What You See…

Hey pplz! Thanx for all the reviews! And thanx for not flaming! Constructive criticism is appreciated, but not flames. But, if you feel you must flame, please give me reason and one that's not because it's a mary-sue. PEOPLE! I AM PERFECTLY AWARE THAT MY CHARACTER IS A MARY-SUE SO YA DON'T NEED TO SHOVE IT IN MY FACE ALL THE TIME!!!!!! I KNOW THAT SHE IS, OKAY? Sorry it took a while to update; I was thinking a lot. Now, messages for some reviewees.

            theMuse: thank you very much. *tries to bow and curtsy at the same time and falls over* I know how much people just loooooove mary-sues *is hit by tomatoes and various fruits* sorry, I'm kinda in a sarcastic mood right now. Anyways, I know that I have made two mary-sues, and no, she's not an elf, I think. I haven't planned out too much yet, but I don't think I want her to be an elf. What do you think?

            Kelly: Thank you so much for all the support!! Hugs! And I'm sorry it took so long to update. I wasn't on vacation or anything. I was just thinking a lot and planning. Ok, so I admit it, I am kinda lazy. *hangs my head* but I'll try to get better! ^_^

            LadyTremere: You have said exactly what I wanted to say!!! It's uncanny! Like, I was literally thinking along the exact same lines! And no, I'm not gonna go to deep into the high school thing. It was just to give a taste of what her normal days are like. Well, thanx for expressing my thoughts! Hugs! Ok, you probably think I'm some kind of phsycho now, but, oh well. I'm a new writer so I'm still kinda insecure about my writing so I'm very grateful for support.

            Winterfox: I appreciate the constructive criticism and the answers to my questions. Yes, I knew I have plot holes, but I'll cover them eventually. Have patience. And I have read The Valley of Horses by Jean M. Auel and it was really good!! I read most of that series, but gave up when I reached The Shelters of Stone. I just got kinda tired of it and it was sooooooooo thick!!! In conclusion, did you like my story or not cuz I can't really tell from your review. Sorry if I'm being really stupid. Oh, and cute profile! ^_^

            Hi: a mary-sue is a person who's overly perfect. I could give you a much more detailed description of different types of mary-sues, but it's too late at night right now. If you want to know more, email me.

            Flamerule: you remind me of Winterfox! Yes, I know I have major plot holes, but all will be explained later on. Be patient. Sorry, you don't like the spaces, but I can't proofread without them. Same question for you as for Winterfox: did you like my story? Once again, sorry if I'm being extremely stupid.

            Lilyana: I know it's mary-sue. Things will be explained in the future.

Now, for everyone: I'm sorry if this is dragging, but things will start picking up the pace soon! I can't rush things, though, cuz I'm positive that if I do, it'll turn out horrible. There won't be too much more about her life, though, but I need to set things up for events in the future, so be patient please people? Oh, and in this chapter * * * * * will signify a changing in point of view. And I think I might switch to third person in the next chapter. Or was it first person? I think it's third. Ack! Now I've gotten myself all confused!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my characters. Everything else belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, that genius! I hope you already knew that.

Now, on with the next chappie! (All those notes took a whole page!)

Chapter Four: Tomorrow Never Dies

I paused in turning the doorknob, pausing to listen for even the tiniest sound of movement, which would mean that my parents were lying in wait for me, to ambush me at the beginning of the training course, when I would be least wary. Hearing nothing, I continued to turn the doorknob, as quietly as I could. Finally, I pushed the door open silently, slipping in quickly. I paused again, listening for noise. Today was not a test for speed but to avoid getting wounded. Speed courses usually proceeded much quicker. I held my bow and an arrow ready, knowing that attack would come soon. I slowly made my way down the long entrance hall, carefully avoiding the boards that creaked.

