What You See…

HEY U GUYS! ONCE AGAIN, I'M SO DAMN SORRY THAT THIS TOOK SO LONG!!! BUT I HAVE BEEN BUSY WITH SCHOOL AND ALL…I KNOW, I KNOW, THEY'RE ALL EXCUSES…SOWEE! And before u go 'holy crap! That's long!' I tell u that part of it is revisions!

OK PEOPLES! THIS IS VERY VERY VERY VERY IMPORTANT! I HAVE DONE A FEW REVISIONS ON THE PAST FEW CHAPTERS. PLEASE GO AND READ THEM BECAUSE YOU MIGHT NOT UNDERSTAND SOME THINGS THAT HAPPEN IN THE FUTURE. FOR YOU CONVENIENCE, I WILL POST THE REVISION RIGHT HERE BEFORE CHAPTER 11. IF YOU WANT FURTHER REFERENCE TO WHAT WAS HAPPENING AT THE TIME, THOUGH, I'LL ALSO TELL YOU WHAT CHAPTER THE REVISION WAS IN AND WHERE TO FIND IT!

I MADE ARIA A SOPHOMORE INSTEAD OF A FRESHMAN BECAUSE I WANTED HER TO BE YOUNG AND HAVE A DECEMBER BIRTHDAY AND IF SHE HAD BEEN A FRESHMAN, IT WOULDN'T HAVE WORKED OUT.

FIRST CHANGE: I HAVE FINALLY DISCOVERED WHAT THE PROPER TERM FOR DOUBLE SWORDS ARE: SCIMITARS. ALSO, I AM CURRENTLY READING R.A. SALVATORE'S FORGOTTEN REALMS SO I PUT A LITTLE BIT OF THAT IN HERE…SORTA

*****Aria's POV*****        

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 flawless 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 executed 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—fiction books, books about scimitars and their use, 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 in my use of the scimitars.

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.

I ADDED SEVERAL PARAGRAPHS TO THIS SECTON. THIS WAS PROBABLY MY LONGEST REVISION. AS I EXPLAINED IN MY AUTHOR'S NOTE THAT I ADDED AT THE BOTTOM, I DID NOT COPY THE IDEA OF ARIA BEING THE BEST AT THE SCIMITARS FROM SALVATORE'S CHARACTER, DRIZZT DO'URDEN. UP UNTIL RECENTLY, WHEN I BEGAN READING THE BOOKS, I DID NOT EVEN KNOW THAT THAT TYPE OF WEAPON WAS CALLED A SCIMITAR! REMEMBER, I WAS JUST REFERRING TO THEM AS DOUBLE SWORDS. BUT NOW I HAVE FINALLY FIGURED OUT THE TRUE NAME…ALSO, AS I'M CURRENTLY READING THE SERIES, I COULDN'T RESIST PUTTING DEAR OLD DRIZZIT IN THERE…HE'S COOL! AND FROM THE WAY SALVATORE DESCRIBES ALL OF HIS BATTLES, HE DOES SOUND LIKE HE'S A MASTER OF THAT PARTICULAR WEAPON. IF YOU HAVEN'T READ FORGOTTEN REALMS, YOU PROBABLY HAVE NO CLUE WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT. FOR THOSE WHO HAVE, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! EVEN IF YOU DON'T LIKE THIS LITTLE CHANGE, AT LEAST IT GIVES ME SOMEONE TO TALK ABOUT FORGOTTEN REALMS WITH! LOL… ^_^WELL, THIS WAS IN CHAPTER FOUR, TOMORROW NEVER DIES, A LITTLE BIT AFTER ARIA STARTS BATTLING HER MOTHER.

I HAVE COMPLETELY CHANGED LEGOLAS'S FAMILY. AS OF NOW:

LEGOLAS: YOUNGEST SON OF THRANDUIL

TÁNDIR: MIDDLE SON OF THRANDUIL

CALITH: ELDEST SON OF THRANDUIL, HEIR TO THE THRONE

NORITH: OLDER SISTER OF LEGOLAS, TÁNDIR, AND CALITH; THRANDUIL'S ELDEST CHILD

ELAVIEL AND CERRICWYN: TWIN DAUGHTERS OF THRANDUIL; YOUNGEST OF THE FAMILY

HERE IS THE SECTION WHERE I MADE THESE CHANGES (GIVES A FEW MORE DETAILS):

*******Legolas's POV******

"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.

