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The nights always seemed endless around Dar-Mosnat, and the world laid still under a blanket of darkness and cold. 

Uzgîl yawned and pulled her fur coat tighter around herself, staring into the glowing embers in the hearth as she allowed the cosy feeling of warmth and tired contentedness to seep into her bones. Here at the fire, the one she had been entrusted to kindle and care for, there was heat and life, the joy and merriment of tonight's celebration still lingering in the air. Most members of Mairon's household had retired to their rooms to sleep and unwrap their gifts, yet she had to watch over the fire a while longer and did so gladly. 

"I figured you'd still be here," Yellik's voice interrupted her quiet musings, and Uzgîl turned to smile at her best friend and sister.

They weren't sisters by blood but in their hearts, a bond nourished over their entire lives. Yellik and her family had been there when Uzgîl's parents had died in one of the many wars their Lords fought across Beleriand. They were of similar ages, yet her friend had assumed the role of an older sister to her, though she didn't mind – in fact it was nice to have someone worry about her and care for her when she had no family of her own to do so. 

Yellik carried two stacks of gifts, balancing them skillfully as she sat down next to Uzgîl. Years of working in Mairon's kitchen were once again paying off. 

"I thought we could unwrap our gifts together while we wait," she said, grinning at her little sister. "You've been dying to find out what you got, haven't you?" 

Uzgîl responded in kind, her amber eyes glowing in the firelight. "You know me too well. How's it looking this year?" 

Yellik carefully placed both stacks on the ground and inspected them. "Good, but nothing unusual. Except..." 

With slow, deliberate movements, she removed the upper part of her stack to reveal a fine, flat leather box with a beautiful red and golden ribbon wrapped around it. Her name was written on it in fine golden letters, making it clear that this mysterious special gift was indeed meant for her. 

"You have one too," Yellik said, watching Uzgîl staring at the box with wide eyes mouthing a silent oh . "I found them on our beds." 

"Do you think it could be from... higher up?" Uzgîl suggested in a hushed voice. It was common knowledge among the servants of Angband that Mairon was known as the Lord of Gifts and graciously bestowed them upon those he deemed deserving of a reward, sometimes masterful works of his own craft, sometimes beautiful trinkets from his own treasury. 

"Only one way to find out." Yellik, as always, was more cautious, but she too seemed intrigued. Her index finger traced the script spelling out her name with something akin to reverence. 

When she lifted her head, the two Orc women looked into each other's eyes, gleaming with excitement. 

"Mystery boxes first or last?" Uzgîl voiced the question that was on both of their minds. 

"Let's save the best for last," Yellik said. "And we can't forget about the others, can we?" 

The tradition of giving gifts to loved ones to celebrate Dar-Mosnat was always a joyous occasion, and even as Uzgîl grew older she never lost her enthusiasm. The servants of Mairon's household would be talking about and admiring each other's gifts for days to come, and she couldn't wait to chat with her sister as well as the other women. There was always no shortage of interesting stories, with or without mysterious surprise gifts. 

This year was no exception. Yellik received a knife that appeared to be of Elvish making, eyeing it sceptically as she searched the box for any hints of who had given it to her. Uzgîl noticed a scrap of paper that had fallen to the floor and picked it up. Squinting, she held it closer to the fire to decipher the writing. 

"For the beautiful Lady Yellik, from a secret admirer." 

"Oh please, not this again," Yellik muttered, causing Uzgîl to laugh. 

"Why not? Isn't it sweet?" 

"I'm no lady and I don't want anyone asking why there are Elf knives in my kitchen." 

She carefully ran her thumb across its edge, and her look of annoyance softened as she appreciated its sharpness. "Seems useful though. I'll keep it. Unless one of those stupid Noldor sent it – but I don't think so. They hate Orcs." 

"Maybe it's someone's trophy and they want to show you what a great warrior they are?" Uzgîl moved closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "I noticed that Borug – you know, the one soldier they keep sending as a messenger from Lord Melkor's generals – has been staring at you and lingering every time he's here.  And my friend Rhek says he asked for you at least twice now –" 

"Borug is an idiot." Despite her harsh words and indignation, Yellik couldn't help smiling a little. "But a nice idiot, I'll give him that." 

"You're not going to –"

"I don't have time to mess around with random soldiers, Uzgîl. But if he or anyone else just happens to ask you about this, you can tell them I'll put the knife to good use. Sharp blades are hard to come by, now that all the smithies are busy forging weapons." 

After they were done unwrapping their other gifts and commenting on them, their gazes were drawn to the mystery boxes once again. Uzgîl was practically vibrating with excitement when she pulled on the ribbon around hers, Yellik following suit, and they simultaneously opened them to reveal – 

"It's a fan!" Uzgîl exclaimed and held up her box for her sister to see. "Look, it's so pretty!" 

"I got one too," Yellik said and revealed hers as well. Her eyes were sparkling with awe and joy. 

Uzgîl took a moment to admire the two fans. Hers was decorated with rich flame-like patterns, as well as dragons and strange fiery birds she had never seen before, and golden threads glittered in the flickering light. Yellik's was covered in lovely colourful patterns, each prettier than the last, with the face of a wolf in the middle that blended in seamlessly with the rest of the design. Each had their names written on the guard in the same golden script.

"I think those might've come from higher up after all," Yellik mused. 

Uzgîl took her fan out of the box to open and close it a few times, marvelling at the pattern. 

"Maybe even from Lord Mairon himself."

"Maybe." Yellik grinned. "Either way, everyone will envy us – unless they got their own."

"You bet," Uzgîl giggled, fanning herself experimentally. "I think I'm looking forward to the new year." 

Darkness lay on the land like a blanket as it did every year, yet Beleriand could no longer sleep. 

Yellik's eyes gleamed grimly in the dim light of smouldering embers, seated in front of the hearth as had become tradition for their very own little Dar-Mosnat celebration, one arm wrapped around Uzgîl's shoulders as she leaned against her for warmth and support. 

"I just don't understand," Uzgîl said, her voice unusually quiet and subdued. "Everyone keeps talking about these gems, but what's so special about them? Even Lord Melkor thinks so, I heard." 

"What did you overhear this time?" Yellik asked with a sigh. She had already suspected that something must've happened to upset her little sister this much and was patiently waiting for her to tell her, though it had her worried – Uzgîl wasn't known to have trouble talking about things or taking her time. Whatever it was, it seemed to be dire; and with the war raging outside of Angband's gates, such matters had unfortunately become common. 

"So Lord Mairon had a meeting the other day," Uzgîl began, "I was looking for someone higher up because we needed additional firewood and heard him talking to Lhéthel –" 

Yellik patted her shoulder. "You know we talked about eavesdropping, right?" she reminded her, but her tone was soft and held no accusation. 

"I couldn't help it," Uzgîl explained, "They sounded like something was wrong..."

"And what did they say?" 

"Lord Mairon was talking about the meeting and telling Lhéthel that the war isn't going well. He went on to say something about Lord Melkor too, but they started whispering... and then there was something about a secret weapon..." 

Uzgîl's brow furrowed as she listed all the small details she could remember. 

"And I don't understand why the Noldor keep fighting us. I mean, Angband has never fallen to them, only to those... gods from the West. I heard some humans talking about them... but I don't know if that's true." 

