Author's Note: The goat character is dedicated to my friend, Sarah. :) Also, in hindsight of the previous chapter, I realized I didn't know Gandalf's age. He's always been pretty timeless to me- same look, same type of involvement - and he's friends with Elrond, who's pretty old himself. So, seeing this is just a fanfic, let's say he has the lifespan of an elf.

Startled, I searched for Gandalf's ghost-like grey figure in the gloom. Sure enough, he was looming behind both me and Legolas; both of us were squinting in the general direction of west.

I backed up warily, accidentally brushing against Legolas' shoulder, flinched away skittishly, and almost caught my cloak on fire.

Whisking it out of the danger of the flames, I mentally chastised myself for my idiotic agitation and faced Gandalf with a perfectly serious face.

I knew of Gandalf, and was aware of his powers, but until I encountered him face to face, he reminded me of the Valar, strong and mighty, yet possibly a child's tale.
Now, I hardly knew what to think of him, except to keep my weapons close at my side.

The Grey Wizard was watching me with a carefully oblivious, cheerful expression. "There's a fire there, in case you didn't know." He lifted a hand from his knotted wooden staff to indicate the flames. Gandalf was tall and lean, dressed in pale grey with a crooked, pointed hat. His face was heavily wrinkled and his back was slightly bent, the only indications of his age. A tangled grey beard and mustache rested on his chest. Sly ice-blue eyes and a drooping nose completed his features.

"Mithrandir." Legolas dropped to one knee with ease, his head bowed in respect. I remained unbowed; this human had nothing to earn my reverence except featuring in a collection of fairy tales, which weren't worthy of any note.

"Yes, yes, get up lad." The old wizard waved a hand airily. "There's a great deal to discuss."

I resisted the compelling urge to smirk in childish satisfaction as Legolas stood proudly, gazing at Gandalf with a question in his eyes.

"What is this creature with you, Mithrandir?"

Creature? I slanted my eyes at the space around the wizard. A small, delicate form huddled next to Gandalf, patched with black and white. It moved oddly, as if it was unsure of itself and a pair of glittering, deep brown eyes watched me.

"Creature? I was once a human, pointy-ear." A bleating, irked voice retorted and the creature's mouth moved in time with the words.

I gritted my teeth and slid my sword a little out of the sheath at the insult. "Do not tell me that is a goat speaking."

"Oh yes. Allow me to introduce Derce, son of William." Gandalf glanced down at the feeble little barnyard animal. "He's journeying with me until we find a solution to his... problem."

Was it too late to send them away into the night? I snuck a glance at Legolas. He was still staring at Gandalf, enraptured. Evidently it was.

Sighing softly, I turned away from the ridiculous scene and set to cleaning my sword; it was the first time I would consider myself the practical one in any situation.

I proceeded to tend to the weapons while Legolas guided the wizard to a comfortable patch of earth besides the fire and exchanged pleasantries. The goat trotted primly at Gandalf's side, his cloven hooves barely audible against the cushioning ground.

Withdrawing into myself, I polished with an automatic motion, not really thinking about it. It began to lull me, the familiar action reminding me of better times, times when I had more sleep, if not anything else.

"Your realm is well...expect of course, the Heseköl." Gandalf's voice, full of importance, lowered cautiously. Legolas was leaning forward intently, his expression a cold, unreadable mask.

This was more than a little absurd. Wiping a smear of dirt off the blade of my knife, I mumbled under my breath in Sindarin, voicing my doubts.

"Jevryn, this affects you more than anyone here." Gandalf called, his tone suddenly serious.

I ceased my cleaning and looked up, glaring at him through the fuzziness in my vision. "If it affects me, I should have the choice of whether I want to listen or not. And, frankly, I do not wish to waste away on another wretched quest if it is anything like the past few days."

I could feel the heat of Legolas' frustration, but I ignored it, possessing no desire for a fight, even as he said with his voice hard as stone. "They are a very real threat. As illogical as they may seem, a threat is a threat, no matter what conceives it."

"Quite right." Gandalf gave him an approving nod. "And Jevryn, your obstinate attitude does you no good." His spoke heavily, his voice wrought with a warning.

I did not deign to answer, instead rising, staring off into the ebony horizon. "I shall return before the peak of the moon's rise." Then I strode off without a backward glance, the sigh of the whispering night air swirling around me. I paced well away from the fire, wearing down the grass underfoot with a fervor.

I could not do this. I could not play this role of the heroine, I wanted nothing to do with this. And yet I could not leave the prince, even if I wanted to, it seemed. Who did they think I was?

"Jevryn." The lilting tenor of Legolas' voice rose gently in the still air, and I glanced over at him, too weary to feel any more anger.

"Legolas." I responded, watching his blurry form. He stood, shoulders back and hands clasped in front of him placidly, watching me appraisingly, as if he was examining a fine piece of armor he was considering bidding on. His frustration was apparently gone, and replaced with haughtiness that I suspected he'd inherited from his father.

"What do you expect of me?" The words exploded from me desperately, and I took a step forward on trembling legs. "I understand I was the instigator, it was I who wished you dead, but now I wish nothing but your absence from my life!"

