*Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story, except Celebrandor, Deidre, and Deidre's mom (who I desperately need a name for, please help me!), but everyone and everything else belongs to the greatest of all authors, JRR Tolkien. Flames will be used to roast marshmallows.

*Author's note: The first few chapters seem a bit confusing at first, but they'll make sense as the story unfolds, I promise. I'll post when I can, but if I take a bit long, please don't flame. I'm in school, and I have a lot of homework. Please r/r!

Deidre

Chapter One: Runaway

"Is there nothing we can do to dissuade you?" Celeborn asked. She had only been in Lorien for two days, barely enough time to get some rest.

"Nay, grandfather. I have already stayed too long. When my uncle arrives, I intend to be as far away as possible." Deidre didn't want to face her uncle now, not after what had happened. She was still too angry with him, angry with everyone that had kept the secret of her heritage from her all her life.

Celeborn sighed. Why was she so stubborn? "At the very least, tell us where you are going."

"South, somewhere near Rohan. That's all I have figured out so far." Actually, Deidre knew the perfect place for a runaway elf to hide, but she wasn't going to tell anyone, even her grandparents, who she was closer to than anyone else she knew. "Take this with you, granddaughter. It will help you uncover the mysteries of your past," Galadriel said, holding out two small, cloth wrapped bundles.

Deidre took them, carefully placing them in her pack alongside her food and clothes. "Thank you. I won't be that long, just a few months. Tell my uncle I'll see them at midwinter, if all goes well." Midwinter was five months away, enough time for her to cool down and to have some time to herself, with an ample amount of time to get back to Imladris.

"Namarie, Deidre," Galadriel said as she watched Deidre mount her horse, Swiftrun, and ride off. "You fulfill your name at last."

************************************************************************ Deidre rode hard, stopping only when she had to, though at a less frantic pace than when she had first fled to Lorien. Swiftrun certainly lived up to her name, and provided Deidre with a companion that would listen, but not judge, which was what she desperately needed at the moment.

Deidre's parents had died when she was less than a week old, so her aunt and uncle had raised her as their daughter. She was born only a few weeks after Elladan and Elrohir, and had never suspected anything, even though she bore no resemblance to her cousins. From time to time, small uncertainties would flare up, but in the past, she had just needed to look at her relatives to know that she belonged in Imladris, no matter how the others teased her.

You see, she was no ordinary elf. In many ways, Deidre took after her grandmother. They both shared the same Vanyarin bone structure, the same piercing green eyes, the same fiery spirit and unfathomable stubbornness. But Deidre possessed something that no Eldar before her ever had: red hair. It fell in a river of flame down her back, perfectly matching her temper, as it was often said.

Her hair had caused her to be ostracized by the other children her age. They called her names and occasionally hurt her, though she never let it show, nor told anyone. And yet, their words were small bruises compared to the gaping wound that was her betrayal.

"How I wished I had never gone into Elrond's study!" Deidre inwardly cursed as she drank water from a rushing stream, washing the taste of lembas from her mouth. "All I wanted was that book on astronomy!"

She remembered that day as if it was still happening, and in a way, it was. Deidre couldn't sleep without dreaming of the events that had taken place, and she woke up crying. She had been so happy, trotting up to her Uncle Elrond, who she then called Ada, or father, as he sat talking with Glorfindel and Erestor, and asking if she could borrow that book on astronomy he had told her about, The Naming of Stars. He said yes, giving her the key to his study, and telling her where it was placed. It was only a year until her coming-of-age, but she still felt elated that he had trusted her to not get into trouble.

She had climbed up on Elrond's chair, pulling down the thick, leather- bound tome from the bookshelf above. As she placed it on to the desk, a letter fell out. The seal, one that seemed to her as if she should know it, but didn't, was broken, and the writing was Quenya, in an elegant, yet slightly wavering script, as if the one writing was troubled.

She sat down in the chair, reading the letter. "Dearest Sister," the letter began. "By the time you read this, I will be dead, having plunged myself into Fire Rock Gorge." Deidre knew that gorge quite well, it was a narrow chasm between Lorien and Imladris that was highly dangerous, and when traveling, they had always gone around it, instead of jumping it with their horses, which would have been an easy task. Now she knew why.