THIS WAS IN CHAPTER FOUR, TOMORROW NEVER DIES. IT'S AROUND HALFWAY DOWN LEGOLAS'S POV.

LAST REVISION: I MADE LEGOLAS AND TÁNDIR HAVE A SORT OF SIBLING RIVALRY…

*******Legolas's POV******        

The room was clean and tidy, with a canopied bed in the center. It was adequately, if not ornately, furnished and did not look like it had not been used for a long time. We always kept the rooms of healing new and spotless, just in case someone was severely wounded, which was just the case now. I placed young woman on the bed as the others lit torches and candles all around the room, illuminating it. We checked the rest of the accommodations to make sure that everything was usable. Servants brought hot water, cloths, and the rest of the things needed for healing. Lord Elrond, accompanied by my father, Aragorn, and the messenger arrived only a moment later. I almost groaned aloud as I saw that my elder brother Tándir was also with them. Things were not going well between us these days. He seemed to think me inferior to him and not experienced enough to traverse through Mirkwood, leading the orc-hunting party. I had proved my skills in weaponry many times, but he still seemed to see me as but a child. Our little conflicts had been becoming more explosive nowadays. He was always provoking me, trying to make me lose my temper and go into a fit of blind rage that would immediately label me as child. Others were beginning to notice the mounting tension between my brother and me as well, though, and often calmed us or separated us when things began to get ugly. I knew that one day we would have to settle this though. Avoiding each other temporarily did not seem to be working.

Though I did suppress the groan, Tándir caught the expression on my face and smirked, seeing an opening for another verbal attack. "Not pleased to see me, Brother?" he asked silkily.

"Of course not, Tándir," I said, assuming an expression of innocence. Two could play at this game. "Whatever gave you that idea?" His face remained emotionless, and he did not reply, for the others in the room, very much aware of the rising conflict between us, were beginning to send us glances.

Lord Elrond had been examining the young woman's wounds. He had asked no questions yet, though I knew they would be coming soon. He let out a small exclamation as he touched her forehead. "She is burning up with fever, and not a completely natural one at that!" He spoke in the Common, or Westron, so that those servants and healers who could not understand the Elven language would know what he said.

AND THEN, A LITTLE BIT LATER, RIGHT WHEN EVERYONE WAS LEAVING SO LORD ELROND COULD START THE HEALING PROCESS…

Lord Elrond continued briskly, though I could tell that he was disturbed as well, not giving the time for a flurry of questions to break out. "She has a few minor cuts that can be taken care of quickly, but I'm worried about this long gash on her leg. It is very deep and may have already become infected. It will need to be cleaned and dressed. Her arm has suffered a very bad break. I will need to set it immediately or else it will not heal in the right manner." He stopped, looking around the room. No one moved. "Well?" he asked. "We must start." At those words, everyone seemed to break out of their trances. A whirl of activity started, with the healers setting everything up for the long process of healing as everyone else was ushered gently but firmly out into the corridor.

Some began leaving, my father being one of the first, saying that he had to attend to other matters. Those who had helped me bring the young woman to this room went next, telling me to inform them when her condition changed. Finally, Aragorn, Tándir, and I exited the room. "Ugly little thing, isn't she?"  Tándir remarked. "I mean, with those bruises and all. The only thing remarkable about her seems to be her hair color!"

My fists clenched at my sides as I fought down anger at my brother's insensitivity and arrogance. "She was wounded; it is through no fault of hers that she looks that way. She did not choose to be in the situation she was found under. Appearances are not everything, my brother."

"I guess you would know, Legolas," Tándir said with a small sneer. "After all, you don't keep up your appearances, do you? At this rate, no she-Elf will ever fall in love with you!"

Keeping my temper in check, I replied calmly, "Is that all you ever think about, Tándir? Females and looks?" And before he could reply with some other stinging comment, I said, "You had better go, Brother. Or have you forgotten that it's your turn to watch the twins today? And I truly wish you luck," a mischievous grin formed on my face, "though I would not want to be in your position. Let's hope they do not decide that their dear older brother Tánny's (their rule for nicknames: two syllables and ends in something sounding like eee) hair has grown quite dull and that a new hairstyle is in order." Tándir scowled at me, stalking away down the hall without another word. Aragorn let out a chuckle, saying, "Legolas, you provoke your brother just as much as he provokes you!"

"What? It's true!" I said innocently. "And besides, he started it."