            Wait. There, a flash of movement—

I quickly released an arrow, putting another in place and sending it off within seconds. A dummy, which was used to take place of an actual person, since I can't really shoot real people with arrows, slowly swung back and forth in the middle of the hall, with my two arrows buried deep in it. I had sent my arrows off with much force, having learned that force would be required to stop an actual person. If a real being had been running towards you with, intent on killing you, a weakly-shot arrow might hit that person but would not stop him/her from running on with his/her last ounce of strength and killing you as well. If I had not caught the dummy, it's momentum from swinging downward towards me would have knocked me over. My parents didn't seem to have any trouble about hitting me with sharp objects, though. Attached to the dummy's right arm was a sharp, very real blade. I knew that all the dummies would be "wielding" some kind of weapon. I stopped for a moment to look at my shots. I was certainly all right with bow and arrow, certainly faster than many people I've ever seen. I had learned speed a long time ago. My parents held nothing but contempt for the slow and the weak. Unfortunately, speed did not mean accuracy. One of my arrows had pierced the dummy's "shoulder" and the other its "stomach."

I sighed inwardly as I yanked out my arrows. Never waste weapons, I thought grimly. I knew I would not be supplied with more arrows if I ran out. I really need to practice this. If only they would just give me targets and let me shoot them! I'm never gonna get better with my accuracy if I don't have some quality time just for target practice! I thought to myself. Oh well. I moved on. Never linger in one spot for too long, I had been taught. I made it to the stairs after shooting down another dummy that had swung down from the ceiling. It cost me three arrows which I could not take back because it was pulled back upwards right after I shot it. See, being not-so-accurate meant using many arrows.

Running up the stairs, I dispelled a few more dummies, disentangled myself from a few invisible nets, and fended off some of the close-range obstacles with my sword. My goal was to make it to the training room on the fifth floor. I kept on going, fighting my way through the obstacle course and finally reached the fifth floor. Yes! I had reached the room. A smile spread across my face for an instant. Then I remembered that there would still be a lot more to come, and it faded. I paused once again, straining my senses, my eyesight, hearing, sense of smell. Nothing. All appeared to be safe.

Then, in a flash, one last dummy swung down from the ceiling as quick as lightning. I swore and rolled out of the way but too late. The sword stuck to its "arm" pierced my right arm. Hurriedly, I sent off two arrows, effectively "killing" it. I felt warm blood flowing in a little trickle down my arm and felt for the cut, knowing I would not see it. There. It was not so deep and did not hurt so much. But then, more came. Dummies suddenly seemed to swing in from every direction. The door to the training room was right behind me, though, so I ran into it instead of trying to defeat all of them, slamming the door after me. Yes! Temporary sanctuary! I had made it! That hadn't taken very long, a bit shorter than usual, in fact. I would be able to eat dinner early! That was wonderf—

Holy sh— I had no time to complete the thought as two arrows came hurtling out of the wall. I threw myself flat on the floor as the two arrows sailed over my head. Great, I mentally groaned, no wonder it didn't take so long today. I should've been expecting this! The training room was usually just one very large room, but there were places in the floor, ceiling, and walls where thin, paperboard walls could be set up to create temporary rooms. My parents taught many students every day, seeing as how they are martial arts teachers, though probably not in the same way they "taught" me.

Today the room was split into I don't know how many rooms, for separate obstacles. The one I was in right now was the, what I like to call, the Let's Use Aria for Target Practice room. My goal was to make it to the door at the far end and escape into another room. Now, that sounds extremely simple, but when you add in the fact that very sharp arrows would be hurtling out towards me from slits in the temporary wall and that I didn't know when they would be coming, it was rather, no, extremely difficult. I had experience, though, and I knew, more or less, how to get through it with only minor injuries. Well, might as well try to get this over with as fast as possible. There'll be more training after you get through all of this. Hello, wasn't your goal to eat dinner not so late today? Heaving a sigh, I carefully strapped all of my weapons tightly to me and made sure they would not get in the way. Then I sprinted.

Arrows came hurtling out of the wall. I analyzed each very quickly. Up, down, duck, jump, my brain gave orders to my body smartly and quickly. To the floor, DUCK!!! I must have looked somewhat like an acrobat, jumping one moment and hurling myself to the floor the next, rolling and tumbling all the while. Whoa! An arrow grazed my cheek. I kept on doggedly, only about a fourth of the room left to go. I made it to the door without doing myself any further damage.

