Was I on crack when wrote this chapter the first time? There were no less that seven-trillion misspellings. Much thanks to Ellen for a super-awesome review!

Chapter 4
Much of that night was spent telling stories around the fire. At this time it was plain to see that all of these elves were closely connected, not just between Elrond and his children, much like an extended family of sorts. Their affectionate interruptions of each other's stories reminded Mari of her own family; it saddened her beyond comprehension. Her family, being of the Roma people, had no home. Thus, home came to exist in the faces of loved ones; her mother, father, brothers, sisters. Now they were gone forever. In the presence of the elves, however, this sadness quickly left her. Being with them numbed the pain, or at the very least pushed it far and to the bottom of her soul. Once again, she was captivated by everything they did. The tilt of Elrond's head, the curve of Arwen's neck, the sent of Alidar sitting next to her. Even the uncomfortable sort of way Milhir rested on his uninjured side seemed graceful.

They took turns in telling stories of what had happened to each of them since they had all last met. Milhir explained how it was he was injured. Even though he explained that it wasn't really Mari's fault, the three new elves still eyed her suspiciously when they thought she wasn't looking.
Arwen told of how she had gone to Lothlorein to stay with her grandparents and wait for the end of the war. She spoke of her great desire to be reunited with her beloved, Aragorn. The stories that Iflaím, Elladan, and Elrohir were far more horrific than the others. They had been ensued in the fighting that had been going on. Iflaím had been part of the forces defending Mirkwood in the north, which apparently had been attacked by some spared thousands of Sauron's army. Celeborn and his Lothlorein troops had come to aid the Mirkwood elves; a gesture that ended a long standing feud between the two elf kingdoms. Near the end of the war, Sauron's northern forces had blocked all of Mirkwood's escape and transport routs. Iflaím, as a last hope, was sent on a mission to the peak of the lonely mountain to ask the assistance of the eagles in bringing him to Rviendell. The eagles got him there in six days rather than forty. There his instructions were to desperately plead (if he needed to) for reinforcements and return to Mirkwood with three hundred of Elrond's finest warriors via eagle. Upon arrival to Rviendell, however, someone called Mithrandir sent word to the eagles that if they were to grant aid in Minas Tirith the war would be ended by the sunset of the next day. Without hesitations, the eagles left Iflaím in Rviendell and headed to Gondor with great speed.

Midway throough the course of events, Elladan and Elrohir had gone with the Rangers to aid Aragorn and Legolas at Helms Deep in Rohan. After a great battle that took place there, they headed to Isengard to discover it had already been defeated by ents, such as the one Mari had seen the day before. They also found two members of the Fellowship whom had been kidnapped by Saurman. Inside the tower of Isengard they found the cowering sorcerer.

"He was great once," one of the twins said in the narration. (Mari could not yet tell them apart) "But what we found there was a destroyed fragment of what had once been the powerful Saruman."

From there they continued to Minas Tirith, where the war against the evil lord Sauron was won. As a favor to Aragorn, they agreed to go fetch their sister from Lothlorien and bring her to Gondor while Legolas went to get Elrond.

The short silences that came at certain points of the stories were particularly fascinating to Mari. They came after extremely sad or extremely joyful parts of the narrations. They were not odd or uncomfortable; it was not as though the speakers were searching for words. They seemed to fit perfectly with the events that were being told. During the silences, Mari could feel something fill her heart, were it sadness or joy, depending what events the silences followed. She assumed the elves experienced these sensations as well, though she wondered if it was quite as severe for them.

Each listened attentively when they were not the one speaking, only adding when their story overlapped chronologically with the one being told; Arwen remembered when she had seen Iflaím coming to Lothlorien to ask for aid from Celeborn's troops. At the same time that he arrived in Rviendell, Elladan, Elrohir, and Legolas were in Minas Tirith, preparing for the battle of Pelennor.

In Rviendell, Iflaím and Elrond, and all other elves anxiously waited for word of the outcome of the battle. Three days later the eagles returned announcing the defeat of Sauron. They also brought word that the war had ended in Mirkwood as well. Iflaím stayed in Rviendell for the celebration that took place instantaneously with the arrival of the eagles. Within a weeks time of the departure of the eagles Legolas came for Elrond.

