Hello, and welcome to chapter Fourteen of Daughter of Middle Earth - Fellowship of the Ring. Many thanks to the people who have reviewed so far. The comments make me very happy!

So... Like I said in my last chapter, I had to find myself a new Beta. Well... I did! Mandi96. As you can probably tell by the length of the chapter, she gave me LOADS of amazing ideas. The details are better, and dialogue is amazing. I hope you all enjoy reading this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.

I look forward to reading your reviews! (hint, hint) ;)

Chapter Fourteen

Back in Rivendell

They could now go a little slower. Serian was nervous about returning to Rivendell, but she hoped that, maybe, her dreams would stop while they were there.

It took them the rest of the day to get there. When they arrived, the first thing that Sam did, was ask about Frodo. He was taken up to Frodo's room, and Serian went to the stables to take care of Silme. The other two Horses left when they got to the borders of Rivendell. When she was finished, she hurried up to see how things with Frodo were going. Along the way, she noticed things that had never even thought about before. Places where she and Jaris had walked; benches where they sat and talked; sounds they had both admired. She was bombarded with flashes of Jaris: walking, talking, laughing.

Shoving them aside, she focused on Frodo and finally reached his room. Elrond was there, of course, tending to Frodo's wound. Gandalf was also there. Serian asked him were he had been, and why he had not met the Hobbits as he was supposed to. He told her briefly about his imprisonment at the top of Saruman's tower, and his escape by eagle. This news concerned her, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "Are you? I heard about Jaris, but I could never find you to talk to you about it."

Serian stiffened a little, "I'll be alright," she told him, her voice clipped. "I'm getting over it."

Gandalf could tell that she was doing anything but getting over it, but he didn't push her. He knew she would just lash out like a cat when it was cornered.

Serian left the room, only glancing back at Frodo once before leaving. This was going to be a long several days.

It was three days before Serian heard that Frodo was recovering. At that point, people began to arrive in Rivendell. Serian went away to the stables where she could think. She was brushing Silme, and speaking to her in her thoughts, and telling her how difficult being here was.

Silme did her best to comfort her rider, but she was at a loss as to how to help. She wasn't an expert in two-leg emotions, and Serian was so broken inside that the girl was even harder to understand than most.

Serian was so caught up in her thoughts that it took Silme several tries to get her attention. "We are being watched." She whirled around, and saw... Jaris. Her breath caught, and her heartbeat quickened. Then she blinked and realized that it wasn't her Love. It was an Elf… the one from her dreams. Her heart plummeted and, for a moment, she just stood there staring at him. He had straight, blond hair that fell well past his shoulders, and grey eyes. He was dressed in green and brown, and wore light shoes rather than boots. Finally, Serian found her voice, rough though it was with suppressed tears. "Hello."

"Hello," he replied. He stared into her eyes for a moment and then gazed at Silme. "That is a beautiful horse. Is she yours?"

"Not quite." Serian said, "She's my friend." Serian turned and continued brushing Silme's black coat.

The Elf was silent for a while, just watching Serian work. Serian finally finished grooming Silme, and turned to leave the stall. "If you'll excuse me," she said, shutting the gate behind her, "I have some things to do." she did not specify what those things were, but instead hurried down the hallway.

Serian went to the glade where she had accepted Jaris. She sat down in the place that he had sat in. For a moment, she just sat with her arms around her knees, his voice echoing through her mind as she listened to him propose. If she closed her eyes, she could see him; see his dark hair and warm eyes and laughing face. A tear escaped from the corner of her eye, making a track down her cheek. She put her head down on her knees, and cried.

She sat this way for quite sometime, even after her tears had stopped. Slowly, she became aware of footsteps behind her. She lifted her tearstained face from her knees, and saw Strider coming across the grass toward her. "Are you okay?" he asked gently, crouching beside her. She nodded. "Would you like something to eat?" she nodded again. "Good, it is time for supper." he stood and held his hand down to her. She took it, and let him help her up.

The next day, Frodo joined them for supper in the hall. He was seated by a Dwarf called Gloin. Serian came in a little late and was dismayed to learn that the only empty seat was next to the elf from the stables. She sat down and focused on her own food, trying to ignore his presence beside her.

A few minutes into the meal, she heard a voice say, "That was a beautiful horse you were with in the stable."

She turned and, trying to be polite, replied, "Thank you."

He smiled brightly. "I don't think I've seen a breed like that before. Where did you find her?"

"In the woods. She was wounded, and I found her and helped her. Strider and I brought her here."

