Well, this was an inordinately long chapter. I spent several days on this, but I believe the effort put into it was well worth the finished product, fucking ginormously long as it is. I would like to take the time to thank everyone for their ongoing support, and I hope that everyone continues to read and enjoy this story. I've got great plans floating around.

And I know that the point seems to be setting itself up, but I could still go any way with this. But I did want to ask your opinions. I wanted to put a little romance in the story, but I don't want it to take away from the overall story. Should Cerena become a romantic interest of the King? Or perhaps one of his guards? Or even a character not yet introduced? I would LOVE to hear your opinions.

See author's note at the bottom for another question of my own curiosity.

Chapter 10 – You've Got to be You

Arwen carefully tied the ribbon in Cerena's hair. It had been pulled back and gathered in a high tail behind her head, and bound with a strong cord. Then Arwen tied a broad yellow bow around the hair. The bright color stood out against Cerena's black hair, and the broadness of it was not lost amongst the tight curls or the fluffy ponytail.

"You look beautiful," Arwen said, clapping her hands together. Arwen had been going back and forth with her father all morning about getting Cerena some trousers to wear. Arwen argued at the practicality of it, stating that if she were to be expected to ride one of their wolf-mounts, she should at least have the comfort of riding astride. Arwen had pointed out that she doubted they had the saddles or the training to accept a side-saddle rider. So when her father had given her permission to put Cerena in leggings, she had also gone in search of a suitable tunic to go with it.

So it was that Arwen found a butter yellow tunic stashed in her brother's closet, a long-forgotten gift from an acquaintance of their father's that Elrohir had conveniently 'lost' so that he didn't have to wear it. Incidentally, the bright color of it went well with Cerena's dark skin and hair.

"Arwen…I'm not really an orc, you know. We're not the same race," Cerena said as Arwen added a pretty green vest over the tunic to show off Cerena's curvy figure.

"Estel is mortal and I am elf-kind," Arwen countered flawlessly.

"But surely he's so much older than me-," but Cerena tapered off when she saw Arwen's eyebrow twitch upwards and a wry smile twist her lips. "I guess that's not much of an argument, either," she finished lamely. Arwen took her face in her hands.

"You were blessed to be very beautiful as orc-kind. Perhaps it is the will of the Valar for you to be a queen, and perhaps it is not. There is no harm in pretty clothes and a nice ribbon for your hair. You are neither inappropriately dressed nor obviously displayed," Arwen pointed out.

"You've done so much for me," Cerena said softly.

"Because you have become my friend," Arwen said honestly. Cerena smiled broadly.

"Thank you, Arwen," Cerena said. Arwen smiled at her, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against her forehead.

"You're welcome. Now come, father wanted to speak with you before we set out," Arwen said, taking Cerena by the hand. They walked the halls of Rivendell, finally coming to a stop in front of Elrond's door. "Go on. He's expecting you," Arwen said, opening the door. Elrond was seated at his large desk, and looked up at the sound of the door. A smile crossed his face as he saw his daughter and Cerena, and he beckoned Cerena into the room.

"Come in, child, I was expecting you," he said. Cerena allowed Arwen to give her a brief hug before shutting the door. Cerena walked shyly towards his desk. Elrond put his quill down and stood.

"Let us sit and have a light meal together. I wish to hear more about your vision," Elrond said, motioning towards a tray that had been placed on a side table. There were bits of fruit, meats and cheese, and even a bit of light wine. Elrond sat in a chair and Cerena in another, and she spoke to him about what had happened in her vision.

"I only wonder what common interest they could have?" Elrond asked. Cerena was nibbling on a bit of ham, watching as he lost himself in thought. There was silence between them for several minutes, before the glazed look in his eyes snapped away and he looked over at her. "Do you…know the significance of what Celebrían told you?" he asked. Cerena was startled at the abruptness of the question.

"I…know a little of what it means. Elves…have mates, don't they?" she asked. Elrond gave her an indulgent smile.

