(A.N. Elvish translations will be given at the end of each chapter. Stuff between // is meant to be in italics and it indicates telepathic communication, or mind speech. One day I'll work out the italics here. This chapter is fairly long - hope you enjoy! )



Chapter One - Unique



"Rhachsell.."

"Don't even think about it."

/"Rhachsell."/

"You either. I'm not going to let the pair of you coerce me into wearing. that!"

The offending item was a pale pink gown that hung on a stand in Rhachsell's room. Rhachsell was staring at it in utter distaste mingled with horror. Legolas sat beside her on the delicate Elven bed and slipped an arm around her shoulders.

"I did recommend that they should add less.. Adornments," he said ruefully, surveying the frills and embroidery on the gauzy pink dress. It would have been perfect for a beautiful young elf but it was all wrong for his half-orc daughter. "Maybe I should speak louder next time. The seamstress appears to be going deaf."

Rhachsell turned to him reproachfully, blue eyes catching the light and turning orc-orange. "Ada stop trying to distract me. You know elves don't go deaf, although sometimes I wonder about you." She grinned at him, taking the sting out of her words. "I'm not wearing that monstrosity and you know it."

Legolas sighed and was opening his mouth to admit defeat when his fire lizard Anira left his shoulder with a chirp. He had given the dragonet the name that meant 'to desire' in Elvish because from the moment the bronze dappled green hatchling emerged from her shell every other elf had wanted her. Legolas had been forced to explain countless times that Anira had a unique bond to him, no it couldn't be broken no matter how much they offered to pay for her and no there were no other fire lizards in Middle- earth although they were welcome to search for some. This had been met with a variety of reactions, disbelief, incredulity and some anger from those who thought he was lying about the tiny dragon being bonded to him. Legolas was starting to wish he had been able to bring a breeding pair of fire lizards back from Pern - there would have been no shortage of elves eager to receive a fire lizard partner of their own. Anira's unusual colouring, a mixture of two ordinary fire lizard colours Legolas put down to the trip between worlds she had gone through in the shell as he could think of no other explanation.

Anira landed on the shoulder of the gown, her claws tangling in the material. She pecked at a frill, her sharp beak tearing through it. A scrap of pink material floated to the floor accompanied by the fire lizard's gleeful whistle. Legolas and Rhachsell exchanged smiles. "Have you got a knife?" Rhachsell asked with a mischievous glam in her eyes. Legolas drew his white hafted knives and handed one to her. They set to work and within minutes the gown was much plainer, if a little frayed around the edges. Anira landed on Legolas' shoulder, contriving to look extremely smug. The elf surveyed the gown critically.

"I could send the seamstress up to neaten the edges slightly," he offered. Rhachsell shook her head.

"She'll burst into tears if she sees what we've done to her 'masterpiece'. I'll be fine - no one will notice."

Legolas looked doubtful, but he nodded. "If you think you'll be happy wearing it..."

"Much happier now we've altered it. Shoo. You have to get ready too," Rhachsell urged him. Legolas left the room, casting a grin back at her over his shoulder for her bossiness. Rhachsell waited until the door had closed then looked at her gown with a sigh.

/"Much better,"/ her black dragon Faroth approved, viewing the dress through her eyes. He was actually outside, perched on the flat roof of the kitchens. Rhachsell knew his head was positioned right above the open window so he caught every delicious smell that floated out. He was waiting for the feast to be finished so he could stick his head through the door and let the cook feed him his favourite titbits.

/"You my dear, eat far too much,"/ Rhachsell told him. /"One day you'll find you're stuck on the ground because you're too fat to lift off."/

/"Hah! Nobody feeds me enough for that to happen."/ Faroth attempted to make his mental tone sound pathetic but Rhachsell wasn't fooled. She snorted in disbelief.

/"People feed you more than they feed themselves. I'm amazed we haven't run out of food yet."/ The half-orc sighed and stepped towards the re-styled gown. "Time to get dressed I suppose," she said aloud.

