AN: Sorry this chapter's so late. Real Life has been a killer. It was rather fun to write though. ^^ A big Thank You to all who added this to their Story Alerts/Favorites and especially to Legolas Thranduilion, Taryn Streambattle, RosalieCullenHale1, Slayer3, iccle fairy, Mystery Maiden 016, and Alya Thranduiliell for reviewing. It makes me very happy.

Beta Reader: Bobadoo

Disclaimer: See the Prologue

~*Chapter Three*~

In Mirkwood…

The trees were shadowed, gnarled, and gloomy. There was no birdsong here, just the rustling of the undergrowth as various creatures went on their way. The undergrowth was spiked with cruel barbs and the soft leaves of ferns and bushes were scattered about randomly. The air was somewhat stagnant and the entire atmosphere was depressing.

Elven warriors went from tree to tree swiftly. They seldom came into this part of the forest and were anxious to return to the much more cheerful woods around the Elvenking's Realm. The grunts in Black Speech and foul odor signified that their prey was near. The elves' sharp eyes pierced the gloom and saw the orcs treading heavily towards the borders of the kingdom.

Princess Merillas watched them calculatingly. She looked up and signaled for the warriors the move into position. Five elves went ahead, nocking arrows in preparation for the ambush. Merillas drew a shaft out of her quiver and laid it against the wood of her bow.

The orcs continued trotting towards the now visible outpost in the distance. Visible to the elves in the trees, not the orcs. The elves moved quietly right above the foul beasts, shooting glances back at Merillas for her signal to attack.

She nocked the shaft and drew it back. Around her, the ten elves followed suit. The creaking of the bows was masked by the orcs' soft grunts, though one or two paused to stare about alertly. The elf princess released, sending the arrow through the air with a hiss to thud into the back of an orc. Hardly one second after the arrow was released; the other archers let their arrows fly. With hands that moved faster than sight, the patrol nocked and released another set, sending more orcs dead to the earth.

Growling in their horrid language, the orcs stood with their weapons ready, glancing about the trees quickly and nervously. One mistake they had been making lately was that they only had a few archers with them and the elves were always sure to take them out first.

Merillas felt a grim satisfaction to see the orcs topple over lifeless. She reached behind her shoulder for another arrow and felt that the supply was dwindling. One thing she had learned over the course of several patrols was that it would be unwise to use all of the twenty arrows in one's quiver in one attack in case they were assaulted on the way back to the palace. Leaving the arrow, Merillas drew her white dirk out of her quiver. With quick movements, she slid her bow into the quiver and took a small throwing dagger out of its sheath at her waist.

Several elves continued to fire while the others unsheathed their blades for close combat. The elven princess gave a short whistle and all ceased fire. As one, she and her patrol dropped lightly out of the trees, blades flashing as they cut down the orcs nearest to them.

Eyes hard and cold, Merillas slit the throat of an orc, curling her lip in disgust as its black blood stained her blade and it gurgled its life away. Spinning swiftly, she brought her weapons up to block a swing from one of the monsters, throwing dagger supporting her dirk. The orc growled and swung at her neck, but Merillas ducked under the blade and plunged her dagger into his heart.

An intense pain erupted in her shoulder and she let out a hiss, cursing herself for not hearing the beast approach. Merillas slammed her blade into the gut of the orc that had appeared where the one she had just slain had stood and spun about. Her eyes narrowed when she saw no orcs behind her. Hearing a sword slicing through the air behind her, she twisted, going into a crouch and slit open the stomach of the beast.

The princess winced; her entire right arm was disabled due to the fact the blade protruded from both sides of her shoulder. This will be impending.

The orcs saw her weakness and pressed about her, eager for the kill. Merillas had difficulty fighting alone and found herself dodging blades from several directions and blocking attacks with her dagger and the hard leather of her arm braces. She grunted as she stumbled, but managed to turn the stumble into a defensive spin, sweeping one leg out under the feet of several orcs, making them trip.

"Merillas!"

The Sinda smiled at the call and felt another elf press against her back. Merillas adjusted her stance and kicked an orc in front of her in the kneecap, cutting his throat. Glancing about at the battle, Merillas was pleased to see that they were winning and there were only a few orcs left as seemed to happen with much more frequency lately.

Punching one of the monsters in the nose with the hilt of her dirk, she quickly followed it up with a sweep of the blade to cover her right arm. Merillas felt a grim smirk tug at her lips as it fell, but looked about, senses keyed, for more of the beasts. When she could not see or sense any, the Sinda stepped away from the elf who had protected her back and turned, inclining her head in thanks. He nodded in acknowledgement and set to cleaning his sword, but cast a worried glance at her shoulder.

