Chapter One
The Fading

Laketown

Grief is not something so easily ignored.

It overcomes you, it devours your mind and soul until you feel nothing but pain. Raina knew this all to well. It had been just a week ago that she had endured the loss of her beloved mother. If truth be told, her mother, Hena, had been fading for quite some time, her body breaking under the effects of a wasting disease that had gradually taken the life from her eyes. By the end of her life, Hena had endured so much pain that she had welcomed death as a gift. Her mother's willingness to die however had not eased Raina's suffering. Hena had been the only parent Raina had ever known and in her death had left her daughter parentless.

Raina's father had never been around. Hena had told her daughter little of him and in return Raina had not asked. She had been perfectly content with just her mother, she hadn't needed a father. Raina still had some kind of idea who her father was though. She had pointed ears and features that could only have belonged to an elf. Whomever he was, she knew one thing. Her father was an elf. This was quite strange considering her mother was mortal, relationships between mortals and elves are exceedingly rare and nearly all end in tragedy.

Raina had grown up on the outskirts of Laketown. Her uncle's house was situated just on the banks of the overflowing lake that circled the town. Every morning her uncle and her cousin would take a boat into the center of the town to sell swords and shields. Raina on the other hand rarely crossed the lake and instead stayed on her side of the water where she worked at a little stable that was owned by the solitary, Crickley. It was not a pleasant job, nor was it one that was suited to a young girl, but it paid well and Raina loved horses more than she loved people.

On this such day, Raina was in the stables. Old Crickley had asked that she muck them out; a job that she despised. Sweeping up horse manure was far from a glamorous job and Raina knew that after mucking out the filth ridden pens she would stink of horse manure for weeks. Letting out a sigh, the half elven swept the droppings into a barrel, where it would then be used to fertilize the fields. She looked around the stables, she was nearly done. The half elven felt something rub against her shoulder blade. She turned around to face the creature that had been vying for her attention; a fine black stallion, her favourite horse.

"Hello Candor," She breathed out. She reached into her pocket and withdrew the long orange carrot which she had stole from her Aunt Dione's harvest for the special purpose of feeding Candor. The horse took it with glee, if a horse could smile, Candor would most certainly be grinning. Raina leant her head against his neck, feeling a raw pain grow within her.

She was startled by the violent thud of the door against a wooden pen. She looked up, Old Crickley was stood, walking stick in tow. "He's a horse, you should stop treating him as though he is a human," A deep gruff tone pulled Raina from her thoughts. "You are far to attached to that horse. You must remember that we breed these horses to sell. You should know that he will not remain here forever, you will lose him,"

Lose him, just as she had lost her mother. Raina felt stupid for thinking it, but she needed Candor. He was more of a friend than a horse. She could not bare to lose someone else, not so soon after her mother. Old Crickley let out a long sigh. He may not have appeared it, but he was actually a very nice man. Beneath all his cruelty and foul words he was but an old and lonely man. Raina had grown to like him regardless of his harsh words and crude insults. Suffering from a recent surge of good will Old Crickley pointed toward the doors. "Of you go. I'll finish cleaning," He grumbled. "Go have fun!"

Raina grinned. She took her hand from Candor's neck and slammed shut his pen. She flew toward the door her brown hair following her in wisps of fine thread. She shouted a few words of thanks before she barged through the door and into the open. In the distance she could see the center of Laketown. A few barges were heading toward the docks filled already with empty barrels that had come all the way from Mirkwood. A fine mist settled over the tops of poorly-constructed homes. Rain began falling, creating ripples on the black water.

Raina began sprinting, all to eager to escape the rain and return home. She had not far to travel, the home in which she shared with her aunt, uncle, and two cousins was about a five minute run from Old Crickley's.

Some moments later Raina's feet began to slow. She had arrived at her destination. Built upon the open plains sat her home. The building was tall - at least three floors tall. The roof was lopsided and holes were bashed into the walls and into which creeping ivy-like weed grew in abundance. A few windows were shattered and the path leading up to the ramshackle door was barely noticeable under a light covering of dirt. It wasn't much, but it was home.

With a loud bash Raina opened the door and entered the hallway. She carefully tread over the squeaking floorboards and into the kitchen which sat just left of the door. A strong scent of freshly baked bread traveled up her nostrils and made her stomach rumble. Raina hadn't realised fully just how hungry she was. The half elven cast her Aunt Dione a smile. Her aunt was bent over the cooker stirring a pot of soup, all whilst balancing her youngest daughter, Elia upon her hip.

