TA DA! NEW STORY!!!!

And it is slightly different I feel. For me anyways. Tell me what you think in a review. Ta very much.

Faerlain.

Beauties of the Golden Wood.

Chapter 1: 'Me', means tunic and leggings!

"Anaróre please. Please, just wear it!"

"Forget it mother, I am not wearing it!"

"Anaróre, if you don't come down this instant, I will come up and get you personally."

"Father, just leave me be."

Brithil looked at her husband in despair, shaking her head. "Silim, she is never going to wear it. We might as well give up."

"Brithil, she is a lady. Ladies are supposed to wear dresses, not tunics and leggings!"

"It is surely a phase she will move on from soon."

"Not it isn't!" they heard from the tree above them.

"She has never worn a dress, except as a baby when we used to dress her ourselves!" he reminded her.

"Exactly. She is a grown woman now, and has been for a long time. We should let her make her own choices."

"Thank you naneth!"

Silim glared up at the tree that contained his reluctant daughter. "Very well. I'll leave it in your capable hands Brithil." He walked away, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

"You can come down now Anaróre. He's gone."

"What's the point? You'll only make me wear the stupid dress."

"No I won't. Come on."

The branches above her rustled and a slim figure dropped down, landing directly in front of her. Anaróre looked at her mother with a look of utter scorn upon her normally fair face.

"Anaróre, don't look at me like that. You always ruin your beautiful face when you scowl."

"Mother, don't you understand? I don't want to be beautiful; I just want to be me! Me means NO DRESSES!"

"Will you just look at this one?"

"Where is it then?"

Brithil held up a light blue satin dress. The sleeves were long and widened at the ends. It had a low-cut neckline, and was scattered in tiny lace leaves, in a slightly darker shade of blue.

Anaróre wrinkled her nose up at it, although she had to admit she did quite like the colour. Blue suited her, and that was why her tunics were often blue. It went with her eyes.

"It would suit you," Brithil said softly, watching her daughters' expression change from absolute hatred to contemplation. "It is blue after all."

"It isn't bad," Anaróre confessed, fingering the soft material. "It's nice and soft, and blue does suit me I guess…no, I can't wear it. I never wear dresses; it's not natural for me." She hurriedly dropped the fabric again.

"If all you're thinking about is what other people will say about you wearing a dress, there is no need to. Don't worry about what others think of you. Be yourself."

"Exactly, and myself is tunic and leggings. But…keep it, in case I have to wear it to a feast or something, one of those ones that adar forces me to wear a dress to. At least it'll be a half-decent one." She smiled a little, her cheeky grin showing through her strong façade.

Brithil sighed. "Very well, if that is what you want." She folded it over her arm. "Off you go then. That is all we wanted to speak to you for."

Anaróre smiled at her mother then ran off into the surrounding trees.

Brithil watched her go, a small, triumphant smile upon her face. At least Anaróre had said to keep it, which was a start. She turned, and headed back to her flet, being careful not catch the light material on anything.

Anaróre hurried on through the woods. Her quiver was strapped carefully to her back, and her knives hung at her waist. She carried her precious Lothlórien bow in her left hand, gripping the delicately carved wood. Her light-coloured hair was braided back into warrior braids, so it did not get in her way.

She ran tirelessly on, heading towards the clearing where she always practised her archery skills. She hoped her friend, Andúnë, would be there, but to her disappointment, found the clearing empty when she arrived. Her target was already set up, and she quickly drew an arrow, fixed it to the string, and let it fly. It hit centre, and she congratulated herself.

After about half an hour of solid firing, she sat down against a tree for a rest. Taking her water bottle out, she drank heavily, then chucked the rest over her head.

It was early January, yet she was rather hot. She removed her quiver, and placed it to one side. She undid the top button of her over-tunic to let a bit of air get to her heated skin. The winter sunlight caught the diamond upon her necklace, making it sparkle. She picked it up in the palm of her hand, and watched the tiny rainbow-coloured shards of light bounce off at different angles.

The actual diamond was minuscule. It was set in the Lothlórien leaf that she wore, in the top right hand corner. It always caught the sunlight like that, and she never took it off.

It had been a birthday present from Andúnë, a long time ago. They were as close as two friends could get, and nothing would ever break the bond between them. They went perfectly together: Sunrise, and Sunset. Anaróre was sunrise, and Andúnë was sunset. It had not been planned, it had just happened.

Suddenly, her sharp ears caught up the sound of people approaching. She leapt to her feet, strapping her quiver onto her back, and smoothing her hair down. It was still wet, but she didn't really care. She went and collected her arrows from the target, making a mental note to either sharpen them up, or make new ones.

