(Apologize for any inaccuracies, have not read the books in years and am relying on solely memory and mostly Peter Jackson)

Prologue-

When I first entered Mirkwood, I was met with nothing. It wasn't the dull, senseless nothing of autumn, nor the lazy, perspiring nothing of spring. Something felt off today. Something felt different. The trees around me hummed with life and the forest floor was overwrought with a canopy of bumblebees and chrysanthemums. I took a sprig of a rare herb between my fingers, savoring the dew as it flowed between my fingers. A prince might be a prince, but even elves needed a break. Gimli had been like a vicious harpy all day, trotting about whenever I went anywhere and requesting that I stop with this foolishness. Silly dwarf, he could not hope to understand. My home was the forest, and no matter how often I dreamt of Mirkwood, I could not rid it entirely of my memory. I remembered Bilbo Baggins, the hobbit who led that band of merry dwarves through these same wood just moments ago. The life of an elf was long, that was for certain. While their hearts beat to the rhythm of a butterfly, we elves lived on and on, growing with the trees as we grew into our beings. And now, Frodo, dear Frodo. I had requested we take a woodland path upon the start of our voyages to Mordor. I am unsure as to whether the hobbit was particularly upset at the interruption or not, his eyes seemed so glazed over now. He seemed, to me, to act like a cow, a stupid animal waiting for slaughter with that ring around his neck.

I sighed, releasing the sprig and watching it drift, gently, to the forest floor. No, this forest was no Mirkwood, no matter how desperately I imagined it to be. While I sat on a patch of rock and moss, I heard the sound of a break in the trees behind me. Unthinkingly drawing my bow, I aimed at the vague direction where I'd heard the sound. I was surprised to find two eyes blinking warily into my own. "Come out," I whispered sternly, certain that this was no ordinary creature to have gotten so close to me without my knowing, "Or you'll have an arrow located somewhere in your sternum."

"Oh, peace sir!" I was startled to see a female human with a halo of dark, brownish hair around her head stand up and show herself to me. She emerged from the shadows with a whisper of the wind, and when I first saw her, I was astounded by how... elf-like she looked. But she couldn't be a Halfling, now could she? Halflings didn't tend to live long around these parts without the guidance of an adoptive parent elf. But yet, here she was! The living proof that a Halfling could survive on her own without going mad.

Still uncertain of this visitor, I wondered aloud, "Peace nothing fore you tell me your name, woman."

The woman looked back, defiant and yet, keen at the same time. Her eyes were cold and calculating, no doubt, planning something silly and humanly of her- like her escape, for instance. I clicked my tongue at her, aiming the arrow directly at her heart, "Now."

She tossed her head like a priggish stallion, and sauntering up to me, she walked so close that the arrow dug straight into her soft flesh if not hard enough to bleed. I lowered the bow in awe of how stupid Halflings could be, and all the uncivilized half-breed could mutter was, "I'm a healer." She turned the arrow away, grinning widely at my disdain, "And I've come to join your party."

I gawped in disbelief. Uncertain that my always flawless hearing had not been so flawless for once. "I beg your pardon?"

She laughed, a pleasant bell-like laugh that reminded me of a forest brook, "Oh, you are funny, little prince."

I flushed red, a furious blush of embarrassment which became even worse as she stepped closer, taking the bow and arrow teasingly from my hands. "Woman..." I growled, "Do not mess with a forest elf's bow."

She stuck her tongue out at me, a pert red tongue that slipped out between two pale lips, set like little crescent moons against her face, "Do not think yourself high and mighty, little elf lordling. And besides, I don't see any women joining your little quest. The nights must get awfully lonely..." She winked at me, the cheeky gesture bringing me to my ruin, "Unless, of course, you forest men tend to huddle together for warmth."

I snatched the bow from her, taking her tattered shawl with it, "I think not, you foraging vixen! If you think to make some profit off of us, I'll have you know that my travelling companions are honorable men who would not think of hiring a woman of ill repute such as yourself till Middle Earth stands no longer."

She pouted, the whites of her eyes glowing against the dark set of her face, "Oh, I was just having a little fun, lordling." She curtsied low to the ground, the action bringing her clothes taut against her well-endowed body, "Forgive me, milord."

I bit my cheek to keep from rifling my too-thin fingers through her luscious, black hair. He body was so distracting that it was hard to keep my attention on her face. "All is forgiven." She laughed again, and just like that, she set my blood to boiling in passion, a passion I had not yet discerned as either anger or lust.

Why yes, all is forgiven... My eyes wandered upwards towards the canopy above us, the old oaks so great and mighty that they blotted out the sun, Imagine that, a Halfling to be an elf prince's ruin. No... I cannot touch her.

I closed my eyes, slinging my bow casually over my shoulder as I made my way towards camp, vainly trying to ignore the sound of her little footsteps coming from behind me, My throne depends on it.

When I let the silence linger, the girl's voice came from behind me, a beacon to the storm raging within my mind as I clung onto it for dear life, "Myra..." She whispered, the sound carrying over like sweet music to my ears, "My name is Myra."

I replied with silence.

May silence be my adversary in the fight against this tempestuous half-breed.

"Myra," I cocked my head, smiling as I heard the sounds of my companions laughing and chattering idly as they enjoyed their supper, the hobbits with less enthusiasm than the rest. From what I could tell, they had set up camp just behind this cliff hanging which led to the sea, the perfect place to defend ourselves from an onslaught of Orcs. "My dear Myra, are you ready to meet the Fellowship?"

Author's Note-

I'm unsure as to whether I actually want to write this to the point of a full-length series yet. Show your support by reviewing and I might continue. If not, this will most likely be the first and last chapter I write of this. Rated M for possible later romance chapters. Thanks for everything. Ciao!

-Your local Lady, Sherlockium