Aragorn shook his head, still grinning, "You sound like your dear twin sisters when you say that." A rumbling noise filled the air. I laughed. Aragorn looked a little embarrassed but then said firmly, "Well, I'm going to the dining hall to eat because unlike you, I'm not an Elf and need more food." He began walking down the corridor, pushing me along. I let him push me, chuckling over both my small victory with Tándir and Aragorn. Thoughts of the silver-haired girl struck me, but I pushed them away, knowing that I could do nothing. So, laughing and joking, Aragorn and I made our way down to the dining hall.

THIS WAS IN CHAPTER EIGHT, FIRST IMPRESSIONS, JUST A LITTLE BIT AFTER THE VERY BEGINNING IN LEGOLAS'S POV. I THINK THAT THOSE WERE THE ONLY MAJOR REVISIONS… I MADE A FEW MINOR ONES, BUT THOSE WERE MOSTLY GRAMMAR AND SPELLING ERRORS. THANKS FOR BEING PATIENT WITH ALL THIS, YOU GUYS! AND HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS CHAPTER!

*astericks* = Elvish

Italics = thoughts/ emphasis/ Elvish

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Chapter Eleven: Teaching and Learning

Darkness.

It was swirling, invisible yet so palpable that it seemed to tingle within her very bones. Where am I? she wondered. She couldn't see. All that was visible was the endless churning darkness. She tensed, listening for any sound.

Nothing.

She listened for several more seconds. Silence itself seemed to take on a sound—the sound of tension, of caution, of…fear. The silence continued, going on and on, seeming to stretch. Fighting the urge to scream—the silence was driving her mad—she began to walk, the cautious, silent steps of a hunter, a warrior. She did not know where she was walking; she did not even know what she was walking on! All she knew was the darkness and the silence. But then everything shifted. The blackness so thick that she could not see her own hand in front of her face became a room that was all too familiar to her.

A training room in the five-story house.

Sudden light struck her eyes, blinding her for a second. Instinctively, she ducked low, closing her eyes and rolling, her hands searching for her weapons but finding none. Reopening her eyes, she found herself in a defensive crouch, still in the training room.

But it was empty.

Sunlight was streaming through the open windows. Open windows? she thought in confusion. They never open the windows in these rooms. Outside, birds chirped, playing a little melody of spring in their innocent, childlike joy of nature and the world outside. The scent of flowers—roses, daisies, violets, tulips; she identified each as the fragrances assaulted her—was sent into the room by a fresh breeze that teased the curtains into a small dance. Strands of silver—why is my hair loose? she wondered with some annoyance—blew into her face, and she brushed them away impatiently with her hand. It was a scene of bliss and harmony. Light struck the room in all corners, illuminating it, making it seem so different from its usual gloom and chill.

Yet one corner remained wrapped in shadows.

She paced forward carefully, silent as ever, bare feet but a whisper of the wind on the wooden floor. A groan came from the corner. She tensed, halting in her tracks. But a sweet, gentle voice, a pain-filled, "Ari?" set her moving again. She recognized that voice.

It was the voice of her brother, Johnny, dear, sweet Johnny. The light suddenly filled that corner of the room, as if sensing her need to see her brother. But as it did, she came to another halt, looking upon the form of her brother, her expression a mix of shock and horror.

For it was Johnny, with his golden hair and sky blue eyes, but, oh, what had they done to him? His arms were raised by his sides, shackled to the wall at the wrists, as were his feet. The iron manacles had torn the tender flesh of his wrists and ankles, leaving deep, ugly gashes. Dried blood was crusted onto the manacles. His clothing was unrecognizable, hanging in tatters and rags about him, what part that actually came through as cloth stained reddish brown. His pale, smooth skin was marred by whipmarks, bruises, burnmarks that ran along the length of his fragile body. There were some wounds that were made by instruments specifically made for torture, some wounds that she could not bear to look at. What have they done? That was the only thought that raced through her immobile mind at the moment.

As he tried to lift his head to meet her disbelieving eyes, a deep cough racked his frail body. He couldn't stop coughing, the cough went on and on until he was coughing up blood, blood which splattered the floor beneath him, turning it crimson…then darker and darker. Black blood. The sound, the sight, everything that was happening jerked her out of her horror. She went forward immediately to help her brother, her mind still reeling. He needs to be taken to a hospital! she thought frantically. She crouched down, looking for some way to get the manacles off, speaking soothing, comforting words to her brother, her dear younger brother. Wide blue eyes, filled with a pain that was beyond physical and one sentence, one pain-filled sentence spoken in a voice filled with betrayal stopped her in her tracks. "Why did you leave me, Ari?"

