A/N Aaah! Please don't hurt me, I know this chapter is very overdue. My excuse? E-mail me and all will be explained. For those who don't wish to, here it is: my plot bunny went on hiatus. Not to worry though, he's had far to many carrots to travel.

Anyway, last night I sat my butt down and told myself to write. This chapter is much longer than most. Be happy. I hope this makes up for it. Actually, I don't much like this chapter, but oh well. Could I have been any more cliché? Eh, probably. Hope you like it.

To my reviewers: I'm to lazy to do individual reviews at the moment, sorry guys ::sweatdrop:: But, a big thank you goes out to Alias, U-chan, just2spooky, California Mountain Girl, Anumati/RED, bluedolphin4612, Kaminari, Alias (yes, on here twice for a reason! Ty! Sorry I'm so late!) and deluwielxx.

Lempe (Five)

Sárie stared at the Elf, amazed at what had just escaped his lips. If you think that an eternity of life is unbearable now, just wait. Her heart began to beat faster, his words sinking into the depths of her soul.

"Aim carefully," Eruséro growled, turning his back to her and marching off toward his friends, towards Ailin.

Sárie could not bring herself to watch him go. On the outside she looked untouched, even amused by the comment. Underneath her skin, however, things were rather different. She wanted to run and hide, or to even break down and cry.

Sárie forced herself to shake it off as merely an idle threat, though her heart told her otherwise. A threat from Ailin was never idle. Sárie looked down at her side, to the hand clenched around her bow. Maybe Ailin could make Sárie look like a fool, and find great joy in doing so, but she would never be able to take away her pride. Sárie took a deep breath, and looked to where Legolas was shooting.

Legolas expertly maneuvered his weapon, the arrow landing almost effortlessly in the center of the target.

The crowd roared. A smile of pure happiness made it's way across his fair face. Looking to Sárie, he said, joy ringing in his voice, "Your shot."

"Aye." Sárie nodded. She had already made her choice, moving over to take her shot. The crowd grew quiet. Sárie felt as though her knees would give out as she strung the arrow. She had never been quite so nervous over shooting a blasted arrow before. Steadying her now-trembling arm, Sarie focusing all of her energy on shooting the arrow. She finally released it, the arrow landing in the center, right next to Legolas's.

A hush went over the crowd. It was a strange sight indeed, to see a peasant's daughter shooting as well as the crowned prince of Mirkwood. Sárie was pleased with herself, and turned to give Legolas a smug look.

Legolas was staring off into the woods surrounding the competition grounds. His brow was creased with worry, his eyes staring out as if there was some unseen foe.

"Legolas?" Sárie asked softly, walking towards the prince.

"Hush," he commanded.

Sárie's face paled as she complied. Had Ailin already begun her wrath? Sárie didn't want to imagine what the horrible She-Elf could think up.

"What do you see?" she asked nervously.

"Hush!" he said, this time much more sternly. Sárie quickly closed her mouth and looked around. No one else seemed to notice what Legolas was acting quite so apprehensive about.

Two arrows came rapidly through the field, one grazing Sárie's cheek, the other missing Legolas by only six inches. Sárie spun around to watch the arrows, a hand instinctively moving to her stinging cheek.

The arrows flew simultaneously to the center of the target, in turn snapping both Sárie's and Legolas's in half. The entire crowd was silent, staring in amazement at the target. Sárie was to shocked to move.

After a long pregnant pause, Lord Elrond, who had been overseeing the event, broke out in deep laughter. Sárie turned around, looking at the half-Elf with incredulity. She hadn't the foggiest idea of what in Middle Earth could be so funny about the whole situation. Elrond made a waving motion towards the forest, a large smile plastered across his face.

Out emerged his two twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, both with bow in hand. They were clad in a twilight grey, and stood tall, the dark hair of their father falling lightly below their shoulders.

"It seems we have a winner-- no-- two winners!" he said, standing up to greet his sons. Elladan and Elrohir bowed politely to their father. Despite their age, both wore the mischievous smile of a young boy.

Legolas was speechless. Never had he seen an event such as this. After a moment of gawking, he broke into a smile.

