Chapter 21 The Lost Princess

The Elves marched the company through the forest, which seemed to grow lighter the further away they were from the spot where the hideous spiders lay dead. Elwen tilted her face toward the sun and basked in what little warmth she felt through the green leaves.

They had chained the others but left Elwen's hands free, which she found odd. She was the one who had held a blade to their pretty blond boy's throat; if anyone should be bound, it was her. More than once she eyed the Elf marching beside her and wondered if it would do any good to try and make a grab for the knife on his belt. She held back, however, after Fili caught her eye and shook his head emphatically.

Fighting them would do little good. Elwen was Elf kind, yes, but these Elves had been training for centuries more than likely. While she might match them in speed, she could never hope to be their equal in skill with blade and bow. She bit back a curse. What good was she, belonging to some ancient line of Elves if she had not their skill in magic or combat? She felt helpless as they came to a bridge that would no doubt lead them straight into the realm of King Thranduil. The king who had turned his back on Thorin and his people during their time of greatest need. I should be able to get us out of here, and I can't.

When the Elves had chained the Dwarves and begun their march, Bofur had whispered to Thorin, "Where's Bilbo?"

The Hobbit had disappeared after the spiders attacked. Elwen had to believe he'd survived the onslaught and had remained hidden as the Elves descended upon them. She had to put her hope in him now, that he would find a way to rescue them once again. It seemed impossible; one Hobbit against the entire Woodland Realm, but if anyone could do it, it'd be Bilbo.

The gate was made of what looked like gray and blue stone, built as if it were covering the entrance to a cave. It wasn't exactly what Elwen had thought it would be. She wasn't sure what she'd expected, perhaps something more open like Rivendell. But when the blond Elf ordered the gates to be shut behind them and her eyes adjusted to the dimly lit cavern she found herself in, Elwen gaped unashamedly.

Just as the Elves of Rivendell had built their structures around the land of the valley, so had the Wood Elves. Their home was carved from rock and wood and dirt, a network of brides taking them to different levels of the subterranean cavern. Everything flowed with the structure of the land, and it was stunning in its complexity. Where Rivendell was elegant and fair, the Woodland Realm was rougher and truly one with the world around it.

Elwen felt a pinch in her chest, a longing she hadn't known she would feel. This was where I was born, she thought with certainty. These are literally the roots that bore me into this world. Would her family be here? Had she finally found somewhere to call home?

The blonde Elf ordered the Dwarves to be taken to the cells, all but she and Thorin. Kili and Fili shouted and pushed against their guards, but were eventually dragged away. She was fairly sure they were calling the Elves all manner of filthy names in Khuzdul, judging by the smirk on Thorin's lips as his nephews were taken away.

Elwen and Thorin were taken up steps with no railing onto a high dais surrounded by spires. To the king. She understood why Thorin have an audience, he was their leader. But why her? Why hadn't she been tossed into the cells with the rest of the company?

The blond Elf from the forest came to mind. His similar eyes, the way he had reacted when he'd heard her name. Had he known her? She remembered the strange sense of familiarity she'd felt when looking at him. Perhaps she'd already found what she sought. Perhaps…

Elwen stopped dead when they came to the dais. Sitting on a throne of carved curved wood just above them sat the King of the Woodland Realm. Thranduil. He was dressed in a floor length, ornate silver robe with tall leather boots, and a crown of twigs and autumn leaves. He descended from the dais in which his throne sat, long white blonde hair flowing down his back.

Elwen didn't say a word, just openly stared at the Elf male before her. She took in his hair, the shape of his face, dark full brows and hard line of his mouth. But it was the eyes that left her speechless. Almost colorless, like a blade of fine Elven steel. She knew that if she were to draw closer, small flecks of blue would become visible within their depts. Like the Elf in the woods. Like mine.

Elwen wanted to vomit.

King Thranduil paused in front of her, his eyes moving from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. His face didn't change, not so much as a wince or a raised eyebrow. She knew her face was like a book telling a story of shock and fear. So much fear.

The king's eyes swept to the Dwarf beside her. Thorin's deep blue eyes, so warm compared to the icy depths of the king's, were looking at her in concern. She shook her head, unable to speak. Her mouth felt like cotton, her tongue weighed down by words she did not want to speak aloud. Luckily for her, she didn't have to.

"Some would say a noble quest is as hand."

When Thranduil spoke, Elwen's insides felt shaken. His voice was deep and strong and thrummed with a power she could not deny. This person was ancient, his power significant.