She peered through the trees to where the sounds were coming from, and saw Haldir leading a group of people her way. He glimpsed her, smiled, but did not say anything. She smiled back and carried on refilling her quiver.

As she was lining up for more shots, Haldir entered the clearing. She let an arrow fly just as he stepped in, and luckily, it hit the centre of the target. She grinned gleefully at him, making her pride well known.

He turned round, and talked to the people behind him. Anaróre didn't bother to listen. She carried on firing arrow after arrow into the target.

"Anaróre," Haldir called.

She turned to him, and was about to answer when she saw who was with him.

A collection of different people was stood behind the Marchwarden. Two Men, one of whom she recognised as Estel. Four very short people, a Dwarf, and an Elf, who she did not recognise, but felt as though she knew him somehow.

"Yes Haldir?" she asked, lowering her bow. She could see the Elf watching her, and couldn't resist a small, smug grin at knowing she had a better bow than him.

"Do you know where Tuilinde is?"

"No, sorry. Why do you need her?"

"This is the Fellowship, and a couple of them have injuries. I can't find any other healers."

"Naneth won't mind."

"Where is she?"

"Have you tried the flet?"

Haldir scowled at her. "No, because we have been nowhere near there yet. Is she definitely there?"

"Where else would she be? I mean, come on, she never leaves the thing!"

Haldir laughed. "True. I think you've just about finished that target off now." He inclined his head towards the very damaged board, with arrows sticking out at all angles.

Anaróre raised an eyebrow. "I think you're right. You'll just have to find me a new one then won't you."

"I don't suppose I have any choice in the matter."

"No, not really. Come on, I'll take you to see my darling mother." She went and collected her arrows again. "Just one thing. If she says anything about a blue dress, you know nothing."

"Pardon?"

"They were trying to get me in one about an hour ago. Adar isn't too happy with me because I downright refused."

"Anaróre…"

"What?" she protested, walking over with her now full quiver. "If I don't want to wear it, then no one can force me." She started walking away. "Are you coming or not?"

Haldir sighed and motioned for the others to follow. "Its not far," he told them.

Estel laughed. "I see our darling Anaróre hasn't changed a bit."

"I heard that!"

Anaróre led them on, eventually arriving back at her flet. "Wait here," she instructed. She clambered like a squirrel up the ladder, spoke with her mother, and then dropped back down again. "She's just coming. There's a large pavilion not far from here. You can stay there."

She led them to the spare camp, and left them to settle in whilst she talked with Haldir. "Who's the Elf?" she asked in a hushed undertone.

"That's Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood. Why?"

"Just wondering. He was looking at me funnily earlier, when I was practising, and you were talking to them. He kept looking at my bow."

"His skill with a bow is unmatched. He is the most famous archer in all of Middle-Earth."

"Or so they say."

"No, seriously. You have not seen him with a bow and arrow. No one can beat him, no matter how hard they try."

Anaróre raised a graceful eyebrow. "Well, we have plenty of fine archers here. We'll have to organise a competition of some sort."

"If people find out he is competing, they won't bother to enter. Like I said, he is unbeatable."

"Well, we'll see. So, who are the others?"

As Haldir was pointing out each individual member of the Fellowship to her, Brithil arrived with her herbs and bindings. She checked over every single one of them, then went back to her flet, Anaróre following.

Legolas walked over to Haldir. "Who is that girl?" he asked.

"Anaróre. Why do you ask?"

"Does she always dress like that?"

"In a tunic and leggings? Yes, unless she is forced into a dress. Special occasions, such as feasts and dances, she has to wear a dress, it is tradition. But normally, she never does."

"Strange."

"Yes, that's what a lot of people think. But she's a lovely girl once you get to know her. Really friendly, and once she's your friend, you'll never lose her. A friend for life, that's Anaróre."

"Her name means sunrise. It's nice."

"It is isn't it? It's rather peculiar that her best friend is Andúnë, sunset."

Legolas laughed. "A perfect pair then."

"Aye, they are the best of friends. You hardly ever see them apart."

"We shall have to get to know them better then," Legolas said thoughtfully, watching the two females disappear amongst the trees.

He smiled to himself as he entered the camp again. That Anaróre was a pretty girl, and looked like she was good at archery too. He would definitely have to talk to her sometime.

So, what did you think? How was it? Tell me truthfully. If you think the plot sucks, BE HONEST! I'm in a good mood today, and not even a flame will get me down!

Faerlain.