It was like a slap to the face, no, an attack by a hundred experienced fighters at once. That one simple question felt like the cut of a million blades, the force of a million punches, the pain of a million tortures. It cut out her heart, laying it on the ground and beat it with a blade, shattering it until it had been broken into microscopic pieces which the wind promptly blew away.

Why did you leave me, Ari? The question echoed in her frozen mind.

Why did you leave me, Ari? Why did you leave me, Ari? Why did you leave me, Ari? It chased her, unwilling to be ignored, unwilling to be thought about later.

Why did you leave me, Ari? Leave me? Leave me? Leave me?

And then, all of a sudden, the scene disappeared. She was left, crouching once again in the impenetrable darkness. A new voice spoke. "You left him." It spoke neither accusingly nor with wrath. It merely stated a simple fact, but one which left her reeling. She shook her head in a futile gesture of denial. "Oh, you cannot deny it, my sweet Ari." The name struck her, like a lightning bolt.

Why did you leave me, Ari?

"You left your innocent little brother, just so you could have a better life. You left him so that you wouldn't need to take the pain anymore, so that you would be able to live your life in piece. You abandoned him." Still came the shake of the head, the silent denial, though in her heart, she knew the words to be true. She had left her brother. She had abandoned Johnny. And she could not stand the fact.

She ran, stumbling, tripping, the warrior's grace gone from her limbs. Yet still she was silent. She ran on, wanting to escape the voice, that voice which spoke aloud all of her inner guilt. "You can't run from me, little Ari," it came again, laughter in its voice. "You can't run from the truth. You abandoned Johnny, and you know it."

"I didn't," she gasped almost to herself as she kept on running.

"You didn't?" the voice asked, incredulous. "You didn't?" It mimicked Johnny's voice, "Why did you leave me, Ari?" Cruel laughter came again as she kept on running.

"I didn't," she whispered, her voice breaking into a sob. "I didn't."

Again came the voice, "Why deny it, my sweet girl? You know it's the truth. I know it, you know it, why, even Johnny knows it! You left him there by himself; you forsook him to satisfy you own selfish needs. You, in a sense, were his torturer, the reason he came to have all of those…injuries."

Why did you leave me, Ari?

She increased her speed, running faster than she had ever ran in her entire life, footfalls still making no sound. "You can't run from it, Ariana Monteaar. It is the truth. And no one can deny the truth in the end. It is the ult—"

But she couldn't hear the voice anymore. Another voice had intruded. And this voice was singing a song. It was a beautiful voice, light and melodic, seeming to sing of those things green and good, of flowers and trees, of the stars in the nighttime sky, of the gentle peace of nature, though she could not understand the words. She seemed to hear a distant snarl of rage, but it was vague, unclear. The only clear thing on her mind now was the song sung by the unknown voice, that musical voice singing that serene song…

Her thoughts ascended into a place where there was only light, where she felt an indescribable, strange joy take over her mind.

And then she knew no more.

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Legolas stopped his soft song when the young woman's breathing became still and even, when she finally settled down. He stretched wearily. By his guess, it was some time in the middle of the night. He had been awoken sometime around the middle of the night, by his estimates. That itself was a strange thing, for he had nodded off sometime around midday and slept the entire day away! What had awoken him was, once again, the young woman. She had been getting up, slipping off the bed, rustling the covers as she did. As always, Legolas had waited patiently for her to walk a little bit before leading her back to her bed. But once again, she had gotten up, which had not surprised Legolas. He led her back again, waiting for her to rise again. Surprisingly, she had not. Instead, she had sat up, stock still, eyes snapping open for the first time. Legolas, who had become accustomed to seeing the blank stare of those grey eyes had been astonished when, instead of the empty stare, the eyes had filled with horror, and she had cried out.

He had not understood anything she had said, but, acting out of instinct, he had gently eased her back onto the bed and had begun singing. The song was an old, Elven lullaby that he often sang to Elaviel and Cerricwyn, his younger twin sisters. It was a peaceful, relaxing tune and had a calming effect on the young woman, and Legolas had sung softly until she had fallen asleep again.

Now, seeing that all was calm again, he settled back into his chair and closed his eyes. His fatigue after sitting so many days of vigil caught up with him quickly, for even Elves must sleep, though not as much as humans, and he sank into sleep, walking the pathways of his dreams.