"I cannot live without my beloved wife, who passed to the Halls of Mandos barely a day after our child was born. She was my reason for living, and now she is gone. I have no more will to live. Please do not mourn, Celebrian. I am happy, now that I am in my wife's arms again. I have a final request for you, sister. Take Feawen, my daughter. Raise her as your own. Tell her of her heritage when she is of age, but until then, raise her like you would a daughter. Please, Celebrian. I want her to feel like she belongs somewhere, that she is not an outcast. Do this one thing for me, in remembrance of your older brother Celebrandor, who was your most trusted confidante. Please. Farewell, sister. I shall miss you. Yours in final parting, Celebrandor, son of Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn of Lorien"

Feawen, which meant, "fire maiden" or "maiden of fire" was Deidre's mother-name, the one she had been given at birth. "Deidre" had come later from her grandmother, who saw what life would hold for the child and sought to give her a fitting name. "It is fitting after all," Deidre chuckled to herself. "My name means 'wanderer', or 'sorrow', and I have certainly had plenty of both in my life. I was certainly named well."

Deidre had dropped the letter like a hot coal as what it meant had started to sink in. She was not the daughter of Lord Elrond and Lady Celebrian of Imladris, as she had been raised to believe. She knew what she had to do. She would confront them, demanding to know the truth.

As she raced into the chamber where they were, hatred surged through her veins. She felt angrier than she had ever felt, and a bitter, cold remorse at what Elrond and Celebrian would feel once this was through.

"Hello, Aunt Celebrian," she said icily as she stood before them clutching the letter tightly in one hand.

"Deidre, what's wrong?" her aunt had asked, a look of extreme worry on her face.

"Wrong, nothing's wrong, Aunt Celebrian. It's just that I found out what you and Uncle Elrond have been hiding from me all my life: that I am not your daughter, as I was raised to believe, but instead your niece. That my real mother died in childbirth and my real father, who was Celebrandor son of Celeborn, your older brother, committed suicide when I was barely a week old," Deidre hissed, a harsh tone in her voice. She had never spoken to anyone like that, let alone her relatives. Then again, she had never been betrayed by her own family before.

"Where did you find our?" her uncle asked quickly. "Who told you?"

Deidre laughed. "Told me, uncle? Why my father himself, in his letter. It fell out of the bookcase while I was retrieving that particular book I wanted. Reading it told me all I needed to know." As Deidre relived the memory of that conversation, she felt like she was standing outside her own body, looking at a stranger. Had she really acted so cruel? So heartless? "It is of no matter, what is past is past," she thought, mounting Swiftrun again. She would soon be at her destination.

She had seen Elladan, Elrohir, and Arwen's questioning glances. Heard her aunt's explanation of Deidre's parentage, heard the pain in Celebrian's voice as she told of a brother that she had loved dearly, who could not live without his wife. Deidre had flung the key to Elrond's study at them, and then stormed out of the room, heading to her chambers.

She had pulled her traveling pack out of the chest at the foot of her bed, loading it with clothes, some food and water, a parchment map of Middle-Earth, and of course, her precious letter. Then, getting Swiftrun ready quite faster than normal, she rode off toward Lorien, to find out the truth.

************************************************************************ Author's Notes:

*Finwe's second wife, Indis of the Vanyar, was Galadriel's grandmother, and is Deidre's great-great-grandmother, making Deidre 1/16 Vanyar via her. Deidre's mother was ½ Vanyar, making Deidre ¼ Vanyar via her. Therefore, Deidre is 5/16 Vanyar and it is plausible for her to resemble one in build and features, especially since she takes after Galadriel so much

*Those of you who know your Middle-Earth geography or have maps, feel free to take a guess as to where she is headed.

*Again, this is my first fanifc, so please, be nice and review! Thanks to TreeHugger, escapistone, alliwantisanelfforchristmas, and JastaElf for their great fanfics, which led me to write my own. Enjoy!