He nodded, "It's a very good thing that you did. The woods are very dangerous for wounded creatures. Especially in Mirkwood, where I'm from."

"Is it particularly dangerous there?" she asked.

"Let's just say that it's not advisable to leave the forest path. It's one of the oldest forests in Arda and there are some very dark places." he grimaced, staring at his goblet. "No matter how hard we try, there always seems to be something in the shadows." He shook his shoulders slightly, and turned back to her with a smile. "But I suppose that's true everywhere."

Serian wasn't sure what to say, "It is. That's how I found her, actually."

"She's very beautiful. We don't have many horses in Mirkwood, the paths are too narrow and it's faster on foot. Is she one of the Mearas? Or did she belong to the Rohan?"

Serian shook her head. "No, she's a Mist Horse."

His eyes widened "A Roch Hith? It's been a long time since I met one." He smiled slightly, "Would it be too much trouble to ask if you could introduce me to her?"

She shook her head, "No trouble at all," she replied. "I'm sure she would love to meet you."

"It would be an honor," he reached for his goblet and took a drink. "And the fact that she allows you to touch her is a sign of very deep friendship. You are very lucky."

There was a slight break in the conversation as plates were cleared away. "Oh Legloas, I'd love to get your opinion on this," the elf on the far side of Legolas put a hand on his arm, directing his attention away from Serian."

Serian took the opportunity to calm herself. Of all the things she had pictured this night being like, she had never expected this. How was she supposed to keep hating him if she got to know him? But that was just it. She couldn't. It was just impossible. She decided to try getting to know him a little better before she passed judgment.

"What do you think? Oh I'm sorry. I don't even know your name," Legloas smiled. "And I forgot to introduce myself. That's very rude of me. My name is Legolas."

"That's alright," she assured him. "I'm Serian."

"Lady Serian, we were just having a discussion about whether it's appropriate to keep written versions of our music and poetry. Most of us believe it to be unnecessary. What do you say?" Legolas shot a glance back at the elf to his left, who seemed to be glaring daggers at Serian.

Serian thought a moment, ignoring the glare. "I think it is important. I mean, who knows how much can be passed down orally. Eventually, things will start dropping away. Later generations might not like the same things as older generations, so they don't teach the ones they don't like to their kids. And it just keeps going until there's nothing left. But if you write them down, they can last much longer."

The other elf's lip curled slightly. "Yes, well that's just the response I would expect from a human." He turned away abruptly.

Legolas gave a short laugh. "I am so sorry about putting you through that. Mauril seems to forget that our stories, poems and songs are meant for more than elvish personal use. Just because he is a few hundred years older than I am, he thinks he knows all the answers."

Serian smiled a little. "It's alright. I've had my share of know-it-alls."

"Although," Legolas's eyes drifted off to the side, staring at the table, "I will say that he's right in one respect." His eyes returned back to Serian. "Reading a poem from a book can't even begin to compare with hearing it said aloud. When the moon is full, when the night flowers are blooming and the stars are crisp and clear: that is how they're meant to be told."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I can see why you would think that. Elves are very focused on that sort of thing it seems. But sometimes poetry is necessary to get you through the darkest of times. Even days that are dark." She trailed off as her thoughts drifted to her months of wandering.

Legolas's eyes flickered, but he decided not to press farther. He gave a small chuckle. "And there is the other side of the coin. Bright peaceful nights are all well and good, but the nights of Rivendell are not the night everywhere else. Should we deprive others of the power of hope and love that songs can bring? Do we let others stumble in the darkness when we Elves have stories and examples from history? Ah, but I think we already agree on this point. There's no need to go any farther. We still won't be able to convince old Mauril."

Serian brought herself back to the present and smiled. "I believe everyone is entitled to their own opinion."

"In that, you are most wise." Legolas gave a laugh and a wave of his hand.

The rest of the meal passed pleasantly as Legolas and Serian continued to chat. After dinner was over, Legolas stood up and turned to face Serian. "I don't know if you're aware of this, but there's usually singing in the Hall of Fire in the evenings after dinner. Care to join us?"

She smiled, "I'd love to." Serian stood and followed as Legolas led her into the Hall. She had heard about it during her previous visit, but she had never actually gone there. Jaris seemed to prefer taking her to private glades where they could talk and look at the stars in the cool, night air. This place was warm, and the fire cast flickering patterns on the walls. She spotted Frodo and Strider over by a figure in the corner. She wasn't close enough to hear what was being said, but Frodo certainly seemed excited.

"Ah Legolas," a familiar voice called from behind them. They turned to see Mauril approaching, a small smile on his face. "I hoped you'd join us tonight. You know that Aufindel is here for the Council and she's graciously decided to sing for us tonight."