"In a way. It is much deeper than compatibility. Elves are born with only one person they can bond with. It is a bond that connects them soul to soul. Their very life essences are connected," he explained. Cerena had a smile on her face as she listened. It sounded wonderful, having a soul mate like that.

"I bet that's nice," she said. He blinked at her, before his smile vanished.

"I suppose," he said. "If one of them dies, the other usually fades from grief," he said. Cerena's smile faded. There was silence between them again. "Elves…rarely…very rarely marry for political gain," he continued. Cerena looked up again, her thick brows furrowed. "But it has happened. Celebrían and I…married to strengthen the ties between Lothlórien and Rivendell."

"You…you didn't love her?" Cerena asked in a shocked whisper. Elrond's long fingers steepled together in his lap as he leaned forward in his chair.

"We did not marry for love, but we came to love each other. She was the Lady of Rivendell, my help-meet and my confidant. She knew my greatest weaknesses. She was my friend, and the mother of my children. I loved her….but I was not in love with her," Elrond said. Cerena's world was shaking around her. So much lore was based on the assumption that Elrond and Celebrían had loved each other. So much history…was wrong.

"So when she released you from your vows…" she finally continued.

"Our marriages are not like mortal marriages. Separation would kill a soul-bonded couple, but if a couple is wed and their souls never touched, they can dissolve the wedding vows if both parties are amenable. When she released me from my vows she gave both myself and herself a chance to find our true bond-mates. Her bond-mate will make her happier than I ever could," Elrond said. Cerena sat back in her chair, her face awash with sadness.

"You condemned yourselves to a mediocre eternity for the good of your kingdoms," she said. She was starting to realize some of the hardships that the Eldar faced.

"You are wise for your age," Elrond said.

"So will you seek someone?" Cerena asked. Elrond was so startled by the question that he nearly choked on air.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked. Cerena suddenly felt embarrassed.

"I mean…since you're not bound to your vows with Celebrían any more…will you seek your true bond-mate?" she asked. Elrond inhaled slowly.

"I know not. I will let Eru guide my hand in this," he said. "Now…on to you, little one," he added, pinning her with a look. "You have been offered a unique chance."

Cerena fumbled around with the cuff around her elbow-length sleeves.

"I don't know what to do, Lord Elrond. I want to go…to be with Visht and learn more about the orcs. But I…I'm scared," she said, hitching up her shoulders.

"What do you fear, my child?" Elrond asked gently. Cerena shook her head and was silent, but Lord Elrond waited patiently. She finally looked up at him, her eyes shining.

"Rejection….failure," she stuttered. He had compassion in his grey eyes as he smiled at her.

"Do not fear rejection. If you feel as though you do not belong amongst the High Orcs, then you shall always have a place to stay in Imladris," Elrond said. Cerena sniffled.

"Really?" she asked.

"Really," he laughed. "And you must quit focusing so much on failure! If you look too far ahead in the path, you will stumble upon the stone that is right in front of you. It is good to be mindful of how your actions can affect the future, but do not let it consume you," Elrond chided gently. Cerena nodded.

"I think I know what I have to do," she said.

"Then let us prepare you for it."

Durbûrz lay on his side, his head propped up on his elbow and his hair still mussed from sleep. His stitches on his cheek pulled and stung, but the pain was minimal to him. Visht was asleep still, making soft whuffing sounds as he dreamed. Durbûrz reached out his other hand and gently trailed a clawed finger down his son's face.

Zira had wanted to visit the Forbidden Forest and see her mother. It was supposed to be an eight month trip. One month they had traveled, and had made it to the forbidden forest with no trouble. He had been sent letters from his queen, with childish scribbles near the bottom to let him know Visht missed him. Six months they stayed with the Lady Gaathgothlob, the queen of the tree-orcs. They inhabited a frozen forest near the Icebay of Forochel.

He had met Zira on a diplomatic mission there, and had asked for her as his Queen. Gaathgothlob had consented on the condition that he still allow Zira to return home from time to time.

