Chapter 25 Family

Most of the dwarves chose to congregate at the front of the ship, but Elwen hung back. They spoke quietly of plans for when they made it across the lake, but her mind was too full of the past twenty-four hours to concentrate. In such a short amount of time, Elwen had found out she was some lost princess, that she had a family who might never approve of her choices, and found herself engaged to a king. Holy crap.

Not to mention the orcs still hunting them. She didn't want to think about the orcs.

She found herself leaning against one of the abandoned barrels toward the rear with the bowman, the first human she'd seen since coming to Middle-earth. She wondered if that was why she found him so familiar, but something told her that wasn't quite right. As hard as she fought the urge, she couldn't keep her eyes from finding him where he stood steering the barge with quiet confidence.

It was impossible, she knew it was, but somehow Elwen felt that she knew him. When she looked at him, she got the same feeling she'd had wandering through the trees in Rivendell. A hint of the past flickered at the edge of her memories. She felt more than remembered.

"You're staring," said the stranger who wasn't a stranger. She quickly turned away and muttered an apology.

She tried to look anywhere but at him, so her gaze fell on Kili. Most of the other dwarves were deep in conversation, but Kili was quiet, his gaze far away and face white with pain. They had cleaned and bound his wound as best they could, but it was too deep. It would take a long time to heal, and they would be lucky if it didn't grow infected.

She was considering going to his side when she sensed eyes on her.

"Now who's staring?" she said lowly, eyes narrowed.

"I'm trying to decide if you're an elf or not," said the man with a closed lipped grin.

"Why does it matter to you what I am?" Her shoulders stiffened.

"I don't suppose it does," he replied with a shrug. "But it is curious. I've never seen an elf travel with dwarves before. I very much hope that I am not harboring a fugitive from the Woodland Realm."

His tone was teasing, but his dark eyes were sharp and perceptive. Hunter's eyes.

The statement was almost enough to make her laugh. Almost.

"I'm not a fugitive," she shifted uncomfortably. Not exactly. "I'm half-elf, if you must know."

The bowman's head whipped up.

"What did you say?" he breathed

"Um, I know half-elves aren't common, but-"

"You can count on one hand how many half-elves have been born in the last age."

Elwen started. That rare, huh?

"How do you know so much about elves?" she asked. Now it was her turn to be curious. "Who are you, exactly?"

"I'm called Bard," he said, his eyes growing hard, "and you can say that my family has had…dealings with the Woodland Realm."

By his tone, Elwen guessed that these dealings hadn't been all rainbows and butterflies.

"So you know the king?" she asked reluctantly.

Bard's voice darkened further. "Yes, I know King Thranduil."

Guess dear old dad isn't popular anywhere, Elwen thought wryly. That thought made her far happier than she should have been.

Bard looked at her full in the face for the first time since she'd climbed aboard his barge. He audibly gasped when his eyes found hers.

"What are you called?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

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

Bard's face went white as Kili's, as if he'd been dealt a great shock.

As if he'd seen a ghost.

Bard did his best not to gape openly at the girl. There she was, sitting not a stone's throw away, but he couldn't make sense of it. A half-elf woman with those eyes and that name. Gods, how long had it been since he heard it spoken aloud. Elwen.

He'd thought of her every day for the past twenty-five years. When his first child had been born, he couldn't help but wonder what Elwen would have been like playing with her cousin. What would she look like, who would she act like? Would she be tall and graceful like her father's people, or small and simple like her mother? Would she have good humor, or a habit for melancholy? She'd be smart as a whip, he never doubted that. He'd hoped that she would be kind.

But in twenty-five years, no matter how he imagined her, he'd never imagined her alive.

Alive, seemingly healthy and strong, and in the company of thirteen dwarves and a hobbit.

The dwarves would bring trouble, he was sure of that. The holes in the barrels had been a dead giveaway as to the fact that they were running from something. Had it been the elves who attacked them, or someone else? How likely was it that their foes would follow them all the way to Lake-town?

