Disclaimer: A do not own the great work of art by J.R.R Tolkien nor am i making any money off this so i'm guilty of nothing.

AN: I'd like to add that this is NOT a Legolas romance. The character that I have created will NOT fall in love with Legolas. Glorfindel is also in this fic, if any one remembers him his roll was replaced with Arwen in the movie) and will be one of the Heros.

~~

Among the trees and rocks, high on the cliff near the Misty Mountains was Rivendell, home of Elrond Halfelven, though he was no longer an inhabitant. He had once lived with his daughter, Arwen, who gave her heart to a human and now ruled in the kingdom of Gondor. As for Elrond himself, he had sailed away across gray seas to the Gray Havens that were so far away. As for Rivendell, many Elves lived there now. Most who had once lived in Mirkwood or Lothorien. As for a ruler, an Elf, Sanaria of Lothlorien, of the same bloodline as Galadriel, was the one who managed Rivendell.

But let us move on to the story, which revolves around an Elf who inhabited Rivendell at that time.

~~

Nastara sat with her back to a tree under the sun. Her eyes were fixed on a piece of paper.

"This is unthinkable! What does she do all day, sleep? If things keep going like they are now, then the whole kingdom will be a pile of dirt!" Nastara said, clenching her fists. Sanaria was not doing a good job of ruling to her opinion and as for the money range, that kept Rivendell up and alive, it was dwindling. She tapped her fingers on the parchment and looked over it. It was marked with the money that had been spent that year.

She muttered under her breath in anger at the high prices of useless things. Her grip on her quill was getting tighter as she read over the parchment and added up the spent amounts. It was almost too much to handle and when she came to the end of the parchment the quill had snapped.

Nastara was, after all, the money keeper, (though she preferred to be called accountant) which meant counting and sorting money as well as keeping track of what was spent and gained, though she had no say in what Sanaria did with the money. Her mind was set on working her way up to advisor, there for she could help the queen with her desitions and perhaps get the kingdom in better shape, if not take over the kingdom, herself.

She stroked her chin then snapped her fingers. An Elf came over quite quickly. She was smaller than most elves but had all the elven features.

"Take these to the advisor" Nastara said, handing her the totalled money. The elf nodded and left.

Nastara stood up and looked around. The gardens were at their utmost beauty and looked like a dream in the mid-day sun. The sky was as clear as it could be, not a cloud in sight. She sighed. With all the hard work of making her way up to advisor, some of the things she had most enjoyed had been forgotten, such as the peacefulness she had once felt among the magnificent gardens of Rivendell. She slowly walked along the connecting paths that led around and around in an endless maze. Her gaze shifted to the cliffs. They were tall and beautiful as were the trees and bushes that pushes their way up and grew amoung the rocks. Nastara turned and made her way through the winding paths till she was out of the gardens and then headed for her chamber.

The halls were bustling and everyone seemed to be in a hurry. Elves scurried back and forth all talking at once. Nastara slowly made her way around them, resisting the urge to shove them out of the way. At that minute an elf came up to her.

"The Queen wishes your presence" the elf said. Nastara nodded. Dodging the elves that kept zooming about the halls, she made her way to the queens chamber. Pulling herself up to look her tallest, she knocked on the huge door.

"Enter" came the voice of the advisor. The door swung open and Nastara stepped into the dimly lit room. The queen was seated on her bed, facing the window as she watched the sun start to fade. She turned her her fair head. Her eyes flickered in the candle light and her face was tear-stained.

"What has happened? Why was I called?" Nastara asked, her brow furrowed.

"The men of Lake Town have declaired war on the Elves" said the advisor. Nastara fell silent.

"What have you done!?" she said, finally, throwning her head slightly.

"The Elves have done nothing! For years our kin, the Wood Elves, have been at their service. They helped rebuild the town after the death of Smaug" the adviror said, standing and approaching Nastara.

"Do you speak for the Elves, Human?" Nastara asked, glaring.