Yellik thought about her words for a while. Neither of them nor most other servants understood the endless wars between their king and the Noldor – not this one, not the ones before it. And while it was true that they had never managed to truly breach Angband's defences, there was something about Uzgîl's words that made her skin crawl with dread. Even if they were going to be safe in the end, many Orcs and other beings serving Melkor would die for it. She could only hope that whatever secret weapon Mairon had spoken of would turn the tide of war in their favour – ideally end it for once and for all. 

But Yellik didn't allow herself to show Uzgîl how worried she was. Her little sister needed someone to be strong for her right now, needed comfort and stability, and she would provide it to the best of her ability. 

"I don't know why the Noldor keep doing this either," she said and her voice hardened. "All I know is that they kill our kind without remorse and they won't stop until they're dead themselves. And Lord Mairon will make sure of that if he must, I'm sure of it. He'll figure something out. They say he held out against the gods from the West too." 

Uzgîl nodded, eagerly drinking in her words of reassurance. "Yes, that's true. He'll take care of us." 

She reached into her cloak, and Yellik didn't need to see her hand to know she was reaching for her fan to hold on to it. Their fans had become a source of pride and comfort for both of them, and they carried them with them at all times. 

"But... I'm still scared, Yellik," Uzgîl said quietly, her voice barely audible as if she was ashamed to even say such a thing. 

"I know. It's alright," Yellik mumbled and placed her free hand on her head, gently stroking her hair. 

"But we'll get through this too, together as always. Everything will be fine in the end." 

Uzgîl let out a quiet sniffle. "Promise?" 

"I promise." 

"Rhek, have you seen Uzgîl?" 

The other woman shook her head and continued running, Orc after Orc rushing past her as Yellik stood still, frozen in fear. 

Everything had happened in a blur. First the earthquake when Thangorodrim had fallen, then Mairon's order to evacuate and finally panic. During all the hectic and chaos, Yellik hadn't managed to find Uzgîl, but had assumed that she was also with the group. Lhéthel and Asyarë had immediately gathered all servants, women and children they could find and led them through one of Angband's many secret tunnels that led into the mountains, hoping they could make their way eastward until they found a safe place to rest and regroup. 

But so far Yellik had been unable to find Uzgîl and no one she asked knew anything about her whereabouts; and with every second that passed without knowing where her little sister was, her panic grew. The Noldor and their allies from the West had already managed to force their way inside Angband, causing fights to break out throughout the entire fortress as their fellow Orcs and the other warriors under Melkor's command attempted to hold them back. Yellik didn't even want to think about the possibility that Uzgîl could still be in there somewhere. She needed to cling to the hope that she was either hidden somewhere in the crowd or had joined another group leaving Angband. 

A panicked scream shook her out of her trance, and she noticed that the other Orcs had stopped running and were huddling closer together. Yellik squinted, her eyes hadn't adjusted to the sunlight piercing the heavy clouds above Angband yet. A group of warriors was slowly approaching them from all sides, forming a circle around the Orcs, their spears pointed at them. She saw their gleaming silver armour, blue banners with white wings and that their skin lacked the green tint that was typical for her own kind and knew they had to be Elves, though she'd never seen one up close. 

Next to her a baby started crying in its mother's arms, and Yellik reflexively reached out her arm so her fur coat would shield the two from the eyes of their enemies. Did she have any weapons at her disposal, she wondered, her mind racing; perhaps she had a kitchen knife or two stashed away somewhere in her pockets, but it would be of little help against trained warriors with swords, spears, shields and whatever else they carried. Not to mention that she was no soldier, and neither were her unfortunate companions. 

It was futile. They couldn't fight their way out even if they tried. 

Lhéthel stepped forward. She was holding up both hands and calling out to their enemies in a language Yellik didn't understand, but she could tell what she was trying to do. Surrendering was their only way out. 

A small back and forth ensued. One of the Elves had come forward to meet her, shouting something to which Lhéthel vehemently shook her head. She appeared to explain the situation, gesturing towards the crowd behind her, and the Elf seemed to hear her out, though he kept a suspicious look on his face and his companions didn't lower their weapons. 

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity, Lhéthel turned around to the other Orcs once more. 

"We have to come with them," she declared, "but they promise that no one will be hurt as long as we remain peaceful."

Yellik felt her heart ache when she thought of Uzgîl. If she wasn't here, she wouldn't know where she had gone. Chances were she wouldn't be able to find her again – though in that case, at least she could hope that her little sister got away safely. She reached into her fur coat to clutch her fan with both hands, praying to whoever would hear her that Uzgîl would be safe. 

The space around her was cool and dark, almost as if she was back home in Angband, but she instinctively knew she was not. Uzgîl felt like she was floating and opened her eyes to see tall columns around her that seemed to support large, spacious halls, yet the ceiling was obscured by ethereal, silvery mist. 

Despite her confusion and fear, a strange sense of calm seemed to permeate the air and touch her very being. She attempted to get to her feet to explore her surroundings, only to discover that she had none – nor hands or legs or anything for that matter. It was as if she was a shadow of herself, yet light instead of dark. 

What happened to me?

Uzgîl attempted to remember, but her memories eluded her. Every time she tried to recall anything that had transpired after she had been ordered to evacuate, she was met with a wall of blurry images, confusion, pain and darkness that she couldn't see past. 

"Uzgîl."

She heard a sonorous male voice call out to her, though she was sure she had perceived no sound; it seemed to her as if it was all in mind, yet no less real, and when she turned to look in the direction the voice had come from, she saw a tall, veiled figure wearing dark robes standing nearby, having appeared out of nowhere without her noticing. 

Is this the Doomsman the Elves talked about? The one who will curse and punish us? Uzgîl thought and her ghost-like self shuddered. She herself had never spoken with any Elf of course, but she had heard from other Orcs that the Elven captives and slaves would speak of some kind of boogeyman who ruled over fate and punished the wicked. Many of her peers had laughed, saying it must be some Elven legend for children or an attempt to scare them, but now she wasn't so sure. Her instincts told her that this – whoever he was – was a different being than the ones she had known throughout her life. 

Perhaps even like Lord Melkor himself...

"Uzgîl." The veiled man spoke to her once again and she moved backwards. 

"How do you know my name?" She attempted to raise her voice to sound more confident, only to find that she too now spoke in this strange, silent manner; yet even so, he appeared to understand her like she understood him. 

"I know the names of all that come to my halls," the man answered, and Uzgîl saw a pair of viridian eyes studying her calmly, an eerie but hypnotising light glowing within their depths that inevitably drew her in. 

"Your halls...?" This time she didn't attempt to get away from him. 

"My name is Námo, and these are the halls of Mandos," the man explained. "I called you here after you died."

"After I..." Uzgîl attempted to recall her memories, only to fail once again. "Is that... what I can't remember...?"

"Don't push yourself, child," Námo said, his voice softening. "It is normal. Your fëa needs time to recover and heal from it."

"My... fëa...?"

"Ah..."

Uzgîl couldn't see his face, but it seemed to her that he smiled underneath his veil. 

"My apologies. I believe you call it a soul."

"So..." Her spirit shivered as she attempted to process his words. "I'm dead and I came to your halls. Because you're..."

"The keeper of the halls of the dead."

