Author's Note – I am SO SO SO sorry that this chapter took so long. I had a sort of… "slump" from about March to the beginning of May, but I'm back on track. Thank you to Luthien Amandil and Lossefalme for the amazing reviews. I love the constructive criticism! Another thank you to Luthien Anwamane for posting my fic on her review site. I have started bragging to my friends… "My fic is on three different individual fanfic sites!" Major appreciation towards my reviewers, even if you do know me in person ;-).

I have tried (with little ease) to clear up a few issues that have been brought up in reviews. I went back and removed Haldir's rather un-Middle Earth introduction, and edited a few minor mistakes. Please keep in mind that many of the problems brought up in reviews are only helping me to shape my story.

To Luthien Amandil – Boromir's "arrow-wounds" were the effect of like… crossbow-like arrows. Those are huge and thick and scary and bad (like the grammar?!). Embyr's wounds are from thinner arrows, with less power behind the arrow (note: The Uruk-hai had some crazy-big crossbow looking thing. Goblin arrows are.. in my opinion.. from weaker, upright bows)

Thanks again for all of the amazing reviews. I encourage you all to review after this chapter; I've gone out on a proverbial limb.

Chapter 4 – In Chorus

It had been raining for the better part of a day before the Elves deemed it safe enough to stop. Embyr was in blissful unconsciousness, the pain too great for her to bear. Haldir spotted a slight rise in the landscape, which would give them a chance to both examine the area surrounding them, and dress Embyr's wounds. A single maple tree rose from the soil of the hill; a beacon of light in the ever-expanding desolation known as Middle Earth.

Upon reaching the top of the hill, the Elves found another feature of the hill to credit to good fortune. A slight dent at the very crest left room for them to bed for the night, without being seen from the plains below. Legolas set Embyr with her back against the tree. The girl had slept for the better part of a day, stirring constantly and making it rather hard for Legolas to keep pace with Haldir. The elder Elf had begun to joke uncharacteristically with Legolas, saying that he was getting "old for his years" and so on.

Legolas stood back from the sleeping girl, watching her face. The harsh bruises had begun to heal, but there was something in the way she held her face, even while asleep, that was a permanent result of the goblins' torture. She was guarding herself from the rest of the world. How Legolas longed to show her that Middle-Earth was a beautiful place! But there was no time for that, now. They must think of Embyr's safety first, and take her to Mirkwood. Only there would she be safe.

Legolas resurfaced from his musings to find that Haldir was not on top of the hill with him. Guessing that Haldir was out gathering healing herbs or something of the sort, the younger Elf sat down next to Embyr and started to clear an area for a small fire.

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Embyr found herself back in the goblin cave. Oh, to relive the most painful moments of her life was such torture! So vivid was her memory that she knew exactly which cursed moment she was to live through: the bargain. Knowing this, she screamed with a fury unknown to the race of Men, Elves, Dwarves, or any of the like.

Embyr's village of Nasrahel was a familiar name throughout the country of Rohan because it housed a great weapon. This double bladed sword was said to be the mightiest of its kind created by a mortal hand. Though it had no proper name, the Elves referred to it as Lissiruth Gurth, or "Death's Sweet Fury". This sword was not ornate; there were no magnificent gems set in the hilt. The blade was not of a special metal, but of the metal used for all swords within the village. The significance of this sword was the fact that the wielder was safe from any harm, while they had the sword in hand. Never had a battle been lost by the side with ownership of the sword. Never had a wielder suffered even a minor scratch. No one knew how Nasrahel came into possession of this mighty sword, and no one cared enough to search for its origin. All they knew was that they were safe from most harm while they had it.

Very few of the people of Nasrahel actually knew where the sword was kept between battles. Only high-ranking men knew its whereabouts, and one woman. Embyr was the village's "Secret Keeper", as the women called her. If the men were fighting in a minor battle, or had left the sword in worry that the village would be attacked while they were gone, Embyr would be the one to fetch the sword. This young woman would ultimately be the one to wield the blade of legend and protect her people.

Every beast that had fought the Men of Nasrahel wanted nothing more than to get their grimy hands on Lissiruth Gurth. As Embyr collected her thoughts, she heard the heavy thuds of an approaching Goblin. A very… convincing Goblin. The girl struggled to stand, favoring her left ankle and wheezing as her clumsy stitches split, opening her arrow wounds yet again. She gained her footing and turned to face the beast. An action she immediately regretted. The Goblin slapped her across the face with the back of his grimy hand, making black dots dance in her vision.

"You do NOT sneer at me, disgusting human," said the Goblin. Embyr made her face unreadable, successfully masking the hate, fear, and rage welling up inside of her battered body. "Follow me, beast." The Goblin turned and made his way out of her enclosure, into the corridor of the rank cave. Embyr found it ironic that the Goblin called her what she had been internally referring to the creature as.

The girl did as she was told and followed behind the Goblin, keeping her gaze to the floor and limping every other step. She was led to a doorway where two large Goblins blocked the contents of the room from view. Embyr stood still, listening. She could've sworn that she had heard voices… soft voices, from inside of the room. Not the harsh barking of Goblins, but the gentle lilt of human speech.

Her face lit up instantly, until she realized that Goblins were between her and her happiness. She looked up at the beast that had led her to this point, eyeing him warily.

"Human, we have heard that your village keeps the "death-sword". Tell us where it is hidden, you filthy beast, or we will kill these people." The Goblin sneered down at the small girl, using all of his intimidation to force her into the only choice she could make.

Embyr bit at her lip nervously. "You must let them go, if I am to tell you where we keep the sword you speak of." As she spoke, her mind was working at a tentative plan. Nasrahel was the home to many great swords, and most of them were concealed within secret places. The girl, herself, knew of multiple hiding places. Never would she reveal the hiding place of Lissiruth Gurth.

The Goblin made himself look even more fearful, if possible, and smacked Embyr across the cheek. A livid red mark trailed after the beast's fingers. "We do not bargain, Human. Tell us the hiding place, or you will die, as well!"

The girl cowered and replied, meekly, "It is hidden.. in the attic of the tallest house in my village." She kept her gaze away from the eyes of the Goblin. Surely he would be able to see the trick she had just played on him.

The Goblin looked at her for a moment before informing another Goblin of the sword's whereabouts. From listening, Embyr gathered that they were to leave immediately. Embyr let her gaze fall once again, intent on the accumulating dry debris on the floor. A scheme lit up her face, but she tucked it away in the back of her mind to use in later times.

Most of the Goblins stomped past her, excited with the prospect of the "Sword of Nasrahel" being on their side. Not one of the beasts gave her a backwards glance. The Goblin that was guarding the humans seemed to be elsewhere at the moment, which made it quite easy for Embyr to slip into the humans' enclosure.

A low cry echoed in chorus with Embyr's own as husband and wife discovered each other's presence in the Goblin Cave.

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Once Haldir returned with plant-clippings to form a poultice, the Elf started towards the tree with the intention of waking Embyr. Legolas put his hand on Haldir's shoulder, stopping him. "Her sleep is devoid of tossing, Haldir. Let her continue her dreams while we heal."

The Elves crouched down next to the sleeping girl and began to produce a salve for the arrow-wounds. As Legolas crushed a sweet-smelling herb, he watched Embyr. Such peace enveloped her face; it was difficult for him to remember the guarded way she held herself. Without thinking, he brushed a stray lock of gold from her face, trailing his fingers down her cheek. She would never feel such pain again, the Elf vowed. Legolas was not one to break a promise.