Bard had his children to consider. What he should do was turn around and drop them right back where he'd found them. If he were the unscrupulous sort, he'd take their coin and betray them to the first guard they came across. But he wouldn't do either. The old dwarf had Bard's measure; he and most of the town's folk had fallen on hard times thanks to the Master and his greed. He needed the money and wasn't in the habit of taking what he did not earn. Nor did he betray those to whom he gave his word.

And besides, he thought, giving the girl another glance. I've got family to look after.

She was beginning to look at him strangely, and he did not want to draw the attention of the dwarves. It was possible they did not know who they traveled with. It was possible she did not know. There were too many questions that he couldn't begin to know how to ask. So he simply looked at her and smiled.

"Well met, Elwen Greenleaf," he said. And when he smiled, her face filled with recognition. She knows my smile, he thought. She knows it as well as she knows her own.

"Well met, Bard of Laketown," she replied, sounding a bit mystified.

He watched her go after she excused herself and slid between the barrels to the front of the ship. He couldn't look away in fear that she would vanish like the specter she surely was.

"Watch out!" one of the dwarves shouted. The one with the silly hat.

Pillars of an ancient city now lost to the lake loomed above in the fog. Bard, of course, knew exactly when they would appear and steered them to safety quickly enough. The dwarves looked on in awe.

"What are you trying to do, drown us?" growled one of the dwarves. His hair was long and black, and he had a warriors build about him. He was also the one the other dwarves seemed to look to as their leader.

"I was born and bred on these waters, Master Dwarf," Bard threatened cooly. "If I wanted to drown you, I would not do it here."

Thorin eyed the bargeman. He did not like needing to rely on this man in order to make it across the lake. He didn't trust him, and it was not only because he was a stranger.

The man had thought Thorin did not notice, but he did. And he did not like the way the man had looked at Elwen. As if he knew her. The last time that happened, they had all wound up locked in a dungeon. It wasn't her fault, but it still made him wary.

"Oh I have had enough of this lippy lake-man," spat Dwalin, who was leaning up against one of the barrels. "I say we throw him over the side and be done with it."

"Oh, Bard, his name's Bard," Bilbo drawled, annoyed with Dwalin and his lack of manners, no doubt.

"How do you know?" Bofur asked.

"Ah, I asked him."

"I don't care what he calls himself," replied Dwalin. "I don't like him,"

"You don't like him because he got the drop on you," Elwen muttered. Fili snorted.

"We do not have to like him; we simply have to pay him," Balin reasoned. "Come on now, lads, turn out your pockets."

A few grumbled, but everyone did as they were told, including Elwen. Thorin raised an eyebrow; she'd won herself quite the pile of gold thanks to the small wagers they'd made throughout the journey. She caught his eye and winked.

"How do we know he won't betray us?" Dwalin asked Thorin lowly.

"We don't," was Thorin reply

"There's, um, just a wee problem," said Balin nervously. "We're ten coins short."

Thorin crossed his arms and stared down at their coin keeper. "Gloin," he said heavily. "Come on, give us what you have."

"Don't look to me," Gloin replied. "I have been bled dry by this venture! And what have I seen for my investment? Naught but misery and grief and…"

Thorin looked into the distance and that's when he saw it. The company stood and saw Erebor rising out of the fog, closer than any of them had seen in sixty years. Even Kili pushed himself to his feet, despite the pain. It was a wonder, watching the youngest of their company look upon their ancestral home.

Elwen appeared at his side and slid her hand into his, squeezing lightly. He looked at her and smiled. They had made it, together. He was going to take her home.

"Bless my beard," said Gloin, who then shoved a jingling sack of coins at Balin. "Take it. Take all of it."

Bilbo coughed and motioned toward Bard, who jumped from his place at the rear of the barge.

"The money, quick," he demanded. "Give it to me."

"We will pay you when we get our provisions, but not before," Thorin said firmly.

