Even though through mortal eyes the years pass quickly, they do not in the eyes of a race that has long lived in Middle-Earth. The beautiful creatures known as elves are those old and noble people, who though respect all the living, tend to seclude from everything else. The wisdom of mortals around them does not surpass theirs, for they have long walked the green fields of Arda. Even so, they all grow from children, learning their way through their long, immortal lives. One elven girl, of the name Elemmírë shall show you the way through her life.

Chapter 1.

The wind blew softly as the woods around the village made their voices known. Every tree had life and it was spring. Everything was starting to grow again after a hard winter. The trees were basking in the sunlight, making it impossible for the rays to penetrate through the thick mossy leaves. It was both the blessing and the curse of Mirkwood.

The trees brought safety to the elves of the woods but suffocated them from the light. There was clearings were you could see the beautiful colors and bask in the warmth but it was nothing naught it was supposed to be. Still the greenness and safety, even though of the dark creatures lurking in the darker areas, brought peace to Eärwen.

She had lived on Arda for three thousand years and now was bearing her second child. Her dark long hair flowed down her back as her green eyes tried to read over the thin, wavering text. Her delicate fingers brushed over the rough, almost wrinkly pages few times before she had to close the book and place it down to the stone bench she was sitting on. Her thoughts were weary and her mind was not at peace.

Her son, Tathar, was out, on and about. The boy had grown fast from the small bundle that Eärwen had seen first. Now the boy was not looking older than a mortal man in his teens, but with more grace than one will never gain. Eärwen was worried. Tathar wanted nothing more than to be as his father is. The great and most appreciated warrior of Thranduil the king. Her heart ached with the knowledge of having her mate away on dangerous tasks and possible warfare, but to have her son on the same ways too.

The hand that had been trailing over the book quickly wandered to the pregnant stomach that was covered with a light dress. Hantadhiel would not dare to cross the strongest and purest wish of his son and wished him to gain the happiness in life, with any possession or profession he wished. She wished them to feel free, not like they were bound to live as their parents wished. Eärwen smiled softly as she felt a soft kick through her skin. Yes, there was her second child. Her daughter.

Elemmírë was the name they had chosen for her. Elemmírë, their own flower. Flower that they had seen open its leaves to the sun on the very day they had heard of the pregnancy. It was the day of joy they had felt only once before with Imrathon and maybe never to feel again. With Tathar and Elemmírë on her thoughts, Eärwen felt joyous and relieved.

It was not easy to raise an elfling, especially when Mirkwood had received the crown prince. It had been the year of celebration with no sorrow. Legolas Thranduilon had been born, the son who would inherit the crown of Mirkwood and become the king of the elves there. When Eärwen had heard of the joyous news she had been thrilled. King Thranduil and his queen, Aredhel wished for every child of his son's age to join the parties and proceed to form a friendship with the child. For three hundred years Eärwen had had the opportunity to follow as her son, with ease formed a true friendship with the prince who had grown in to the ellon he should be.

Even though he was young, Legolas had the strong figure of his father, Thranduil. Hantadhiel was more than proud to have that young ellon the king someday, surely after he calmed down from his teenaged wild years. Those were yet to come with Tathar, much to her and Galdor's dismay.

Still with the thoughts of the next king and the thought of her son, Eärwen thought more and more of her daughter. Elemmírë would be the most beautiful elleth to step in the world of Arda. At least so Eärwen wanted it to be.