He had trusted Furtun with the mission. His advisor had been highly favored and allowed to go with the Queen on this mission. They had been on their way home when the Snaga attacked. He thought it had been a stroke of good planning by the Snaga. They had taken out the wolves while they hunted, killing them instantly with headshots as they came back from their meal. They had attacked as one, killing most of the guard before they could draw their weapons.

Furtun, the traitorous bastard, must have met with the Snaga and planned it at some point. And he might have gotten away with the entire thing if it hadn't been for the strange brown orcess.

He rather hoped she wasn't of Isengard descent. For ten years now those mongrel brats had been bullying the Snaga into the service of Isengard and trying to get information on the closest High Orc kingdom, which would be the Black Crescent Valley. Durbûrz had no doubt that soon their Master would turn his greedy eyes on the kingdom of Rohan, now that he had begun amassing an army. They were strong, and far more cunning than the Snaga, but they were not on par with the High Orcs. They were still slaves.

The girl had risked her own life for his son. And even yesterday he could see that she would have switched their places had she the power to do so. She clearly cared for Visht very much, and he was appreciative for it.

He leaned down and pressed his cheek to Visht's lightly, nuzzling their faces together before shifting his face and kissing the lad's brow. Eight months had passed since he'd seen his son, and he would not be ashamed to admit he had missed the bubbly little boy. Visht was young, only ten years old, which translated to about the size of a mortal five-year-old. He had come very close to having his short life snuffed out.

"Apzi…"

Durbûrz pulled his face back slightly to see Visht blinking up at him, grinning widely.

"Good morning, gaz ash," he rumbled lowly.

"Missed you," Visht whispered. Durbûrz rested his hand across Visht's cheek, grinning in return.

"I missed you too, son. I came a long way to retrieve you, to see you again. But there I arrived and found you awfully cozy with that girl…" he teased gently. Visht looked confused for a moment.

"What girl? Oh! You mean 'Reena!" he said, and moved to sit up. His face suddenly twisted and he cried in agony. Durbûrz sucked in a breath and came up to his knees, the blanket from his pallet falling aside as he knelt next to his son.

"Do not move so, my son! You were injured," he said, gently wiping the tears from his son's face. Visht hiccupped slightly.

"Hurts, Apzi…it hurts," he whimpered.

"I know, my prince, I know. Lie still and let the pain go away," he said softly. Visht tried to lie still, still whimpering as the stitches burned and stung. Durbûrz took a breath and pitched his voice low as he began to sing for his son.

"A thousand years ago, or more
I climbed a flowering tree
And as I hopped from branch to branch
I found a bumblebee.

'Do not crush me!' said the bee.
'Do not sting!' said I.
'Perhaps between the both of us,
We'll reach a compromise.'

So for a week he rode on me
And saw the things I saw.
And when that week was over
He spoke to me in awe.

'I saw so many orcs around,
I found it all quite neat,
I've never met so many
Without watching for their feet.'

So in return he offered me
The chance to have a wish
I could ask for riches
Or for breathing like a fish.

But instead I told the bee
That I could not decide.
I let him make the wish for me
And give me a surprise.

'It is done,' he told me.
'And I think you'll like this one.'
But I could not for the life of me
Discover what he'd done.

Years had passed and he was gone.
And I grew up and wed.
Her hair was like a raven's wing
Her eyes were bright and red.

And then we had a little boy
A brave and mighty prince.
We fell in love the day he came
And loved him ever since.

One day I came to realize,
The bee's wish had come true.
Because without ever knowing
I had asked the bee for you."

The song was one he'd come up with for Visht when he was much younger. Bad dreams had haunted him for some reason, and he would wake up with night terrors so bad that he was incoherent with fear. But the length and gentleness of the song had helped put him to sleep for years. This time Visht did not go back to sleep, but he was soothed by the deep timbre of his father's voice.

"'Reena sang to me to, Apzi. She sings good," Visht said tiredly.

"My Lord,"

Durbûrz looked up to see Stargush standing at the opening of the tent, wringing his sleeves.