"If you value your freedom, you'll do as I say. There are guards ahead."

Balin looked at Thorin questioningly.

"We can trust him," Elwen whispered softly, and Thorin eyed her. "I can't explain how I know, but I do. Give it to him."

After a moment, Thorin nodded to Balin and told the old dwarf to do as Elwen said.

As Bard looked out into the fog, Thorin heard the sound of men yelling in the distance. They all turned, and could see what looked like a small dock rising from the water. A check point in the center of the lake.

The company quickly scrambled back into their barrels. This time, as they were going to be ducking down and hiding, Thorin and Elwen sought out their own instead of sharing.

"Shh, what's he doing?" Dwalin asked from his barrel.

"He's talking to someone," Bilbo replied, as he was the only one with a hole in his barrel big enough to see through. "He's…pointing right at us!"

Thorin inwardly swore.

"Now they're shaking hands," said Bilbo, panicked.

"What?" Thorin growled.

"The villain!" Dwalin exclaimed. "He's selling us out."

"Shut up," Elwen snapped. "Just watch."

Thorin was preparing to leap from the confines of his barrel when he heard the creaking of what sounded like some kind of wheel and then…

Fish. Cold, dead fish raining on their heads. When the avalanche of scales and slime ceased, Thorin heard Elwen say, "Someone is going to die today."

"Let's just hope that someone isn't you," said the lake-man, his voice far too amused for Thorin's liking.

Bard hadn't expected the dead fish to go over well, which was why he didn't warn the party beforehand. It had been funny listening to them groan and grumble as they were pelted with dozens of fish, seeing as how the bald tattooed one had surely been planning to toss him off his own ship.

But the groaning only grew louder, and the closer they grew to town, the more dangerous their subterfuge grew.

"Quiet!" Bard kicked the nearest barrel. "We're approaching the toll gate."

Lake-town, or Esgaroth, had been built in the center of the Long Lake, standing on pillars that had been sunk into its bed. It was an ideal location for defense, as it was surrounded by cliffs and high mountain ranges. An enemy could easily be spotted coming to them by boat or by the one loan dock that connected them to land.

Bard loved the people of Lake-town, but sometimes felt trapped there. That was one reason they had taken to learning all they could about navigating the lake when they were young in order to make it to the woods to hunt. She always went with him, and they would run through the trees and enjoy the feeling of solid ground beneath their feet. She was a far better shot with a bow than he, and they rarely left the forest empty handed

That was where she met King Thranduil, and both of their lives had been changed forever.

Bard shook his head to banish the memories. The barge was approaching the gate and he needed his wits about him.

"Halt!" shouted the gatekeeper. "Goods inspection! Papers, please!" the man paused upon seeing who had ridden up. "Oh, it's you, Bard."

"Morning, Percy."

"Anything to declare?" Percy asked.

"Nothing, but that I am cold and tired, and ready for home." Bard produced a sheet of paper from his coat pocket and handed it to the gatekeeper.

"You and me both," Percy said, going into his office briefly to check the paperwork. He soon reappeared, saying "There we are. All in order."

As Percy was reaching out to hand Bard the paper, a black clad figure sprung up behind him.

"Not so fast," said Alfrid, adviser to the Master of Lake-town and resident pain in Bard's backside. Bard knew his appearance could only mean difficulty. "Consignment of empty barrels from the Woodland Realm," Alfrid read. "Only, they're not empty, are they, Bard?" He tossed the paper aside as he and several of the town guards moved down the dock. "If I recall correctly, you're licensed as a bargeman, not a fisherman."

Alfrid plucked one of the fish from the barrel.

"That's none of your business," Bard replied coldly. He'd like nothing more than yank that fish out of Alfrid's hand and shove it right up his-

"Wrong," Alfrid smirked. "It's the Master's business, which makes it my business."

"Oh come on, Alfrid, have a heart," Bard tried to reason. "People need to eat!"

"These fish are illegal," Alfrid announced, tossing the fish in his hand back into the lake. "Empty the barrels over the side."