She thought about it for a moment, then remembered something. "But isn't this the place where Elves go?"

"Everyone has a place here in my halls," Námo said gently. "But you need not worry. No one will disturb your peace here. You are safe."

"B-but what about Yellik... and my friends..."

As soon as Uzgîl had said these words, she felt silly. Of course Námo – whoever and whatever he was – wouldn't know Yellik or any of the others; but to her surprise, he reached out to place his hand on her head like her older sister would do when she comforted her. His sleeve fell back to reveal long pale fingers, and she felt a strange spark of joy when she saw that his skin had a slight greenish-grey tint; it was almost as if she met a distant relative she had never known. 

"I know," Námo said, "but I promise you death shall not keep you away from your loved ones forever. And until then you will not be alone – you can be part of my family instead."  

"You have been granted passage to the Undying Lands."

Yellik looked up when she heard those words. Even after weeks in captivity, hearing her language being spoken by someone from the West was still jarring. They had been separated into smaller groups and shepherded into large tents where they stayed most of the time. To their surprise and relief, they received enough food, water and other necessities to take care of themselves, with Yellik herself doing her best to prepare meals for everyone, and their enemies had even found a few people who were able to communicate with them. 

The strange man who had spoken to her and the others had visited them a few times now to relay orders from his superiors. Yellik didn't know much of the West or Elves in general, but she was quite sure that this one was no Elf. His eyes were golden, not too different from her own – and Uzgîl's, she thought with a pang of sadness – yet their gaze held a certain sharpness that reminded her of a bird of prey. Every time she saw him, there seemed to be white feathers with brown and black speckles on his clothes, sometimes even sticking to his ears and shoulders as if they grew on him. His mannerisms reminded her of a bird as well, the way he would stare without blinking and his eyes would swiftly catch all movement around him. There was a great bow on his back that he seemed to carry wherever he went, making her think that he must be a warrior – and somehow, the odd feeling remained that this man was some kind of creature that she didn't quite understand. 

Gathering her courage, she stood up, smoothed out her skirt and called out, "Wait! What does that mean?" 

The piercing golden eyes were on her in an instant. There was no hostility in the man's gaze, but she couldn't help shuddering slightly; once again it seemed to her as if his calm demeanour was merely concealing some greater strength and ferocity. Strangely enough, it made her think of Mairon. 

"The war is over," the man announced then, still looking at her but addressing the whole group. "And your evil masters have fallen. You may return home with us and be healed to rejoin your kin. Don't be afraid." 

"Home? Kin?" Yellik echoed. She reigned in her emotions, reminding herself not to scare the other Orcs, and lowered her gaze respectfully before continuing. "I'm sorry, but I just don't understand. This is our kin and our home is here ."

She made a wide gesture with her arm, encompassing her fellow captives as well as the area around them. 

"You have been lied to," the man said, and his expression softened with something akin to pity. "And I promise that everything will be explained to you and the others in due time. For now, please accept the Elder King's mercy and trust that he only wants the best for all of Ilúvatar's Children."

Who even are these people?! Yellik thought, but decided it would be wiser to keep this particular protest to herself. 

The other Orcs were whispering among themselves as the man turned to leave. Without thinking, she gathered her skirts and ran after him. 

"Just a moment, my lord," she said, trying her best to maintain proper etiquette. "Please, my sister is still missing. I can't leave without her. Have you seen her somewhere around camp maybe?"

The man cocked his head like a bird examining a smaller animal. "That depends. Who might this sister of yours be?" 

"Her name is Uzgîl. White hair, amber eyes. She should've been with one of the groups fleeing from Angband." 

He considered her words for a moment, then shook his head. "No one by the name of Uzgîl has been found, I am afraid." 

It was but another disappointing answer among many, yet this time Yellik felt a heavy sense of finality. Despite the friendly words, she knew that saying no to the journey to the unknown land in the West was not an option; even if Uzgîl was still out there somewhere, it was too late. She wouldn't be able to reunite with her. 

She was going to break her promise, and there was nothing she could do to keep it. 

"I see. Thank you, my lord," Yellik said quietly, turning around and pulling the hood of her coat over her head so no one could see her tears. 

The Undying Lands were never dark, not even on Dar-Mosnat. 

And for the first time for as long as she could remember, Yellik was alone. 

She sat alone in the bedroom of the small house she was currently living in, doors and curtains closed to provide the illusion of comforting darkness. The time since her arrival in the land of Valinor had been turbulent to say the least, from entering a wholly different world to her community being unsure where to go. 

Messengers had told them that the strange gods ruling the land – the Valar, as they were called – had been making plans for them to live with the elves who everyone was still insisting were their kin, but Yellik and most of the other Orcs hadn't exactly liked the idea and taken matters into their own hands by travelling further west once they were allowed to roam free. There, close to the halls of the Valië called Nienna, they had found a calm, quiet region that reminded them of their home and built their own dwelling, naming it Rau-Votar. 

Perhaps she would grow to love this place like she had loved her old home, Yellik thought, but Uzgîl's absence continued to pain her. She still hadn't heard any news of her; and after months of waiting and on the day of the year she missed her the most, she had to face the possibility that Uzgîl might not have made it out and died in the ruins of Angband. 

Tears welling up at the thought, Yellik placed a candle on the ground in front of her. It was nothing compared to the hearth in their old home, but it was the best she could have for now. Maybe this too could be rebuilt in time, but it wouldn't be the same without her sister. 

It took a few attempts until Yellik managed to successfully light the candle, causing her to laugh through her quiet sobs; between the two of them, Uzgîl had always been the one in charge of making and maintaining fires and she would be amused by her clumsiness if she could see her right now. The simple act of watching the tiny flickering flame was strangely soothing, and Yellik soon felt herself relax when she began to sing old songs she had once sung to comfort her sister, swaying back and forth to the melody. 

The white wax of the candle slowly melted and dripped down onto the floor. As her eyes became unfocused, it reminded her of the colour of Uzgîl's hair, allowing her to imagine for a few precious seconds that she was there with her, slumbering near the fire just like during old times. 

The halls of Mandos were a strange, but fascinating place. 

Uzgîl had been wandering around for quite a while now, though it was hard to tell since time seemed to flow differently here. She felt drawn to the beautiful tapestries decorating the walls and admired them to her heart's content. Námo had told her that his wife made them to depict the history of Arda, and Uzgîl had listened eagerly whenever Vairë herself, one of her servants or even other souls told stories from the past. 

Even so, she quickly realised that she understood very little of what was shown, recognizing only a select few things. Uzgîl believed she had spotted the jewels the Noldor had fought to regain and a fiery, red-headed figure that reminded her of Mairon. The flames woven around him looked just like the ones on her fan, she had thought with a pang of sadness, tracing the beautiful red and golden threads with her ghostly fingers. 

It was strange to see things and people she had known in life on Vairë's tapestries, like pictures in a fairytale book. Was she too somewhere to be found in this magnificently woven tale, Uzgîl wondered, but discarded the thought – all these great and colourful figures surely had to be important people, while she was one among many servants of Angband. 