Legolas didn't stir, although his gaze flashed cobalt fire. "You know what occurred in the battle. We are destined to fight together."

"Against these creatures of myth, the Heseköl?" I narrowed my eyes in derision. "I have fought the majority of the evil in Middle Earth, and I have yet to encounter these."

"They are unknown to the elves too."

I knew what he was going to say. "And yet you fight them."

"It is our duty to our kin and our land." He made it sound so simple, when I was fully aware it was not.

"I have no fealty to either of those." My voice faded away, lacking my usual self-assurance in my disturbed state of mind.

"You do, Jevryn." His accent, the same one I had, rolled over my name, enhancing the Elven sound of the syllables. "What your parents did should not have affected you. I apologize for my father's rash actions. You have always been linked to the land, driven into it." His voice carried an assortment of emotions; sympathy, sorrow, anger, regret...

"My parents..." I stared at him, too stunned to move. In his face, the way he moved, I saw the elf who had saved my life, the elf I was set on slaughtering. Legolas held no grudge to what my parents tried to do to him and his family, unlike me. "They almost killed you, Legolas."

"And Thranduil, yes." The prince inclined his head in even accordance.

"They betrayed your race, spied for Sauron, the most horrible and dark of all evils." I continued in a detached voice, barely realizing what I was saying. "And I am their flesh and blood."

Legolas gazed at me. "One cannot alter the past, Jevryn, but there is hope in the future."

I blinked, forcing myself to focus. "Yes..."

His stare was riveting, and I found myself trapped, returning his gaze silently. "I understand a betrayal of this magnitude will not be resolved over the course of weeks, perhaps years, but know this; your anger will only come between you and the end of your suffering."

I averted my eyes away from the intensity of his expression and spoke, voice flat. "I will try." Still avoiding looking directly at the prince, I began walking back. I could not bring myself to promise my success; he did not have enough of my trust. I did not know if he was being sincere.

As I headed back to the fire, I noticed the conversation had left me light-headed, like I was walking in a dream. It had felt surreal; someone forgave me, pardoned me. Not as if I had been begging for someone to relieve me of my- for lack of a better word -guilt, but it was unexpectedly soothing.

Nevertheless, I was not partial to being reminded of my parents, the first murderers of Elven-kind. I felt an uncomfortable prickling of memories I had tried so hard to forget and a simmering fury begin to grow within me, obliterating the peace Legolas had given me. Those hateful elves destroyed my life when it had barely begun, I did not stand a chance against the cruelty of the world...

A hand touched my shoulder and my head snapped around, nearly straining my neck, with a threat ready on my tongue. Legolas was standing at my side quietly. Once again, I could not look into his piercing eyes for more than a few heartbeats. The farseeing, bright irises told me more about myself than I cared to know.

My anger drained away, much to my resentment. I did not like him having this power over me. Oblivious to my bitter thoughts, Legolas smiled faintly, the expression warming his intent stare, and moved past me, calling out; "Mithrandir, we have returned."

"Talked some sense into that one have you? I'd watch out for her, she's sharper than half your kind." Gandalf nodded, his pipe bobbing in his mouth, smoke billowing out of it haphazardly.

I smirked to myself and settled down against the sloping trunk of the lone tree.

Legolas remained standing, his eyes fixed on the wizard and his pet goat.

"I assume you know of the Heseköl, Mithrandir."

"Know of them? I was among the first to recognize their presence in Middle Earth, and more specifically and certainly more importantly, their threat to the elves." Gandalf chewed on the stem of his pipe thoughtfully.

"They are real, then?" I inquired, not enthusiastic to display my ignorance, but I wanted answers.

"Real? Yes. Natural, I should say not." Gandalf absent-mindedly ran a hand down the goat's silky back, to which Derce bleated indignantly and butted the old man's hand with his budding horns. The wizard glanced down, but otherwise didn't react. "It's my opinion that they were forged by Sauron." The very name chilled the air, naming a horror that was often best left forgotten.

"For the sole purpose of killing the elves?" I questioned further, my spine shivering.

"That we are unsure of, but on the whole, we believe so." Gandalf looked at me from under bushy eyebrows. "As I'm sure Legolas told you, their original whereabouts are unknown, but the entirety of Middle Earth has been searched to no end." He checked himself. "Well, being searched as we speak."

"I assume you were searching yourself." I didn't need to ask (how else would a wizard meet a talking goat if not on some sort of journey?), but it was rather amusing to speak with the wizard.

"Yes. Then I came across Derce and decided I would help him."

I looked at the disagreeable goat in mocking mirth. "Indeed." He snorted toward me and pawed at the earth aggressively.

"I have heard speculations from Lothlorïen that the touch of the Heseköl renders a being helpless." Legolas spoke up. "Is this true?"

"To pure souls, the Heseköl's touch can do terrible things, yes." Gandalf affirmed. He tipped his head back, looking at the stars, then glanced back at us, blue eyes twinkling in a mischievous manner that I was not sure I liked. "I believe that is enough questions for tonight. You both will need your rest if you wish to accompany Derce and I tomorrow."