This is my first attempt at a Fanfic of any kind. I'm more comfortable with writing my own characters. Who are set in my own made-up world. But writing this story has been fun. I hope you guys like it. Please let me know what you think. I'm open for criticism.

Also, I do not own, The Lord of The Rings. But I do own Locien and a few others.


It was not very hard was it? To believe, that she could actually be his daughter. His flesh and blood. She may not look like anything but a ragged farm boy. But she had his chin. And she believed they had the same fighting spirit. For why else would they both be alive and well in this moment.

She wished she could say, she looked like her mother. But nay, it was not meant to be. Also she certainly did not inherit the Elvin grace. When queen Arwen walked, it was as if she glided through the clouds above. Even if she had given up her immortality; she still seemed as if she kept company with the stars.

Her attention shifted back to Elessar. Withholding the urge to jump, she stilled, forcing herself not to flee. Estel, Strider, Thorongil,Aragorn, Elessar Telcontar, The king of Minas Tirith. His eyes were staring into her honey brown orbs. At times the gold in her eyes would bleed more fiercely then the brown. She hoped this was not one of those times.

'Walk away.' she begged silently. 'Do not take notice of me.' Being out on the lower levels of Minas Tirith; she had thought herself safe to watch them. There was far too much going on, for them to notice her watching. Or so she had thought.

But The King did not heed to her silent pleadings. He, as well as his love, came to stand in front of the dirty, ragged, and all too skinny boy, that was really a girl.

She knew what she was supposed to do. But that didn't make it any less loathsome. She fell upon her knees, bowing her forehead so low it touched the ground. She urged her body into a slight shake. She played her part perfectly.

"Child, rise." His voice was calm, almost smooth. It had dark timber to it. She wondered what it would have been like, to grow up to such a voice. Teaching her how to wield a blade. Or tell her stories of his travels, by her bedside at night. Her brother was very lucky.

Hesitating for a moment, she slowly raised herself from the ground. But kept her head down.

A large hand fell upon her shoulder. She swung her head up as soon as it did. He was smiling at her.

"Young one, what is your name?"

She bothered not, to guise her voice. It already sounded quite masculine. "Drago, son of Eugene."

"Your name suits you. Drago, son of Eugene." He removed his hand from her shoulder. Setting it instead, around his wife's waist.

"And how old are you Drago?" it was her mother that spoke this time and it gave her quite a start.

"But fifteen winters, Lady-Queen." Her mother's voice was so very different from her fathers. It was light and unexplainable. For it seemed as if, it was made of magic.

"My," there was laughter in her voice. "And so very well learned for only fifteen winters."

"My queen?" The child known as Drago, cocked her head in wonder.

"Why just yesterday I saw you reading in the stables. And if I'm not mistaken the language was Sindarin."

Drago could feel her cheeks turn red. Oh Valar, how could she let herself be caught! "I like to pretend I understand the language. It is a lovely way of writing. I cannot actually read it." she looked to the floor in embarrassment.

"Regardless young Drago, Curiosity is how we learn. One day, if you try hard enough. I am sure you will come to know of the language of the elves."

"You are kind, King." she murmured bowing her head.

" Drago, I have seen the horse that you rode in upon a fortnight ago." Drago felt the color drain from her face. He had been watching her. "I wonder where it comes from. It's a fine horse. Though it looks different than any I have seen."

"I do not know much more then thee, King Elessar. He was a present for my birth celebration."

"A fine present. Your father must love you much, young Drago."

He clapped his hand on her shoulder once more. And then, He and his queen walked away, back to their previous proceedings.

Drago then decided, it was time to finally retrieve what she had come for. She could not afford to stay a moment longer. She had seen the brooch on him. The Elfstone. She had memorized the seventh level, knew where the kings house was. Knew every room, knew every secret passage, and knew that Elessar left the brooch in his room, when at private dinner with friends. And such friends, had rode in naught but two days ago.

'Father, soon you will have a war on your hands. And the elves will wish they hadn't left when they had. For this is their war, and not mans.'

Sighing, Drago picked up her bag and made her way to the sixth level stables, to wait for evening to come.


Once again, let me know what you think... That means review. :P