She thought of Yellik often. Námo had told her that she wasn't in Mandos when she had asked, and she had a distinct feeling that he knew precisely who had come to his halls and who still wandered the lands of the living. And so she couldn't help wondering what her older sister was currently up to. Had she gotten away? Uzgîl still couldn't recall her final memories, but she had witnessed enough war in her life to guess that she must've gotten caught in the fall of Angband before she could get away, and she could only pray that Yellik had been luckier.  

She didn't know how much time had passed. Another year? Maybe a whole decade? Was Yellik lonely without her? Who would sit at the hearth with her when the winter came? These questions plagued Uzgîl, but she did her best to cling to Námo's promise that death wouldn't hold her forever. 

Her quiet musings were interrupted by a voice calling out to her from the mist, yet it wasn't him nor his wife or siblings that she had met in the meantime. When she turned around, she saw another spirit approaching, materialising seemingly out of thin air, and she knew it had to be one of the servants of Mandos, not a wandering soul like her. Similar to Námo, Uzgîl felt small compared to the new presence and beheld the image of a tall man in dark robes with dark grey, almost black eyes. His hair, she noticed, reached nearly down to his waist and was kept in intricate braids. 

It must take an eternity to maintain, she couldn't help thinking. 

"Uzgîl."

He too knew her name without needing to ask, but she had gotten used to it. It seemed as though these spirits always knew. 

"Yes, that's me," Uzgîl responded as cheerfully as she could. 

Her smile faltered when the man continued to stare at her in silence. His left eye darkened, both his iris and sclera assuming an inky black colour. There was a tiny pinprick of light where his pupil should be, revealing that he was indeed looking at something , though Uzgîl had a feeling he was seeing something she didn't. Her spirit shuddered involuntarily and memories flashed in front of her, gone too quickly for her to grasp. It felt as if something was crawling down her spine and weighing on her neck, but the sensation was light and fleeting. 

Everything was over as suddenly as it had begun. Uzgîl was confused, but relieved to see the man's eye return to normal, and he gave a small nod. 

"I see nothing that would require penance on your part nor do you hold any ill will."

She remained silent, unsure what to make of his statement. 

"Though I believe Lord Námo already knows this. You should be allowed to return soon, if you wish."

"Wait, what do you mean –"

But the man's form was already blurring and fading, and Uzgîl knew he had left to continue his mysterious work elsewhere. 

Return? she echoed in her mind, pondering the encounter. Does that mean... they will send me back?

The streets of Rau-Votar were bustling with activity. It had grown a lot over the years, Yellik thought with pride, as more and more Orcs joined the once-small community that they had established. Many had felt unwelcome in the Elven cities of Valinor, and even though mistrust and hostility towards them had slowly dwindled after the war, many still preferred to live among their own kind, as Elven culture was still strange and foreign to most of them. 

The Valar had, as it seemed, watched them building their own home from afar and decided not to interfere with their efforts or force them to live together with the Elves. Some had even sent their servants to offer assistance, but the Orcs had declined; they wanted Rau-Votar to be a place to call their own, made by them and for them. They had, however, accepted materials sent by Aulë the smith as it seemed to them that his appreciation and respect for their hard work was genuine. 

The marketplace of Rau-Votar was the heart of the city. The Orcs living there presented their wares with pride and worked hard in their small shops. Yellik often wandered the streets, both to gather ingredients for her kitchen and for her own amusement. Hearing Orcish voices around her was comforting and a welcome distraction from the silence that sometimes surrounded her at home, and she loved experiencing all the different sights and smells. Life in Valinor was not too bad, she had to admit, at least here in Rau-Votar, but her longing for home and the pain of losing Uzgîl was a wound that had never quite healed. 

It was another day of aimless wandering when Yellik suddenly felt something in the crowd drawing her attention. At first she wasn't sure what had interrupted her train of thought, then she spotted a group of Elves nearby – Noldor, if she wasn't mistaken. While it wasn't a common sight, especially not when so many Orcs were around, it wasn't anything out of the ordinary either – but still, there was something about them that made her stop and follow them with her eyes. And when the blonde Elf in the middle suddenly lifted the fan he was carrying and idly fanned himself as he and his companions stopped to have a look at some nearby wares, realisation hit Yellik like lightning. 

She would recognize that flame pattern anywhere. This was Uzgîl's fan. Countless times had she seen her holding it like the Elf did right now, and she hadn't expected to ever see it again – especially not in the hands of a stranger. 

Yellik felt herself shuddering despite the warm sunlight and held onto her basket tightly with both hands. How did this Elf acquire Uzgîl's beloved fan? Surely her sister wouldn't give it up willingly. Had he taken it from her? Yellik's fear was suddenly replaced with anger. The thought that this Elf could have stolen it from poor innocent Uzgîl or, even worse, be the reason she was no longer with her and now had the audacity to come to Rau-Votar to flaunt her fan was unbearable. 

She had to do something. She hadn't kept her promise to Uzgîl, so she couldn't let this go; she owed it to her. 

Not allowing herself to hesitate any longer, Yellik marched over to the group of Elves and called out to the blonde Noldo. 

"Hey! You there! Elf!" 

She had their attention immediately, as well as several passersby turning their heads to find out what business one of them had with the elven visitors. The blonde Elf looked at her with curiosity despite her harsh tone, while his dark-haired companions reflexively assumed a more defensive stance and eyed her with thinly veiled mistrust. For a brief moment, Yellik wondered if she had seen any of them before – the one with the fan in particular seeming vaguely familiar – but she decided it didn't matter either way. What mattered was that he was holding Uzgîl's fan. 

"Can I help you?" the blonde Elf asked, a polite smile on his face. 

Yellik glared in response, reminding herself not to let this fool her. 

"You can return the fan that you stole from my sister." 

Her words caused the Noldor to stare at her in shock, before one of the dark-haired Elves managed to collect himself enough to respond. "How dare you make such claims? Do you know who –" 

The blonde Elf quickly silenced his companion with a wave of his hand, then faced Yellik once again. 

"I am sorry, but I don't understand what you mean." 

She pointed at the golden script on the fan's guard. 

"This fan was given to my sister Uzgîl many years ago and has her name on it. It's not yours." 

A small crowd had begun to gather around them. Everyone knew how important these fans had been back in Angband, and many Orcs still carried theirs as one of their most prized possessions. The implication that an Elf had not only taken a fan from another Orc, but also had the audacity to show it off in public displeased many, and Yellik could see that the three Noldor were aware of this. The blonde Elf closed the fan to have a look at the script himself, then looked up at her in confusion. 

"So Uzgîl is what it says on the guard? I have been wondering about this, actually." He gave her an apologetic smile. "You see, no one in my household has the ability to read... whatever script this is, so I wasn't aware it was someone's name. And I assure you that I had no intention of stealing; in fact, I received this fan as a gift myself."

"Who gave it to you?" Yellik demanded, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. 

"... a friend and brother-in-arms." 

It was obvious that the blonde Noldo knew what consequences giving a name could have. Yellik, however, had no interest in letting the matter go.

"Brother-in-arms," she repeated, scowling. "Sounds like he could be a thief then... or a murderer." 

His eyes widened. "My friend would never –" 

"I don't care!" Yellik raised her voice, her patience fading fast. "I'm not interested in excuses and pretty words! That fan belongs to my sister and someone took it from her, either you, your friend or one of your men! And I was taken here because the Valar and your kind insist that we are kin, but if that's true, why are you stealing from us?"