Neither Elrond nor Legolas, Mari had noticed, told their own stories nor added to the others'. She hadn't really expected Elrond to tell stories, but she was surprised that Legolas who, from what she understood, what in the thick of things, didn't speak a word. She also found it strange how the other elves avoided any detail about Legolas and his specific actions through out the duration of the war.
Though he didn't contribute to the story telling, Legolas was as attentive as the others. His brooding had changed to genuine interest. For the brief hours that he listened to his friends Mari could see the cruelty leave his eyes, replaced by a youthful curiosity and also sadness when he heard Iflaím recount the Mirkwood battles. That's his kingdom, isn't it? Mari tried to remember. He is Prince to them, no? This was easy to forget since all the elves she was sitting with were royal, if not very high in elvish society. If he is a decent ruler, it must have eaten him on the inside that he could not be with his people in their time of need.

The stories ended and there was again a silence. Once it passed, one of Elrond's sons spoke up.
" It's still unclear to me why Mari is traveling with us to Minas Tirith."

All the other elves gave him a stare that seemed to imply "Why are you so incompetent?"

"What?!" he asked defensively.
"I certainly hope you are more tactful than this when I send you on diplomatic missions," Elrond jokingly said to his son. They all laughed softly.
"While Elladan's blunt approach wasn't exactly the best, he does have a good point," Arwen said to Mari.

Elladan, Mari thought. That means the other one is Elrohir. I won't remember if they move from where they're sitting.

"We know little more than you," quipped Iflaím after Arwen's comment "As always, your father knows the whole story but won't tell us a thing." At that Elrond smirked.
"Then perhaps you will tell us," Elrohir said in a much more judicious tone than his brother, addressing Mari. Every one turned to her. "Would you, please?"
"Yes! Tell us your story! I've heard enough these war weary elves and that love-sick princess," said Milhir lightheartedly, throwing his head in the direction of Arwen and the twins.

Mari was unsure of what to do. She looked to Elrond and Alidar for an answer. Elrond looked pleased by the idea and Alidar looked as interested as the others to hear what she had to say. I'd have to tell them some time.

"I should start from the beginning." With these words, signaling the start of her tale, she noticed how all the elves readjusted the position in which they were sitting so that they might be more comfortable. Mari loved story telling, more especially when she was the storyteller, and she reveled in an eager audience. She gazed into the fire; it had the power to stir her memories, reminding her of stories told when she was young and would sit to listen around a fire such as the one she was in front of now. Through the wispy flames she could see Legolas' eyes; their child-like glow not diminishing. This gave her confidence.
She knew she wouldn't be able to tell her story exactly as it had happened. It would take too long to explain, there would be too much they wouldn't understand. That was why she waited until the end of the other stories the elves told until she told her own. Like any good storyteller, she made sure her story would have elements that her listeners could relate to; she had to listen to their stories in order to get a feel of their culture and lives. Again she spoke.

"It all began some years back when king Adolf Hitler came to power in the Kingdom of Germany, east of where my people dwelt…"

They listened, captivated by her tale. Next to her she heard Iflaím let out the quiet, heavy breath he'd been holding in until she finished. She realized that for several moments she hadn't been looking at them. Instead she'd been looking at the fire again. Glancing above the flames she saw that some of their eyes had grown wide in shock or minimal horror. Others had expressions of seriousness and who's bodies had tensed, visibly disturbed by her ordeal. Then there were the kind eyes of Arwen; she looked as though she understood the greater meaning of everything Mari had said, and even what she had not dared to say aloud. Elrond seemed to have the same expression. Lastly, there Legolas, who's expression was something Mari couldn't quite place. What was it? Sympathy? pity? Please, anything but pity. Never in her life had Mari detested anything more than being pitied.

She suddenly grew nervous under their gazes. "I'm very tired. I think I'll go to sleep now," she said as a means to retreat from their watchful eyes. "Excuse me and good night." With that she rose to her feet and brushed herself off. Turning, she went to Milhir's horse where her mat was.
"There's still one thing that puzzles me," she heard the voice of Elladan say from behind her. His statement was instantly followed by the distinct :thwap: of someone's hand coming into hard contact with the back of his head. "Ai! What was that for!…Ah. Em, It can wait until the morning. Good night to you, Lady Mari!"
"Good night," the rest chimed in.
Mari smiled to herself and silently laughed to herself.

That will be one way to tell them apart. Elladan doesn't know when to shut up!

As she unrolled her mat, she also reached into her bag, removing a small jar of salve. She needed to use it for her back later that night, away from the elves. She didn't want them to see any more forms of weakness about her. She set up her mat a few yards from the camp fire. The elves continues talking in hushed tones. Mari was careful to lay on her side, so as not to inflict more damage and pain to her back. The whispering of the elves blended with the crackling of the fire, and together they lulled Mari into a peaceful sleep.