Hello again, my faithful readers!

First and foremost, thank you all for your continuous (or new) support of this story. I'll update it when I can, but until then, I humbly ask that you be patient with me. My desire to finish and post this chapter came shortly after receiving my first shot of the Pfizer vaccine, and for the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful about the future.

Also, to answer "Captnshcick58's" question about what time frame this story takes place in - you'll just have to wait and find out. ***wink, wink***

And now, without further adieu...

Chapter 6 - Aderyn

I awoke to the sound of someone entering my room on quiet but purposeful feet. "Good morning, my lady." It was Belwen - a beautiful, red-headed woman who was to be my lady-in-waiting for the duration of my stay, or so Legolas had informed me the day before.

With a tired groan, I rolled over onto my back, and opened my bleary eyes. "What time is it?"

"It is a quarter past eight," Belwen poured a pitcher of water into the ceramic bowl atop the nightstand. "And the ernil will be expecting you for breakfast soon."

I blinked. "Who?"

"The prince," she clarified.

"Oh." I slowly sat up. "Is that what he's called in your language?"

"No," Belwen said, approaching the ornate dresser across from my bed. "My native tongue is that of the Nandor."

...Ok, then. "So your kind... speak Nandor?"

"My kind speak many languages," said Belwen as she pulled out a beautiful, but simple, emerald dress from the dresser. "But yes, we - the Silvan - speak Nandorin."

So there were different elvish clans within this strange world. Interesting. "And what is the common language spoken in this kingdom?"

"Nandorin, Sindarin." She carefully set the dress atop the rumpled covers of my bed. "For now, we shall continue to speak Westron."

"Westron?"

"Also known as the 'Common Tongue.'" Belwen stood in front of me, and titled her head. "Do your people not call it that?"

"I...," I swallowed and cleared my throat. "We call it 'English' where I'm from, but I'm also fluent in Portuguese, and can speak a little Uto-Azetecan."

"I've never heard of those languages before," she gave me a curious look. "Where are you from, exactly?"

I lowered my eyes from her piercing stare. "I don't know you well enough to share such information just yet." There was no doubt in my mind that the king had chosen Belwen to glean as much as she could from me in regards to my personal life, and I wasn't about to cooperate with him just yet.

"Fair enough, I suppose." I glanced up at her, and she said, "Strangers are few and far within the Rhovanion these days, and it's been over a century since I've stepped foot into Dale, but never into Haradwaith."

Rhovanion? Dale? Haradwaith? "I should get dressed," I said, not wanting to make myself feel even more foolish than I already was.

"Yes," she agreed, and we did not speak again as she prepared me for the day.

~xXx~

I should've known better than to assume that Legolas and I would be breaking our fast alone.

"Lady Aderyn," King Thranduil greeted, his gangly frame lounging comfortably at the head of the table.

From the left side of his father, Legolas gave me a subtle nod, yet judging by his strained expression, I knew he wasn't pleased about this dining arrangement. Good, I thought as Belwen gestured me into the dining room. That makes two of us.

The prince immediately stood and rounded the spacious table to my side. "Good morning," he said, pulling out my chair for me.

"Good morning," I greeted, leveling a cool stare at his sire. "Your Majesty."

"Please," the king gestured towards the small spread of fruit, bread, cheese, and pastries before us.

With a nod, and piled my plate with a bit of everything. "How is your arm and chest?" I asked the prince.

"Still a bit sore at times." Legolas picked up a grape and popped it into his mouth. "I trust that you've slept well?"

"Of course she did," Thranduil answered on my behalf. "After all, what prisoner wouldn't enjoy the cozy accommodations of our hospitality?"

"Adar," Legolas gave him a warning look.

With a casual shrug, Thranduil fixed his attention onto his food.

"It's alright, my lord," I told Legolas. "After all," I popped a piece of melon into my mouth, "your father is only confirming what I am to your people."