There was mumbling in the crowd, and she could hear several Orcs voicing their support. The blonde Elf appeared to be shaken by these accusations, glancing down at the fan again, yet before he could respond, the crowd suddenly parted and everyone's attention shifted onto two figures approaching them. At first glance they seemed to be Elves as well, but Yellik immediately recognized the fiery hair and elegant bearing of someone she hadn't thought she would ever see again. 

"L-Lord Mairon?" she stammered in disbelief and saw the dark-haired Elves flinching. The blonde Noldo, however, was staring at the unknown lady at Mairon's side as if he was hoping that she would know what to do, and her gentle gaze beheld the scenery with mild curiosity. For some reason, her presence seemed to reassure the Elves, though they remained tense as they eyed the Orcs and the man by her side. 

Ignoring their apprehension, Mairon stepped forward, casting a brief glance at Yellik as he did, and she quickly bowed her head in respect. To say she had known him personally would be a stretch, but she had served him gladly, and his appearance here – as strange as it was – was welcome. Surely he would be on her side, she thought with no small amount of satisfaction. 

Mairon stood in front of the blonde Elf and beheld the fan for a moment before he spoke up, "This fan was not gifted to you, nor was it made by the work of your hands. The recipient might not be here among us, but I suggest you return it to Yellik. I am sure she will care for the fan until Uzgîl is back." 

Silence ensued. Yellik was stunned to hear her lord say her name – she had assumed he recognised her as a former member of his household, but she had never thought that he knew the names of his lesser servants. Yet when the lady that had arrived with him nodded in assent, she shook off her trance and faced the Elves again. The blonde Noldo, who had been glancing back and forth between Mairon and his companion, nodded as well and held out the fan for Yellik to take.

"I am sorry," he said, and it sounded like he meant it. "I truly had no idea and it was never my intention to take something that belongs to your sister." 

Yellik accepted the fan and held it close to her chest. Something told her this Elf was indeed no thief, but she didn't know if she could trust that feeling or how she could put it into words, so she merely nodded. Their eyes met, and she believed to see genuine compassion in their depths, as if he knew how it felt to lose family members and things that were important to them. 

But the moment was fleeting, and all Yellik could do was to hold on to the one thing that reminded her of her sister in this strange, new land. 

The lady accompanying Mairon smiled, visibly pleased, and her presence seemed to soothe the hearts of everyone around them. 

"You have done well, both of you," she said, addressing Yellik and the blonde Elf. "I know Uzgîl will be very grateful." 

She knows Uzgîl? How does she know her? Does she know where she is? Does she know why Mairon is here? Is this why he's with her? Who is this woman?

Yellik's mind was swarmed with many questions at once, none of which she currently had any answers to. She barely noticed how the crowd around them dispersed and the Elves bid Mairon and his companion farewell, only one thing was clear: She had to find out more. 

"You can stay here with us for a while longer if you need more time to recover; but if you wish, you may return to your kin."

"I... I can come back to life?"

"Yes, my child. My brother meant it when he said it."

"I do want to... but where will I go? I don't know where my sister is..."

"Don't worry. This place may be in a different land, but your sister has been brought here as well. I recently met her, actually, and it eases my heart to know you have someone like her to return to."

"Then I will go to her. Thank you so much, my lady, for everything you and your siblings have done for me."

"But of course, my child."

When Uzgîl woke up, she was in a different part of Mandos. She felt dizzy and confused, but before she could even think about getting up to find out where she was, she suddenly noticed many things at once – the weight of her body as it rested on a bed, the rise and fall of her chest, the feeling of bedsheets and clothing brushing against her skin with every movement, the ticklish sensation of hair –  

Her body felt familiar and foreign at the same time. Uzgîl didn't know how long she had been a bodiless spirit, and it had never occurred to her that such a simple thing like how it felt to be alive could fade from memory. 

Eyes wide with wonder, she moved her fingers, then raised her hand to look at it. Everything was as it had once been, except... she eyed her hand from all sides, worry rising within her. Why was she so strangely pale? Her skin had always been green, as was typical for most Orcs, yet now it was like an Elf's. 

Uzgîl hastily rose from the bed, looking around until she spotted a mirror on the wall, and walked over. The woman who stared back at her seemed like a stranger, as if an Elf had somehow taken her place. She raised her hand, only to see her mirror image do the same – no, this was her. 

Except it wasn't. Her fangs were gone as well, and the only things she recognized were her white hair and her amber eyes. Somehow, she had ended up an Elven body – surely this had to be a mistake? 

"I see you have begun reacquainting yourself with the living world."

As if summoned by her distress, Námo had appeared behind her and was watching her with an unreadable expression. 

Uzgîl turned around to face him. "This isn't right," she said, "this isn't who I was. I'm not an Elf, I'm an Orc. Why do I look like this?" 

Námo's veil fluttered slightly when he sighed. "It is just like I told them, but they didn't listen." 

"What do you mean?" 

He stepped closer to stroke her hair, attempting to comfort her. 

"The council saw fit to decree that Orcs should be restored to their... lost Elven form. They thought it would make you happier." 

Uzgîl vigorously shook her head. "They must've gotten it wrong then. I was an Orc when I was born, I was never anything else." 

When Námo was silent, she added, "I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't mean to be ungrateful, it's just that... this isn't me, you know?" 

"Well... the thing is that I actually don't know," he said. 

"I'm... not sure I'm following?" 

"I am a spirit, Uzgîl, as is the rest of my kind. We... do not understand how it is to have just one body that... feels like you . We make one to show ourselves to the Incarnates, but it is... more akin to clothing that can be changed anytime."

"I see," Uzgîl mumbled, though in truth she didn't understand. During her stay in his halls she had known what it was like to be a spirit and life felt strange to her now, but she knew it would fade – unlike the memory of her body that had always stayed with her and would continue to do so.

"I shall let the others know what you have told me today," Námo said. "Perhaps I can change their minds in time. Now, do you still want to go and live with your sister? If you would prefer to stay here you can also do that." 

Uzgîl took a deep breath and nodded. "Yes, I want to go. And thank you for everything. I'm... I'm still me after all, no matter how I look." 

She could see a faint smile underneath his veil. "That is very much true, little one." 

It was a few days before Dar-Mosnat when Yellik heard a knock on her door. She stopped in her tracks for a moment, wondering who it could be – she hadn't been expecting any visitors, but the distraction wasn't unwelcome, even though it interrupted her cleaning session. Living on her own felt particularly lonely around this time of the year, and a little chat would hopefully distract her for a while. Carelessly, she tossed her washcloth into the nearest bucket; the furniture could wait. 

When Yellik opened the door, ready to greet her visitor, she was stunned for a moment. In front of her stood an Elf woman, one she didn't recognize, yet somehow there was an air of familiarity about her. Her gaze wandered over wide amber eyes looking at her expectantly, round, slightly blushing cheeks, a hopeful smile, soft features, white hair...

"Yellik?" 

Even her voice was familiar. And she knew her name. 

"Yellik, it's me."

"Uzgîl?!" Yellik exclaimed, her mouth falling open in disbelief. The woman in front of her certainly was no Orc, but the similarities were undeniable. Her eyes, her voice, her face, they all were like an echo of the sister she had once known. 

"But how? And why..." 