"You heard him," growled Braga the guard. "Into the canal. Come on, get a move."

Four guards entered the barge as Bard looked on helplessly. Once they started tipping over barrels and finding dwarves, Bard wasn't sure he'd be able to talk himself out of that particular predicament.

"Folk in this town are struggling," he said, warily looking on as the guards began hauling barrels across the deck. "Times are hard. Food is scarce."

"That's not my problem," Alfrid said carelessly.

"And when the people hear the Master is dumping fish back into the lake," Bard turned to Alfrid, speaking lowly. "When the rioting starts, will it be your problem then?" Bard did his best not to turn toward the sound of splashing.

"Stop!" Alfrid held up a hand, reluctant. The guards grunted as they hauled the barrels back into an upright position. "Ever the people's champion, eh, Bard? Protector of the common folk. You might have their favor now, bargeman, but it won't last."

Alfrid stalked away, and Bard breathed a bit easier when Percy called for the gate to be raised.

"The Master has his eye on you!" Alfrid whirled around and snarled as Bard steered his boat through the gate. "You'd do well to remember we know where you live."

Bard rolled his eyes.

"It's a small town, Alfrid; everyone knows where everyone lives."

Elwen had almost gotten used to the smell of stinky ass fish when she felt her world tilt sideways.

She found herself sprawled out on Bard's deck in a bed of fish. She was covered in scales and slime and smelled so badly that she was sure Thorin would take one whiff of her and dive into the lake. She smelled herself and nearly did just that.

"Get your hands off me," Elwen heard Dwalin snarl when Bard reached into his barrel to try to help him. Poor Bard; none of them were likely in a great mood after spending any amount of time covered in fish.

There was man standing on the deck, watching gape mouthed as dwarves, a Hobbit, and Elwen emerged from the fish barrels, all looking a bit worse for wear. She tried to smile, but her lips felt slimy and she thought she might vomit instead.

"You didn't see them, they were never here," Bard said, and Elwen saw him slip the man a coin. "The fish you can have for nothing."

"Stay close," called Bard, rushing down the dock.

They followed him into the town proper. Elwen glanced around and saw people moving two and fro, carrying baskets of fish and mending nets, and everyone looking as though they had seen better days. Elwen was willing to bet that the man on the dock whom Bard had paid needed the fish almost as badly as the coin.

"Follow me," Bard said, pressing on.

"What is this place?" Bilbo asked, sounding nearly as fascinated as he did fearful. Everything must have looked so big to him.

"This, Master Baggins," Thorin replied, "is the world of Men."

The way he said it made Elwen think that he did not have a very high opinion of the world of Men.

They rounded a corner and found themselves in the open and in the hustle and bustle of the town. There were people everywhere, all far too busy with their duties to pay too much attention to them. Elwen glanced around in awe, as this was the only town she'd been in thus far on their journey that was full of people. She wondered what these people would see if they looked at her. Would the recognize her as part of their race, or would they see only an elf woman?

"Keep your heads down and keep moving," Bard said, ushering them all forward. "Quickly now."

Elwen looked down a lane and saw what must have been the market place. She wondered if she would be able to go back for a visit once the dragon was dispelled.

"Halt!"

Elwen's head whipped up. Down the lane, one of the guards with a stupid looking helmet began pointing and shouting at their group.

"In the name of the Master of Lake-town, I said halt!"

The company took off like a shot, weaving between stalls, Thorin leading the way. He stalled when at the end of an alleyway, another guard appeared.

"Get back!" Thorin shouted.

An all-out free for all was beginning. Elwen tried to stop them, but before she knew it, Ori was smashing a guard in the face, upending him completely. Another guard went sprawling over the leg of a dwarf, another was hit low by Balin and high by Thorin, and then Fili and Kili found a piece of rope and…well, there was nothing for it. They'd cause Bard no small amount of trouble, but this was a fight they were not going to lose.