"Indeed I am." The king poured a glass of juice and handed it to me.

Wordlessly, I brought the drink up to my nose, and sniffed.

"You dare to assume that I would try to poison you?" Thranduil gave me a dangerous grin.

Legolas stiffened within his seat, and I shrugged. "One can never be too careful," I told the king. "I've learned that the hard way."

"Oh?" His cerulean eyes crinkled with amusement. "Please, enlighten us." He leaned forward, his elbows resting on the edge of the table as he rested his chin atop of his folded hands.

"I was a soldier once," I told them.

Shortly before my deployment, Travis's grandfather had shared with me his experience of being brought in by the enemy during World War II, and how they would subtly bribe him with food and drink in order to loosen his tongue about any useful information they could use against the Allies. 'It worked for the most part,' he'd told me. 'They treated me like an old friend, and in turn I would answer their questions somewhat truthfully.'

"I thought you were a healer," Legolas frowned at me.

"Among other things," I speared a piece of fruit with my fork. "My... regiment and I had been sent to lend aid to a small village that had been pillaged by the enemy, where we were betrayed by one of the survivors."

I held their attentive gaze with my own, and Thranduil exchanged a look with his son. "I would expect nothing less from a Southron," he told him.

"Southron?" I frowned.

"That is what we call your people, the Haradrim, down here in the West," said Thranduil.

"Yet she was not clothed in their traditional attire when we found her," Legolas said to his father.

I had no idea what they were talking about. "And what makes you think," I calmly set my utensils down. "That I am one of them?"

"Your complexion is a dead giveaway," said the king. "Not to mention the endless civil wars that has plagued your lands since the First Age."

So I just happened to share the same facial features as some warmongering race. Great. Just great. "Maybe I am a Southron," I said carefully. "Or maybe I'm not."

"Call yourself whatever you like," Thranduil said. "But we will never forget the atrocities your people have committed in Middle-earth. Should you betray me, or my son, or my kingdom, I shall not hesitate to kill you myself."

I willed myself to remain calm, relaxed. "Understood."

Thranduil scoffed, yet turned his attention back to his unfinished meal.

I looked over at Legolas, whose piercing gaze stared deep into my soul before he too turned away from me.

~xXx~

Once breakfast had finished and the king had excused himself, Legolas escorted me down the hall, his expression tense, ruminating.

"Do you truly believe," I murmured, "that I am no better than those who enjoy war and destruction?"

Legolas kept his eyes trained forward. "No," he said quietly. "I do not."

"It's a shame your father doesn't feel the same way."

We did not speak again for several moments. "My father, as well as my kin, have tangled with the Haradrim before," Legolas said, and I glanced up at him. "The stories they'd brought back about them were... deeply disturbing." His beautiful face hardened. "What they have done... what they are capable of doing..."

"Are we not all capable of doing terrible things?"

"The Haradrim have wrought down nothing but death and ruin upon Middle-earth." He exhaled a tired sigh. "It is a simple, yet terrible, fact."

"There's nothing simple about it," I snapped. "If you truly believe that the Southrons, my people, are so evil, then why bother being generous and kind to me at all?"

He halted in his tracks, and my irate expression melted at the sight of his apprehensive countenance. "I'm sorry," I whispered, and turned away from him. "It's just... these past few days have been exhausting, and I..." I held back the tears that were threatening to spill forth. "I miss my family... so much."

"There is nothing to apologize for, Aderyn." Legolas stood behind me. "In spite of my kin having only seen the worst of the Haradrim, I was wrong to assume that of all of them, and for that, I apologize."

I slowly turned around to face him. "Did you debate killing me that day, when we first met?"

"No," he answered firmly. "You were unarmed. It would not have been honorable on my part."

"Do you normally extend such a courtesy to your other enemies?"

"You are not my enemy."

"But the Haradrim are," I countered, and he looked away in shame. "And if you, or your father, are planning to glean from me whatever information you can use against them, then don't bother. You'd both be only wasting your time."