Thranduil looked down at Thorin with slitted eyes.

"A quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself suspect a more prosaic motive."

He moved to stand behind her and Thorin. Neither moved nor spoke, just gave one another a look that spoke volumes. They were caught.

"Attempted burglary, or something of that ilk."

Thranduil moved silently, like a large cat stalking a deer. He loomed over Thorin, looking him in the face for the first time.

"You have found a way in." It wasn't an accusation. He spoke with certainty. "You seek that which would bestow upon you the right to rule. The King's Jewel; the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure." He took a step back. The smile that spread across his stony features sent a shiver up Elwen's spine. "I understand that."

Elwen's eyes narrowed just a fraction. She could see manipulation for what it was, and this guy was about to attempt to strike one hell of a bargain if he were trying to appeal to Thorin.

"There are gems in the mountain that I, too, desire," Thranduil continued, his voice dipping low. "White gems of pure starlight. I offer you my help." Thranduil inclined his head humbly, a gesture so fake Elwen would have laughed had she not felt so choked.

Thorin's lips curved upward ever so slightly, and he did chuckle a bit.

"I am listening," he said.

Elwen wasn't sure what he was doing, but she might have to bash him in the face with something if he was actually falling for this garbage.

"I will let you go…" Thranduil began, giving Thorin a significant look, "if you but return what is mine."

Thorin unfolded his arms and turned away from the king, as if in deep thought.

"A favor for a favor."

"You have my word," said Thranduil. "One king to another."

And that's where you lost him, Elwen thought as Thorin paused his steps, his shoulders tightening. She heard him take a deep sigh, and she shook her head. No deal for their freedom would be struck this day.

"I would not trust Thranduil," Thorin began, his voice growing loud and echoing through the cavern. "The great king, to honor his word, should the end of all days be upon us!" He turned and pointed an accusing finger. "You, who lack all honor!" He pounded his chest with a hard fist.

Elwen crossed her arms and watched Thranduil closely. She couldn't tell if his expression was one of shock, or pure rage. Either way, she was on her guard. If Thranduil lunged at Thorin, she'd be on him like a monkey on a cupcake.

"I have seen how you treat your friends," Thorin spat viciously, surging forward, sixty years of anger burbling to the surface. "We came to you once, starving, homeless, seeking your help. But you turned your back. You turned away from the suffering my people and the inferno that destroyed us! Imrid amrad ursul!"

Elwen wasn't sure what he'd said, but judging from Thranduil's reaction, she imagined it was something akin to 'Eat shit and die, pixie.'

The king leapt toward Thorin so fast Elwen barely had time to move. Even when she could react, she could not come between them. Thranduil was inches away from Thorin's face, speaking menacingly.

"Do not talk to me of dragon fire," he hissed. "I know its wrath and ruin."

Thranduil's face contorted for a moment, his body shivering, and Elwen saw what seemed like a glamour slip off the left side of his face. Elwen gaped in horror as a pit opened up on the Elf king's cheek, revealing muscle and bone. Burn scars stretched across his cheek and jaw, his eye turning milky and unseeing.

"I have faced the great serpents of the north!"

When he stepped away, his face was back to the polished stone he'd worn before. She blinked. Which one was his true face?

He started up the carved steps back toward his throne, turning to gaze down at Thorin malevolently.

"I warned your grandfather of what his greed would summon. But he would not listen." Thranduil turned, moving up the stairs. "You are just like him."

Elwen felt as though she had dragon fire in her veins at that moment, knowing what a blow that would be to Thorin.

Thranduil made a sweeping motion with his hands, and guards appeared on either side of them.

"The girl stays," Thranduil said carelessly, and the guard let her go and gripped Thorin's other arm.

"Elwen!" Thorin shouted as he was being drug backward.

"Thorin! I'll be alright!" she tried to tell him, but he was struggling too hard.

"Stay here if you will, and rot," said Thranduil from his throne. "A hundred years is a mere blink in the life of an elf. I'm patient. I can wait."

But Thranduil had lost his audience, for Thorin was no longer concerned with his words. He was struggling forward, refusing to leave Elwen without a fight. Eventually the guards got the better of him and drug him away, but only after three more joined the first two in their struggle. Elwen watched him go until he was out of sight and his voice was barely more than an echo.

When Thorin was drug bodily down into the cells, shouting and calling the Elven guards every foul word he knew in their secret language, Kili's heart sank. He was calling Elwen's name.