/"If you'd just grow scales like any self respecting dragon then you wouldn't have this trouble."/

/"Faroth I've told you before, I have no idea how to grow scales."/

She sensed her dragon's amusement in his reply. /"Then maybe you should learn."/

Rhachsell shook her head and realised with a start how much time she was wasting. "I'm going to be late!" She grabbed the gown and hauled it off the stand then tried to wriggle out her tunic. Faroth's snicker of amusement echoed in her mind as she got tangled in the clothes.

/"Don't you dare laugh."/ She threatened him.

/"Wouldn't dream of it."/

/"Liar."/

She finally succeeded in climbing into the gown then snatched up her brush off the table beside her mirror. She ran the brush through her long hair a few times, then studied her reflection in the glass framed with wooden leaves.

Her hair was the only thing she liked about herself, long and blond, elf fine as it clung to her hands and the brush. Her face however was nothing like an elf's although something of Legolas lingered in the set of her eyes and mouth. Scars striped her orc-dark skin, pulling one eye askew and giving her a crooked smile. The Elven healers had managed to remove the iron rings from her nose but the scarring remained, hiding any hint of Elven elegance that might have once lingered in her face. No matter how much she tried to convince herself that her eyes could be Elven eyes, the slightest turn of her head could catch the light and turn them from Legolas' blue into deep orange. She sighed. At least the gown had long sleeves so it hid the scars on her arms.

/"You look beautiful to me,"/ Faroth comforted her. Rhachsell sighed again.

/"Thanks sweetheart. That helps."/

/"You don't have to go to the feast."/

/"You know I do,"/ Rhachsell disagreed reluctantly. /"If my father has to chose a future bride I should at least show my support."/

In his position as King of Mirkwood, Legolas had a court of advisors, all of whom were made extremely nervous by Rhachsell's existence. They had advised Legolas to marry and produce an heir as soon as possible on his return from Pern, a plan the king had met with extreme distaste. But the goodwill of his subjects depended on him appearing to do what was in their best interests so for the last two months the court had been swamped by a deluge of female elves who had heard the King of Mirkwood was looking for queen. Rhachsell hated them all - they were beautiful and graceful in their elegant gowns and finely crafted jewellery. When she entered a room where a group of Elven ladies were talking, conversation would pause for a long moment then continue in hushed tones as if they didn't want her to hear. None of them would greet her if they passed her in the corridors, none of them with converse with her at mealtimes. Legolas noted each and every reaction and made his displeasure at the treatment of his daughter clear, but nothing changed. Rhachsell was half-orc and to most elves this made her an abomination who should have been drowned at birth.

"Maybe I should have been drowned at birth," she murmured. Faroth's shock washed through her.

/"Then what would I have done? We are unique you and I, meant to be together. No one else could possibly understand that. What people do not understand makes them afraid - they fear the unknown. You are unknown and therefore they fear you."/

/"When did you become so wise?"/ Rhachsell asked in amazement as she turned to leave the room.

/"Your father. He tends to rub off on people. Or dragons for that matter."/

/"Yeah well don't let him hear you say that or he'll start acting really smug about it. That's what I hate about elves. They have that inner smugness."/ Rhachsell grinned.

/"I think dragons have an inner smugness too."/ Faroth confessed thoughtfully.

/"Really? I wonder if I could get one?"/

/"You could try!"/

By this time Rhachsell had reached the tall doors into the banqueting hall. She hesitated, tugging self consciously at her gown, suddenly aware of the tattered edges. From inside she could hear the murmur of many voices. Perhaps she could skip the feast after all. No one would miss her. She hesitated for a moment longer, her scarred fingers resting against the door, then, a lump of shame rising in her throat, she turned away - only to walk right into her father.

"Rhachsell," he told her firmly, resting his hands on her shoulders. He had changed from his usual forest garb into a sapphire blue tunic he had received as a coronation present from Galadriel. Rhachsell thawed slightly at the sight of it; she had often mentioned how much she liked that particular tunic and by wearing it he was subtly supporting her.

"But Ada," she started pleadingly then trailed off as his eyes narrowed.

"Rhachsell, it is just a feast. Enjoy the food, ignore the company. It's only a formality to placate the court - you know I don't want to marry." He pushed open the heavy oak doors and the sound of a thousand voices rose to a crescendo.