I kept on the alert, this time, as I stepped silently through the doorway, and rightly so since an arrow came rushing towards me from the ceiling the moment I went in. I sprang to the side, away from the arrow but making sure I wouldn't spring into a corner. Never let yourself get cornered. Once again, I went through a similar process of what had happened in the previous room, dodging arrows. The only difference was that in this room, the arrows came out of both walls and the ceiling, making it much more difficult to get to the other side of the room. But I had done this before and therefore was not completely new to it. The first time I had gone through this course, I had nearly gotten myself killed, but years of practice did pay off.

I quickly prepared my bow and an arrow before stepping inside the next to last room. By now, after I had gone through the first two rooms, I knew what would be in the third. It would be exactly the same as the second one…except for the fact that there would be dummies too which I would have to shoot down. I wish I could say that I was as good in this room as I was in the other ones, but unfortunately, I wasn't. Actually, in my opinion, I suck at it. I would become so busy watching out for arrows, which I considered more important since there was less chance that the swords the dummies would be "holding" would hurt me than the arrows that would be coming out of three sides of the room, that I would forget about the dummies until they bumped into me, which effectively knocked me out of balance. Oh well. Life sucks. So what else is new?

I went into the room and began to run as fast as I could. Speed would not give enough time for too many unnoticed dummies to knock me over. Arrows came from two sides of the wall and the ceiling. If only they were coming out of one or two directions, I thought wistfully but quickly banished the thought and concentrated on the task ahead of me. Left, right, DUCK!!! Wait, a dummy! SHOOT IT! HURRY! I put three arrows in the thing, halting it in its crash course toward me.

Unfortunately, another one had crept up behind me without my notice. Now it promptly knocked me over. I fell to the ground with a thud. Ouch, I thought but was grateful that its short sword hadn't poked me anywhere. I stood up, then quickly threw myself to the ground again as three arrows whooshed over my head. The rest of the way to the door proceeded in much the same fashion with me shooting some dummies and others knocking me over. But, I still made it through the door without any black-fletched arrows sticking out of me, which was a relief considering that one time…but nevermind about that.

The last room. As expected, one of my parents, today being my mother, was waiting for me, the usual cold expression cemented on her face. I looked quickly at the weapon she was wielding. Regular sword. I would be training in swordwork today. Good, I thought grimly, at least this is a weapon I'm pretty good with. I knew though, not to discard my other weapons. One should always attack from afar and try to avoid close combat. So I threw one of my daggers at her. Yes, I did use real weapons. I suppose my parents felt themselves so much better than me that they could afford to let me use real weapons against them, knowing that they were good enough to block any and all of the weapons I used before they could actually hurt them. She dodged it. I quickly followed that attack with shooting off a few arrows. She dispelled those with a fast, spinning motion of the sword she was carrying, coming closer to me each second. My goal was to try to stop her before there would be of need for close combat. Although I knew that I would not be able to do so, I still tried with every ounce of my will. I sent off more arrows, as fast as I could. She blocked all of them, coming still closer. Faster, faster, my brain screamed. I shot faster. Now even my mother had to work a little to block all of the arrows. Still faster I went, until I was afraid I would cut myself at the speed I was going. Then—an opening. I hurled another of my daggers.

So close.

But not enough.

Just as the dagger was about to plunge into her body, she moved. All of a sudden, she seemed to be out of that situation, the dagger slicing harmlessly through thin air. She was just suddenly somewhere else. I didn't even see her move. See, now was when I began to have impossible thoughts about my parents being not of this world. For surely, no human being could move so fast that the eye could not see! I resisted those thoughts stubbornly though, feeling I would lose my mind if I dug deeper into them. So I accepted what there was and forced myself to believe that there must be some way to move like that. Besides, I was used to my parents getting out of impossible situations by now.

My mother moved toward me, looking the same as when I first entered the room, not as if she had been almost killed just a few seconds before. She was closing the space between us. I had enough time, though, for maybe a few more arrows. I reached into my quiver to grab one. My hands closed on emptiness. Damn! I thought angrily, hurling my bow and quiver aside and drawing my sword. I knew I shouldn't have used up so all my arrows! My mother was finally close enough. She raised her sword. The sound of steel upon steel rang. We were now engaged in a series of blows and parries. My mother's strong blows upon my already weak right arm was driving me backwards, against the wall. There was no time to switch to the other arm, though. (Yes, I had been trained in the use of swords with both arms in case one became injured.) I fervently wished that I had my scimitars right now. Scimitars resembled swords, except that they were shorter and had curved edges, and both (since most people who trained in that type of weapon used two) were used at the same time, one for each arm. They were my favorite choice of weapon, and, in my opinion, I was most skilled in their use than in that of any other weapon.