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Aria awoke slowly, her mind like a factory in the early working hours, slowly starting but quickly moving into whirring motion. For an instant, she wondered where she was before everything that had happened in the past few days—hours, weeks, months?—caught up with her. Immediately, she was assaulted with thoughts that needed to be worked through and analyzed, thoughts about where she was,  who those people who, how Johnny was, how her parents were—her mind was sent reeling from the amount of information she had to comprehend. And…

Her dream.

She remembered the dream as vividly as if it had been real, as if it had happened just a minute before. It was actually surprising, for she rarely remembered her dreams, and on those few occasions that she did, they were all nightmares.

And this time was no different. Why did you leave me, Ari? The words still rang over and over again in her jumbled mind, one clear, cruel cut of a blade that swept everything else away. Feeling the guilt begin to take her over, she pushed all her thoughts away forcefully, as she had done many times before. She did not yet have the strength to confront them yet and face the fact that she had left her brother.

Opening her eyes, she scanned the room without turning her head, wondering if…

Yup, he was there. He who had introduced himself as Legolas Greenleaf. Still wondering whether to believe him or not, Aria just observed him for a moment. She could not deny the fact that he was gorgeous (or HOT! HOT! HOT! As Lilly would put it). He looked like Orlando Bloom, the actor who had played him in the movies. Yet…there was something that was subtly yet so completely different about him. She couldn't quite place it, but the first thought that had come into her mind when she had saw him was, This is Legolas Greenleaf. It had taken her a while to remember that Orlando Bloom had played him in the movies. The girls at school would have a field day with him, she thought wryly. Especially Trish. For a few moments, she entertained a humorous little fantasy in her head of what would happen if this "Legolas Greenleaf" attended her high school.

She wondered now how to wake him. She was definitely not going to pull on his ears again. She shifted, rustling the sheets as she thought about it, all the while observing the seemingly sleeping figure, though his eyes were wide open.

At the sound, Legolas came out of the Elven sleeping trance with a start, automatically glancing over to the bed, expecting the young woman to be rising in her sleep again. But instead of the usual blank stare, he met a pair of startled, very much awake, gray eyes. As he rose from his seat, (it felt somewhat awkward to sit by the bed when the young woman was awake), he sensed that it was now morning and said, "Quel amrun," politely. Good morning.

Aria was surprised at Legolas's awakening at the almost undetectable sound of rustling sheets. Then again, if he was who he said he was, that would have been unsurprising. As he spoke in the flowing language, she listened intently. She still had no clue whatsoever about the language but guessed that what he had just said was "Good morning." So, acting on her instincts she said "Good morning," in English, back to him. She then slowly got out of bed and stood up. Wondering what to do next, she realized that she was still wearing the towel from yesterday and blushed, inwardly hoping that everyone she had met yesterday did not think her totally barbaric or slutty or anything. She glanced down at the stone floor and her bare feet, shifting nervously—but ever alert—as a thick silence settled over them.

Legolas, guessing the reason for the sudden redness in the young woman's cheeks and the downcast expression—any lady would feel uncomfortable in such circumstances (he did not really know what to do either), pointed over to the small chamber where dresses were held and said, *Lady, if you wish to find more suitable clothing, the chamber over there contains quite a few dresses that will hopefully be to your liking.* Aria glanced over at the direction he was pointing at, spotting the chamber immediately, and wondered how she would explain that she had already seen the dresses in there and they were too long.

Since there was no way of communicating such a thing through speaking, she decided to get an example. Striding quickly over to the small chamber (and watching the way she walked), she randomly pulled out a few of the dresses and held them up to her own body, showing Legolas that they were several inches too long. He saw the problem immediately and realized that she must have looked through the dresses the day before. *Lady, * he said, taking one of the dresses and walking towards the door, *I shall return shortly with suitable attire. Please wait here until I return.*

With that, he disappeared through the door, telling the two guards next to it to watch the room until his return. He probably could've just asked one of them to perform the task, but, in truth, he wanted to find Lord Elrond. Legolas was experienced with the ways of the ladies of the court, but he did not know how to properly treat this strange, young woman that seemed so different. Lord Elrond would be better suited to finding out more about her and how to begin the attempts at communication, though he would take over from there, for he had promised his father. Why in the name of the Valar did I do that? he wondered as he strolled down the hall, turning a corner and then quickly backtracking to take another way as he spotted a few she-Elves that had been relentlessly pursuing him.

