Okay. Well, to be honest, I'm quite nervous about this one. I mean, I've had the story in my mind since I was like, seven, and I first saw Fellowship and fell in love with Middle-Earth and the idea of being an elf and Legolas and all that. It's been percolating in the back of my mind now for like, twelve years, I guess, and changing and evolving a bit every time I watch the films and I just now have decided to sort of put it down on paper (or a Word document) because I feel like I might actually have enough knowledge of the whole world of Middle-Earth and the characters and the story to kind of perhaps not totally ruin everything. And I'm very aware that it might be a bit blasphemous to add a character to the Fellowship, even in the context of fan fiction, but I'm doing it, because I haven't uploaded anything in SO LONG (Many apologies to my followers - you are gems, one and all), and because I'm rather attached to this idea because I have been toying with it for so long, and I do so hope that you all like it.

This is set in the movie-verse, so there will be mentions of things from the Hobbit films as well, and I may have to come back and edit some stuff once the third film comes out and we have a resolution to the storylines that aren't in the books (i.e. Tauriel and Legolas, etc.), so that I can make all of it fit together in my story. Also, the first... three, I think... parts of this take place about fifty years before the events of LOTR happen - about ten years after The Hobbit. Then you'll start to recognize stuff, because I'll go right into movie stuff but with some extra scenes so I can work my character into the canon story.

For those who are wondering, the title comes from the John Keats poem, which is my favorite poem in the history of ever, and I think the themes of death and immortality and timelessness kind of tie in beautifully to the elves and their immortality and timelessness, although they aren't quite so immune to it as the Nightingale is.

I want feedback - BIG TIME - because I love the original work so much and want this to at least sort of pay homage to it, and so if the characters seem off or there's some detail that I've got wrong or you have tips that would make it better or make more sense or help it fit better into the history and feel of Middle-Earth, I want to hear it. Any questions you have, if you feel I'm not explaining certain things well enough, if there are scenes you think need to be written in more depth, let me know. Leave a review, message me, whatever. Talk to me. Communicate with me about how to make this story better. And, you know, if you like it (or don't) I want to know that, too!

UPDATE: I've done a lot of re-writing and adding in the recent past, so for those of you who remember a different chapter one, fear not, it'll be back, but I wanted a little more exposition before where I actually started the story originally, so here is the new, updated version of the story. Tuesday will still be new chapter day, and when we get to the chapters I've already posted, I'll probably post all three at once, just edited, so we can continue on quickly. Thanks so much for your patience and feedback! You all are awesome!

1. A Suitable Match

Dúlinneth Berethiel gaped, stunned, at her warden. She shook her head slowly. "I... do not understand."

Lord Elrond of Rivendell gazed at her sternly. "King Thranduil of Mirkwood has requested your hand in marriage for his son and heir. I have consented. You will travel to Mirkwood in a fortnight for your betrothal feast."

Dúlinneth's eyebrows furrowed and she remained silent for a long while before she asked, "But, why... why would King Thranduil ask for me? I am no one of note."

"You are the blood of the High Elves, the blood of Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor. Thranduil believes your bloodline makes you a suitable match for his son," Elrond's hawk-like gaze did not flicker from her face for a second.

Dúlinneth opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. Twice more she did this before she finally managed, "And you have made your response without consulting me first?"

"I knew what your response would be - "

"And yet you gave your consent, knowing that I cannot give mine?" She cut him off.

"Knowing that you will not give your consent - your objection is based on stubbornness, Dúlinneth. This marriage will rob you of nothing. Thranduil will one day decide to pass over the sea to Valinor, and he wishes to see his son fitted with a good wife and his line continued before that day."

Dúlinneth's shock had worn off and defiance began to grow within her. "And is his son so incapable of choosing his own bride?"

Elrond did not flinch, nor did his tone change from its authoritative - yet calm - tone. "His son has had a great many years to choose an appropriate wife of his own, and has not done so. Thranduil has chosen to make the decision for him."

"And you have done the same for me?" Dúlinneth's tone grew icy. "Perhaps Thranduillion and I have no intention of marrying - anyone. Perhaps we feel our calling is outside the bonds of marriage."