"Do not worry for me, Tathar, I am fine," Merillas waved him aside and went to check on the welfare of the rest of her patrol. As she turned her back, Merillas heard Tathar snort softly, mumbling about the stubbornness of the Royal Family.

Two elves were walking amongst the bodies of the orcs, making sure they were all dead and killing those who were not. Merillas approached them, appraising them for injuries. Apart from a few wounds, they were unscathed. One of the warriors dipped her head as Merillas joined them, kicking the body of one of the beasts. Her companion knelt beside a still moaning orc and ended its agony efficiently.

"Are you unharmed?" Although she could see no serious injuries, Merillas wanted to hear from their own mouths that they were alright.

Both elves responded together unconsciously. "I am fine."

Nodding, Merillas went on to the other seven elves scattered over the battle area, receiving similar answers from each of them and worried comments about her shoulder. One Silva, who was in training as a healer, insisted on removing the blade and binding the injury before going anywhere. She reluctantly agreed.

He had a young elf called Morveru hold her still despite her protests. She heaved a sigh of frustration. Morveru, who was bashful around any lady, blushed slightly at the sight of her displeased face. "Sorry," he muttered.

The healer took the blade's hilt and pulled it out abruptly. Merillas hissed and jerked in pain. Morveru instantly took a strip of cloth and applied pressure to the wound. Biting her lip, Merillas struggled to steady her uneasy breathing.

"That is quite a lot of blood, my lady." Morveru said as he watched the blood stain her tunic. Merillas felt like making a sarcastic comment in response, but the healer spoke first.

"Indeed it is, Morveru. And how long were you planning on keeping that unattended, princess?" He raised an eyebrow as he bound her shoulder tightly.

The Sinda forced a smile, replying with what she hoped was an innocent air. "What makes you think I would do that, Titton?"

Titton shook his head ruefully and tied a knot in the material. "Past experience and family habits, perhaps?"

Merillas seized that bit of information. "Ah, then I am hardly to blame for something my brothers-er…indulge in as well."

The talk ceased when they received their first real look at the dagger, now that the blood had been cleaned off by a dutiful elleth, Tavaril.

Tavaril held up the blade and furrowed her brow at the designs upon it. Merillas felt a thrum of anticipation at Tavaril's expression and her eyes automatically flicked to the weapon.

It was of elvish design, but had obvious mannish and orcish influences. The blade was made of metal humans used, but had orc runes in elvish style and had the graceful curve most elf blades possessed. The hilt was more like that of a human's dagger and had geometric patterns.

Peculiar. Very. Merillas arched an eyebrow at the weapon before standing and resuming control over the patrol. "We shall return to the palace now, unless we wish to encounter more unsavory creatures. This," she jerked her chin towards the unique dagger, "shall be inspected more thoroughly there. Let us go."

She swiftly sheathed her weapons and joined her warriors in retrieving their arrows and cleansing them of gore before placing them back in their quivers. The party finished the job quickly and scaled the trees.

Taking a sharp breath, Merillas steadied herself on a branch, pain throbbing in her shoulder. Determinedly, she led the way through the trees, doing her best with her left arm. The question of the dagger and its owner revolved in her mind the entire time as she sought the solution unsuccessfully.

With wry resignation, she noticed that Titton stayed close by her, a displeased expression on his face. Disregard the dangers on the forest floor,Merillas thought, leaping from an oak to a birch in the lightening and more graceful forest as they traveled into the elven realm. Titton would no doubt have me walk if he could make me.

It was such a joy to hear a robin sing after having been in the ever-oppressing darkness outside of the kingdom. Although the kingdom itself was rather gloomy as well, it grew more beautiful and more like how a true wood should be the closer one got to the palace. The sound of the river's rushing waters reached their ears and the elves became less tense, but still very alert. The aroma of wild roses and hawthorn blossoms drifted on the faint breeze and Merillas' usually stern face brightened slightly at the sight at the sight of a glossy black butterfly flitting about daintily.

They passed over, under, and around lovely, but fortified flets situated like flowers in the terraces that were spread out at a good distance from each other, but close enough not to make them too prone to attacks.