"Then why don't you tell all them to go home?!" Rhachsell muttered, indicating the Elven ladies seated in the hall with a flick of her eyes. Legolas glanced at her to reply but the minstrel Taliesin was already hurrying over to announce them.

"King Legolas Greenleaf of Mirkwood and the Lady Rhachsell!" He announced, bowing as Legolas stepped into the hall. Rhachsell caught her father's furious glance at the minstrel for not awarding her the full title of 'Princess of Mirkwood', but the king had no chance to reprimand him as now every elf in the hall was rising to their feet, their eyes on the entering royalty. Legolas silently swore to himself at this stupid pointless formality, but his feet were already carrying him towards his seat on the raised dais to one end of the room. The conversation had hushed as they entered but as he passed a group of young elf maids all vying for his hand in marriage, there was a flurry of whispers and blushes. As Rhachsell passed the tone of the whispers became derisive causing a dark flush to rise to her cheeks. She kept her eyes on the floor and ignored the whispers as best she could as she followed her father to their seats.

/"I can chase them all the way to Pern and back if you'd like me too?"/ Faroth offered. Rhachsell bit down on a giggle and lifted her chin, her dragon giving her the confidence to stare right back at the snickering elves who dropped their eyes hurriedly.

/"Good girl!"/ Faroth approved. /"I'll still chase them though. It'd be fun to see them try and outdistance me."/

Rhachsell couldn't restrain a grin. /"Thanks Faroth but father promised Elrond that he's return them in one piece. I don't think you chasing them home would be good for their delicate little feet."/

/If I eat them in one bite, they'd still be in one piece yes?"/

Rhachsell tripped over the steps up to the dais in shock. /"Faroth, don't you dare! Although it is tempting.."/

Legolas glanced back at his daughter. She had the unfocused look she wore when conversing with her dragon. He stifled a wistful sigh and Anira popped out of between, chittering at him. He held out his arm for her to land and a sigh of envy rose up from around the hall as she walked up his arm and settled on his shoulder, long tail curling around his neck. Legolas turned to face the hall.

"Be seated!" he called. The elves sat down in a mass of shuffling feet and chairs. Legolas paused until they were all settled then clapped his hands. "Let the feast begin!"

He sat down and Elven servants poured into the hall from hidden doorways, carrying platters of food. Rhachsell hunched down in her seat in resignation of a long, boring evening. Outside she could feel Faroth's gleeful anticipation of his own meal which the cook was readying inside the kitchen.

To pass the time, Rhachsell tuned in to the conversations around her. Legolas was making polite small talk with his dinner partner who seemed rather awed by her royal companion. On Rhachsell's other side was her own dinner partner, a young Mirkwood elf with only a few centuries behind him. He was engrossed in conversation with the elf-maid on his right, rudely ignoring Rhachsell entirely. Legolas noticed his daughter's exclusion and valiantly struggled to include her in his conversation but when most of the other elves refused to acknowledge her existence it tended to cause awkward silences that no one would fill. On Legolas' fourth attempt to start up a discussion including her, she kicked him under the table. He glanced at her in surprise and she shook her head fractionally. With a sigh for her acceptance of the situation he returned to small talk. The tense atmosphere relaxed again.

Rhachsell stared into space, her mind wandering as she picked at her food. Faroth's eager murmur of thoughts faded as she narrowed her eyes. All elves had the skill to sense their surroundings and although Rhachsell didn't have her father's range, she could still hear the trees outside their palace, the chatter of black squirrels as they leapt through the canopy, the soft hooves of a fleeing deer against the forest floor.

Rhachsell frowned as the deer passed by and the hoof beats continued. The Elven horses were all safely stabled within the palace; there were no wild horses loose in Mirkwood. Visitors? She felt Faroth's attention shift to her as she concentrated on the sound.

/"What is it?"/

/"Hush. I'm not sure."/

Legolas glanced at her daughter with a puzzled expression. Most elves could 'sense' their surroundings with the lightest of touches, like a whisper of silk on skin. Gimli had once wryly remarked that Rhachsell had the 'sensing' subtly of a rampaging Oliphaunt - even dwarves could 'feel' it. Already some elves in the hall were glancing around curiously to locate the source of the noise.