"Your back early," Dione spoke and brushed her hair out of her sweat-covered face. Steam rose from the pot in swirls of grey and Raina's stomach rumbled even louder. "I suppose you'll be wanting a bowl of soup,"

"If you wouldn't mind," Raina sat down at the kitchen table, staring around at the humble little kitchen. It was cramped much like the rest of the house. Pots, and plates were piled high upon the counters and chairs that did not match each other were strewn messily around the poorly crafted beech table. Raina sank into the unpadded seat and awaited her soup with short patience.

Without warning Dione placed little Elia onto Raina's knee. The babe reached out with her little hand and grasped onto Raina's nose. The Half elven restrained a chuckle and placed a light kiss upon her youngest cousin's forehead. The babe giggled in response. Before long a bowl of soup was placed in front of Raina. It had been watered down, so much so that it was nearly clear, but it was food and Raina couldn't complain, many people had to do without even this.

She eagerly filled her spoon with the clear liquid and began slurping it up as though she had never been fed before. "Oh I almost forgot. I made some fresh bread," Dione laid a half slice in front of her niece. Raina stared at the floury bread and was reminded bitterly of the time her mother had attempted to teach her how to make bread;

The kitchen was alive with the sound of a child laughing. Hena twirled around with her little girl on her hip, her hands all covered in flour and her daughter's hair filled with lumps of un-kneaded dough. Everything seemed perfect then. A large smile plastered upon both mother and daughter's faces.

"Now little star, we must knead the dough. Do you remember how?" Hena asked, placing a small kiss unto her daughter's forehead. Raina shook her head happily and reached out for the soggy mess that was the dough. "Let Mummy knead the dough. Your hands are to small and you are too weak,"

"Flour," Raina demanded reached out for the bag of white powder. "Me want flour,"

"The flour part is over little star," Hena insisted, she set little Raina unto the ground and set about kneading. Of course, the little elfling headed straight for the flour bag. Her nimble fingers tightened around the bag, too weak to pick it up but strong enough to knock it over.

All of a sudden the kitchen was overcome by a cloud of white powder. Once the pale smoke landed upon the flooring, Raina was revealed once more, but covered in a fine layer of white flour. Hena smiled to herself, and reached for the mop, already beginning to clean her kitchen.

Raina was brought back to the reality by the sound footsteps thundering down the staircase. She knew already whom they belonged to. Her uncle and her cousin, Lance and Alistair. In a matter of a few seconds the pair flew into the kitchen. Their tunics had only just been strewn on at last moment, their hair was unbrushed and their faces uncleaned. They headed straight for the soup. Dione dodged their hands away from the bread and ordered them to sit at the table.

"Your back early," Lance stated, settling into his seat and keeping a careful eye on Dione. "It's not like Crickley to give you time of work,"

"Well he did. He has been very generous ever since - well you know," Raina spoke under her breath. "Ever since mother died,"

Lance fell silent, the death of his dear sister still troubled him as well. They had been close and it was Raina's belief that Lance had been more of a father to Hena than Hena's father himself. Raina took a sip from her water - which unsurprisingly did not taste so different from the soup she had just consumed. Alistair ran a hand through his long hair. He was somewhat of a heartbreaker to the girl's of Laketown. Raina did not see why, in her eyes he was nothing but a well-fed sloth.

"How is my half-elven cousin doing on this fine morning!" Alistair laughed. Raina's brow furrowed.

"I wish you would stop calling me that," She scolded him. He had been making references to her elvish lineage for as long as she could remember. Now she was sure he continued to call her such things just to annoy her. "I'm not an elf - at least not a real one,"

"Oh please," Alistair rolled his eyes, laying his hands upon his full belly. "Your more elf than you are human. Whomever your father was he was certainly no human. I'll put good money on it that he's one of those woodland elves. We all know how much they love their wine. One drunken night with pointy ears later and your poor mother got lumbered with you," Raina turned her gaze from her cousin in annoyance. She shut her eyes and remembered the one time her mother had as much as mentioned her father;

The sun had gone down and the moon had taken it's place. Hena carried her daughter into her bedroom and laid her down upon the worn bedsheets. The little girl settled in them, her pale ivory skin contrasting with the dark brown of the blankets.

