A/N: Well hello there, Long time no see. A while back I (like so many other young girls) was completely obsessed with fanfiction, especially fiction for The Lord of the Rings. I began to write my own story about a young Prince Legolas and his feisty young servant girl. That was about four years ago. Needless to say, a lot has changed since then, but I've recently regained interest in LotR fanfics and decided, at long last, to reread and edit mine.

Eh, it's alright. You read it and tell me what you think. I just may pick this story up again.

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Chapter 1: Enter Sìrëwen

Sìrëwen stared into the distance. For an Elandili (half-elf) her eyesight wasn't half bad. A slight wind toyed with her dark chestnut hair. She let the breeze have its fun for a while before she tucked a strand gone astray behind her ear. Her rounded-off ear. This was, of course, the major difference between herself and pureblood Elves. She had somewhat keen Elven senses, Elvish grace, and Elven beauty. At least her father said so. Sìrëwen didn't think she all that beautiful. Her skin wasn't exactly fair and she had a few freckles on her cheeks. These she absolutely hated. She thought they made her look even less like an Elf. Less beautiful. While she didn't exactly think she was ugly, but she wouldn't have minded if the freckles were gone and her hair -- slightly longer than shoulder length -- would stay in place for once. It would fly around at even the slightest breeze. Thinking about these things, she sighed and blinked her brown eyes.

In truth, she didn't really care about her appearance yet -- after all, she was only 11 years old. It was her friend, Amrun, who seemed to obsess over looks, both that of Sìrëwen and herself. It seemed that Amrun was always going on about how a certain dress complemented her figure, which was in all honesty quite curvy, and earned a few stares from young males.

All of this was rather new to them both, since Amrun had only grown her curves within the last year. Sìrëwen looked down at own chest. There wasn't much there. The half-elven maiden sighed and shrugged her shoulders. As much as she pretended not to care, the complementary stares her friend received and the comments she gave were starting to make her a bit jealous and self-conscious.

It didn't matter anyway, her male friends would joke. Even if she did manage to attract a suitor by her beauty, her personality would scare him away. It must be admitted that Sìrëwen was somewhat of a tomboy. She loved riding and being outdoors. She had a fiery temper that would flare at the slightest ill word. For this reason, she'd earned her fair share of fights, most of which she'd won. Generally she had little respect for authority, and repeated reprimands would only make her more upset. There was fire in her spirit that was hard to extinguish.

"Ada," she groaned impatiently, "Manke naa lle? Where are you?" She was waiting for her father to return from hunting with his friends. They'd been gone for two days now and she was hoping he'd return soon. She couldn't wait to hear how he'd stalked his quarry for days, never moving a muscle, and how the buck had narrowly escaped on several occasion, and how he had finally brought the prized animal down. Sìrëwen loved his hunting stories, even if she knew that some of them were exaggerated and sometimes made up all together.

That was what she loved about her father. He would say anything to make his darling daughter happy. They were all each other had, since Sìrëwen's mother had left for the Valinor. It had been a tough decision for them all, but in the end, she'd left. Now her father took care of her, with some help from the family's friends.

Times were getting harder for them, as money was short. Her father had had to pawn off some of their things and sell some of the spoils of the hunt. But it wasn't the spoils of the hunt Sìrëwen loved: it was the stories. The stories that made the hunt seem alive to her -- the stories that bonded she and her father.

Lost in memories, Sìrëwen barely heard the horses behind her. She turned at the sound of a horse snorting and stomping the ground, and her eyes lit up with joy.

"Ada! Oh, ada, I've missed you!" she cried rushing towards the small group of horses.

A man dressed in dark hunting clothes and a traveling cloak dismounted his horse and, squatting to her height, he spread his arms wide to embrace the child. "Sìrëwen!" he laughed. "Ah, Sìrëwen, a'maelamin iel (my beloved daughter)! Oof!" he grunted as his daughter threw herself into his arms. "How have you been, ielnin?"

"Amin quel, Adar. Sut naa lle? (I'm well, father. How are you?) How was the hunt?" came the reply.

Her father sighed, sorrowfully, and stood. "The hunt. The hunt went well,melamin."

Sìrëwen was confused -- if the hunt had gone well then why was her father upset? "Mani naa ta? What is it?"

"Sweetheart..." he began. He looked at his men and gestured for them to leave the pair alone. "Sweetheart, I -- I need you to do something for me. For us. I've found a way for you to make small profit."

"Oh, that's wonderful, ada! What do I have to do?"

"You must..." he paused for a moment and looked down. When he raised his face to his daughter again, something in his eyes told her he didn't like what he was about to say. "You must act as a servant for a while."

"That's it? What's so bad about that?" It wasn't as if Sìrëwen hadn't worked before. She had served as maid to a couple of family friends before; helping out when the wife had been gone or pregnant and couldn't do much housework. "Where am I to work?"

Her father sighed again and Sìrëwen was beginning to get a bit annoyed. She wished he would just tell her what was so horrible about the whole thing. "You are to work at the castle, ielnin."

"The-- the castle?" she asked. Part of her was amazed and excited that she would be employed at such a place. To make it better, her friend Amrun worked there as a servant as well. But something bothered her. "But,ada, the castle is quite a while away from here. How am supposed to get to and from the palace everyday? Unless I'm not working everyday."

"No, Sìrëwen. You'll be working everyday. In fact, you're going to stay there, and work for the prince."

"What? For the prince?!" She had heard stories about the Prince of Mirkwood, Legolas. Heard stories of how bratty he could be and how he had driven several governesses and servants from the palace with his antics. "I have to stay there? But, ada, what about you? I won't be able to see you anymore!"

"Yes, you will, my daughter. Get your things ready." Her father spoke to her as though it were a simple matter, but Sìrëwen could tell from his tone of voice that it broke his heart to tell her to leave.

"But, father, I don't want to go! I want to stay here with you!" she protested.

"I'm sorry, but we have no choice, Sìrëwen! Get your things immediately -- you are leaving tomorrow at dawn."

And that was that.

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Alright! First chapter done! Yeah, I know it was stupid but bear with me, you have to know the backround facts first. Please, please, please, review!! It's how stupid young people like me find out how to get better! PLEASE! And yeah, I know, not funny at all but it's not really s'posed to be. Now be a good reader and REVIEW!