She stepped back to let Uzgîl inside, and the Elven version of her sister happily accepted her silent invitation. As soon as the door closed behind her, Yellik turned to face her again. 

"What happened," was all she managed. 

Uzgîl took a deep breath. It was obvious that her sister's lack of recognition had saddened her, but that she had expected this kind of conversation. Yellik immediately felt awful for reacting like this, though she couldn't help being confused. 

"So, um... I died in Angband," Uzgîl said, her tone as cheerful and casual as she could manage. "And then I was summoned by Lord Námo and stayed in his halls until I was ready to come back, but..." She fidgeted nervously. "Apparently the Valar decided that Orcs are supposed to be Elves so I was remade like... this." 

Yellik's eyes followed her hand as she gestured towards herself, then beheld the woman in front of her once more. As jarring as it was to see someone she had known and loved her entire life in a different body, as if she was wearing another person's skin, the more she looked and listened, the more she recognized that it was indeed Uzgîl; if not on the outside, still on the inside. 

Without another word, Yellik closed the distance between them and embraced her. She felt the warmth of her sister's body and the softness of her hair and let out a small sob; for years she had missed her and tried to go on without her, but now she was finally back. No longer would she have to feel guilty about being forced to leave Middle-earth; no longer would she have to feel like she was in the wrong place. Finally it made sense for her to be here, in Valinor, with Uzgîl and the others. 

"I'm so sorry," she blurted out. "I should've never left –" 

"Don't," Uzgîl interrupted, gentle but determined. "It's not your fault that I didn't get out of Angband in time. I don't even remember what happened... Was I with someone else? Was I trying to get others out? Was I in the wrong tunnel? I don't know. My memories never really came back to me, and Lord Námo said that's alright. It happens to a lot of people." 

After one last squeeze, Yellik slowly released her and moved backwards to have another look at her, holding on to her upper arms. 

"Uzgîl..." she began, not knowing how she should put her feelings into words. In the end, she decided to simply be blunt as always. "I don't care how you look. I'm just glad you're back." 

Uzgîl let out a small sigh of relief. "I was a little worried you wouldn't like how I look now," she admitted. 

"Nonsense. You're as pretty as you've always been," Yellik said firmly. She let go of Uzgîl's arms to take her hand instead and led her to the living room. 

"You'll be living with me of course," she began, going through her mental checklist of logistics to distract herself from the awkward emotional moment – she had never been too good with that and worried she might start crying if they continued to just stand there and stare at each other. 

"Lady Nienna told me to do that too," Uzgîl smiled. 

"I was just cleaning a bit for Dar-Mosnat," Yellik went on, but couldn't help smiling as well. "You can join me later, but not before you've rested and made yourself at home. Oh, are you hungry? Have you eaten?" 

"Not in many, many years," Uzgîl responded with a small giggle. 

Yellik immediately changed directions and pulled her towards the kitchen. "I'll make you something right now. And while I'm at it, you can tell me more about those people you met." 

It felt like finally coming home, even though she had lived here for years now. 

The two women were sitting on a folded blanket by the fireplace, shoulder to shoulder, staring into the flames and enjoying each other's company. Uzgîl had taken her time kindling the fire, smiling as she went through the familiar motions, while Yellik had prepared a tasty stew that was now resting in a pot close to the fire so it could simmer a while longer. Wooden spoons and bowls sat on the ground nearby, purchased on the market for this special occasion so they could feel even more at home, now awaiting their first use. 

Uzgîl eyed the fire critically, then leaned forward to place an additional piece of wood inside the fireplace. "There. This should last for a while." 

She sat back with a pensive expression. "The wood from here burns differently." 

Yellik was impressed that she had noticed such a small detail. 

"It makes sense, I guess," she mused. "It's not as cold around here, and the trees grow taller."

Uzgîl nodded. "It's kind of a shame, isn't it? I liked the cold. Well, not freezing and such, just warm clothes and soft blankets and sitting on heated floors." 

"If we had that here, we'd be sweating all day," Yellik said, though her wistful tone betrayed her true feelings. She missed those things too. 

She turned her head when she saw her sister pulling out a small mirror to check on her face. Uzgîl had taken to using green powder – like many Orc women did to enhance their appearance – to look more like her old self. Yellik couldn't help being a little saddened whenever she saw it, making a point to remind her often that she was beautiful no matter what, but she had long since decided to keep her mouth shut; what Uzgîl did with her appearance was her own decision, and she would accept and support whatever made her happy.

"I have a special gift for you," Yellik broke the silence, smiling when she saw her sister looking up from her mirror immediately and shoving it back into the pockets of her dress. 

"Really? How did you even manage to get something so quickly? I don't have anything for you," Uzgîl lamented. 

"Actually, I got this a while ago," Yellik said and handed her a small, hastily wrapped bundle. "And technically, it's been yours this whole time, so don't feel bad." 

Uzgîl seemed confused, but stopped wondering about the meaning of her words in favour of unwrapping the package. Her eyes widened when she revealed its contents, and she let out a small squeal. "Is this – my fan?! How on Arda did you..."

Yellik thought about it for a moment. Should she tell her sister the truth? She didn't want to reveal anything that might be upsetting, but she didn't want to lie to her either. 

"Someone ended up bringing it here and gave it to a friend. I just happened to meet said friend and they returned the fan to me when I said it's yours," she said. Hastily, she added, "Complete strangers, by the way – I don't even know who they were."

Uzgîl appeared to accept her explanation without a second thought. She was too overjoyed to have her favourite possession back, and a few happy tears rolled down her rosy cheeks as she clutched the fan with both hands. 

"Thank you so much," she said, suppressing a sob. "It... it makes me feel... a bit more like myself." 

Yellik leaned closer to give her a hug. "You don't need to have certain things or look a certain way to be yourself," she whispered, "but I'm glad it makes you happy and more comfortable with your new life." 

"I know, I just..." Uzgîl gently squeezed her fan a couple of times as if she was trying to physically put her thoughts into place. "A lot of things are so different now, and I don't know how... I fit in or... what to do with myself..." 

Her last statement reminded Yellik of something, causing her eyes to light up. "Speaking of that. Did you know that Lord Mairon is here as well?" 

"He is?!" Uzgîl drew back, her eyes widening in surprise. "I didn't see him where I was, but well..." 

"He wasn't on the ship with me either, but somehow he ended up here," Yellik said. "I actually met him recently. He helped me with getting your fan back." 

Uzgîl sat still in rapt silence for a moment, then her face lit up. 

"Say, Yellik, do you think we could meet him sometime? Maybe he could use some help." 

Yellik nodded slowly. The thought had crossed her mind many times since that fateful day on the marketplace. She had attempted to talk to Mairon alone afterwards, but he had told her that he needed to go, presumably because of that mysterious lady. He had hinted at possibly meeting again in the future – maybe it was time for that now. And maybe he had more answers for them as well. 

It was worth a shot at least. 

When Yellik had knocked on the door of the beautiful cottage in the mountains near Rau-Votar, she had expected to maybe speak to a servant or have a brief conversation with their former lord if she was lucky. 

What she hadn't expected was to be invited inside and sit on a comfortable couch together with Uzgîl, each holding a cup of tea, with Mairon sitting in a nearby armchair. It was the first time he was looking at them like this, she thought, his attention solely focused on them.  