At a nod from the Sinda, the novice warrior Tavaril went ahead to inform the king of the patrol's return. The princess knew he would be pleased to hear that—yet again—they had bested the remaining highly trained brutesthat had served the Necromancer before his defeat. She lightly brushed the petals of a flower on a tulip tree with her fingertips as she passed it. The forest seemed as happy as the elves that they had won the skirmish. If only…No!Merillas cut herself off sharply. I am not going to think of Legolas. I amnot.

She had been shocked at the death of her brother and found her eyes pooling with tears every time she thought of him. To try and quench the pain, she forbade herself to think of him. But the reminder of the fact he was gone was enough to send her into a somber mood.

With bunched jaw muscles, Merillas looked at the upcoming bridge which led across the river to the enchanted gate to the palace and felt a sense of relief. As leery as she was of healers, she would at least try to spirit away some pain-killing herbs from the healing halls. If she managed to slip away from the hyper-vigilant Titton, anyways. Which, the elf took in his face out of the corner of her eyes, would not be easy.

Jumping out of a hawthorn, Merillas landed softly on the grass and strode towards the bridge. The rest of the patrol followed suit. The river was in full flow, running over its bed with more ferocity than normal, due to the melted snow from the mountains. Its brown waters almost reached the bottom of the bridge.

She laid a hand on the elaborate, enchanted gate in the wall surrounding the palace and murmured the words to open it under her breath. It opened outwards swiftly and Merillas stepped back to avoid being struck by it.

The elves passed through the gate quickly before it closed again. The princess dismissed them with a flick of her hand and headed for the main entrance to the palace with, of course, Titton trailing her.

Celeblas was standing in the courtyard and as soon as he saw her, walked over. He fell in step beside her, passing a quick eye over his shoulder. "My lord is in a meeting with men of Dale. How fared your patrol, my lady?"

"Well. Few are injured and these are trivial unless the orcs poisoned their blades. The orc company was defeated." Merillas tucked a stray hair behind her ear. "Do you have an estimate for how long this meeting will last, my lord?"

The siblings paused while guards opened the door to the palace for them. They held it open and saluted stiffly as the trio resumed walking into the magnificent palace.

"The meeting just began and should last a while," Celeblas said, obviously not too happy with that fact.

Merillas nodded, quirking her lips. "The orcs attempted to take an outpost. They were not heavily armed and had few archers," she reported to him since she could not to her father. "However…we did find something rather…odd."

Gesturing for Titton to show the unique dagger, Merillas watched her brother's face. Titton took it out of his quiver and held it out for inspection. Celeblas picked it up and scrutinized it, frowning as his sister continued. "This hit me in the shoulder while I was fighting, but there were no orcs behind me.

The prince lifted the dagger to eye level, examining every detail carefully. "This is most interesting."

The trio halted in front of a tapestry. Merillas shifted her weight from one foot to another, the throbbing of her shoulder getting on her nerves. Titton watched the crown prince. They took little notice of passer-bys. Finally, Celeblas looked up, puzzlement in his eyes. "Have either of you seen anything like this before?"

Princess and healer both shook their heads. Celeblas sighed and raised his eyebrows, caressing the smooth hilt with his thumb. "Neither have I. This will bear researching. Although, somehow, I do not think that will solve anything."

Placing the dagger through his belt on the opposite side of his sword, Celeblas met his sister's gaze. "I must attend to other duties now. You, sister, should have that shoulder taken care of."

Bowing slightly, he turned on his heal and strode off.

Groaning inwardly, Merillas rolled her eyes as Titton said sternly, "I am sure you heard Prince Celeblas just as well as I did, my lady. So, will you come to the healing halls willingly now?"

"Alright. If it will make youhappy," the elleth replied sarcastically, smoothing a crease in her tunic. Even though she hated healers, it would be nice for the pain to lessen.

Titton gave a half-smile of triumph and led her to the healing halls.

oOoOoOoOo

Merillas left the healing halls with a freshly bandaged shoulder, arm in sling, a clean tunic, and an annoyed air. The healers has insisted that she refrain from leading patrols until her shoulder had healed and suggested she do paperwork while recuperating instead. And Merillas detested paperwork.

She stroked the white cloth of the bandage with a fingertip as she wandered through the halls, reluctant to work, but restless to do so at the same time. The princess decided to head for the gallery of portraits of the Royal Family, landscapes, and a few childish pictures done by the princes and princess when they were elflings. As she wound her way through the corridors, the number of elves in the hallways dropped. Most were too busy to spend time there and preferred to be in the palace gardens or with family members in their leisure time anyways.