I remember that the first time my parents had given them to me as a new type of weapon to learn how to use, I had despaired. For how could I ever learn how to use a weapon for each hand that had to work in perfect harmony? It seemed impossible. But I could not deny the grace of the weapon, the spectacularly sharp edge of the blade, the perfect way the hilt seemed to fit within my hand. And it was not too heavy either, unlike some of the other weapons I had used; it was perfect for someone of my build. And eventually, I became skilled in its use. Even my parents had agreed that I had a natural talent with that weapon (which had caused my jaw to drop and me to gape like a fish for the next few minutes—since when did my parents compliment me?), and I practiced hard with it, often facing off the others who took lessons from my parents. Yes, I often sparred with them down at the studio, where my parents taught martial arts. Soon, the scimitars felt like a natural extension of me, and when I practiced with them, ignoring the true reason that I was learning any kind of martial arts, I delighted in the experience. For training in this type of weaponry was an art… a dance. There was something exquisitely graceful and defined about the whirl and swish of the scimitar, the perfect interplay of two flashing weapons, weaving in perfect unison, creating something that was song and dance, life and death—the essence of art.

But, unsurprisingly, just as I was beginning to become a true master of the weapon, my parents stopped my training in it, as they always did when I became too used to one particular weapon. Sometimes I wondered if they were limiting my skill, if they sought to keep me from reaching my full potential…but that would be foolish, would it not? Why would they train me if they did not want me to become a true master? But that was the way it was with my parents—all questions, no answers. I probably would've just given up then, discontinued my work of scimitars and moved on to the next weapon and lost the highest point that I might've been able to reach, as I always did. But that was when I found a role model in the use of that weapon. This person was definitely the most skilled that I had ever heard anyone to be in the use of scimitars. He knew every trick there was and was undefeated in his craft. This person, or perhaps I should say drow elf, was Drizzt Do'Urden, from R.A. Salvatore's Forgotten Realms.

Yes, it is very strange. For how could a character in a book be a role model? But to those who have a large imagination, as I do (sometimes too overactive), it was easy to imagine him real and existing. Through descriptions in the books, I could vividly picture each cut and sweep of his weapon, each perfectly exacted maneuver. He was the master, the epitome of skill in the use of scimitars. And so I had my inspiration to go on. I practiced in secret, honing each thrust and swipe to perfection, creating drills and maneuvers of my own, always with a few battered library books next to me, those which were my guides. That was when I was fourteen… a time when I lived half in a fantasy world and half in reality, a strange experience. I did not know what drove me to do this. I could have simply given up the craft the many times when I failed to perfect something I had been working on for days. Perhaps it was just the need to feel that I was good at something in this life, something that I would choose to be good at of my own will, not that of my parents. And so I came to love the scimitars, not for their ability to kill or slaughter, but for their eternal, mesmerizing song and dance. And I hoped that one day, I would be as good as Drizzt Do'Urden, fictional character or not, that one day I might be described by someone in the same way. Then I'll know that I truly achieved my goal.

Snapping out of my thoughts, I ran out of range for a little while, switching my sword to the other hand, which was not injured. My mother came at me again. This time, I pushed her back. I kept on pushing until this time, it was she who was pressed against the wall. For a moment I had hopes of winning this duel, but they were dashed when my father entered the scene, bearing his heavy broadsword. Now I was fighting off both of them. More than ever, I wish I had my scimitars. But just because I wished it did not mean I would get it. I tried to fend both of them off as best as I could, going on the defensive. I knew I was being backed into the wall, but there was nothing I could do to stop it.