"It's good to see you again so soon, Yellik, and Uzgîl has returned to us too," he said, a content smile on his lips. 

"You know who we are?" 

Uzgîl spoke faster than Yellik, though it was something she had been wondering about as well. 

"Of course." 

Mairon picked up his own cup and took a sip. He hadn't even let it cool, Yellik noticed, yet somehow the hot liquid didn't seem to bother him. Maybe it was another strange magic of his. 

"I mean, it wouldn't exactly have been wise to accept complete strangers into my household," he explained, "so yes – we may not have spoken often, but I do know who you are." 

Uzgîl was staring at him in silent awe. Yellik was about to elbow her to remind her of her manners, but Mairon seemed preoccupied with something else already. 

"I see you have your fan back," he said, nodding towards Uzgîl's dress pocket, where the upper part was partially sticking out. 

"Yes," she beamed and pulled it out for emphasis. "I'm so happy that Yellik found it."

"These fans... did you give them to us?" Yellik asked suddenly. She didn't know how it had come into her mind so suddenly, yet it was something she had been wondering ever since that one Dar-Mosnat celebration many years ago and Uzgîl's theory. 

"I did indeed." Mairon was still smiling, but it seemed genuine. "And I am glad to see they still mean a lot to you." 

His gaze wandered over to Yellik, and she understood. 

"Thank you again for helping me out back then," she said. "And the... other lady too, but I'm afraid I don't know who –" 

"That was Lady Nienna." 

Uzgîl gently nudged her. "So you met her too? I had no idea! Now I get why she was talking about you that way." 

Yellik had the distinct feeling that both her sister and her former lord knew a lot more about this mysterious lady than she did, but at least Uzgîl had told her a few stories about the esteemed Valië of Mercy. 

"Anyway, that helped a lot," she concluded and brought her teacup closer to her lips, only to find that it was still too hot for her, so she decided to continue the conversation instead. After all, this was her opportunity to ask all the questions that had been on her mind for a while now. 

"So, how did you end up here, if I may ask?" 

"Much like yourself," Mairon said. "I was captured and imprisoned for a while, but thankfully I happened to have a few old friends and acquaintances that were willing to vouch for me and eventually managed to acquire a place of my own." 

Uzgîl nodded along, but Yellik found herself getting even more curious. "Old friends? Have you been here before?" 

Mairon regarded her for a while, seemingly contemplating her question. His eyes twinkled with amusement. 

"Well, you see... Yellik, do you know what I am?" 

The question took her by surprise. She had indeed been wondering about that, considering how he was neither Orc nor Elf – though he certainly looked like the latter for the most part – and had some strange quirks and powers. 

"I don't," Yellik admitted. 

When Uzgîl remained quiet as well, both women looking at him expectantly, Mairon spoke up again, "I am an Ainu, a Maia to be exact." 

"You're a what?" Yellik blurted out before she could stop herself. 

To her surprise, Uzgîl appeared to understand what he meant, nodding eagerly. 

"So you're like the spirits in Mandos!" she exclaimed. "I had no idea." 

"Yes. We are of the same kind, though there are a few differences." Mairon took another sip of tea. "The Maiar you met in Mandos are spirits who deal with the souls of the dead, whereas I'm a spirit of fire." 

That explains the hot tea, Yellik thought. Many Mairon-related mysteries now made a lot more sense, including his reappearance in Valinor: He too was considered to be kin to the people living here. 

"But enough about that," Mairon said, "I would rather talk about what brings you two here today." 

Yellik was about to explain, but Uzgîl beat her to it again. 

"Well, we wanted to ask if you need help in your new household," she said, candid as always. 

Mairon seemed to think about it for a few seconds. 

"I appreciate the offer and also prefer to have my own people around, but I suppose I should let you know that you are under no obligation to offer your services to me. You are free to take care of your own lives instead, if you wish."

"We understand," Yellik said, "but I've had that for years now and I was proud of my work back in Angband. Taking care of only myself isn't sufficient to keep my hands busy; and I believe we could both use some company as well." 

Uzgîl nodded. "I haven't been back for too long," she admitted and looked down at her hands. "But I'm trying my best." 

"Well, Uzgîl... I'm working on raising a new pack, at least once Oromë lets me have a few pups or tame some wolves in his forests, and I'd appreciate having help from people who understand what these animals mean to us," Mairon said. 

"Does that mean –" 

"It does." 

Yellik smiled, pleased with his response, until she saw her sister suddenly hesitating. 

"Will it be a problem that I'm... I'm not..." Uzgîl said nervously, scratching her cheek. A bit of green powder got stuck under her fingernail. 

Mairon eyed her for a while, more curious than perturbed. Yellik suspected that he had noticed her different appearance, but was polite enough not to bring it up. 

"So you don't like your current form?" he asked. 

"Not really," Uzgîl admitted, "I don't feel like an Elf, you see, and unlike you I can't just change it –"

"He can change what?!" Yellik interrupted.  

Uzgîl smiled proudly. "Lord Námo explained this to me," she proclaimed, "their bodies aren't real –" 

"Uzgîl!"

"She isn't wrong." Mairon was chuckling to himself. 

"So you can... change your appearance? Because you're a spirit like the ones Uzgîl saw in Mandos?" Yellik inquired. 

"Basically, yes."

"I've never actually seen it, though," Uzgîl said, leaning forward. Her eyes were gleaming with excitement. "Could you... make your hair blue?" 

"I could, but I would prefer not to." 

Yellik decided it was time to elbow her sister. Fortunately, Mairon seemed neither offended nor annoyed; it was probably not the first time someone had asked him something of this sort. 

"We can talk more about this at a later point, but for now I believe your issues with your new form are a more pressing matter. I take it you would prefer a body more akin to the one you had before?" 

"Yes. I want to be an Orc again," Uzgîl said.

"Have you told Námo about this?" 

"I did. He said he'd tell the other Valar." 

"And what about Irmo and Estë? Have you been to Lórien?" 

Uzgîl shook her head. "Lord Námo said that the council decided Orcs should be reembodied as Elves."

Mairon smirked. "Reembodied, yes, but no one said anything about changing a body you aren't comfortable with, no?" 

"You think they would...?" 

"You see, Uzgîl, Námo may be a lawful spirit, but he and his other family members have their own code of conduct, and Irmo and Estë in particular care about the wellbeing of the Children first. It would certainly not hurt to speak to them about this." 

Uzgîl's face shone with hope. Yellik had never been an optimist, knew little to nothing about this strange kind of spirits Mairon belonged to and didn't exactly trust the Valar, but she wouldn't stand in her sister's way. If she wanted to seek out the Lord and Lady of Lórien, she would come with her. 

She took a sip of her own tea, finally cool enough to drink. 

"Say, my lord, how do we get to this place called Lórien?" 

The gardens of Lórien were a wondrous place. 

Uzgîl could've spent hours, if not days just wandering around and marvelling at colourful flowers, strange plants and winged little animals that, as she was informed, were called butterflies and bumblebees. Even Yellik – who was known to be determined and not one to dawdle – was fascinated by their surroundings, so unlike the cool, rocky environment they were used to, but she kept gently pulling her sister along. 