"Daughter," Legolas muttered under his breath. "You're being extremely distracting."

"Sorry. I think we have visitors," she murmured in reply. Legolas glanced around for a guard.

"I'll go." Rhachsell was already out her seat. Legolas raised his eyebrows warningly.

"Rhachsell-"

"I'll be fine. If they've found us here then they must be friends. I won't be long." She was heading towards the door before Legolas could formulate an argument. With a groan of resignation, he leaned back in his chair to wait for the new arrivals.

Rhachsell ran lightly towards the palace gateway, the smooth corridor letting her sprint unhindered. She turned a corner at full speed and glimpsed the gateway ahead of her, the heavy gates already pulled back. Disappointment flashed through her when she realised that the guards must have already recognised the visitors and let them in. The momentary distraction was all she needed; she stepped on the hem of her gown and crashed to the ground, tumbling head over heels. She skidded into the stone wall with a thud, then lay still, winded and bruised.

/"Rhachsell!"/ Faroth queried anxiously. /"What happened? Are you hurt?!"/

/"Just my pride,"/ Rhachsell mumbled in disgust. An elf wouldn't have fallen like that. She pushed herself to her knees then heard voices nearby. With a spurt of panic she realised what she must look like; tattered dress, covered in dust and dirt from her fall and her hair all over her face. Her Orc upbringing took over and she dived for cover, the nearest hiding place being an alcove in the wall. She wriggled backwards into the shadows, hunching down so she wouldn't be seen. She could feel Faroth's amazement and disgust.

/"You're the Princess of the palace! What on earth are you hiding for?!"/

Rhachsell hesitated for a moment wondering if he was right but then the visitors rounded the corner and crawling out from the alcove would had raised far too many embarrassing questions. She ducked her head into the shadows and peered out through her hair.

They were being led towards the banqueting hall by a guard Rhachsell knew named Haf. The first visitor Rhachsell knew well; her father's old friend Gimli Son of Gloin. He was a familiar face - Legolas had once teased him by saying the dwarf spent more time in Mirkwood than in his own mountain home and if he wasn't careful he's start growing pointy ears. Gimli had pretended to take great offence at the suggestion so Legolas delighted in bringing it up at every opportunity. Rhachsell grinned at the dwarf's rough voice as he berated the guard for walking too fast for the rest of the party to keep up. Gimli would rather die than admit his short strides couldn't keep up with the long legs of the elves. Then her attention was caught by the man walking at Gimli's side and she blushed.

Aragorn, son of Arathorn was very much the King of Gondor now. Dressed in rich purple velvet trimmed with gold, his old ranger clothes were long gone, however horse hair still clung to the fabric of his tunic and the long ride to Mirkwood from Gondor had given him the beginnings of a beard. Rhachsell stifled a smile as he bent to ask Gimli something, blue eyes dancing. From the way Gimli reacted with indignation Rhachsell would guess it had been a comment about how men and elves could walk faster than dwarves. She watched him a moment longer, noting the way his hair was ruffled after the journey and how Gimli had to take two strides to match one of the man's. Then Faroth realised who she was watching and snorted in the draconic equivalent of laughter. Rhachsell's cheeks turned pink as his amusement bounced around her mind.

/"It's your favourite person,"/ he mentioned casually. /"Why don't you go and say hello?"/

/"He's just a friend,"/ Rhachsell muttered defensively.

/"Yes. Whatever you say."/

/"Shut up Scale-breath."

"Yes Master,"/ Faroth's amused reply echoed through her mind. Rhachsell wasn't listened - something else had caught her attention.

She had been walking behind Aragorn and Gimli, half out of sight as she studied her surroundings. Now she stepped up to Aragorn's side, linking an arm through his, going on tiptoe to whisper something in his ear. Blue eyes the colour of a twilight sky shone in the torch-lit corridors, her silvery gown floating around her like mist. This must be the Lady Arwen, reputed to be the most beautiful elf in all of Middle-earth. Raven dark hair curled around a pale face with high cheekbones and smooth skin as she leaned over to kiss Aragorn's cheek. Rhachsell sank back into her alcove, one hand automatically going to her scarred face, wistfully tracing the hard skin. The visitors were swiftly coming closer and she huddled in the shadows, abruptly terrified of being discovered by such important people accompanied by one of the most famous elves in all Middle-earth. They began to pass Rhachsell's hiding place and against her better judgement she glanced up to watch. For the briefest of moments Aragorn's eyes met hers as he glanced around and surprise flashed over his face. Then the party continued on past the alcove, Arwen Undomiel's silvery laugh lingering long after she had passed by.