Fili and Kili held the rope fast, and the guard screamed as he found himself flat on his back. When he tried to rise, Elwen smacked him in the face with a mop.

The townsfolk looked on as the company dragged the unconscious guards into various stalls. A middle-aged woman watched with a laughing smile on her face, and even leaned down to help Elwen haul one of the bodies away.

"We've no love for the Master's men," she whispered, winking at Elwen.

The company was tipped off to the arrival of more guards when the crowd of people dispersed and did their best to appear to be about their business.

"What's going on here?" one of them demanded, suspicious.

Thorin and Elwen exchanged a glance from where they were crouched, hidden in one of the stalls. She looked down at the leg of some kind of meat that Thorin was holding. He shrugged, and she made a face. Balin lifted the paddle he'd hit one of the guards with, ready to wield the weapon again if necessary. Great, she thought. There's guards after us and I'm the only one who's managed to keep their weapons. Maybe we'll just beat Smaug to death with a paddle and a frying pan.

"Stay where you are. Nobody leaves."

Elwen heard the guards booted steps. She unsheathed the knife at her belt slowly, just in case. She didn't want to kill anyone, but she also wasn't about to find what Lake-town had to offer in ways of a prison.

"Braga!" Bard said brightly. Elwen stiffened. She didn't want Bard being punished in someway because of them.

"You," growled Braga lowly. Elwen peaked around the side of her hiding spot and saw Bard standing alone facing several armed men. "What are you up to, Bard?"

"Me?" Bard asked. "Nothing."

In the stall next to her hiding spot, one of the guards began to stir. The woman who aided Elwen in hiding him nudged a clay planter pot off its shelf and onto the poor blokes face, sending him hurtling back into unconsciousness. The people of Lake-town must really hate this Master guy.

"Yeah," Braga said, clearly unconvinced. He pushed Bard out of the way and stomped toward the stalls.

A man laid a basket full of nets in front of the head of another unconscious guard, and another suddenly became covered in foliage. Elwen bit back a giggle. She rather liked these folk.

"Hey Braga," Bard said, pulling the man's attention back toward himself. Elwen had to stifle another giggle when she saw he was holding woman's undergarments. Thorin nudged her with his stick of meat, which almost made her laugh out loud. "Your wife would look lovely in this."

"What do you know of my wife?" Braga asked a bit stupidly.

"I know her as well as any man in this town."

Elwen's jaw dropped. Bard the bargeman, a smart-ass after her own heart.

Braga snatched the undergarments from Bard's hand and swatted him with them, shouldering his way back toward his men.

Elwen felt the tension in the air lift as the guards marched after Braga and out of sight.

They were careful to keep out of sight the rest of the way to Bard's home. They slipped through alleyways on quiet feet, avoiding people wherever they could. It was a good thing Bard was used to avoiding the Master's men, for trying to dodge them with a troop of dwarves on his heels was no easy feat.

"Da!"

Bard looked up when he heard his son Bain's voice. He was a thin lad of fourteen, his voice beginning to change from boys to man.

"Our house, it's being watched."

Bard had to think fast. How best to get the dwarves, Hobbit, and Elwen into his house without being seen?

The idea he came up with was not likely to make him more popular with the dwarves. Especially the bald, tattooed one.

The elaborate signals of the Master's men were not lost on Bard or his son. In fact, they all seemed a bit ridiculous. He wodered if the Master knew how utterly inept his men, and by proxy, he was at running the town? He must have had some inkling, if he was so threatened by Bard that he was having his family spied on.

Bard and Bain climbed up the steps leading to the front door of their modest little home, carrying an arm full of groceries they'd picked up on the way. Before going inside, Bard whistled, drawing the attention of the two men on the lake below pretending to fish.

"You can tell the Master I'm done for the day," Bard said, dropping an onion into one of their laps before going inside.

"Da! Where have you been?" Tilda, his youngest, asked as she ran into his arms.

"Father! There you are. I was worried," said Sigrid, before embracing him in kind.