"What is it, Stargush?" the king asked.

"Oh, my King…I wouldn't interrupt you and the young prince…except…well, Juziya sends word that the elves are coming. There's more of them today. The orcess is with them," Stargush said. Durbûrz nodded.

"All right. Make sure the wolves are at the other end of the camp so we don't frighten the little fuckers. And make sure everyone's got their clothes on. Don't need to make the elves jealous to boot," Durbûrz grinned, turning and winking at his son. Visht gave a breathy laugh. Stargush grinned and nodded, before lowering his head in deference and walking away.

The camp was a flurry of activity as they tidied up the camp a bit. The wolves lined themselves up at the furthest end of the camp. Bashi was tied to one of the wolves, his hands and feet bound to the creature's leather collar. His armor had been removed and the cloak of his rank taken from him. He sat in the leather jerkin he wore under his armor, and the thick leggings he had come in. The only part of his official clothing left was his boots, and the king had informed him they would be taken upon arrival at the valley.

The elves came to the edge of their camp on horses, and Durbûrz had no doubt that there were more of them in the trees. There was a sudden yipping noise as a white ball of fur emerged from the arms of one of the elves. Baranglas had taken a fancy to the tiny wolf and taken it home for the night. River was an enthusiastic and playful pet, but wolves did not belong with the elves so he had brought it back. The little wolfling ran towards the orcs, his little legs going so quickly that he stumbled several times.

"Damn it, River. Where the hell do you keep coming from?" Durbûrz growled. River ran between the King's feet and headed straight for the tent. There was much yipping and the sound of laughter.

"River!"

Durbûrz smiled and turned back to the group. Lord Elrond was at the head, sitting astride his elven horse like a king. The blond warrior was behind him, and the Orc king nearly started to see an elf-maiden with them. Her horse was close to the sleepy looking beast that bore the orcess, and it was nervous in proximity to an orc. It was a Lady's horse, not used to the strain of such a presence. The Lady herself was very lovely for an elf, but she was much too slender and willowy. She looked, like many of the elf-women, like a good hard fuck would break her in twain. Besides, there was hardly anything to her chest, and he would be the first to admit he loved to bury his face in a nice set of ti-

"Hail, King of the Orc Valley!" called Elrond, lifting a hand in greeting. Durbûrz threw up his hand in a much heartier greeting.

"Hail, Lord of the Hidden Valley!" he returned. "And company!"

He noticed that the wizard had returned with them, and on the same horse as the old magician rode a tiny man. At first he had thought the figure a child, but the pipe that he smoked rather ruined that effect. He was greying in the hair and his face was lined with age, but he still appeared to be rather spry. Gandalf, sitting behind him in the saddle, was also enjoying a pipe. Durbûrz himself was not a lover of the smoke, but every so often he was known to sit down with a group and pass the pipe around.

"How did young Visht fare in the night?" Elrond asked.

"He fared well, thank you. I kept him as still as possible. He had a nightmare or two, but it was nothing I could not handle," Durbûrz answered honestly. Elrond nodded. Durbûrz's bright orange eyes rested on Cerena, and his dark lips curled into a smile. "Well, the lady did not run screaming into the sunset. Have you considered my offer?" he asked. He saw her draw herself up in her saddle.

"I did, my Lord. And I was wondering if I might ask something of you," she replied. His eyebrows twitched upwards curiously.

"If it is within my power, I will grant it," he returned.

"I wish to spend the day and the evening with you and your men," she said. He tilted his head slightly. "If I travel with you, I will be in your presence at all times until we return to your kingdom. I wish to spend time amongst you and get to know you," she said. He grinned, his sharp white teeth glinting in the morning sun.

"This would be welcome. You are most definitely a more lovely sight than these ugly bastards," he growled playfully. He watched her cheeks darken in embarrassment.

"Fascinating…" Bilbo murmured. Durbûrz's bright gaze turned to him, and Gandalf felt the hobbit stiffen in surprise.