Sárie's hand swept over her cheek, whipping away a small stream of blood that had surfaced. She had barely noticed the tingle of the cut in all the excitement.

"Are you all right?" Legolas asked, noticing the small wound. Sárie nodded as Legolas examined it carefully.

"It's only a small cut, no need to be so thorough," Sárie said, turning her attention back to Lord Elrond and his sons.

The twins received a small mithril pendant, shaped as a bow and arrow. Elladan held the pendant for all to see, while Elrohir came to greet the other competitors.

"That was a wonderful competition to watch!" he said cheerfully. "Legolas, son of Thranduil, I presume." Legolas nodded. "You are a wonderful marksman; I can only wish to have the consistent accuracy of a Mirkwood archer."

"You are not half bad yourself," Legolas said kindly.

Elrohir turned to Sárie. "Forgive me, milady, for I'm sure my brother did not mean to scratch your fair face," he said, taking her hand and kissing it politely.

"I-it's quite all right, do not worry yourself about it," Sáire stuttered, immediately raising a self-conscious hand to the scrape. Elrohir smiled directly at her, and nodded his head, a somewhat amused look on his visage. Sárie could feel her cheeks grow warm, noting that Elrohir was still holding her hand. From the corner of her eye, Sárie saw Legolas roll his eyes for a brief moment, then look politely back at Elrohir. Sárie made a mental note to swat him later.

Elladan made his way towards his brother, his fair face growing troubled as he came near and pushed past Elrohir. "Oh my! Please forgive my rudeness, Lady," he began, pulling Sárie's hand from his brother. "I meant not to hit you, only to frighten a bit!"

"It is but a scratch! Nothing to worry about," Sárie assured Elladan.

"Are you sure? Do you need to see a healer or something?" Elladan asked.

"No, but I thank you for your concern," Sárie said, this time more forcefully. Elladan nodded his head, and then turned to Legolas, who was by this time looking a bit miffed. Elladan looked to his brother, who shrugged. They bowed politely, and made a quick exit.

Sárie watched the two rejoin their father. She couldn't help but smile. For the first time since Sárie could remember, Lord Elrond did not look like the firm, overly-serious ruler of Rivendell, but as a pleased father. She watched as Elrond beckoned his only daughter, the stunningly beautiful evenstar Arwen Undomiel, to him, his sons youthful with excitement.

"What are you so smug about?" Legolas asked after a long moment.

"Pardon?" Sárie asked, spinning to face him.

"Just now, you looked quite content with yourself."

"Well, if such is the case, then why do you seem so grumpy?" Sárie shot back. The Elf just frowned. "Aah, a sore loser, I suppose," Sárie said.

"You lost too."

"I was expecting to," Sárie said with a mild shrug. She stopped for a moment, not realizing that the words had sprung from her mouth until they had been said. Sárie knew it was the truth; her ego had a habit of getting the best of her.

Sárie gathered her bow, and looked around carefully, scanning the area for Ailin or any one of her group. None were in sight. Sárie breathed a sigh of relief.

"Naamarie (farewell), Legolas," Sárie said, deciding that this was the moment to sneak away unnoticed.

"You are leaving?" Legolas asked in surprise. "Why so soon? It is barely sundown."

"I know," Sárie said with an outwardly cold shrug, turning away from him. "I do not wish to spend more time inside Rivendell." The farther she was from the city, the farther from Ailin, and the closer to safety.

"Oh," Legolas said, his voice falling slightly.

Sárie bit her lip, and took a few steps, before turning back to give the Elf one more look. "I will see you tomorrow. Don't forget our bargain."

"But I didn't win," Legolas protested.

"Neither did I. Therefore I believe it still stands," Sarie said, thoroughly amused by the disgusted expression on Legolas's face. "You are very easily fooled Legolas." Sárie laughed.

"That is not something to joke about!" Legolas sputtered, gathering some of his pride.

"It was to tempting." Sárie shrugged. "But I must be on my way." She turned, and again tried to make her leave. There was a certain part of Sárie that begged her to stay behind. Its voice was small though confident, but Sárie merely shoved it into the back of her head. The faster she left the city, the better.

