Disclaimer: See chapter 1

Sorry 'bout any grammar/spelling 'stakes!

Grimbeorn, son of Beorn, was beyond tired and well into exhausted. He had gathered honey today and- while the bees allowed him to willingly- it was still quite boring, not to mention a huge drainer of energy.

All he really wanted to do know was sit down and rest before he had to join his father for dinner.

While his father was long past his prime, he wasn't a weak and feeble person, as the elderly were prone to be. Though he couldn't do as much as he used to, he also didn't need to; he had a son to do it for him.

Grimbeorn bit back a groan as a knock sounded through the room. Who would be coming at this time of day? He shot up as he thought of another question. Who would be here, to begin with?

Standing, he walked to the door, letting his feet slid across the bare wood. Before he opened the door, he muttered under his breath- though it was loud enough for the person/people/animal/animals on the other side to hear him-,

"I swear, if this is you again, Logstin, I'll- "He cut himself off quickly as he opened the door a crack and realized that it was, in fact, not the annoyance known as Logstin; it was an old friend he had not seen in some time. He simply stood their gaping.

Rubah Foxson looked more exhausted than Grimbeorn had ever felt himself. Once it became clear that the son of Beorn was not going to speak nor invite them inside, Rubah broke the silence with a more sarcastic comment then Grimbeorn usually heard leave the man's mouth.

"Well, is that how you welcome an old friend, Grim? If your service is this bad, we should just go somewhere else-" Grimbeorn replied silently by throwing open the door and giving the human a pointed glare.

As Rubah entered, Grimbeorn recalled that he had said 'we' as a hooded and cloaked elf and the missing prince of Mirkwood filed in the house behind him. He, of course, recognized the younger prince, as Legolas would often travel the lands outside the borders of his home. Through Grimbeorn did not know him well, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that this elf was Legolas.

He shook himself, remembering his manners, and gave a little bow to the second elf.

"Welcome, Legolas of Mirkwood, your realm was believed you dead for many months." He felt a pang of regret spark in him when he realized that probably wasn't the best thing to say; the prince's cheeks were ashen, and the member of the royal family of Mirkwood looked a little guilty. "And" he turned to Rubah and the hooded elf- who's race he only knew from the thin, pointed ears that could be seen on the undetailed shadow of his face- who were standing next to each other. "aren't you going to introduce you to your friend here, Son of the Foxes?" Rubah cleared his throat and said,

"Of course. Grimbeorn meet Celebaelin of Lothlorien. Celebaelin, meet Grimbeorn, Son of Beorn." Celebaelin gave a solemn bow- not speaking a word, but his fingers tightened a bit around his once loosely held bow. Grimbeorn took note of that. Either Celebaelin didn't like him, or he didn't trust easily in general. Both could be possible, and he wanted to find the truth; that was simply his nature. Rubah started to flick his hand this way and that but it stayed at his side as if he was trying to be inconspicuous, and Celebaelin did the same. Perhaps they had a secret code that Rubah either hadn't mentioned to him before or hadn't existed before?

Legolas was, also, shocked by the introduction- though in a different way. He had assumed that Celebaelin was a Mirkwood elf, as his accent was that of a Silvan. Why would a Lothlorien elf have a Silvan accent? And, now that he thought about it, he knew almost all the elves in Mirkwood by name, and he had never heard of a 'Celebaelin' before. Celebaelin's story was getting more confusing and complex by the minute.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when the son of the leader of the Beornlings motioned to the chairs surrounding the hearth.

"Come, sit with me before I join my father for dinner."

"How is Beorn?" Rubah asked as he took his seat.

"Well, actually," Grimbeorn replied as he sat across from Rubah.

"That's good to hear. How are you, Grim?" Rubah questioned as he laid his chin on his clasped fingers, elbows resting on his knees.

"Please, don't call me that." Grimbeorn gave an exasperated sigh.

"Your father is Beorn. You are Grim." Rubah stated simply and Grimbe- Grim sighed.

"I have had this conversation a million times before," He said, resting his hand in his hands, "and for some reason, I don't think that I will be the victor this time, just like all the other times," Rubah smirked.

