Disclaimer: I own Adalea and Aenarion, and the plot. That's all. Everything else belongs to Tolkien. Blah blah blah, stander disclaimers apply. This is NOT a MarySue, I promise, and it is NOT a Legolas/OC love plot story. With those things in mind, read on!

Reviewage: Please, please, PLEASE Review! Flames are accepted, and will be used to light the hobbitses pipes—even though there are none in this story! Preferably

--Chapter One--

Legolas shifted uneasily in a light slumber. Subconsciously he knew that his sleep was fleeting, but did his best to grasp it as long as possible.

It had been a long night—without must rest. He had been out on patrol on the Eastern perimeters, watching for orcs. For some reason, they had been massing in the shadows of eastern Mirkwood, and the Elves thought it wise to keep vigilant.

He had spent most of the night high in an ancient tree, and had only returned an hour or so before the morning would break. Now dawn crept upon him, and despite his efforts he found himself awake and with a small sigh of regret, he threw the covers off, and swung his legs over the side of his bed in a graceful movement. He stretched as he sat upon the edge of his bed, and as he rubbed the last of the sleep from his eyes, something whizzed overhead, quickly he ducked, and turned his head to the arrow that had shot through his window.

With a glance back at the window above his bed, he swiftly crossed the floor, bent like a cat, to where the arrow had embedded itself in the far wall. He reached up quickly, and grasped the arrow, yanking it out fluidly, then examining it.

It was a delicate shaft, with a piece of parchment wound round its end, towards the fletchings. He recognized the colors of the feathers, and the intricate carvings near its head.

Smiling, he walked to the window, and looked out. The view was from the second story of a large palace, and it looked down upon the inner courtyard. Within the courtyard was a flourishing garden, in its center a circle of tall trees leaned inwards, creating a canopy of seclusion which was used for councils and various other affairs concerning the High Elves of Mirkwood. To the right of the garden, the stables and an area strictly for archery practice could be found. This is where Legolas turned his gaze.

To his disappointment, he saw nothing but a horse that had escaped the stable hands, grazing on the grass of the archery field. With an inward sigh, he looked to the morning sky as his long, slender fingers separated the parchment from the arrow.

It was, as he had expected, a note. Prince Orcling, meet me as soon as you're dressed, don't be lazy, and I know you're awake. No excuses! Hurry to the eastern wall, come alone, and equipped, do not be seen. I await your arrival. –The Most Enchanting Lady of Mirkwood.

He read the letter with a small laugh, then proceeded to dress in the scant light of the morning, his thoughts on his Lady Warglet. What could she have planned for today? He asked himself, as he grabbed his bow, and stocked his quiver with a good supply of arrows. The elf pulled his golden hair back with amazing speed, and after redoing it only twice, he was satisfied with the result. Legolas found his long knife and sheathed it in one movement. Then he stopped. Standing perfectly still. His face was clear of all emotions. I have forgotten something. I can feel it. He thought to himself. He scanned the room, and his eyes came to rest upon a single arrow. The arrow that had born the message. He smiled and picked it up, running his fingers through the fletchings, before adding it to his own quiver, taking a quick look out the window, and silently exiting the room.

-- Meanwhile --

Adalea, daughter of Aenarion, lay flat on her stomach in the underbrush of the forest of Mirkwood. Aenarion was a good friend of Thranduil, and one of his closest advisors. Through her father, she had met Legolas, the son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood, and her longtime friend.

Adalea shifted without a sound as a fallen branch dug into her side. Above her, many trees threw their cover. Even though it had dawned an hour before, the day was still dark beneath the shelter of trees. She was a few hundred yards from the eastern wall of the palace. She inhaled deeply and smiled, her nose filling with the smells of the forest. The dark mornings of Mirkwood always brought joy to her. Their mystery and majesty always promised adventure.

Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck, and her nose twitched as she awaited Legolas' arrival. She had been waiting for what seemed like hours. She rolled her eyes thinking of her friend, who brought truth to the rumor of elves being vain. He was probably still in his room, brushing his perfect hair. Hah. She thought, as she adjusted the quiver that crossed her back. Her bow lay a foot or so away, within arms reach if she needed it.

Her thoughts turned from the Prince to her mission for the day. Orcs had been building up at the west foot of Erebor, and good-sized groups of them had been migrating west into the eastern boundaries of the Mirkwood realm. More and more arrived each day, to the dismay of the elves. Sentries were constantly keeping watch over the buildup of the vile creatures, but nothing more was done. This annoyed Adalea. On her excursions toward the eastern borders, something was always amiss. The orcs just ruined everything—every place they touched lost its beauty, its life. It seemed empty and monotone. Sooner or later, the orcs would be enough in number to launch an assault on Mirkwood, and more of the forest—not to mention many elves—would fall victim to their attack. Adalea was not a patient elf. She didn't want to wait for the orcs to mass, and make their move. No, the time to strike was now.

Valar, where is he? She sighed and fingered a stray lock of hair that had fallen in front of her deep brown eyes. Suddenly, she sensed him. And turned to look up just in time to see him mid-leap. Oy, she thought to herself, Damn him.

"Orcling, get OFF!" Adalea's muffled shouts could be heard from underneath a very smug looking Legolas.

"Not until you tell me what you have planned, Lady Warg."

"Get off now! I'll NEVER tell!"

Legolas rolled his eyes.

"My quiver's digging into my back. Get off now!"

Legolas started to hum.

Wriggling one arm free, Adalea grabbed an arrow from her quiver, Legolas, noticing her movement, was quick to get up. He smiled down at her. "You never were a morning person."

She did her best to set her face into a scowl, and returned the arrow to its home. "It's about time." She moved to pick up her bow, but instead turned and jumped towards Legolas. They both landed with a thud.

She sat on his stomach, and opened up a satchel. "Have you eaten?"

"No."

"Where would you be without me?" She laughed, and handed him some waybread.

He rolled his eyes. "Standing happily upright somewhere. So why did you try to assassinate me this morning anyway?"

"I did no such thing." Adalea replied, breaking off a corner of the lembas, and placing it in her mouth, then standing up.

"Then what's this?" Legolas asked, sitting up, and drawing the mismatched arrow from his quiver. "I believe it's of your crest, is it not?"

She snatched it back from him. And shrugged. "Are you ready? Eat the lembas."

He placed it in a pouch on his belt. "I'm not hungry, and yes, I'm ready, but for what?"

--

I'll post the rest if people seem interested, and as time allows. PLEASE REVIEW! You can contact me with comments on AIM at T20fox06S. Thank you for you time, and your generous review. Haha.