Sigrid was his oldest, and though Tilda was nearly eight year her junior, they looked like twins. And just like their mother.

"Here, Sigrid," Bain said when she let go, handing her the leather satchel of food. He looked out the window to make sure soldiers were not marching to his door.

"Bain, get them in," he ordered, and the boy scurried off…to the toilet.

Three loud bangs on the wall. That was the signal. Dwalin would be first, and Elwen sorely wished to see his face as he lifted that big bald head of his out of the toilet.

She hadn't been thrilled with the plan, not at first. But Bard apologetically assured her it was clean enough, and she figured taking a small, all be it cold, swim might just be the trick to getting all the slimy fish guts off her.

"If you speak of this to anyone," Dwalin snarled darkly, to who Elwen was not sure, "I'll rip your arms off."

Elwen laughed and the rest of the company began filtering their way into Bard's home, Bain helping them out of the icy water.

"Da…why are there dwarves climbing out of our toilet?" asked a pretty young girl standing at the top of the stairs.

Elwen made her way upstairs and found herself in a cozy living space.

"Will they bring us luck?" asked a much younger girl, spitting image of the older.

"Quite the opposite!" Elwen said, doing her best to sound cheery though her teeth were chattering.

The little girl's eyes widened almost comically.

"Da! Da, there's an elf in our house!"

The boy, Bain, looked Elwen up and down. "Aren't you a little small to be an elf?"

Elwen looked at him flatly. "Half-elf, thanks."

The youngest girl gasped. "Is there such a thing?"

"I assure you, little one, that there is such a thing," Elwen said, reaching out and ruffling her hair a bit. "I am proof of that."

The first thing Elwen did was remove her socks and boots, placing them near the fire. She wiggled her toes and inspected them thoroughly for frostbite. It would be one thing for a dragon to kill her, but to lose toes to the cold? That's not what she signed up for.

"It may not be the best fit, but it'll keep you warm," said Bard as he was handing out clothes to the dwarves and Bilbo.

Elwen kept her clothes on and simply sat close to the fire, hoping to dry them off a bit. She smiled up at Bard when he wrapped a thick blanket around her shoulders. He smiled back at her, and once again she was struck by a sense of familiarity.

"Thank you very much," said Bilbo when Bard's littlest child, who had been introduced as Tilda, handed him a blanket.

Elwen looked up to see Thorin gazing out the window and rose to join him. She looked over his shoulder and saw he was looking almost longingly at a tower off in the town. There was some kind of weapon fastened to the top of the structure. She looked at her betrothed questioningly, as she'd never seen anything like it.

"A dwarvish windlance," he said, awe clear in his voice.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," said Elwen.

"He has," Balin said sadly, moving up behind them to get a better look. Elwen looked at him. "The last time we saw such a weapon, a city was on fire. It was the day the dragon came."

Elwen glanced at Thorin, who could not meet her gaze. His eyes looked far away, and she could only imagine the horrific scene he was reliving. Screaming and fire and broken buildings and bodies. She felt her eyes welling at the thought.

"The day that Smaug destroyed Dale, Girion, the lord of the city, rallied his bowman to fire upon the beast. But a dragon's hide is tough, tougher than the strongest armor. Only a black arrow, fired from a windlance, could have pierced the dragon's hide. And few of those arrows were ever made. His store was running low when Girion made his last stand."

"Had the aim of Men been true that day," Thorin said, looking at Elwen, "much would have been different."

"You speak as if you were there." Bard's voice was quiet, but his eyes were suspicious.

"All dwarves know the tale," Thorin replied as if it were obvious.

"Then you would know that Girion hit the dragon. He loosened a scale under the left wing. One more shot and he would have killed the beast," said Bain emphatically.

Dwalin chuckled. "That's a fairy story, lad. Nothing more."

Elwen was about to tell Dwalin he was far too old to be arguing with children when something across the room caught her eye. Sitting on a shelf was a hand sketched portrait encased in a simple frame made of light wood.