"Aderyn." Legolas grasped my arm as I stormed off. "Aderyn, wait."

"Let go of me, Legolas." I shrugged his hand off of me. "I don't have anything useful to tell you." Which was the truth.

He ran around in front of me, halting me in my tracks. "Please, just... just listen to me."

I crossed my arms, waiting.

Legolas took a deep breath. "I was not anticipating my father to join us for breakfast," he said. "But you have nothing to fear of him."

"Nothing to...?" I glared at him. "He threatened to kill me."

"So long as you abide by our rules, he can't touch you." Legolas stood tall in front of me. "My father may be unsettling, but he is not dishonorable. You have my word on that."

His voice was so sincere and gentle, it was getting harder for me to assume the worst of him. After all, Legolas had been the only one to vouch for my release from the dungeons, but not from the kingdom. Who knows how long it would be before his father ever considered letting me go. Maybe I should just give them what they want, concoct whatever negative lies I could weave about a race I had no real knowledge of. Then again, what if my dishonesty brings a devastating war upon both sides? Thranduil would definitely have my head for sure, and Legolas would probably commit the execution himself.

"Aderyn?" His concerned voice pulled me out of my dreadful thoughts. "Are you alright?"

"I need a distraction," I bit out, and he narrowed his eyes. "Is there anything..." I searched for the right words, "fun we could do?"

"What sort of activities are you fond of?"

"Umm..." Honesty would get me a long way if I played my cards right. "Reading, horseback riding..." And then it hit me like a ton of bricks. "Archery."

His somber expression immediately shifted into one of great intrigue.

~xXx~

We arrived at the training grounds a half hour later, after Legolas had insisted that I dressed into something that was a little more suitable for the occasion.

"Truly though?" the elvish prince tilted his head. "You enjoy archery?"

"Is that a problem?" I lifted the training bow he handed me, inspecting the fine wood and string, which was so smooth to the touch.

He shrugged. "I wouldn't say so."

I raised a cynical brow at him. "Are the women in your kingdom not allowed to use such a weapon, let alone serve on the battlefield?"

"Of course they are." He stood in front of me. "I just never took you for a warrior."

"There are many things you don't know about me."

"Indeed." His cerulean eyes stared deep into my own hazel ones.

"Right." I cleared my throat and held up my bow. "Excellent craftmanship," I said. "Even by training standards."

"I'm glad you appreciate it," said Legolas, a small smile gracing his sensuous lips.

I returned the gesture before focusing onto my bow once more. "Pretty bold of you to assume that I wouldn't use this against you, being your enemy and all." Although a playful shot, there were some truth to my words.

"I would not humor you otherwise," Legolas did not seem unnerved by my comment, "if I truly considered you a threat."

"How do you know that I'm not a threat?" I titled my head. "I have killed people before." A fact that I will never be proud of.

"You've had every opportunity to kill me since we've first met," he reminded me. "And I doubt my father's guards would allow you to even lift a finger against me should they suspect such sinister intentions from you."

Indeed, I turned my gaze towards the side of the court, where several elven warriors, all armored and armed with their own bows and arrows, watched us with speculative eyes. "I hope they enjoy the show, then."

"That depends." Legolas rubbed his healing chest.

"On what?"

"On whether you'll give them something to cheer or laugh about."

Haha, what a comedian. "Careful now." I twiddled one of my arrows in front of him. "Even little princes can be on the receiving end of a training accident."

He chuckled, and with an incline of his head, stepped away to join our audience.

Biting my lower lip, I turned to face the first target not fifteen yards away from me, and knocked my arrow into the string of my bow before pulling it back in one fluid motion. I glanced at Legolas, who in turn gave me an encouraging nod, and without wasting another second, let my arrow fly, smiling in satisfaction as it hit the bullseye with deadly accuracy.

~xXx~

Until next time, my faithful readers! As always, your reviews are much appreciated.