"And what are you, little one? Are you a breed of hairless dwarf?" Durbûrz asked, taking a few steps towards Gandalf's horse. The horse shook its head at him and pawed nervously at the ground, and the orc king did not come any closer.

"I am no dwarf! I am a hobbit!" Bilbo replied. Durbûrz laughed aloud.

"What delight! A real hobbit before me! We've heard of your people from the Men that we trade with from time to time, but never have we seen you with our own eyes," he said. Bilbo sniffed and straightened his waist coat.

"Well, I've never seen an orc that didn't try to kill everything sooner than look at it," Bilbo returned. Durbûrz nodded.

"Fair enough, I suppose. Dismount your horses and join us, that we may talk and know each other better," Durbûrz said, holding out his arms in welcome. Elrond dismounted gracefully, and some of the others followed. Gandalf dismounted and helped Bilbo down, and he saw Arwen and Cerena dismount as well. Glorfindel had accompanied his Lord again today, but Aragorn had not. He blew in and out of Rivendell like the wind these past many years, and had left on some kind of 'Ranger business' just before they had set out for the clearing.

The orcs spread out a few blankets over the leaves for their guests to sit on. They themselves sat in the leaves, not having to spare fine clothes from the mess of leaves. Durbûrz disappeared into the tent that had been set up, and reappeared a few moments later carrying Visht. It would do the lad good to be outside for a bit and breathe fresh air. River trailed behind Durbûrz, his bottlebrush tail wagging as he walked.

Visht's face lit up when he saw Arwen.

"Arwen! You come to see Visht?" he asked. Elrond wore an indulgent smile as he carefully removed the bandages from around Visht's shoulder. The wound already looked much better than it had yesterday. There was no sign of the inflammatory on the arrow, and the only swelling was a natural bit around the broken flesh. It was hard to gauge exactly what a 'healthy' wound looked like on an orc, but he was giving his best estimate of its condition.

"Of course, little one. I wanted to make sure you were all right," Arwen replied. She saw the wide grin on the lad's face, and laughed brightly.

"My son seems very fond of you, Lady," Durbûrz said. Arwen looked up, studying the King. His eyes were bright and very striking, and it was easy to see that he and Visht favored each other. The King had a broad, sharp jawline and a symmetric face. His nose was broad and his nostrils flat, and she could see them flare as he scented the elves. His brows were thick like the other orcs seemed to be, and he had thick black hair that was braided away from his face in a complicated way. There was a large gash on his right cheek that had been sewn up, and would probably leave a scar, along with what appeared to be claw marks across his left cheek. The green-grey color of his skin was darker slightly than his son's, possibly a combination of age and exposure to the sun, but it was unblemished save the gashes in his flesh.

"Visht has a way of getting into one's heart," Arwen replied politely.

"So it shall be my son that bridges the gap between the High Orcs and the Elves?" he asked lightly. Arwen seemed to think about the question.

"Perhaps it is so…but I would never have met little Visht had Cerena not saved him and brought him to us," she said. Durbûrz nodded in agreement. His head turned towards where Cerena sat.

"I am ever grateful. I do hope you decide to come with us, Lady Cerena," he said. Cerena clicked her claws together shyly.

"I am no Lady, my Lord. I have no rank," she said.

"I know little about the hierarchy of Men, and lesser still about the ranks of elves, but amongst the High Orcs, titles can be earned and lost much more easily. We do not have the resources or the patience to deal with spoiled Lordlings or Ladies. It is an honor to carry a rank in our society, but that is all there is to it. Most of my Lords and Ladies have become business oriented, and make well for themselves in trade, but then there's old Fritz, who earned the title Lord by saving my father from a falling sword, and he's as poor as dirt and happy to be so," Durbûrz said. "If you wish it, I can bestow a title upon you," he added, giving Cerena a small smile.

"That's up to you, my lord," she returned politely. He winked at her and her cheeks went dark as blood rushed to her face.