"Let's find the Lord and Lady first," she said, "afterwards we can maybe stay a while longer and look at everything." 

Maybe. The unspoken worry remained that Orcs might not be too welcome in this realm, considering how it was a place for Elves and Ainur to rest and they were so different from them. For Yellik, it was the first time she ventured outside her Orcish community since she had been released after the war, and Uzgîl found herself in a similar situation – in Mandos she had been mostly around other Orcs as well, with the occasional encounter with Námo and his family and servants. She had seen Irmo a few times as well, and he had seemed like a cheerful, whimsical spirit to her, but she hadn't met Estë before. The truth was that, despite everything Námo and Nienna in particular had done for her, Uzgîl was still a little terrified of the Valar, just like Yellik remained suspicious of them.

And as they continued to enjoy the marvels of Lórien, they both felt like the masters of this realm had long since seen them and knew they were here. There was no need for magic of their own to tell. Yet even as Uzgîl began to worry, the very air she breathed seemed to soothe her, and the gentle bobbing of flowers in the wind beckoned her to continue on her path. 

"I think they're waiting for us," she said, though she had no idea how this thought had so suddenly come into her mind. "Come." 

Yellik said nothing, simply nodding and keeping up as Uzgîl followed her spontaneous inspiration. They soon found themselves walking towards a lake, glittering in the sunlight, and spotted two figures on its shore. One appeared to be a woman dressed in light grey robes, her silvery hair spread out around her, and she was asleep, her head resting on the lap of her companion. The other seemed to be a man, though he was simultaneously the most beautiful and strangest man Uzgîl had ever seen. His skin reminded her of purple lily petals and his curly white hair of a sheep's pelt littered with flowers. Instead of ears, there was a pair of green and pink moth wings attached to his head, fanning out when he turned to face them. 

Only then did it occur to Uzgîl that she had never really seen Irmo before – in Mandos he had been a swirling cloud of colours, a brilliant and hypnotising sight to behold. She cast a brief glance at Yellik who was staring at him in silence, utterly bewildered and a little weirded out. 

"There you are," Irmo greeted them. 

His smile and the softness of his voice quickly melted away any apprehension the two Orc women were feeling. It was now clear who had seen them and guided them here, and even though they were met with one of the strangest beings they had ever laid eyes on, they could sense neither danger nor malice. In fact, the Vala seemed delighted to see them. 

His slender fingers gently stroked his wife's hair. "Wake up, my love. We have visitors." 

The Valië, Estë, rose almost in an instant, stretching her limbs with a small yawn. She was barely taller than the two of them, Uzgîl realised, very much unlike Námo who had been so much bigger than her at least in spirit, and her face held both youthful strength and ancient wisdom. 

"Ah. Two of Melkor's children," she smiled. "How lovely of you to visit us." 

"Not many have done so," Irmo added, his wing-ears drooping slightly. "I was looking forward to it so much." 

"Hush now," Estë scolded him gently. "Two of them have found their way to us at last, though..." 

Her attention shifted back to the two women. 

"As happy as we are to see you, we certainly hope it's not because you suffer from any sickness or hurt." 

Yellik squeezed her hand, and Uzgîl nodded. 

"I'm not sick," she began, "but this body that I was given isn't right for me. It... it doesn't feel like me. Do you understand?" 

Estë glanced at Irmo who immediately rose from his seated position. His figure became blurry for a split second, then he suddenly stood in front of Uzgîl as if he had run faster than her eyes could follow. His purple gaze met hers, and she suddenly saw herself, both as she was and as she had been before her death, images flickering in her mind like sparks from a fireplace. 

"Ah, yes," Irmo mumbled, more to himself and his wife than to the two women. "She is one of the Orcs that was remade as an Elf." 

Estë let out a deep sigh. "Námo spoke against this decision several times now, as did we and Nienna. And now this poor child has had part of her identity taken away from her because of it, just like we said what would happen." 

"I-I'm sorry," Uzgîl said reflexively, sensing the Valië's anger. "I just –" 

"You are not the one who should be sorry," Irmo soothed her immediately. "Estë is merely frustrated that the council ignored our advice." 

"Indeed." Estë took a deep breath, and her expression softened. "I merely wish we could have saved you all this trouble, little one."

"Does that mean you'll help her?" Yellik cut in. "If you can?" 

"If you wish to be changed, we can and we will," Irmo said calmly, looking at Uzgîl. 

She took a deep breath. "I do. Please. I'm grateful to be back to life, but I want to feel like myself again." 

"I understand." 

Irmo held out his hand. Glancing at Yellik one more time, Uzgîl let go of her sister and took it. 

"I don't know how this works," she admitted. 

"Don't worry." Irmo kept smiling at her. "We will sing for you, and all you need to do is sleep." 

And sleep she did, on the shores of the lake, with the gentle sound of water, grass and wind in her ears. In her dreams, she saw glimpses of her old life, sitting together at the fire with Yellik, playing with Mairon's wolves, holding her fan, watching herself in the mirror – her true self, the one that had green skin and fangs. 

When Uzgîl woke up many hours later and rose to see her reflection in the lake, she saw the very same face smiling back at her and cried tears of joy as the missing part of her true self was finally restored to her. 

It was the first proper Dar-Mosnat celebration ever since they had left Angband. 

Mairon had invited all members of his old household, and Yellik and Uzgîl were delighted to see many familiar faces, eagerly conversing with Asyarë, Lhéthel and many others. Somehow, even Borug had found his way to their former lord's house, though unfortunately for him, Yellik disappeared into the kitchen as soon as Uzgîl excitedly informed her of his appearance. 

"I have nothing against that man, and his determination is admirable, but I've had enough things to worry about for a while now," was all Yellik said, and Uzgîl spent a few minutes giggling to herself near the hearth, feigning ignorance when Borug approached her to ask about her sister's whereabouts. 

To the surprise of most guests and servants, they were visited by Nienna, Irmo and Estë as well, and they brought a bunch of sweet treats as gifts for everyone. Several people fell victim to Irmo's poppy cake which he eagerly distributed and were soon asleep all over the cottage, until Mairon convinced Estë to take it away from him and save it for after dinner. 

Yellik was running back and forth between the kitchen, the hearth and the table, making sure everything was running smoothly, and Uzgîl helped wherever she could while keeping an eye on the fire. It was exhausting as it had always been, but neither of them minded – Valinor had never felt so much like home, and it seemed as though things were finally beginning to fall into place. 

And when everything was over and the guests had either left or were fast asleep thanks to a generous slice of poppy cake, the two women sat at the hearth together as was their sacred little tradition, snacking on some candy and unwrapping their gifts. 

"I can't believe Borug is still trying to get with you," Uzgîl giggled when Yellik found another knife from a "secret admirer" among her stack of gifts, attached to one single red rose. 

"I can't believe it either," she said dryly. "Wasn't he busy being dead too? But oh well. I do appreciate the steady supply of kitchen tools." 

"You should think about giving him a chance sometime."

"Sometime, Uzgîl, and that means later." Yellik put away the knife and smiled. "For now it's just us, and that's all I want." 

Uzgîl took her hand, squeezed it and rested her head on her shoulder. 

Yes, it was just them, as it had always been and as it should be. With her true self being restored and her sister back by her side, she finally felt complete, and all was well in the end – just like Yellik had promised.