"Mama," Raina gripped a strand of her mother's dark hair and held it tight to prevent her mother from leaving her. "I want to know about my daddy. Uncle Lance has one and everyone else I've met has one! Why don't I? It's not fair. Can you buy me one?"

Hena smiled warmly and kissed her daughter's forehead. "Fathers cannot be bought sweet child. Everyone has one, including you. Your father is very special. He lives very far away in a dangerous land. He's brave and he's strong. If he could, he'd be with you in an instant. He would adore you beyond measure. But your father cannot be here. He is a prince and prince's are very busy. Perhaps one day the fates shall draw you both together, but until that day let us leave the subject of your father,"

Mirkwood

Thranduil saw nothing when he stared into his son's eyes - just emptiness. Legolas hadn't been himself for the last decade or so. He had fallen to wreak after Hena had left. His heart was broken and his soul in tatters. Thranduil worried that his son might soon fade. The Elvenking had tried everything to lift his son's spirits. He had held feasts and balls and all the other things that had once made Legolas smile. He even had given his eldest son more responsibilities in a bid to take the elven prince's mind of his lost love. Yet nothing, had made even the slightest difference.

"Legolas," The elvenking spoke in a low and caring tone. He placed himself upon the edge of his son's bed and rested his arm on his son's shoulder. "I cannot watch you fall to ruin. The mortal has left, she made her choice. Why must you linger on her?"

"You never moved on," Legolas breathed "After naneth was killed, you didn't move on. You still grieve for her yet. Why is that you expect me to get over this so easily,"

"There is a difference between being separated by death and by choice," Thranduil breathed. "The mortal-"

"Her name was Hena," Legolas cut his father of crudely. A swelling rage building behind his steel grey eyes. "And she didn't leave by her own will. She left because she did not want me to watch her turn into a frail old woman. She did not choose her mortality, as I did not chose my immortality,"

"Legolas, why must you push me away?" Thranduil questioned. He hadn't liked Legolas being with a mortal, but he would have rather that, than his son be like this. "I hate seeing you like this, it pains me,"

"It is not my intention to cause you suffering, you know that," Legolas admitted. He stared at the floor, his eyes brimming with tears. "I have been thinking for a while, that it might be better for all of us if I were to sail,"

"Sail? Where too my son?" Thranduil asked in bitter ignorance. Part of him knew what his son had meant, but the larger part of him wanted not too. He didn't want his son to leave him. Not now, not ever.

"To the undying ada," Legolas sighed. "There is nothing left here for me. Only sadness and hopeless longing. If I go to the undying lands I will not feel this pain anymore. I will be healed of my woe,"

"I will not let you go," Thranduil shook his head dismissively. He did not want his only son to leave - he was not ready to let go yet. He wouldn't let go. "No...not yet,"

"You cannot pull me from this depression Ada. I sit here and I waste my life away, pining for a woman whom I doomed to lose regardless," Legolas muttered. He laid his head on his father's shoulder and accepted a warm hug. "I'm sorry ada, but this is the only way. We both know it,"

Thranduil struggled to protest. If ever Legolas made sense it was now. What was the point in trapping his son here if he were only to be unhappy? but still Thranduil was reluctant to let his son go, he cursed mortality. "Am I not enough to remain for?"

Legolas let out a loud sigh and left his father's arms. Thranduil watched as his son slide through the crack in the door and descend out into the hallway. Legolas's silence was as good as any reply.

A/N

Gah sorry it was so short! If there's any mistakes it's because I'm not a good proof-reader. I think Legolas may be just a tad over-emotional, but if he's out of character it's because...he's well...heartbroken, haha. He'll be back to his usual self soon I expect.

So if any of you have read the story "the blessing of death" by MoIIuschobia you'll notice that they're practically the same story. That would be because I am MoIIuschobia and I was foolish enough to lose all the details to my account.

Anyway, I re-read all my old stories and decided this one was worth a re-write. The chapters will be longer, the writing will better, and with a little help from you reviewers I won't get writer's block! :D

So anyway, one lengthy Author's note out of the way. If you have any ideas or any kinds of criticism at all I'm more than open to listen. Chapter two should be up tomorrow. The more reviews the happier you'll make me! :D