/"I'm sorry,"/ Faroth said softly to Rhachsell. She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat.

/"What do I care?"/ she asked bitterly. /"I knew he was married. I knew she was beautiful. I just didn't expect.. Well, *that* beautiful."/

/"You don't have to go back to the feast."/ Faroth consoled her.

/"I'm not planning on it. Could you tell my father we've gone flying?"/

/"Of course."/

Rhachsell scrambled to her feet and peered out the alcove. The corridor was empty. She started towards her rooms to change, then paused. The gown was ruined anyway. She turned towards the outer courtyard and the kitchens and ran as fast as she could towards her dragon, avoiding any elves she met, which wasn't many. Everyone was at the feast. She reached the kitchen door and dived into the madness of the servants organising the rest of the feast. She weaved through them, head ducked until she reached the steps and leapt up them without being spotted. Faroth was waiting outside, black scales gleaming in the late sun. She leapt onto his back without pausing and he ran a few steps to gain momentum before taking off. Rhachsell wrapped her hands around his neck ridge, closing her eyes as the wind blew her hair back.

/"I'll just tell your father we've gone flying. I thought it best to wait until we were off the ground so he couldn't argue."/

/"Good thinking."/

/"Thanks."/

*

In the banqueting hall, Legolas paused in welcoming Aragorn and Gimli as Faroth politely informed him where Rhachsell was. The Mirkwood king blinked.

"What's the matter?" Aragorn asked. Legolas frowned.

"Rhachsell went to greet you but Faroth has just told me they've gone flying. That makes no sense."

Aragorn opened his mouth as if to say something then hesitated. Finally he cleared his throat with a shrug.

"I'm sure she has a good reason."

"I was looking forward to seeing her again," Gimli said in disappointment. Legolas patted his shoulder.

"I'm sure she won't be long."

Aragorn remained silent for a long moment, then his eyes came to rest on Arwen, sitting nearby as she talked to Haf. Gondor's king narrowed his eyes as he put everything together and he turned to Legolas.

"I think we need to talk later on my friend."

"About what?" Legolas asked in surprise. On his shoulder Anira chirped curiously, eyes whirling green. Aragorn shook his head.

"After the feast."

*

/"Why me Faroth?"/ Rhachsell asked bitterly. /"Why am I the half-orc dragon-rider who no one will talk too?"/ She stared down at Mirkwood, a dark green blanket spreading out beneath her.

/"You are unique,"/ Faroth told her gently. /"Yes you may have problems, but others do too. You can say that you are the only one of your kind anywhere in the universe and that makes you special."/

/"Well maybe I didn't *ask* to be unique!"/ Rhachsell cried. /"I wish I was normal! Just another elf that didn't stand out in any way."/

/"I think that every other elf would wish exactly the opposite if given the chance,"/ Faroth pointed out wryly. /"Everyone wants to be unique, the only one of their kind. Only you can say that you are the only half-orc dragon rider in Middle-earth. Only I can say I am the only dragon to have been born on a spaceship. Together we are special. You shouldn't let them tell you anything else."

/"Perhaps,"/ Rhachsell said with a sigh. Faroth snorted, a whisp of smoke rising from his nostrils to be whipped away by the wind.

/"There is no perhaps about it. You are special and I am special and together we are unique. That is all we need."/

Rhachsell leaned forward to hug her dragon. /"Love you Faroth."/

/"I love you too my unique rider."/



*



*"Ada" - father/dad

*"Anira" - 'to desire'

A.N. I'm sorry this chapter ended up so long - it wasn't meant too. Hopefully now I have the preliminaries over the next few chapters will be easier to get through. Thanks for reading and reviews are always appreciated.