Legolas's eyes narrowed slightly. "I always enjoy hearing the lady Aufindel sing. Did she bring her lute with her?"

Mauril's smile widened with a touch of malice. "Hadn't you heard? She gave up on the lute. She heard that the pipe was your favorite instrument and eagerly took up the task of learning it."

"Lady Aufindel is talented at whatever instrument that she picks up." The smile on Legolas's face never faltered, and Mauril's smile fell quickly.

"I suppose," Mauril continued smoothly, sneaking a side glance at Serian, "after several hundred years she still hasn't quite gotten the hint. To think that a mere Woodland elf thinks herself as worthy as a Sindar. Your father, the King, should really do something about it. It's become embarrassing."

Serian's eyebrow twitched upward at this news. Legolas was a prince? Not that it mattered to her.

The smile disappeared from Legolas's face and a steely glint came into his eye. "My Father and I believe that all Elvenkind are precious and worthy. In these dark times, we must all fight together as Elves. Now if you'll excuse me, Lady Serian and I want to find a good place to sit." He offered his arm to Serian. As they walked away, Legloas spoke over his shoulder.

"It seems you haven't heard the news, Aufindel was betrothed to my father's cousin Danilas a year ago and they are going to announce the wedding date soon." He smirked slightly. "Maybe I'll see you at the wedding."

Serian took his arm and followed him as they walked away, smiling at his jab back. "That was good," she told him, still smiling. "Somehow I get the feeling that was directed at me."

Legolas looked at Serian with surprise. "Do you think so?" He frowned slightly. "It's possible. It's been such a long time since people were gossiping about Aufindel and me that I wondered why he would bring it up. I apologize for once again bringing you into one of our petty rivalries."

"It's alright," she assured him. "Does that happen a lot? People trying to pair you with someone?"

Legolas gave a short laugh, "my father especially." He led her over to a wooden bench, close enough to the fire to keep them both warm. "It's only to be expected. We elves are not very prolific when it comes to bearing children. As the years go by, more and more of us journey to Valinor." Legolas smiled sadly. "My father thinks we're a dying race."

Serian sat down on the bench. "I hope not. I guess that means you haven't had to deal with an arranged mariage, then?"

"I thought to marry once," Legolas gazed at the flickering flames, the light casting strange shadows on his face. He was lost in thought.

"What was her name?" she asked gently.

"Tauriel," he breathed softly.

"That's a beautiful name," she remarked, not sure what else to say.

Legolas smied at Serian. "But it wasn't meant to be, and time moves on. All we can do is live each day as it comes."

She nodded, "I know what you mean. I've had my own share of love problems."

"I'm sorry if I scared you earlier," Legolas lent back slightly on the bench and threw Serian a sidelong glance. "Some humans are unaccustomed to the sudden appearances of Elves." He grinned. "It's not exactly something we can change. Unless we were to start wearing bells around our necks."

Serian shook her head. "You didn't scare me. I just..." she took a breath to compose herself. "You reminded me of someone. Where you were standing... the circumstances..."

Legolas's grin dropped quickly. He looked at her intently, and nodded slightly. "It's amazing how that happens sometimes. Memory is both a blessing and a curse; often it depends on how we choose to look at it."

Serian nodded, her eyes misting a little. "Sometimes. Lately it's been more of a curse. It seems as though all the good memories are soured by a bad one and turn to ashes." She stood and walked a couple steps away to compose herself. Bilbo had started singing, and his voice helped calm her.

Legolas stood up and faced her. "Memories are not objects that can be weighed and measured, labeled 'good' or 'evil'. They are experiences that shape and form us. And even though they may be ugly and painful, it is for us to decide on how we let them affect us."

She looked up at him, into his grey-blue eyes. "You're older than you look." She ducked her head again, blushing. "Sorry, that was rude."

Legolas laughed. "But it is true, and you owe me some rudeness for bringing this topic up in the first place." He bowed his head. "I will leave you to the music, I have some business to discuss with Elrond." He started to turn away, and then stopped.

"If you'll allow me some further rudeness," he said gently, "I'd like to give you some un-asked-for advice."

"Of course."

"Human life is short. Even at your young age, you have so few years left. Don't waste them. You can choose to let this darkness swallow you up, forgetting all the pleasure and reveling in the pain you feel. Or you can accept that every day both good and bad things happen. It is a part of being alive, and it's how you know that you are alive. Why don't you start by trying to remember the first time he made you laugh?" Legolas bowed again, and walked away.