"Where is she?" Kili shouted over the echoing voice of his uncle, trying to get his attention. "Where is Elwen?"

He put his face near the bars and saw the female guard from earlier shut Thorin inside. Kili quite liked this Elf. Tauriel, he'd heard her called. She seemed to be in charge of the guards, and also seemed to be the only Elf with a sense of humor. She reminded him of Elwen in that way.

"She is with their king," Thorin said, and spat.

Several of the Dwarves swore. Fili kicked at the bars on his cell and Dwalin tried ramming them with his shoulder once more. But it was as Balin had said when they were first caged. These were the halls of the Woodland Realm, and no one would leave but by the king's consent. And the king has Elwen.

"We can't get to her," Kili said, sounding wretched. "If she needs us, we can't…"

He let the sentence drop. He'd never felt so helpless, so frightened, in all his life. Not when they'd nearly been eaten by trolls, nor when the orcs had them trapped in trees on a cliffs edge. As long as he could reach her, Kili felt sure of being able to protect her. He couldn't protect her trapped in a dungeon.

"Elwen is as tough as Dwarf forged nails," Dwalin said with confidence.

"Dwalin's right, lads," Bofur said consolingly. "She'll give as good as she gets. She always does."

Kili wondered if Thorin was remembering his split lip.

Kili knew Elwen could take care of herself. She was their equal, if not better, in combat, and didn't take guff from anyone. He knew she could handle herself, even without weapons. But that didn't quell the urge inside to run to her, to put himself between Elwen and all possible danger. It was an instinct he couldn't fight anymore. He loved her. She was his One.

It wasn't something he'd let himself believe up to that point. He tried to fight it for so long because he knew she wanted another. His uncle. His king. He'd gone along Fili wanting to claim Kin's Rights because it would mean protection for her once they reclaimed Erebor. But it was also to keep her always close, no matter who she chose.

"Did he offer you a deal?" Balin asked Thorin.

"He did," Thorin replied angrily. "I told him he could go ish kakhfê ai'd dur rugnu! Him and all his kin!" He shouted the last bit, the rather nasty swear echoing throughout the halls.

Kili vaguely wondered if any of the Elves spoke Khuzdul. He hoped not, because if they did, someone was definitely pissing in their supper.

The she-Elf Tauriel passed his cell in a blur of auburn hair and armor. He pressed his face to the bars and shouted, "Wait!"

She paused, looking down at him.

"Can you tell us if Elwen, our companion, is safe?" he asked. "What does the king want with her?"

"Our king's business is none of your concern," she said haughtily, peering down at him with narrowed eyes.

"It's my concern if it involves Elwen," Kili replied stonily.

"Don't bother, lad," Dwalin said from his cell. "Elves, they are unfeeling creatures. She will tell us nothing."

"Is this friend of yours unfeeling?" Tauriel retorted, offended.

"She wasn't raised by Elves," said Fili. "She was a little girl when-"

"Enough, Fili!" Thorin barked. "Elwen's business is her own. We will have to trust in her ability to look after herself."

Thorin sounded so different from his usual self, as if he were trying to hold back his emotions. Kili knew it was no easier for him to be separated from Elwen, to not know if she was in danger.

"Please," he whispered, and her eyes widened just a fraction.

Tauriel gave Kili a look he'd not seen on the face of any Elf, save Elwen. A strange tenderness mixed with sympathy. Perhaps she understood what it meant to be trapped and unable to help those she loved most.

The moment passed, and she once again lifted her chin to give Kili a baleful look.

"King Thranduil would never harm one of his own without just cause," she said loudly, so that the entire company could hear. Then lowly, she added, "Do not fear for your friend, Dwarf of Erebor, for she is far safer within these halls than you are."

Before Kili could reply, the Elf walked away without another word.

"What was that about? 'One of his own.' What does that mean?" Fili asked from one cell over.

"I haven't a clue," Kili said darkly, "but I don't have a good feeling about this."

"Nor do I, nadadith," said Fili. "Nor do I."

Elwen whirled back toward the throne and took a menacing step forward. A guard moved to intercept, but the king waved them off. All of her weapons had been taken, so of course she was no danger. She nearly laughed, imagining launching herself toward Thranduil and poking his eyes out.

"If you harm a single hair on any of their heads-"

"A substantial demand," the Elf king interrupted her threat loftily, "considering the abundance of hair on a single Dwarf. However, I can assure you that they will not be harmed."

