Elrond walked slowly past the door framed with magnificent carvings. He hoped to see through even the tiniest crack into the Lord of Rivendell's private study. Today Elrond had no such luck. He had thousands of books in there… Elrond had always loved books and his dream was to one day have a large collection of his own. He continued on his way, going nowhere in particular, with his hands clamped behind his back. He managed to make it all the way to the gardens before a loud *Father!* caused him to turn around.

Running at full force, her dress billowing behind her, was a young girl of no more than five.

Elrond swept her off the ground and held her in his arms so that they were face to face. He pushed back the dark strands of hair from her face so he could see her beautiful dark eyes. He found them pooled with tears. *What's wrong, my love?* he asked gently.

*Elladan and Elrohir said I could not play with them because I am a girl!* she cried.

Though he was amused, Elrond dared not smile. She was often troubled by the fact that she could not participate in every event simply because she was female. He often had to help her relax by telling her stories of his own adventures or made up tales with heroines as strong as the heroes. He kissed her forehead. *They do not know what they are missing, Arwen,* he said as he set her back down on the ground.

*I think you should tell them,* she said.

Elrond laughed as he took his daughter's hand. *Come, my Evenstar,* he said leading her to a huge oak tree. He sat down on the cool earth and let his lower back rest against the large trunk.

Arwen seated herself across from her father, folding her legs beneath her. She leaned forward excitedly, knowing what was about to come. *A story?*

Elrond chuckled. *Is that what you wish for?*

The girl nodded eagerly. *Of the Child of Fire and what happened to her!*

*Very well,* Elrond nodded. *She grew up to be as beautiful as her mother, but always her ears plagued her mind. So one day-*

*This story again?*

Elrond looked to the interrupter. *Yes, Falien. You needn't stay. Continue on your walk.*

Arwen looked at her father's friend curiously. Was he always so sad?

Falien shook his head. *Perhaps when your daughter suffers for your mistakes you will listen to me.*

*You are much too concerned about doing the right things in order to get on the council, my friend. You should enjoy life.*

*If you keep encouraging these false truths to grow in her heart, who knows what may happen to her?*

Elrond swiftly rose and stood inches from his friend's face. He spoke in a harsh whisper. *You may say as you like to me, but never shall you talk that way in front of my daughter or you may be sorely sorry.*

Falien sniffed. *I only speak the truth, Elrond, and I will not speak otherwise for some girl who hasn't even reached triple digits yet!*

Falien turned and left angrily and Elrond returned to his spot, trying very hard not to let Arwen see how much he was disturbed.

*Father?* Arwen asked timidly as she went to his side. *Are your stories…wrong?*

Elrond laid his hand on Arwen's head. *No, my child. No matter what, it is never wrong to dream.*

~*~*~*~*~*~

Falien smiled wryly as he turned the letter over and over in his hands. He had known Nutortho was good for something. This could be good. Yes, this could be very helpful to him. Gathering his courage, Falien tore the seal and opened the letter.

From the King of Mirkwood

My Lady, I truly hope this message finds you and you're whole household to be in good health and good spirits. I thank you for the hospitality that you have shown to my son, Legolas, while he has been in residence there. Please be so kind as to pass this letter along to him so that he knows it is wished for him to write home. I trust all is well with him. Thank you.

Over and over turned the letter in Falien's hands. Over and over he thought once more of his plan. It was perfect. It could not fail. But now it was growing late. Celsius may be discovered. The prince may leave. He must spring into action. And soon. If he waited much longer…he feared the worst would happen.

Still turning his plot over in his head, he took from a side drawer a piece of paper. He then reached for the quill sitting on his desk.