My parents, finally overwhelmed me, though, and the training session resulted in the usual daily beating. My father's unemotional voice drifted over me as they left, "Tomorrow's training session shall be delayed to seven thirty." I heard their footsteps going down the stairs. I dragged myself into a sitting position, wincing. For the most part, my body had become used to the pain…but it was still painful. I stumbled into the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the hot water soothe my wounds. Coming out around half an hour later, I checked the clock. 11:13. I sighed. So I didn't make my goal to eat before eleven. Oh well, close enough.

I tramped down the flights of stairs and into the kitchen, dressed in a soft and airy robe, still wincing every now and then. Flipping on the TV, I popped a pizza into the microwave and began to heat it. I only ate microwavable food at home. You don't want a taste of my cooking skills. The last time I had tried to actually cook something for dinner, I had caused the fire alarm to go off and had to use the fire extinguisher on the what-had-been eggs. Since then, I only heated things in the microwave. As the food heated, I thought about what my parents had said. "Tomorrow's training session shall be delayed to seven thirty." I had known that already, of course. Every year, on the exact same day, training would be delayed. I assumed that that was the one day that my parents actually went somewhere. Well, tomorrow it would be my day to escape.

I don't know why the idea had never occurred to me before. I could've tried to escape before. Me and my stupidity. Well, tomorrow I would escape, or try to anyway. I had a plan…sort-of. I would come home from school as quickly as possible, without doing homework first and find Johnny. I would pack some of his clothes, and then we would leave. I didn't know where we would go, but it would be as far away from here as possible. It sounded so simple. I just hoped that my parents would truly be gone. All of my prized possessions were packed and ready to go. Tomorrow, I thought, the light of hope finally reaching my eyes, we're gonna leave tomorrow!

* * * * * Legolas's P.O.V. * * * * *

            I released one last arrow, killing off the last orc of that group. Sighing, I surveyed the scene before me. All of those who had come on this orc hunt were cleaning their weapons. Orc hunting. I gladly helped to protect Mirkwood's borders but after seven consecutive days of hunting orcs, I was beginning to grow quite weary of the task.

"Why the gloomy look, Legolas? We killed off that band of orcs quite effectively, and no one was injured. One would think that you would be glad of that," Aragorn spoke, having come to stand beside me.

"I am glad," I replied, still looking at those who had accompanied me cleaning their weapons.

"Really?" he said. I turned to look at him. His arms were crossed and the expression on his face clearly told me he didn't believe a word I'd said.

I smiled a little, saying, "Yes, really. I am deeply sorry, though, Aragorn, that you should need to accompany us on this orc hunt while you are here, visiting Mirkwood with Lord Elrond and his kin. You should be enjoying the city and the palace, not hunting orcs!"

"Legolas, my friend," he replied, "I do not mind in the least. Besides, even this is better than being dress-up model of those little sisters of yours! If you'll forgive me for saying so, they are truly worse than a band of orcs!"

I laughed. "I forgive you. They can be quite a handful, those two!" We were now making our way towards our mounts, as were the rest of those that had come. My thoughts were cheered now as I thought about my two little twin sisters, Elaviel and Cerricwyn. They were only babes right now, at the age of seven, and their favorite activity these days was to play their favorite game, dress-up, with Aragorn. They were fascinated by the man, so different was he from the usual Elven nursemaids. He was also enchanted by them, often giving them treats and telling comical tales, though he didn't fancy their game dress-up very much.

"You're their best friend now, you know," I informed him as we began the ride home, "They won't settle for anyone to play with but you."

"I'm doomed!" he exclaimed theatrically, laughing. Lord Elrond, his daughter Arwen, his two sons, Elledan and Elrohir, a few more members of his household, and a group of skilled archers for protection had come to visit Mirkwood to further negotiations between the two places. Aragorn, as Lord Elrond's adopted son, had come along as well. They had been here for a while, and Aragorn and I had become fast friends, though he was a great deal younger than me. But he was a good friend and a noble man, in fact, the only Man to travel to Mirkwood for quite some time, and my sisters adored him, soon believing that all in the race of Men must be as "nice as our friend Esty." (They found the name Aragorn both too long and too hard to come up with nicknames for; they came up with nicknames for everyone. Instead, they preferred calling him different versions of Estel.) That was quite a good thing in the light of negotiations but not as good in real life. "Rather a handful" was not exactly an accurate description of Elaviel and Cerricwyn. "Crazy" or "little terrors" might be a more descriptive. They terrified most of the nursemaids assigned to them. A few had even quit, declaring that royal family or not, those two "monsters" were unmanageable. But, practically everyone who knew them loved those two, excluding any nursemaids. Identical twins with blonde hair and large, blue eyes, they were hard to resist. My whole family—Father, my eldest brother Calith, my elder brother Tándir, our sister Norith, who was older than all of us and ever our undisputed leader, and I—adored them and, I have to admit, spoiled them a bit.