Thranduil, King of Wood and Stone, stood and once more moved down the dais. Elwen wondered if this was how he got his exercise. He was as graceful as Lord Elrond, but his gait was far more predatory. She lifted her chin and met his gaze, refusing to be prey.

"Your name?" asked Thranduil lowly, pausing his steps mere inches from her.

"Elwen," she replied. "Elwen Greenleaf."

An intake of breath could be heard from the closest standing guards. The Elf from the woods moved onto the dais, causing Elwen to jump in surprise.

"Father, is this…" he paused, and Elwen started.

"You're the prince," she said, surprised. He inclined his head to her in greeting, then turned back to Thranduil.

"Is this her?" he asked, his voicing rising.

They looked at Thranduil, who jerked his head in the affirmative.

Elwen felt as though the floor had dropped from beneath her, sending her into some black void. Somehow, she had known. She'd known when she saw the prince in the woods. She'd known from the moment she'd laid eyes on the king.

"I saw you in a vision," Elwen said, her voice shaking. "You're my father."

She closed her eyes, forcing back the tears suddenly blurring her vison. When she was sure she would not weep, she turned toward the Elf who had captured she and her friends.

"That means you're my brother. What's your name?"

"I am called Legolas. Legolas Greenleaf."

The prince, Legolas, took a hesitant step toward her. He reached out and touched her hair with only the tips of his fingers. His silver-blue eyes were shining as he took in her face.

"You were named after me, in part."

Elwen's eyes widened. The depth of sorrow in his voice shook her to the core.

"You were a babe when I saw you last," he said softly. "You have grown." Elwen didn't know what to say, so she offered up a shaky smile. Legolas turned to his father then, eyes hard. "I was told my sister was dead."

Elwen reeled, shocked. "Dead?" she shrieked, looking to Thranduil. "You told him I was dead?!"

She realized yelling at a being that was possibly older and more powerful than Lord Elrond probably wasn't the best idea she'd ever had, but she didn't care. She looked back to Legolas and noted the grief etched onto his statuesque features and felt the sudden urge to embrace him. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined there had been someone out there who missed her, mourned her even. She had hoped, but never truly believed… I have a brother. A flesh and blood brother who loved me.

As Legolas openly stared at her, as if trying to memorize every slope and curve of her face, a pang of guilt shot through her. I already have a brother, she reminded herself, thinking of Fili. And they've put him in a cage.

Thranduil gave her one last look.

"Yes," he said finally, then turned his back to her, making his way silently back to his throne where he sat in with a fluid motion. "It seems the Lost Princess has finally returned."

"The Lost Princess?" she asked. When Thranduil had said it, he'd made it sound like a title.

"There were rumors, after your death was announced to the realm," Legolas explained. "Someone claimed to have seen you spirited away in the night. The people began to call you the Lost Princess after your name was…discouraged to be spoken."

Her name discouraged to be spoken? She gazed up at the king. Had he wanted to forget her so badly that he'd told everyone she was dead, then forbade even her name to be uttered? No wonder everyone was so shocked.

Something deep inside Elwen ached. She had wanted so badly to believe that her father was a good man, that Elrond and Gandalf's worries were for naught. But here she stood in front of him, a seemingly heartless creature. And the greatest enemy of those I have come to love most in this world. Gandalf had told her she might not like what she would find in the forest, and he had been right. Thorin could forgive her heritage, of being Half-Elf, but he would not forgive this.

When Thranduil looked at her, there was no love in his gaze that she could see. That was when she decided that being angry was far better than the hopeless ache threatening to take her legs from beneath her.

"Your death was a simpler explanation than as to what truly took place," Thranduil said, his voice deep and unfeeling.

"What did happen, Father?" Legolas demanded, but he was dismissed.

"There will be time enough for questions now that Elwen is back within our boarders."

"Oh," Elwen said, crossing her arms. "I'm not staying."

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. So, that's where I get it from.

"Oh?"

"As you are aware," she replied scathingly, "my friends and I are on a bit of a quest. We're also on a time limit, so if you could let us be on our way, that would be great."

Thranduil's face hardened, eyes narrowing.

"I have been preparing for your return for twenty-five years," the king drawled. "But I was not expecting you to be in the company of Dwarves. How did this alliance come to pass?"

Elwen felt her face grow hot with indignation. She didn't like the way he said Dwarves.

"That's none of your concern," she snapped. "You talk about them like they're dirt."

"They are beneath you," Thranduil spoke coldly. "You are a Princess of the Woodland Realm. I see now that you must be taught your place."