*Legolas!* Legolas snapped out of his thoughts as he heard his name being called and spotted Aragorn striding toward him.

*Estel,* Legolas greeted.

*So how fares your young charge this morning?* Aragorn asked with a smile.

Legolas made a face, causing Aragorn to chuckle. *She seems well, but I cannot truly tell. She seems…different from the ladies of the court.*

*Is that not a good thing?* Aragorn teased.

*I suppose it is,* Legolas said with a laugh. Aragorn cocked his eyebrow questioningly at the dress in Legolas's arms. *It seems that the clothing we provided does not fit the lady. All of the dresses seem to be too long,* Legolas explained.

*That would be expected,* Aragorn said. *She is not Elf, Legolas, and even in human terms, she is not very tall.* he pointed out.

Before Legolas could reply, a snide voice said, *So now my younger brother is running errands for a human?*

Legolas gritted his teeth, determined not to be spurred on by his brother. Turning around, he said pleasantly, * Tándir. I hope I find you well this morn.*

*Very well, Brother,* Tándir said lazily. *And you? I see that you are busy.*

*I am well, Tándir.* Legolas replied. *But I must hasten now.* And with that, he walked away quickly, before his brother could make another scathing comment.

*When are you and he going to settle this?* Aragorn asked as they made their way to the seamstress's.

*Eventually,* Legolas replied shortly, his tone clearly indicating that he did not wish to discuss that right now. Aragorn let the subject go. They found the head seamstress, explained their needs to her, and set off again to find Lord Elrond. The seamstress asked no questions; she was often handed strange tasks and knew by now not to ask, for the one requesting the task would just dodge the questions anyway.

After avoiding several curious Elves, they found Lord Elrond in his study, and Legolas explained the situation to him, admitting that he did not really know where to go from here. Lord Elrond seemed rather amused but agreed to help Legolas start everything out. They began making their way back to the healing chambers, stopping by the seamstress's to pick up a few dresses that the head seamstress had found that matched the description Legolas had given her. After stating their thanks, they continued on their way, Legolas wondering just how they were going to explain everything to the strange young woman.

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

After Legolas had left, Aria had breathed a sigh of relief. The situation seemed very awkward to her. Neither one of them could understand what the other said. How the hell am I supposed to learn that language? Aria wondered. Actually, how the hell am I supposed to figure this whole situation out? She still had not decided what to believe. Well, if you're going to try to communicate and learn that language, you can't go on thinking you're insane half the time, she thought to herself. For now, just assume that you're in Middle-earth and stick to that assumption…at least until you're proven wrong. You don't want to end up insane, do you?

But what if I'm already mentally unstable? another part of her mind questioned.

Well, if you think that way, you might as well be. the calm and determined part of her mind retorted. And you don't want to ruin all your hopes before they even form, do you?

I guess not…the stubbornly practical part of her mind though doubtfully.

Good. Then stick to it. Remember, just assume that you're in Middle-earth.

Okay. I'm in Middle-earth. I'm in Middle-earth. I'm in Middle-earth…how can I be in Middle-earth? It doesn't exist!!!

Don't think about that right now! Just keep thinking 'I'm in Middle-earth.'

Right. I'm in Middle-earth. I'm in Middle-earth…

It became a steady mantra in her mind. She repeated it silently over and over again to herself as she walked over to the vanity and picked up the comb, being very careful of her broken arm, though it seemed to be healing well, and very quickly too. Then she walked back to the bed to brush her hair, one spot in the room with a clear view of the door so that she could spot Legolas when he came back. I'm in Middle-earth. She brushed in short strokes. I'm in Middle-earth. As she continued brushing her hair, she convinced herself of that fact…at least temporarily to prevent from going insane. She made a point not to sing again. Her hair, now dry, was beginning to get on her nerves again.

After a while, Legolas, along with the young Aragorn and Lord Elrond came into the room, stepping so quietly that, if she had not been in a constant mode of alertness and staring at the doorway, she would not have noticed. Aragorn and Lord Elrond both spoke a greeting to her and she responded with a "Hi" suddenly feeling very overwhelmed. Legolas, with a smile that could melt the heart of any girl, handed me a few dresses. Aria took them, saying "Thank you." The males promptly turned their backs, walking to the other side of the room. Aria, just to be sure that they wouldn't see something (not that she thought that they would peek…but with guys, you never knew), went inside the makeshift closet.