"Sárie!" Legolas's voice rang out after her, his hand catching her wrist.

"Yes?" Sárie asked, looking at him, her cheeks growing warm and her heart beginning to beat faster.

"Would you, allow me to walk you home?" He asked, his eyes darting around nervously.

Sárie was shocked for a moment and seriously considered his offer, but then shook her head. "No, I believe I can make it on my own, but thank you for offering."

Legolas did not say a word, only nodding.

"Goodbye then." Sárie said brightly.

"Yes, goodbye."

Sárie darted off, and behind the trees, making good time and heading directly to her home. You fool! Why did you say no!? That same voice from before rang shrilly. Would it be that horrible to have company for once? We are always alone. It is pathetic.

Oh hush. Another voice said, this one was soft and firm. What would have happened if Eruséro had shown up? I do not need anyone pitying me.

It is a bit late for that now, is it not? The other voice said, sounding cruel but honest.

Will you be quiet! I doubt Legolas really wanted to walk with me! He was just trying to be kind; he's a prince, and well brought up. Unlike me, the pariah of Rivendell.

Is that how you really want to be seen? Perhaps he just wants to, oh, perhaps get to know you? No, no, that is much too novel an idea.

I am pleased you see it my way!

You are just scared.

Me? I have nothing to be afraid of.

Yes you do. Don't lie to me. I know these things.

Well, if you are so wise, then what, pray tell, do I fear so deeply?

You fancy him.

I do not.

Yes you do.

No, I really do not.

Yes, you fancy him. You might not know it, but you do. Sárie, dear, you fear getting close to people. Do you have any friends? No, Mehtar does not count; he is family, though sometimes I wonder why he puts up with us.

The other voice was silent. Sárie closed her eyes, leaning against a mossy tree for support.

It is not so bad like this. I do not mind it, It managed to sputter.

Yes, you do. You hate it. And you want to know why? It is because even though people like Ailin make you miserable, you wish you could be them.

I do not! Never say that! EVER!

Admit it! You know I am right!

No!

Yes! Believe it! Just say it!

Not another word from you!

ADMIT IT!

"HOLD YOUR TONGUE!" Sárie called out. Everything around her went quiet. Her eyes sprang open, and she looked around herself. The sun was low in the sky, darkness coming quickly as the tall trees cast great shadows. She let out a deep sigh on the verge of a light sob. Why was it right? That small voice inside, it was always right. No matter how much she convinced herself otherwise, Sárie really did envy that horrible She-Elf.

Crack.

Sárie spun around quickly. She listened, never before feeling so fortunate for her keen hearing. Footsteps, soft speaking could be heard over the sounds of the forest preparing for night.

"Who is there?" Sárie asked firmly, refusing to let out how afraid she actually was. They did not need to answer, for the pit of Sárie's stomach told all she wished to know.

A cruel laugh rang out from all directions.

They appeared from all corners of the wood, slowing walking closer and closer. Sárie could make out the face of the leader.

Ailin.

She looked a lovely as usual, tall, thin, raiment billowed behind her, long blonde hair cascading down her back, red ribbons wound into it. The same fierce and vain, glorious grin. Her appearance was nearly perfect.

Nearly ten Elves followed her; no doubt Eruséro was one of them. Sárie could hear her heart beat in her ears, and looked around for an escape. Alas, there was none.

"Dearest Sárie, how long has it been since I have seen your unpleasant face? Not long enough," Ailin said, saying her name as if it was a curse, her tone sickeningly sweet.

Sárie said nothing. Her expression was similar to that of stone: hard and resolute.

Ailin frowned. "Lovely display of masculinity you were part of today." As if on cue, an Elf reached forward and tore the bow from Sárie's back. She jerked forward, and glared at the Elf as he handed it to Ailin. "Is it that hard for you to act your own gender? Perhaps if you pray, the Valor could change that for you." Her party all laughed.

They cannot touch you. Do not let them see any emotion.

"You know, that brother of yours, he has grown up quite handsome," Ailin said, turning back to her friends with a wicked smile, before looking back at Sárie. "Perhaps with some work," she said, raising the bow and pretending to shoot an arrow, "I could pierce that Elf's heart. He would be a fun one to break, wouldn't he?" Laughter grew again.