Elwen looked at the man sitting upon the throne and tried to reconcile the fact that this was the person who had sired her. There was no love in his eyes so like hers, and yet so different. She hoped that her eyes would never look so cold.

It was then she remembered Elrond's words to her. You would have turned into someone you would not recognize had you been raised in his halls. Suddenly, she felt as if she owed Elrond and Galadriel a great debt. They were right; had she been raised by this man, she would not be someone the Dwarves would be proud to know. And that meant more to her than anything.

"I didn't even know I was an Elf until a short while ago," she spat, venom dripping from every word. "I was raised human, an orphan, somewhere far away from here. These Dwarves, they welcomed me when I had nowhere to go and no idea who I was. One has claimed Kin's Rights. I am no more above them than you are."

Legolas rounded on her. "An orphan?" His face paled. "You never knew who you were?"

Elwen shook her head. "Not until I traveled to Rivendell with the company. The Lady of Lorien lifted the enchantment placed upon my memories twenty years ago, but much has been lost forever. Lord Elrond told me I might find answers in the Woodland Realm, but would say no more."

Legolas turned furiously to his father, a dark storm brewing in his eyes.

"Why was this done to my sister?" he demanded, and Elwen winced. It felt wrong, someone other than Fili calling her that. "Why wasn't I told?"

Elwen remembered what Beorn said about the Wood Elves being more dangerous than their kin. Seeing the wrathful look on Legolas' face, she believed it.

"You were not told," Thranduil replied evenly, "because I knew you would try to interfere with the White Council's decision. That could not be allowed, and so I let you and everyone else believe she was dead."

A sliver of emotion seeped into Thranduil's voice then. It was so little that she'd almost missed it. Had he let Legolas believe her dead in order to protect his son from doing something rash? And had this Elf, her brother, been so attached to her that he would have fought the White Council to keep her?

"But why did they send her away at all?" Legolas asked beseechingly. "Why did you allow it? There must be a reason."

Thranduil looked between herself and Legolas, and she saw what looked like a flash of pain cross his face.

"I was told you were meant for a greater future than I could offer," he said to her. His voice was a touch softer, quieter. "It was what your mother wished for you, and I could not refuse her." He paused for a moment. "You favor her."

The pain hit her like Dwalin's hammer, and she sucked in a sharp breath.

"I don't know anything about her," she admitted. "I don't even know her name."

She thought about telling Thranduil about the vision she'd had of a dark haired woman singing to her. Surely he would know if that had been her mother. Maybe he even knew what song she'd been singing. Had he sang to her too?

As quickly as the king had softened, his face closed once more. It was so fast, Elwen could practically hear a door slam between herself and her father.

"Tonight is the Festival of Stars," he said, his tone once more dull and emotionless. "I will tell you all you wish to know. A room will be prepared for you."

"What about Thorin and the others?" Elwen asked, hands on her hips.

Thranduil's eyebrows raised in surprise. "What about them?"

He had a thinned lip smile, and his eyes seemed to be daring her to defy him. This guy clearly doesn't know me. And he is not my king.

Challenge accepted.

"Release them," she demanded. "Or put me in a cell."

Thranduil's face filled with such a rage that she could almost taste it in the air.

"You would rather be locked away with Dwarfish filth," he sneered, sitting straight as a board, "than to celebrate a sacred night with your own people."

"They are my people!"

Elwen's words echoed throughout the chamber. When she peaked at her brother, he was looking at her with a mixture of wonder, fear, and a little hurt. She quickly looked away.

The cold fury in the King's eyes made Elwen go very still. It was the first time she'd felt true fear for her life since being escorted into the Woodland Realm. It occurred to her that this man, father or not, did not know her. He had no reason to love her, and he was potently powerful. For all she knew, Wood Elves killed their young when they became disobedient or rebellious.

She didn't look away, however. She kept her chin high, shoulders straight, and eyes on him. It was striking, how similar his eyes were to her own. But in the depths of King Thranduil's eyes was a hardness, a darkness that no light seemed to touch. She didn't need a mirror to know her eyes were not so haunted. What happened to you, she wondered. What wounded you so deeply?

"You seem quite loyal to these Dwarves. Thorin Oakenshield in particular," Thranduil commented, once again lounging lazily in his carved throne.

Elwen stayed silent, sensing a trap. Legolas was looking at her curiously now. He had seen firsthand in the forest how loyal she was to the Dwarf king.

"He seemed very concerned with your safety," Thranduil prodded. "I hear tell that Dwarves are very protective of their women."

