A/N: ok, the Latin is a little rusty, or a lot, but I haven't taken it in a while, and I left the Latin dictionary at home.
Prologue
"Love does not seem to begin and end the way we seem to think it does. Love is a battle, love is a war; love is a growing up."
It was difficult for Rhiannon to see the world around her. The only thought in her mind was to run and to run as fast as she could. She paid no heed to the fact that her bare feet were being worn raw, that her legs and arms had scratches, some very deep, from all the foliage and tree branches in the surrounding area. She just knew she had to keep running; no where near here was safe. Safety no longer existed in this realm, this Middle-Earth. As it always happens, years of peace were shattered by a greed to conquer. She felt the sorrow for this land and the irony of the situation; she was sent to this area for her safety. After she had arrived the safety vanished. Rhiannon looked up to the heavens, praying for a sign that a land of safety, no matter how small was near. She knew what hunted her was not directly behind her but if she tarried it would catch up. She wish she knew this land well, this realm she had visited before. It was similar to her own, with land that was just as lush and beautiful. She had never felt such fear around her heart and in her mind as she did in the realm at this time. Words came to her, names she recognized: "Gandalf", "Rivendell", and a phrase, "Find the elves". She now had her direction. Rhiannon didn't care what elves she came across. All she wanted was to get to Gandalf, to Imladris. She knew he had been in danger, but was now safe. He had her summoned to this now unsafe land, where danger hung in the air; suffocating all hope and happiness.
Chapter 1: Genesis
"Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending."
Legolas of Mirkwood rode off to Rivendell carrying news of the escape of the creature Gollum. Whispers of worst things and dark times had come to him. Legolas and his kindred where on alert. Therefore when Legolas heard a faint sound, he was ready to attack. A being was close and was trying to go unnoticed in the surrounding wood. Legolas and his two companions, Lostladion and Menepaurion, drew their bows, preparing to wound whatever may harm them. A female voice than rang out, speaking in the Common Tongue,
"Stay your bows for I do not approach with intent to harm. You are headed towards Imladris. The place is on all your minds. I'm asking to be shown the way."
Legolas put his bow down and motioned for his companions to do the same.
"Show us yourself, tell us your name and who you are descended from. Then we may help you."
Rhiannon slowly stepped out of the undergrowth. She pulled her cloak tighter around herself, to hide her face, ears, and hair. If they saw what she was, or wasn't for that matter, they may not help. Elves don't always lend their help to strangers. She looked at the elves before her and an enigmatic smile came to her lips. She had been told the stories of the beauty that was Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood, but the descriptions she had heard of him did no sense of justice. Like most male elves, he was not handsome, but enchantingly beautiful, almost feminine. The sunlight made his pale blonde hair seem golden and the expression in his dark blue eyes was quite intense. Maybe this realm did have it's upsides. But now was not the time for such thoughts. All the elves looked at her suspiciously, as was their nature. A slight arrogance was also in their gazes. They had guessed what she was not. She could've laughed though, they thought she was human. Not elf, too young for wizard, too tall for hobbit, so she must be mortal. If only they knew.
Legolas stared down from his horse at the woman before him. She had still not answered his inquiries, and while he was a fair-minded elf, he was not used to his requests being ignored by mortals. On closer inspection, he saw she was not a mortal woman at all. He had already ruled out dwarf and hobbit, because of her height, and also ruled out elf, for she was not as tall as them. There was an air about her similar to Aragorn, a mortal man raised by elves, but there was something else in her eyes. Something that said she was much older then she appeared. She was silently laughing at them; that much was obvious. All of these thoughts puzzled him greatly. He arched one of his dark brows,
"Why do you not answer my questions? Do you not know who you are?"
She gave a laugh and her hood fell back, revealing dark hair and ears that startled him. Not perfectly pointed as his own, nor the shape of man, somewhere in between. She then smiled, knowing all the elves gazes had turned to her ears,
"My name is Rhiannon. I come from a realm that is not home to Middle-Earth. I come from the Insula Sharagdus and am a dimidiam nympham-sagam." She paused. "I see you are confused by my words. I do not know your elven and you do not know my Latin. You would call me half-elven. But I am also something that is not mortal. I go to Imladris to seek the counsel of both Elrond and Gandalf I-"
At the mention of Gandalf, Legolas interrupted, "Mithrandir! How do you know he is Imladris? He stays in no place long and lets few know his journeys."
"I can not tell you how I know, I just do. Not to be short, but the longer we stand here, the more time we waste. Are you going to show me to Imladris or must I find it myself?"
One of the other elves, who had not spoken a word previously, said
"I have heard of her kind, Legolas. They are good people. Half-elves, half- wizards, their realm lies beyond the lands of the East. If she is seeking Gandalf's counsel, then it is with good reason. They rarely stray outside their world, unless their help is needed or unless they are in danger."
Legolas considered Lostladion words for a moment.
"Very well, Lostladion, we shall bring her with us." Legolas turned to Rhiannon. "You may ride with Lostladion since he has spoken in your favor."
Rhiannon had a very hard time of resisting the urge to roll her eyes, a most unbecoming habit she had picked up years ago.
"Not to seem ungrateful, but may I know the names of the elves I travel with? And could you please not speak in front of me as if I'm not here. It's quite degrading."
Rhiannon then hoisted herself up into the saddle of Lostladion, the one elf she had been told the name of. Even though she knew Legolas' name, he had not introduced himself and there was no reason for lack of manners. He turned to her,
"Excuse my lack of manners then. You ride with Lostladion, son of Carnewath. Beside you is Menepaurion; son of Menearato. I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, Prince of Mirkwood."
Rhiannon smirked and muttered, "What an impressive title. Let me practice my curtsy."
Lostladion, despite himself, gave a small chuckle.