Visht begged to sit with Arwen while they spoke, and so the elf-Lady settled him on her lap, allowing him to rest against her and still be part of the conversation. River was walking between Arwen and Elrond, sniffing at them and trying to decide whether he wanted to stay around them or not. Elrond held out his hand for the wolfling to sniff, keeping his palm facing upwards, and River must have decided he liked the elf-Lord, because he yipped happily and buried his wet nose into Elrond's hand. Elrond scooped the small wolf up in his hand and held him in the crook of one arm, absent-mindedly stroking the upright, pointed ears. River made noises of pleasure, going boneless in the elf's grasp and all but purring.

"Look at the little bastard…whoring himself out for ear rubs," One of the guards snickered. River's head snapped up and his ears pointed forward as he stared at the guard. He gave two high pitched barks and then nestled himself back into Elrond's grasp. Stargush laughed roughly.

"I think he just gave you the Wolfling version of 'fuck off,'" he grinned. The other guard sneered. Elrond's grey eyes were on Stargush, taking in his appearance. He was slightly different than the others, his face twisted in a perpetual frown. His stature was shorter as well, wider and stouter, with large hands and feet and a broad, barrel chest.

"You are different from the others. Why is that?" Elrond asked. He saw a sneer of dark pleasure cross the face of the guard who had spoken about the wolf. Stargush looked to the king, who gave him a nod, before clearing his throat to speak.

"I'm half Snaga. Ever so often we mix our blood with Snaga, and even some mortals, to keep our bloodlines from becoming too thickly overlapped. My mother was of the Dol Guldur Snaga," he said. There was a ripple of noise among the elves, and Arwen gasped lightly. "She weren't like those others, my mum," Stargush added quickly. He only remembered her slightly, but his memories were happy ones. "She was a ball of fire. Not the cuddling type, but she would take me on her knee every night and tell me stories of the Nazgûl. She were also intolerant of back sass, and would light my backside up with a switch if'n I gave her any," the orc said, grimacing at the thought of his mother's punishments.

"How ghastly!" Arwen breathed. Stargush looked up, crimson eyes wrinkling at the corner as he smiled. It transformed his face incredibly, smoothing out the perpetual scowl and making him look far younger.

"Aye, little miss. Them beatings was ghastly, but I'd take a thousand switchings if it meant I could have them days back," he said wistfully.

"I am curious," Gandalf said, speaking up for the first time. "As to the longevity of your people," he finished, his blue eyes regarding the king. Bilbo also seemed very interested in this. Durbûrz looked at the wizard and then at the elves sitting among them.

"We kept the gift of the Eldar. We are immortal," he stated. Elrond's eyes went wide.

"Immortal?" Bilbo asked. "That seems rather farfetched. Where do those go who have lived a long time? Are there any who still remember the Creation of the High Orcs?"

"The oldest of our people is Gaathgothlob, the Lady of the Forbidden Forest. She was born to one of the Originals. There are none left who remember the days of Morgoth's reign. They were either killed or tried to sail West," Durbûrz said.

"Why would they do that?" Glorfindel nearly exploded.

"In the early days, they could still feel the pull of Valinor, though their hearts and souls had been corrupted. No one knows if they were able to reach it or not," Durbûrz said.

"I should think we would know if there were Orcs in Valinor," Glorfindel said haughtily. Durbûrz' head tilted slightly.

"Would you? By what authority would you be told all of the goings on of the Blessed Land? Is someone going to send you a letter telling you about it?" he returned sharply.

"There is at least one Orc in Valinor," Cerena blurted without thinking. All eyes were suddenly on her. Every elf and high orc had gone deadly quiet and was staring at her.

"Of what do you speak?" Glorfindel finally croaked. Cerena's eyes went wide at the implication of what she was speaking of. Celebrían was Elrond's wife. She had no idea if he planned to tell the whole of Rivendell of being released from his Vows. And even if he did not, he was eternally bound to Lady Celebrían by their children at the least. To tell the elves publically that their Lady, who had sailed lest she fade from grief and pain, had not only given birth to but had raised and loved a half-elf and half-orc daughter could possibly be bad news for her.

