrond, would have been another option, as well. She could grow up there, and when the time came Elrond would explain, or Mithrandir would happen by and take her, or… Arehin sighed. She was going to find it extremely hard to part with this baby, despite her, by blood, not being related. She was so tiny…so much smaller than Arehin’s son Cudin had been. She looked nothing like her parents-that is, she didn’t look like either of her fathers, or even like Arehin-either. Bright red-gold hair that looked as if it would most certainly be curly as it got longer topped her head, and dark green eyes that were, for the moment, closed, rested on either side of a tiny round nose. Staring down at the girl that was, and inevitably was not, her daughter, Arehin once again changed her plan. She would stay in Imladris, until the child was old enough to walk and talk, and, if she could force herself to part with her then, she would take the girl-she’d need a name, Arehin realized-to her first chosen father, Mithrandir. That way, she didn’t have to give her up for a while, yet. That problem was solved, now the question of a name. Arehin moved away from her place standing in front of the window of her room, looking down over the rather large central courtyard of Imladris, and sat down, shifting the baby only the tiniest bit. That tiny bit was enough to wake her, however, and her eyes popped open, staring playfully up at Arehin. She smiled, and her “mother” smiled back. “Feanna.” The broadening of a tiny, toothless smile, a yawn, and the little girl drifting back off to sleep was the only answer Arehin needed. “Gift of the spirit, after my own given name.” “Mommy, Where are you going?” Arehin cursed under her breath and lowered herself from her horse, taking off the hood that half-hid her face. She reached down to pick up the curious redheaded girl staring at her. “You’re supposed to be in bed.” “So are you,” the girl countered. Arehin snorted lightly. “I have to go, Feanna. Elrond received word from my home in Mirkwood, and I must go at once.” Feanna cocked her head. “Why are you leaving without me? Isn’t my father in Mirkwood?” Arehin’s cheeks were tinted a faint pink in the darkness and she sighed. “I have to leave you here, Feanna, but your father will come get you soon. I wanted to leave without you knowing so you wouldn’t get upset.” Feanna made a face, but seemed satisfied with this answer. “Will he take me to Mirkwood with you?” “I don’t think so.” A look of surprise and hurt came across the three-year-old’s face. “Why not?!” Arehin shook her head and put her down, lightly kissing her forehead. “You’ll understand when you’re older, Feanna. I simply can’t risk taking you back to Mirkwood.” “But why not?” Feanna persisted. “I said you’ll understand when you’re older.” Arehin pulled herself onto her horse. “Be a good girl, and do what Elrond says while you’re waiting for your father. I’m certain we’ll meet again ere long, though it might seem an eternity to one so young.” She smiled at her “daughter”. “Will you see me off, Feanna?” Feanna nodded and rubbed at the tears on her cheeks, then ran after Arehin’s horse for as far as she could. Finally, she stopped, watching the horse far off in the distance, cloaked figure on top of it. She felt utterly alone.