Out of the four dresses, she picked the one with the simplest design, a sleeveless, light blue one made out of some soft, flowing cloth with flowers embroidered on it. Geez, she thought as she tried to figure out how exactly to put the dress on (it seemed to have a lot more parts than the kinds of dresses she normally wore), they could make millions out of this stuff! After she had managed to get it on correctly and had checked to see she hadn't done anything embarrassing with it, which had taken around ten minutes, she stepped out of the closet, dimly wondering if they had bras here. The dress had a built in sort-of corset-like thing, but it was not very comfortable. Then, she had a mental image of herself asking, or acting out, "Hey, do you guys know where I can get a bra around here?" and immediately decided that she would rather be uncomfortable for the rest of her life than ask a question like that to three strangers, and guys too. But, as she brushed a stray strand of hair out of her face, she did make a mental note to ask them if they had rubber bands or a scrunchie or something.

She cleared her throat nervously, making sure to stand and act like a polite young lady. The three males turned around and inspected the young woman standing before them. She was certainly pretty, if not beautiful. The bruises on her face and arms were clearly fading. Her eyes were demurely downcast, and her hair fell in waves about her face and shoulders, a halo of silver framing porcelain skin. The soft dress complemented her slender figure, enhancing her feminine curves. She looked delicate, like a piece of beautiful stained glass that would break at the smallest touch, and they, though they were strong, brave males, felt themselves weaken at the picture of such child-like innocence.

Meanwhile, Aria had just discovered an unpleasant fact. She really, really had to go pee. She thought frantically about how to ask the question. Should she just go look for a restroom by herself? If this is Middle-earth, do they even have restrooms? she wondered. This is by far the most embarrassing situation I have ever been in! Of all the fanfiction I've read, not one has ever mentioned how the hell they use the bathroom in Middle-earth! Finally, she decided to try to ask. Better that, she thought, than pee somewhere I'm not supposed to! "Uh…do you guys know where the bathroom is?" she asked, raising her eyes to meet each of theirs by turn.

As expected, they did not understand. Legolas, Aragorn, and Lord Elrond understood the fact that the young woman was asking a question, the tone of her voice and the clear gray eyes made that obvious, but none of them could figure out what it was that she was asking. Aria, deciding that someone up there really wanted to have a good laugh today, tried to communicate her needs through body language. She pointed to herself, then made a shape with her hands that resembled a toilet, sat down in midair, and then flushed the invisible toilet. She was trying furiously not to blush by the end of the routine. Lord Elrond, Legolas, and Aragorn did not understand what she was trying to say.

Aria groaned in frustration. That charade was bad enough, and they had not understood. Ok, she thought to herself, get ready for some major humiliation. She went through another series of body movements, once again with no result. Finally, she managed to get what she was trying to say through to them, after pointing at a few male body parts and mimicking a few things, which made everyone's faces turn red, except for Lord Elrond's, who looked like he was trying not to burst out laughing. Legolas, the tips of his ears turning scarlet, led her out of the room and to a small privy a little down the hall. As Aria took care of her bodily needs, she prayed fervently that she had not given these strangers the wrong idea. God, please don't make me embarrass myself anymore today!

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

The rest of the day went pretty smoothly. Lord Elrond managed to communicate the need for Aria to learn their language through mimicking things, which Aria discovered that he was much more successful at than her. Lord Elrond and Aragorn had left, leaving Legolas to teach her, much to Aria's secret delight. She was strangely drawn by him. No, it was not love, but rather curiosity; infatuation. She had gone through infatuation many other times with various hot guys, as all girls do, and by now, she knew the difference between that and love, though truly, she had never been in love. And she also knew to wait the infatuation out; some of the guys she had become infatuated with ended up becoming good friends.

They had spent the day with him pointing out objects in the rather spacious healing chamber teaching and learning. To Legolas's surprise, Aria began to teach him her language as well. He would say the name for an object in Sindarin, and she would repeat it. Then she would say its name in English, and he would repeat it. They stopped for lunch, in which Aria discovered many types of unknown but delicious foods. Legolas had become quite intrigued by his charge; he had not expected her to teach him her language as well. He had not expected this turn of events from the seemingly shy and demure young woman. Aria, meanwhile, had decided that it would be rather boring to only learn a language and not try to teach her's as well.