"I should not have spoken," Cerena replied hastily. Glorfindel's face twisted.

"No, you do not get to say something like that and just take it back!" he hissed, coming to his feet in a fluid movement. Cerena scrambled to her feet as well, causing a chain reaction of orcs and elves to stand up.

"It is…it's not my story to tell!" Cerena said. Arwen, her arms still wrapped around Visht, made a soft whimpering sound that caught the attention of the elves. Elrond turned to his daughter, immediately distressed that she had tears in her eyes.

"Daughter?" he said. He had come to his feet as well, gently placing River on the ground at his feet. The wolfling was watching them all intently.

"It was Naneth, wasn't it?" she asked thickly. Cerena, still wide-eyed, looked at Arwen's face. Then she looked to Elrond, whose brows were knitted together. Glorfindel's face was of shock and anger, and King Durbûrz was grim as he watched Glorfindel like a hawk. Bilbo was terribly curious as he looked around, and Gandalf, still sitting on the ground, was watching her intently.

"She delivered a child when she arrived in Valinor, born of the cruelty of her capture at the Redhorn Pass," Cerena finally croaked. Arwen began to cry, grieving for her mother's suffering and the terrible situation. Visht carefully shifted in her arms, wrapping his good arm around her neck and kissing her face. She hugged his thin body, taking comfort in the childish display of affection.

"Liar!" a voice cried, and two figures dropped out of one of the trees. Cerena turned to see one of the twins advancing on her, the other standing at the base of the tree with his face white as chalk.

"It's not a lie! I saw the Lady in my vision! And I saw the result of her torment! She is called yrchedhel, the Orc-elf. Her name is Edledhia!" Cerena said. Elrond was staring at her in shock. He had suspected…but to hear it confirmed…there was a half-elf of orcish descent in Valinor. His wife's daughter…his children's half-sister. He could only blink stupidly as Elladan started to crowd Cerena.

"I knew you were nothing but trouble! Spreading such filth about our mother….you're despicable! You're nothing but a foul-mouthed beast!" Elladan snapped. Cerena was frightened. He seemed almost rabid with anger, his body trembling as he snapped at her.

"Back away, elf. You're clearly upset. You will not take it out on the girl," Durbûrz growled.

"Please, I'm not lying!" Cerena said, holding up her hands in defense. Elladan was speaking in Elvish now, and by the looks of shock and horror on some of the elves' faces, it was not pretty words. "I don't know what you're saying!" Cerena gasped. Arwen, eyes still leaking tears, was staring now at her brother. She adjusted her grip on Visht and stood to her feet.

"Elladan!" Arwen said. Some of the things he had said to Cerena should never have come from a gentle-ellon's mouth.

"I know you hate me…but I saw her there. And Lady Celebrían must have loved her to-," but Cerena was cut off when Elladan's hand shot out like a striking serpent and slapped Cerena so hard that she stumbled. Her hands came up to her face as she stared in shock. Visht yelled something in the Black Speech as Elrond finally snapped out of his stupor. He advanced on Elladan like a predator, reaching up and grabbing him by the ear like one would an errant child. Elrond was speaking in rapid Sindarin, punctuating his words with sharp tugs on his son's sensitive ear. He led Elladan to Glorfindel and barked out several orders. When Elladan tried to argue, Elrond put his face even with his son's so that their noses nearly touched.

"Never have I been so ashamed in all my life. What Cerena saw- no! You will not speak when I am! Hush now!" Elrond barked. Elladan went silent. He had never heard his father speak so angrily before. "What Cerena saw could not be helped by her. Your opinion of orc-kind is irrelevant in this. You will go back to the House and you will wait for me there. We will have a serious discussion when I return," he said. Glorfindel slowly but gently wrapped his hand around the young Lord's bicep and led him away. Elrond turned to Elrohir. "Go with your brother," he said. Elrohir, looking rather sick and pale, nodded silently, walking with Glorfindel through the forest.