Another thought that cheered me was the thought of the festival we would be having in a few more weeks. There would be competitions in swordwork, archery, etc. but also in enjoyable events such as dancing, singing, etc. After each separate day's competition, there would be a feast with much good food, wine, and entertainment. I was looking forward to the festival very much.

It was nightfall by the time we reached the city. Our mounts were taken away, and we strolled inside, everyone eagerly looking forward to food and a hot bath. I was in much better spirits now that I was back in the city of my people, within the palace's beauty and light. For now, I could relax for a while. A messenger came up to me as we were heading toward the dining hall. I halted.

"Prince Legolas?" the messenger inquired.

"Yes," I replied with a sinking heart, suspecting what he would tell me. So far, each day had been like this.

"Another band of orcs has been spotted on the border. Your father has informed me to tell you that if you're still up to it, there shall be more orc hunting tomorrow. He bids you visit him in his study for details." The messenger then bowed and proceeded on his way.

I sighed, having been expecting the message yet still unhappy about it. I would, of course, be up to it. I did not want to disappoint my father. "Well, my friend," I spoke gloomily to Aragorn as we continued on our way to the dining hall, "Tomorrow, we hunt more orc."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

            "She is improving greatly. She almost beat you today. If I had not shown up, she might have! We cannot continue like this; she will grow stronger than us!"

"But we cannot stop it. They will not allow us, and we cannot completely banish them or else we will die as well."

"There is no way we may continue like this, teaching her our skills, the skills we have never taught any before. She is growing more and more skilled. The light of determination is in her eyes. She is no longer a child! Soon enough, she shall rebel."

"No, she shan't. We have her brother."

"But what will she do when she learns of…?"

"She shall never learn of it."

"What about escape? Will she not try to escape with him tomorrow?"

"She will not. She is too weak, too pitiful, too…mortal. Besides, she does not know where he is, and she will not leave without him."

"She will if she finds out."

"Perhaps she will not, even if she does find out. Her love for him is great. She will not do so unless it is the last choice."

"But even if she does not try to escape, there is still the matter of teaching her our arts. We may try to hold back as much as we can, but by and by, they will force us to pit our entire strength against her. Then she will learn; she will become better."

"She still has a long way to go before that will come to pass."

"She is growing very skilled in the use of the double swords."

"Then we must not train her in it for a very long time. There are many other things to train her in. We can put it off for at least a year. By that time, she will have forgotten her old skills and have to relearn them."

"We cannot let her grow too powerful!"

"We won't. She doesn't have it, remember? She cannot stop us."

"This would've been so much easier if only…"

"Yes, I know. But only one would do, you know that. Only the one."

"I still do not think this is wise."

"We shall ask the Council tomorrow. They shall give us solid advice. If you will not heed me, you should at least heed them, the wisest."

"But not for long. We will grow in power, when all is ready."

"When all is ready… For now, just wait for tomorrow, for the Council."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

            Tomorrow. Just one more day, and I would weave my spell. I had gathered all the components necessary and was completely ready. My hand trembled in anticipation. I had grown too close to them, to close. I must leave now before he comes after me. Before he once again destroys all that I have. I must go. I must leave them, and never think about them again!

But I could feel my heart quavering. How desperately I wanted to stay! To stay with everyone I knew and loved… But I couldn't. I couldn't even let them in on the biggest secret in my life, my magic. My magic was my life. If only people here used magic. Then I would not have to struggle so to keep my secret. I looked at the spell I had written, re-reading it for the hundredth time. Everything had to be perfect. No, there were no flaws or errors. My spell was perfect. I then checked the angles of my window, making sure the moonlight would stream through, hitting the small, circular desk I had prepared. In the middle of that table I would weave my spell, gather the threads of magic to me.