Elwen bristled. Their women, indeed.

"Thorin is loyal to those who put their trust in him. He is a great leader of his people."

"And you consider yourself among his people?"

Elwen knew what she should say. She should be sucking up to the king, trying to keep her freedom and find a way to rescue the Dwarves. Or try to worm information out of him about her mother. Perhaps she should feel some kind of loyalty to the man who gave her life. But the only thing she knew about King Thranduil was that he had refused to aid the Dwarves, folk she had grown to love, in their most desperate hour. Yes, Elwen knew what she should say, as well as what she could not. Even if it means throwing away a chance to know my blood.

"I am loyal to the Dwarves of Erebor. They are my family, and I will not abandon them for a man who gave me away as an infant without so much as a fight!"

The last bit came out much harsher than expected. Maybe I've got some abandonment issues after all.

She wasn't sure what she expected Thranduil's reaction to be. To shout? To strike her? Something in that vain. That's why the smile that slithered across his face like a serpent unnerved her to the very core.

"Guards," he said lazily. "My daughter wishes to be reunited with her friends, so I will grant this wish."

He paused, and for a moment she dared to hope. She dared to believe that perhaps Thranduil wasn't the monster she'd had described to her.

"Put her in the cell with Thorin Oakenshield. Let her be reunited with her king."

Elwen's heart plummeted. She didn't struggle when a hand gripped her arm and began dragging her away.

"Stop!" Legolas shouted, and to Elwen's surprise, the guard obeyed. "Oakenshield despises you! What do you think will happen when he finds out who she is? That he has had your daughter with him this whole time?"

Legolas gave her a beseeching look, and her gut twisted. He was right; Thorin's hatred for Thranduil was so deep, so engrained with the terrible events that took place sixty years ago, she doubted he could set them aside, even for her. She was the daughter of his most hated enemy, and that is all he would see.

Thranduil knew all of this, of course. It was the only reason to let them be together. It wasn't a boon, but a punishment.

"Give her weapons back," Thranduil ordered, then leveled her with a look. "Let us see if Thorin Oakenshield will return your loyalty."

Authors Note:

I am on a ROLL! I've been working really hard to be able to produce quicker for all of you. I have so many chapters planned that if I only produce a chapter or two a month, it would be well over a year before I'd finish this story and that just will not do. I've far too many other ideas to work on, so this needs to get finished.

This is the moment many of you have been waiting for. I think some people have been more eager for Elwen to meet Thranduil than to see who she'll even end up with (if anyone.) I truly hope I did this moment justice. I was so nervous to post this because it seemed a few of you were REALLY looking forward to this. I hope it meets expectations!

I am blown away by how many of you seem to be reading and enjoying this story. The story has 92 Followers and 62 Favorites, and I am just beyond grateful. I truly love writing Elwen's character and I am so glad that some of you have seemed to connect with her. Thank you so so so much for sticking with me and continuing to read about our feisty little Half-Elf.

Special thanks to those who take the time to review! Hearing from you is really amazing, and I truly appreciate the dialogue. I love hearing your thoughts and theories! Please consider leaving a review, even if it's just a quick hello. Would love hearing from you. I think I'm going to start asking a question at the end of every chapter for people to answer in the reviews. Maybe some people are shy and just need some encouragement to interact!

First question: How do you think Thorin will react once he finds out Elwen is the daughter of King Thranduil?

MissCallaLilly: Thank you so much! I truly hope it meets your expectations! Drop me a line and let me know what you think!

TheAngelthatfellromHeaven: Thank you so much dearie! Welcome to the story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and continue to read and review! You are truly appreciated!

Juliebigjewlzbrowning: I'm afraid I don't quite understand your question, love. This is an on-going story, and I've been updating fairly frequently as of late. Could you be more specific in your question?

Carre: Thank you once again, lovely! I enjoy your comments so much! 1. I hate spiders as well! Creepy crawly evil buggers with butt ropes. Hate them so much! 2. YES! That scene definitely sets up for their attitudes toward one another in LOTR! 3. That is SO interesting! I'm definitely going to be using some form of this swear. Can you tell me how to pronounce it your language correctly (Swedish, right?)? When I learn a swear in a language other than English, I like to say it in that language haha. . 4. I really hope you like the chapter and that it meets expectations! And kronjuveler! I'm using that someday haha. Your reviews are wonderful and educational!

One again, thank you all so very much. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I think the next chapter will also house a moment you've all been waiting for, but no spoilers!

Cheers,

L