Wherever You Are

By Kalina

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters, settings, and situations created and owned by J.R.R. Tolkien, various publishers including, but not limited to, New Line Cinema and Ballantine Books. Silmarwen was born in the depths of my twisted imagination and, therefore, belongs to me. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Welcome to my first-ever Lord of the Rings fanfic. I thought I'd play around with a new character and introduce her to the fandom. Please let me know what you think of Silmarwen and my story, be it good or bad (I'm hoping it will be more of the former ü). Constructive criticism is very much appreciated, but flames will merely be laughed at.

Tarien means "princess."

Ai mellon means "little friend."

Namaarie means "farewell."

Enjoy and don't forget to review.

Chapter One: Farewell… Not

Northern Mirkwood lay awash in the radiance of early morning sunlight. Dewdrops sparkled like diamonds set atop the lush emerald of the grass carpeting the forest floor. Birds sang from their secret perches in the towering trees, their sweet melodies chorusing throughout the woods and lightening the hearts of all those fortunate enough to hear them.

Near the edge of the Realm of Thranduil, a young blonde Elf, dressed in brown and green, was in the process of saddling his white stallion. Observing him through keen jade eyes was a red-haired Elf maiden, clad in simple turquoise robes, perched on top of a large rock.

"It is much too pretty a day for you to be leaving," mused Silmarwen, a sad expression on her pale face.

Legolas smiled affectionately at her. "You know I cannot disobey my father, Tarien, and even if I could, I would not. I am proud to be his messenger to Lord Elrond in Rivendell."

"So proud that you would leave me here to fend for myself?" she countered, pouting prettily. "Really, Legolas, I thought our friendship meant more to you than this!"

He chuckled, knowing she was merely jesting with him. "Fend for yourself? Tarien, you have a million servants at your command. But if it makes you happier, I shall come back to you as soon as possible."

"Of course you shall," she breezily replied. "You will miss me terribly."

"Alas, but it is true!" Legolas said with a mock sigh. "Before I have even gone five miles from here, my heart will long to bask in the warmth of your smile, my eyes will ache to feast themselves on your beauty, and my nostrils will yearn to smell your enchanting fragrance once more…"

Silmarwen burst out laughing. "Please, Legolas," she gasped in between pealing cries of mirth, "do not ever speak of your nostrils when pledging eternal love and devotion! It is in extremely bad taste."

"Really? Alatariel did not think so."

She sobered almost instantly at the mention of the beautiful dark-haired Elf whose heart had belonged to Legolas ever since they were children. "When did this happen?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

He grinned. "Jealous, ai mellon?"

"No!" she exclaimed, blushing. "It is just that… well, Alatariel does not deserve you."

"Why not?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"She is too---" Silmarwen frantically cast around for a suitable adjective, and seized upon the only negative word that came to mind when Alatariel was involved, "flighty."

"Flighty?" repeated Legolas in amused disbelief.

"Yes. You need someone who is steady and balanced. Someone who does not have a volatile temper and do whatever she wants whenever it pleases her."

"I see," he said gravely. After a few minutes of pretending to consider the matter, he patted the horse's snowy flank thoughtfully and murmured, "I think Niessa would fit the necessary requirements."

"Not Niessa!" Silmarwen said quickly, horrified. "Her hair is too blonde!" She realized the absurdity of her statement and was suddenly tempted to bang her head against the nearest tree. Instead, she clasped her hands together and rested them on her lap, head bowed, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment.

Legolas stared at her for the longest of moments, admiring the way the sunlight wove threads of bright gold into her luxuriant red hair. She really has grown up, he mused silently, wondering why he had never noticed it until today. It was hard to imagine that the graceful and attractive young maiden before him was the same girl he'd spent his childhood years climbing up trees and playing mischievous pranks with. In his mind's eye, he could still see Silmarwen when she was barely eleven summers old, practically convulsing on the ground with laughter as Lansuil ran around in panic in an attempt to dodge the swarm of bees following him. Legolas could still clearly picture her several hours after that incident, lips pressed together to restrain her giggles, trying her best to maintain a solemn expression as her mother scolded her for dumping a jar of honey on the unfortunate Elf's head. The memory brought a fond smile to Legolas' face.

"There are times when I miss you, Tarien," he said softly, not fully aware that he had just spoken out loud.

Silmarwen lifted her confused gaze to him. "I am still here, Legolas."

"No, not you, the old you."

Before she could ask him what in the name of the Valar was he talking about, her childhood friend sat down on the grass beside her and tenderly tucked a stray strand of red-gold hair behind her ear. "I was merely joking," he admitted. "I have yet to pledge my undying affection to anyone."

Silmarwen was so distracted by the sensation of a thousand butterflies flying through her veins when he performed that simple, intimate gesture that she had no time to wonder over the massive relief she felt at hearing those words. "Before you fall in love with any maiden," she whispered in a husky voice, "she has to have my approval first."

Legolas grinned and stood up. "Rest assured that she will. I must get going. I will see you soon, Silmarwen."

"May the light of Earendil guide you on your journey," she said, also standing up. "I only wish I could go with you…" Her face suddenly lit up as a wonderful idea occurred to her. "Legolas, I can go with you! It would be a marvelous thing. I have never left the borders of Mirkwood before and now is my chance…"

He was shaking his head even before she had finished the second sentence. "No, absolutely not," he said firmly. "The way to Rivendell is long and fraught with many dangers. You are far too delicate for such a trip."

"That is where you are wrong," she retorted. "I am not unaccustomed to hardship… All right, maybe I am," she said quickly at his skeptical gaze, "but I am sure I can handle it. Besides, if you are there to protect me, I am certain nothing bad will happen."

"Tarien, I need to ride to Rivendell with all haste. You would be slowing me down. You already are, as a matter of fact."

"I can ride fast, too! Just give me some time to pack and saddle my horse."

"Are you insane?" he demanded. "Your father would murder me with his bare hands if he finds out I brought you along. I have the gift of immortality; I do not care to waste it."

But Silmarwen's jaw hardened in determination and the fire of adventure turned her eyes to the brilliant color of polished emeralds. Legolas felt a momentary surge of elation as he realized that the rebellious hellion he had adored so much had not completely disappeared. "I am sorry, Silmarwen. I cannot and I will not bring you with me."

"Legolas…"

He lifted a finger to her lips in order to silence her protest. He was slightly surprised by how soft those lips felt, like smooth satin. "I will not be gone for very long, and I will miss you." He pressed a fond kiss to her silky pale cheek and then mounted his stallion. Silmarwen was glaring at him, and he sighed inwardly. He had always hated it when she was angry with him, but there was nothing he could do about it for now.

He gave her his most heart-melting smile.

She stuck her tongue out at him.

Legolas had to smother a laugh. Yes, underneath the ladylike façade, the old Silmarwen was still there. "Namaarie, Tarien!" he called gaily, spurring his horse on.

Silmarwen watched him ride away, the sunlight shining on his blonde hair, transforming it into a curtain of pure gold. Unconsciously, her fingers stroked the spot on her cheek where he had kissed her.

She straightened, her mind made up. "This is not farewell, Legolas," she promised softly in a voice as hard as steel. "You will be seeing me very soon… in the House of Elrond in Rivendell."