Paying little attention to the tapestries depicting battles and scenes from the past, elaborate scrollwork on the pillars, and exquisite furniture and wall decorations, Merillas opened the door to the gallery with her left hand and closed it softly behind herself.

The gallery was lit by soft golden light from several high, arched windows during the day and the steady glow of torches during the night. Paintings and charcoal and ink drawings of assorted shapes and sizes hung in patterns on the stone walls. Their frames were made of both common and rare woods with designs of flowers, vines, and scrollwork decorating them. Small trees and delicate shrubbery were placed accordingly about the hall in their beautiful pots.

Glancing at one or two drawings done by her and her brothers when they were elflings, Merillas winced at one rather sloppy picture depicting the king and the queen with lopsided features. I never was a good artist.

Merillas paused in front of a professional portrait of her mother. The queen was in her favorite garden, a bouquet of blue columbines held in her lap. Her soft green eyes gazed out lovingly at the viewer, her exquisite features aglow with joy. Long mahogany hair fell down her back like a waterfall topped by her golden circlet. A pine green gown with golden embroidery brought out the hue of her eyes. The queen was seated on the grass that sparkled with dew, violets and bluebells around her. The background was blurred to keep the focus on the beautiful elleth. Engraved on the cherry frame in gold was her name, Eruvarde.

Sighing, Merillas gazed at the painting sadly for long moments, letting memories run their course through her mind. When she turned away, she saw with a start that she was no longer alone. Ithilwen, her cousin, was standing at the other end of the hall, tears running down her pale cheeks as she stared up a charcoal drawing. The princess walked down to her, looking first at the dark-haired elleth clad in a soft blue dress, then at the picture.

The Sinda let out a slow breath, instantly seeing the cause for Ithilwen's tears. The casual drawing showed Celeblas, Legolas, and Ithilwen's brother, Cossidh, with their arms about each others' shoulders, laughing. Even though it was sketchy, the artist had managed to capture the happiness of the young elves perfectly. Their hair and faces were lit by sunlight, Merillas' brothers' hair shining like gold and the coppery hints in Cossidh's like fire. The fact that Cossidh and the princes were related was obvious despite some differences in their features and build.

Cossidh had been reported missing in action some time ago and it was feared he had been captured by orcs. His frail sister could scarcely even think of him without bursting into tears.

"Sssshh," Merillas drew her younger cousin into a one-armed hug, forcing her eyes away from the faces of Legolas and Cossidh. "Sssh. There is hope."

Ithilwen buried her face into Merillas' shoulder, shaking her head. Tears dampened the cloth as Ithilwen released a few hiccupping sobs. Rubbing her back, Merillas waited for the flood to slow.

When Ithilwen had shed most of her tears, she lifted her face, eyes shining with sorrow. "I miss him so much, Merillas. So much."

"I know," the princess who had been forced to become a warrior brushed away some of the elleth's tears in a motherly manner. "So do I." Her eyes began to sting, but she blinked the wetness away irately.

"Do you think…," Ithilwen hesitated, as if what she was about to ask was too much to hope for, "that Cossidh might…Still be alive? Somehow?"

Unable to deliver the crushing reply, Merillas just watched dustmotes dance in the pale sunlight. "I do not know, Ithilwen. I just…Do not know."

OoOoOoOoO

Celeblas closed the library door soundlessly behind himself. As soon as he had could, he had escaped from his duties to see if any of the weapons books or histories had mentioned a weapon akin to the one that had injured his sister. He had skimmed over them quickly, but carefully, only actually reading what looked like it might be useful. Nowhere was there anything that mentioned such a blade.

The elf prince made a face. As fascinating as the histories were, he wished they had said something similar to what he was looking for. That this was the first time such an odd blade had appeared was unsettling.

He headed for his study, deciding to ask other, older elves later. While Thranduil was in meetings, it was Celeblas' duty to do paperwork and tend to the needs of the people. He nodded to the elves that bowed as he passed, feeling relieved when he entered the privacy of his study. Father may enjoy the attention, but I know I definitely do not.

He turned around to go to his desk. And found himself staring down an arrow aimed for his forehead. A pair of grey eyes he had thought never to see again stared at him steadily, a cold malice in their depths, the rest of the face cast into shadow by the hood of his cloak. As he gasped in shock, a light melodious voice said with a touch of amusement. "I would advise staying silent, brother. We do not want anyone to be alarmed, now do we?"

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Oooh, a cliffie. :D Constructive Criticism is much appreciated.