Do not react. That is what she wants. Do not say a word.

"Yes, to shatter him into a thousand small pieces, hopefully beyond repair. Now that would be good sport."

Not a word.

"Then poor Sárie would be the only disgrace to that horrid lineage of Elves she calls her kin."

"If you speak one more ill word of my family, I swear no one will ever want to look upon that face of yours again!" Sárie hissed, loosing all of the composure she had retained a moment before. She lunged at the She-Elf, intent on striking her. Arms reached out, grabbing her, some around her waist, others around her arms, and still some around her neck, pulling her away from their leader. Ailin let out a howl of wild laughter. She looked back at Sárie's bow.

"Eruséro."

"Yes, my Lady?"

"Break it into as many small pieces as possible."

Sárie's jaw dropped. How could she do such a thing! Not to her bow!

"It seems as if she objects. Good."

Sárie could only helplessly watch Eruséro as her bow cracked and splintered, then shattering. Ailin laughed almost hysterically as the task was completed.

"Release her." Her group did as they were told. Sárie stood there stiffly, staring to the spot where her bow now lay in pieces. "You are not out of punishment yet. The next time I tell you to do something, you best do it. Lets leave."

"Ailin," Sárie said softly.

"What, you wish to speak to me? Well, hurry up girl."

"I sincerely hope you die."

Sárie sat slumped against the side of the stoop in front of her home. She stared at the sky, the fragments of her bow now resting in her lap. She lightly hummed The Song of Tinúviel, and absentmindedly smoothed a strand of her hair.

How she wished she were that maiden of old! Lúthien Tinúviel, the fairest of all Elves in Middle Earth, fairer even than Arwen Undomiel, and loved by all. She was perfect. Sárie wouldn't have minded the horrible end, having her one love die in her arms and then dying herself of a broken heart, if she could only feel some of the joy that Tinúviel must have felt while alive.

Many nights had Sárie imagined what her life could have been like. How she could have friends, a normal family. Maybe even someone who meant more. How, perhaps, with some work, she could be as graceful and maybe a fraction as lovely as Undomiel.

Sárie lowered her head. Daydreaming did/solved nothing. She had to live in reality. This reality was cruel. She swallowed back a sob, a hand brushing over the top of her bow.

Archery. The one thing she was good at. The one thing she could be proud of. It was something that Ailin could shatter, like everything else. Perhaps it would be better if she died, just like Tinúviel…

Footsteps again. Sárie tensed up, only to recognize the steps as those of her brother. She breathed a sigh of relief.

"You are out late," she commented, her voice cold and firm.

"I know. Sorry, I was visiting with Iaheniel," Mehtar said, a smile working its way across his face at mention of the maiden.

"You fancy her?"

"Aye, I do." He paused for a moment. "Your bow, what happened?"

"I tripped… in the forest on my way home… you know me, always the gauche one," Sárie replied, with a bit of a shrug. There was no way she was going to let Mehtar know what had really happened. He wouldn't understand, no one could understand.

"Tomorrow, I'll help you make a new one," Mehtar said, sitting next to his sister. Something was bothering her, that was obvious. He wished that Sárie would open up to him, but she always had a habit of keeping everything inside. He wondered how much longer until she exploded with concealed emotion. He sincerely doubted that it would be long.

"No, it is all right," Sárie replied, standing up and moving away from her brother. "I have decided to quit archery. It is about time I acted my age."

"What are you going on about? Sárie, you are a wonderful archer, you proved that today. What is this madness about?" Mehtar asked sternly, grabbing his sister and forcing her to look him in the face.

"Leave me alone, Meht. Just let me be."

"Not until you explain this to me!"

"LEAVE ME ALONE." Sárie tore herself from her brother's grip. "Just let me be. I am going for a walk." She turned and headed back into the depths of the forest. She could not handle talking to someone. It was hard enough to deal with herself.

"Sárie—"

"Do not wait up for me."

A/N Oops, looks like I did the cliff-hanger thingy again. Ah well. Please review! I need the ego-boost right about now. ^.^ As always, don't forget to flame either!