"What calling is that, Dúlinneth? What is it you believe you accomplish here?" Elrond asked sharply. "You play at swords and archery and ride your horse in the woods. I see no ambition in you, no purpose. In truth, I gave my consent to King Thranduil because I believe Mirkwood will do you as much good as you will it."

"How? By doing a thing that is unheard-of in our world? What ruler has ever consented to marry one whom they do not love or even know, even for the good of their realm?"

"It is uncommon, yes, but by that token, so are the circumstances of your mother's birth," Elrond countered, "And through her, yours."

Dúlinneth's jaw tightened. "Unusual circumstances that have negated any claim I might have had on a people or throne of my own. My mother was never acknowledged or claimed by King Gil-galad. History remembers no wife, no daughter of his. Her supposed parentage is only made known by her mother's indiscretion. And yet now I must fulfill the obligations of a title and throne I do not hold? I must act for the benefit of a people who are no longer, and who would not accept me even were they here still?"

"I ask you to claim the people of Mirkwood - though you are not one of them - and make them your own. Thranduil would give his son a throne, and as his wife, you would sit beside him as the queen you were born to be. Long have the people of Mirkwood lived under the dark enchantment and ignorance of those woods. You would bring them light, Dúlinneth. You are strong and capable, and they would love you for the fire that you carry within you - your mother's radiance and your father's dragonfire."

To this, Dúlinneth had no response.

Elrond's voice softened slightly. "I fear for you, Dúlinneth. You are wasted here. Your mother left you here that I might help to shape a future for you that befits both your heritage and your nature, and that is what I attempt to do now. I believe that being a wife, a queen, and perhaps even one day a mother will give you the purpose you so lack here in Imladris. You have much you can give, Dúlinneth. Do not squander it here, where you have no place."

Dúlinneth said nothing, but turned to go as Elrond reminded her, "Arwen awaits your company. She wishes to dine with you tonight."

Dúlinneth slipped out of the room and made her way through the winding corridors of Rivendell before she stopped and knocked on a chamber door. "Come in," a soft voice floated through the door, and Dúlinneth let herself in to her friend's chambers.

Arwen had set a small table in the front room of her chambers with four plates and cups, with dishes of leafy greens and different sorts of breads clustered in the center of the table. "Please, sit," Arwen glided out of her bedchamber with a smile. She saw Dúlinneth's distressed expression immediately and said softly, "He has told you, then."

Dúlinneth's eyes widened. "You knew?"

Arwen lowered herself into one of the chairs and took Dúlinneth's hand between hers. "My father told me, Dúlinneth, and I believe he has made the right decision." Dúlinneth opened her mouth to make a retort, but Arwen held up a hand to stop her. "I knew you would not be pleased, but if you only give it time, I know you will see the wisdom in this match."

"Arwen, I - " Dúlinneth shook her head. "No one even asked my opinion. I have no choice? I must marry this Prince, be his queen, bear his children, and ask no questions? Have no qualms? I have never even looked upon his face, Arwen." Her voice faltered, betraying her forced calm, and she sank into the chair beside her friend, covering her face with the hand that wasn't clasped between Arwen's.

Arwen's hands tightened around hers. "Legolas is well-spoken of, Dúlinneth. And if you do not believe the word of others, he will arrive here to escort you to the betrothal feast in ten days' time. You may see then the truth of the reports for yourself. He will make you a good husband. I have little doubt that you will come to love him, Sister."

"Little?" Dúlinneth closed her eyes, exasperated. "Little doubt?"

"Any doubts I have are for you," Arwen leaned forward. "I know you, Sister. You are willful, like your father, and if you are not amenable to being happy with Legolas, then how can he ever make you happy?"

Dúlinneth lifted her head from her hand, but did not speak, and Arwen pressed on, "Only attend the betrothal feast, Sister. Announce your intention to marry, and from then you will have ample time to learn more of him - and he of you - before you pledge yourselves to one another. King Thranduil cannot object to your taking time to get to know one another before you are married, surely."

An idea began to form in her mind, and Dúlinneth nodded slowly. "I... think you may be right, Sister. Thank you." She straightened and withdrew her hand from Arwen's. "All I must do for now is attend the feast."

Arwen smiled. "You have time to accustom yourself to this, Dúlinneth. Now, here. Have a drink. My brothers will join us in a short while, and we can eat."

So let me know what you think! PLEASE! ;D