"You are quite right, my friend, quite right indeed." There was an almost awkward silence in the room and Grim took the time to glance around at his companions. Prince Legolas of Mirkwood was staring at the fire, eyes glazed and unseeing- lost in memories. Celebaelin of Lothlorien was gazing intently at his lap- afraid of something. Rubah was glancing around the room randomly- nervous for some strange reason. Grim cleared his throat a bit apprehensively- unlike his usual fearless and easy-going mannerism- before he said,

"Would you three like to join us for dinner?" Legolas decided that the flame was- apparently- not as interesting as he had originally thought and nodded. Celebaelin did not respond, but Rubah's lit up with a more brilliant smile than Grim had ever seen grace his face and replied,

"Of course." Grim gazed around the room again. The way Celebaelin and Rubah had been acting led him to believe that they knew each other well. Perhaps it was the Lothlorien elf that he had to thank for Rubah openness.

"So…" Grim started, leaning forward in his creaky seat, "what brings you here?"

"We came across Legolas and-recognizing him- decided to take him home. What we did not know, however, was that his kingdom thought him dead." Rubah sent the Mirkwood royal a pointed look, who flinched at his gaze.

"Yes," Grim explained, "Legolas went missing some four years ago in- what seemed to be- an Orc attack on his patrol. None of the elves survived to tell the tale of if that was what really happened, as there were no Orc bodies- strangely enough. Legolas' body was also missing from the battlefield. They could only assume that he had died somewhere else and they just couldn't find his body, or the Orcs had…" Grim tried and failed to stop the shudder that ran through his body, "eaten him." Legolas looked stricken, as did Rubah. Grim could not say about Celebaelin, as he had given no sign that he had even heard the conversation at all and his head was bowed. Even if it hadn't been, the shadow of his hood would cover any emotion that was showing on his face.

Sighing, Grim decided to press the issue on the second elf that was currently sitting in his father and his house.

"What about Celebaelin? Who is he?" The Lothlorien elf's head shot up. Rubah glanced at his friend. Celebaelin's quick motion had caused the hood to slip slightly and-that parried with the lit fire- Grim could see his eye's. They were panicked and pleading.

"I was born in Lothlorien, under the Mallorn trees of my home." Celebaelin began, shocking the Beornling with his Silvan accent. "Soon after I paused my thousandth begetting day, I was offered a position the guard. I accepted. The years passed. I was made a captain. In one of my patrols, we came upon a group of Orcs that were invading. We stood no chance, but we weren't going to let that stop us. I was the only survivor." Celebaelin's voice was lost the confident tone it had at the beginning and had grown softer and softer with every word. Legolas seemed shocked to Grim's eyes, though he couldn't tell if it was from the fact that Celebaelin had told the clearly personal story to a complete stranger or if he hadn't heard the story before. Rubah, too, looked stunned, though Grim decided that it was because he had shared the story- not that he hadn't heard it.

Grim, however astounded he was at the story, tended to look at things a bit more logically and found some obvious holes. First of all, why hadn't Lothlorien been destroyed since they failed? The Beornlings might have outdated information on some things, Grim was pretty sure they would know if one of the three last Elvish homes had fallen, especially if it was The Heart of all Elvendome! Also, that didn't explain why he was here with Rubah. Grim knew that it as a life, even if it was a white one. And it was one that Celebaelin seemed desperate to keep from the pitch of his voice and the quick kind of recap that said 'okay, now please ignore me'.

Suddenly, Rubah had a brazen smile on his face, though to Grim it looked as if it had been plastered on.

"What do you say we give your father a scare, Grim?" Grim smiled at that thought.

"I'd say that we better what sure he doesn't have a heart attack or I'm coming for your heads."

Author's Note:

I have an excuse for why I didn't publish; I was working on He was Different When he Returned, Very Different which is kind of like a prequel to this story and they do refer to it a bit, so you should go read it! (It's not done yet.)

I'm sorry if you didn't like Grim. I couldn't find anything on his personality, so I just made it up.

How did you like Grim?