Tomorrow would be Halalia, the day when seven moons of seven different worlds on seven different planes would meet. They would form an alignment, allowing powerful magic to be completed. In most places it occurred once a millennia, or once in every ten millennia. I was astonished at how often it occurred on this planet, Earth. It occurred once a year, once every 365 days. Then would the time and space configurations of seven planets be in alignment, slow or quicken to match each other. It was indeed a very amazing phenomenon.

If they knew what I am going to do tomorrow, they would stop me, I thought sadly, but they're not here. They would say that fate never intended for things like this to happen, that I was performing forbidden magic. They would say that no one was supposed to use or have such power, that even though I did, it did not mean that I should use it in such a way. They would say that fate would punish me for it. Fate! My thoughts ran bitter, like wine made from the skin of an orange peel, Since when has fate ever heeded what I wanted? Since when has fate ever stopped punishing me? Since when has fate ever paid attention to the many lives and families it destroyed? No, fate would forever be my enemy. Too much blood had been spilled, too many tears shed for forgiveness. My heart has become cold in hatred. I realized with some surprise. I now long for revenge; this hate eats away at my blood, burning me in many more ways than a fire ever could. You should be ashamed of yourself, I chastised myself, you always stopped people from thinking along those lines, and now you're doing so yourself? What has happened to you? What would they think?

I will never know what they would think because he has robbed me of that chance! Fate has taken them all from me! I will never again see them! Fate and his accomplice are murderers and thieves. They cannot every give back what they took! I argued against my conscience with icy fire burning in my veins. I felt tears prick my eyes and angrily wiped them away. Tears would not help; they never did.

I regained control over myself once more, separating myself from my mind. Now everything was in a cold perspective, like snow on a winter's eve. I knew what I would do, and I would not be stopped in doing it. I would work this magic, and no one would stop me. After all, who can? I thought sadly, There is no one left.

No one left…

How bleak it sounded. I caught myself right before I began stumbling down the road of self-pity. That never helped either. I hardened my resolve. Tomorrow… the thought lingered in my mind like the aroma of some delicious food. Tomorrow, it would all end…or all begin again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

WOW!!! Longness!!! I'm on my tenth page! This was a hard chapter! For some reason, I could not seem to find the right way to portray Legolas. And I had such a hard time finding ok names for his siblings! Hope I did all right! And I couldn't resist putting dear old Drizzt in there…that was a revision, for anyone who read this before I changed it. I finally figured out what the double swords were formally called when I began reading Forgotten Realms…and I couldn't resist putting Drizzit in there as her role model! He's so cool even though he's only a fictional character, and from the way Salvatore describes him, he does sound like he's the best with the scimitars. But to let everyone know, it was not Forgotten Realms that inspired me to have the scimitars be Aria's chosen weapon. I came up with that before I had ever even heard of Forgotten Realms! Hell, I just figure out that two blades, not too long, not too short, were called scimitars! So don't accuse me of copying or anything.

 Anyways, thank you all soooooooo much for answering my questions. I am a rather ignorant person, but I like to have my facts straight before I write something. Now, I don't know how many sibling Legolas has, so I just made them up. I was doing some research and it said that there was never any record of how many children Thranduil had or of his wife or anything, so I'm just gonna make them up! Please tell me if I'm wrong, however. Well, questions now: IF AN AUTHOR IS NOT LISTED ON FANFICTION. NET, CAN YOU STILL BORROW SOME OF THEIR STUFF? FOR EXAMPLE, IF IN A BOOK AN AUTHOR HAS A SONG OR POEM THAT YOU WANT TO INCLUDE IN YOUR STORY, CAN YOU DO SO AS LONG AS YOU GIVE THEM THE CREDIT? Wow, that was a lengthy question, but I didn't know how to phrase it. Also, DO I HAVE TO SAY A DISCLAIMER AT THE BEGINNING OF EVERY CHAPTER? AND, DOES A/N MEAN AUTHOR'S NOTE? Thanx for the patience, people, and PLEASE REVIEW!!!!!  Hope you liked this chappie cuz it took me a while.

                                                                                                                                                      ~Lady of Dreams~