"Stop this! You will only make matters worse" Sanaria said in a soft voice, standing up and wiping a tear from her cheek. "Quinal, Nastara, sit" she said. The advisor and Nastara took a seet in the two chairs and Sanaria upon her bed. "I don't know why they chose this. We have lived in peace for so long" the queen said with a sigh, another tear dripping down her face.

"We have no time! We must gather troops while we can" Quinal said, smashing her fist into her palm.

"I have sent a messanger to Lorien" Sanaria answered.

"Will that messanger live?" Quinal asked.

"He was the fastest and most cunning I have" Sanaria answered.

"How can you be certain that they are attacking? I have seen no enemies" cut in Nastara.

"I saw it for myself..." came a low voice from the corner. Nastara gazed over to the dark corner. An elf was crouching with his back angainst the wall, wrapped in a blanket, his face turned down and undistinuishable in the dim candle-light. "We rode to Mirkwood, the breeze was crisp and our horses fast. Our hearts were high. We were a mile from the gates of our woodland kin when we saw them. The men of Lake Town. Their banners were high in the breeze. Their archers ready, their swordsmen poised. I could sense something was wrong. I could see it in their faces. Their eyes were so cold, as though every bit of life in them that had once existed had diminished. The army that stood before us then was not the men of Esgoroth, they were feelingless beasts. With a cry of their leader, they attacked. We had no way of defending ourselves. They shot down our horses and vanquished our men. Emralis, our fearless leader, was run through the heart with the pole of their torn banner, and it still waves in the wind, stained with his blood."

Nastara was speechless. Her mind flashed with visions of this battle and the banner sticking through the elf's heart. She felt a chill run up her spine.

The elf lifted his head. Nastara lifted a hand to her lip.

"Gildor...."

"Yes, tis I, Gildor Inglorion of the House of Finrod" the elf answered. His face no longer looked so radient as it had the first time Nastara had seen him. It was cut and scarred and blood dripped down his face, his limbs were weak and his legs were weary but his eyes had a fire that burned for revenge. "Emralis did not deserve to die" he spat.

"Indeed he did not" sighed the queen, bowing her head. She lifted her eyes again to her window. Rain was streaking down across it. A flash of lightning crossed the sky and her eyes widened. Across a high ridge a small figure was riding, approaching Rivendell at an incredibly speed.

"Nastara, meet the messanger at the gates!" Sanaria cried. Nastara reluctanly stood up and made her way down the winding staircase and through the main hall to the door. She grabbed a lantern and threw a cloak over her shoulders before stepping out into the storm. The rain beat across her face like needles, the wind whipped her cloak and her lantern swayed back and forth. She walked along the long winding paths. The lantern was dim and she could hardly see where she was going. Losing her footing, she tripped and splashed face-down into a puddle. Her lantern rolled off into the bushes. She slowly raised her dripping head from the puddle. Her hair, that had been pulled back neatly, was now falling out and small, dripping strands now hung across her face. She watched the small drips fall off her face and hit the puddle with a small splash then pulled herself to her feet, cursing Sanaria for making her go out in the rain.

She stumbled along in the dark, till she reached the gates. A white horse galloped up to the gates.

"Who goes there?" cried the rider. Nastara stumbled closer but found herself unable to answer. The rider repeated the question. Nastara gripped the iron poles of the gate, her hands shaking from being so cold and wet as she stared up at the rider, trying to see if he was friend or foe.

"Wh-what is your purpose?" she stuttered, her teeth chattering.

"I bring a message to the queen" the rider answered, his horse rearing. Nastara nodded and unlached the gates. They swung open and the rider galloped by, slashing mud all over Nastara, leaving her cold, wet, and very much offended. Cursing under her breath, she slowly made her way up the path.

When she finally made it to the door, she was soaked through and couldn't feel her fingers. She slowly unlached the door and stepped inside. She leaned her whole body-weight against it, forcing it shut against the wind and when she heard it lach on the other side she slid down the door and collasped.