Elwen felt her insides freeze. She felt as though the front of her shirt had been ceased by invisible hands and began hauling her forward as she made her way across the room, pausing halfway. She was so focused on the picture, on what she saw, that she barely felt the blanket slip from her shoulders. She only became aware when a hand came down on her shoulder.

She looked up to see Bard. "Go and look," he urged, placing a hand on her back and guiding her forward.

Her senses narrowed. All she could feel was Bard's hand, and when they were standing right in front of the drawing, all she could see was the woman's smile. All she could hear was the pounding of her own heart.

Images flashed in front of her waking eyes. A woman with dark, earthy brown hair and laughing dark eyes. A voice singing a song Elwen had only heard in dreams.

It's her. It's the woman from my vision.

Her smile was toothy and fell somewhere between pleasant and predatory. Elwen had seen that same smile coming from Bard…and a million more times, coming from herself.

That's my smile. That's my facial shape, my nose, and lips.

"She was beautiful," Elwen whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, she was," said Bard, his voice achingly sad.

"Who was she to you?" Elwen asked.

What Bard said next broke something inside Elwen.

"My sister," Brad replied thickly. "My twin."

Elwen's legs gave way and an unexpected sob ripped from her throat. Bard caught her, keeping her from hitting the floor. The world tilted, and she found herself sucking in air hard and deep, feeling as though she could not catch her breath.

"Sigrid, a chair," Bard said. "Elwen has had a bit of a shock."

"Elwen?" the girl gasped, and Elwen heard the scraping of wood as she pulled a chair from beneath their kitchen table. "The Elwen?"

She felt herself being pushed gently into a chair. The dwarves, who had initially rushed to help her, were now all standing unusually still and quiet. Fili, Kili, and Thorin moved to her side, but the rest of the company hung back, staring at the picture in shock.

"Are you alright?" Thorin asked, brushing a stay piece of wet, potty-watter hair from her face. Elwen found that she could not answer.

"Da, what's happening?" Tilda asked, sounding fearful.

Bard didn't reply, just squeezed Elwen's shoulder again.

She took a deep breath, wanting to slap herself. Pull yourself together, you fool, she thought with difficulty. But it was too much. Finally, Elwen had found the limit in which her mind could be pushed.

It wasn't so long ago that Elwen hadn't even known that elves and dwarves and hobbits existed. She'd believed herself an orphan. She was no one. Now, everything she'd once thought fantasy had flickered to life before her very eyes. Now, she was a princess no longer lost. A king had fallen in love with her, and her father had all but disowned her, crushing her hopes of ever finding her family.

But now…now there was no going back.

I will never be no one again.

"I don't even know her name," Elwen said, looking at Bard and echoing the very words she had spoken to her father not so very long ago. This time, instead of being met with cold and distant eyes, Elwen was greeted by a smile so heartbrokenly sad, she found herself once again in tears.

"Brynn," said Bard quietly. "Your mother's name was Brynn."

Authors Note:

Can anyone really believe I'm getting a chapter only two months after my last?! I'd fully intended this chapter to be done by December, but the holiday season was mental this year and I feel as though I'm still recovering! I hope you all had wonderful holidays, no matter what you celebrated, and started off the New Year well!

Once again, thank you to everyone who has taken the time to favorite and follow this story! I am so glad to have so many readers who are enjoying my little hellion Elwen. Please please please don't hesitate to leave a review! I quite enjoy hearing from all of you. It really does help motivate me to write.

What do you think about this little bombshell? I'm curious to know your reactions! Did any of you see it coming? What do you think the future holds for our sass machine? I'm really looking forward to the next few chapters. It won't be long till we are into Part 3! I can't believe it, but I'm so excited to see what you all think about where I plan to take the story!

Shetan20: Thank you so much for the review! Hope you enjoyed, mate!

Alright, thank you again for reading and please drop me a review! I truly appreciate it!

Cheers- L