Elrond returned to their group. Cerena was now crying softly. Arwen had given Visht to his father and then wrapped Cerena in a friend's embrace, stroking her heated cheek gently and murmuring to her. Durbûrz looked furious as Visht sniffled in righteous anger.

Elrond approached them, and Arwen gently separated from Cerena. Elrond took Cerena's hand and gently moved it away from her cheek. Whereas an elf or mortal's skin would have turned red with the strike, he could see a perfect dark handprint across her face. She had been slapped with great force.

"I am so sorry. I extend an apology on behalf of Rivendell for the things that my son said to you. Thank you for telling us about Celebrían and the girl. I will discuss this with my children. If you decide to travel with the Orcs, we will be here to see you off tomorrow. I will make sure to bring a much smaller group," he said, looking back at the large amount of elves that had come with him. They were now milling and clumping, discussing what had just happened.

"I didn't m-mean to tell everybody ab-about Celebrían," Cerena hiccupped. Elrond gently folded Cerena in an embrace.

"Do not feel guilty. This information was suspected, but now it is confirmed. It will be discussed this evening. Please do not think that my son's opinion reflects anyone but himself," Elrond said, before putting her at arm's length. "If you decide not to go, you are welcome in Rivendell," he said firmly. She gave him a watery smile.

"Thank you," she said. He nodded, before leaning forward and kissing her forehead. Then he approached King Durbûrz.

"This was very informative. I am sorry that it did not end as peacefully as it started. I will discuss this with my son," he said. Durbûrz sniffed.

"If you ask me he needs a good stiff switch applied across his backside," the king growled. Elrond seemed half amused, half distressed.

"He is a grown elf, though he does not choose to act like one sometimes," he replied.

"Regardless, I did appreciate our meeting," Durbûrz said, balancing Visht in the crook of his arm and holding out his other hand. Elrond reached out and took his hand, shaking it firmly. It did not escape his attention that it was not the hands that carried their rings. "I should like to have business between us, even when I return to my kingdom," he added. Elrond nodded, a polite smile on his face that did not reach his eyes.

"Aye, that would be welcome, I believe," he said. Then he looked at Visht. "Rest carefully, my lad, and I shall be here again tomorrow to see you off before you leave for home," he finished. Visht smiled and held out his hand like Elrond and Durbûrz had. Elrond laughed lightly and shook the boy's hand.

"Bye, Lord Elrond," Visht said politely. Arwen approached them, waving politely at Visht as the other elves started to go to the horses. "Bye Arwen. I miss you," he said. She smiled.

"I'll miss you too, little one," she said.

Cerena had ambled to where Gandalf was helping Bilbo back onto the horse.

"Are you going to come see me off if I decide to go?" she asked. His eyes fell on the handprint across her cheek and he clicked his tongue, before giving her a warm smile.

"Of course. And then it will probably be time for the Grey Pilgrim to wander again," he said. Cerena smiled back at him.

"I'll miss you, Gandalf," she said. He grasped her in a tight hug, kissing the top of her head and then putting his hands on her face.

"I will miss you, too. But we both know it is not the last time we will see each other," he said, and winked at her. Her eyes widened slightly. "Now go and learn about your people, so that you can change the world," he said, giving her a gentle nudge towards the orc group. Visht was looking at her and grinning. Her grin widened, only a little uncomfortable with the stiff handprint.

"Perhaps it won't be so bad."

THAT WAS 13 PAGES IN WORD.

Now, I have a conundrum. Mentioned in the story was the Originals that tried to sail West. I am at a loss as to what to do with not only them, but the ones who were killed. Would they go to Mandos as well? I cannot remember if EVERYONE goes to the Halls of Mandos or if it was just the souls of the Elves. Where did Mortal souls go for that matter? If anyone knows anything directly from Tolkien, feel free to send me either a review or a PM.

If you have any ideas that would be greatly appreciated as well. Those can be left in a review or a PM as well. I look forward to writing more chapters and weaving more of the story with you! Now that you've read the story, please take the time to either favorite or follow, if you have not, and if you have done both of those, I would love to have a review from you!