During the day, as she paced around the room with Legolas in a pair of soft slippers he had provided, she was careful not to let the fact that she knew anything about fighting or martial arts slip. She didn't think that these people would turn out to be jailers or enemies, but one could never be too careful. She had made sure to keep the expressions on her face and in her eyes to match the moment. Many hid behind emotionless masks; she hid behind emotions. It was said that eyes are the windows to one's soul. If that was true, she had to make sure to keep those window closed and locked. Besides, she was used to doing so anyway. She had also made sure that she made noise when she walked. Silence steps would not be expected from a sheltered young lady. She noticed though, that Legolas moved silently, and gracefully as well. His steps were well-paced and undetectable, his movements like those of a cat, silky and seeming to flow together into an elegant dance of sorts.

Aragorn had shown up at before dinnertime, intruding in on the continuous lesson, the many words of which were fixed clearly in Aria's mind. The many rules of training had sharpened her mind, and she could remember almost anything. After greeting Aria, Aragorn had asked Legolas in surprise, *You are teaching her Sindarin? Would it not be wiser to teach her the Common Tongue first?*

*Perhaps,* Legolas agreed, *but I had noticed that she was quite entranced by the language and thought that it might be a better way to go. One will learn faster if one is eager to learn. And she learns very quickly, a very intelligent young woman.* He shrugged. He didn't really know the exact reason he had decided to teach Aria Elvish. It was almost like instinct that made him do it. Then again, he thought wryly, if it is instinct, it has made me do several things I do not know why I am doing.

*I suppose you are correct,* Aragorn said. *But why is she teaching you her language as well, my friend?*

*I do not know,* Legolas admitted. *It came as a surprise to me as well but a rather delightful surprise at that.* At this point, Legolas broke the conversation off, for his manners dictated that he should not ignore his charge for very long. Aragorn, with a farewell to Legolas and a bow to Aria, to which she curtsied rather awkwardly, left. After a grand dinner, at least in Aria's eyes, for she was a dismal cook, Legolas excused himself and left, pointing to Aria and saying, "Bed. Sleep," in English.

At that, Aria grinned and said, "Bed. Sleep," back to him in Sindarin.

Legolas would come back later, but for now, he thought that the young woman, Aria, he mentally corrected himself, would prefer it if there was not someone sitting by her bed while she was trying to sleep. It might make her uncomfortable. All in all, as he made his way to the dining hall, Legolas was very curious to find out more about that young, human woman.

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

Aria changed into the silky nightgown from the day before, pondering upon the day's events. Legolas was very nice and extremely patient. She had managed to keep the infatuation factor down and already, she could feel that Legolas was going to end up being a good friend. She had been planning to sort through her thoughts right now, since she was alone, to face the fears and guilt about all that she had left behind. But, as she stumbled into the luxurious bed, she felt exhaustion creeping over her. The day's events had not really been very tiring, but what with her still-healing wounds, she was much more tired that she would normally be.

Johnny…

That was the last thought on her mind as she drifted into sleep.

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

ok…this chapter sucks! I'm so disappointed in it, but I can't think of a way to make it better! There just has to be chapter where all the learnings and beginnings start out…god, I hate this chapter! And it was hard to write too! Oh well…if u think it was crap and are disappointed that I took so long to post this not so good chappie, I will not blame you in the slightest.

LadyTremere: I didn't really get what you were saying about Legolas looking like Legolas…but I did change all that stuff you mentioned before in your reviews when I revised! ^_^ well, not the embroidery part yet, but I'll get to that eventually. And u leave long reviews! YAY! I have this thing for long reviews…

NEED TO GO TO SLEEP NOW…I'LL REPLY/ MAKE COMMENTS TO REVIEWERS NEXT CHAPPIE! THANX TO EVERYONE WHO REVIEWED! LUV U GUYS!

QUESTIONS: WHAT IS A BETA READER? I'VE SEEN A LOT OF AUTHOR'S NOTES SAYING A THANK YOU TO THEIR BETA READER BUT I'M STILL CONFUSED ABOUT WHAT THAT IS. ALSO, WHAT IS AUTHOR ALERT? DOES MIDDLE-EARTH HAVE INSTRUMENTS LIKE THE VIOLIN AND THE CELLO?

BY THE WAY U GUYS, PLEASE CHECK OUT MY FIC "BLIND TO HOPE"! IT IS A LEGGY-ANGST THING AT HELM'S DEEP, THE FIRST ONE I'VE EVER WRITTEN…SORTA DEPRESSING… TELL ME WHAT U THINK!

I promise that I'll try to update sooner! Damn school…

~Lady of Dreams~