CB: Thanks to everyone who reviewed! *Grins* Since I've now got over one hundred reviews, I decided I'd draw a picture for all of you *Sighs* Unfortunately I need someone to colour it for me…any offers?

Dedication: To Makiko Igami…who chose the other pairing that's now going to appear in this.

Warning: Slash, Male/Male relationships etc, twincest (any guesses as to that other pairing now? ^_~)

Pairings: Aragorn /Legolas mild Arwen/Aragorn and Elrohir/Elladan

He was running and it was dark…dark as pitch but there were sounds: howls and shrieks, moans and gibbers as the darkness chattered to him, questing hands reaching out to touch his clothes. Behind him, he could hear footfalls and quiet whispers, like cloth sliding over skin. His well-trained ears caught the sounds of breathy sentences and quiet laughter, which seemed to override the other, more horrible noises.

Suddenly, he hit a wall, and light flared from torches, showing him that he was in a large, dark cavern with no windows and no air passages, but a breeze seemed to make the torches stream in an unidentifiable wind. The footfalls were behind him now, obviously coming across the cavern as he turned to see if there was any escape behind him. Blank rock was all that met his fingertips, and as he bit his lip, panic rising irrationally in his stomach, he heard a voice…one that seemed strangely familiar.

"Elladan, turn around." Unwillingly, almost as though he had no control over his own feet, he did so, green eyes remaining fixed on the floor as his fists clenched slightly.

The voice gave no other commands, and instead, there was again, the sound of cloth sliding over skin and breathy whispers, and behind these noises…still…there was the sound of pain and terror. Elladan shivered as he continued to stare at the rocky floor, but his eyes seemed to have a life of their own, and within the space of a few heartbeats, his green eyes were travelling up to meet a strange sight.

Two figures were standing opposite him, locked in what could only have been called an embrace. The slightly taller one was slowly kissing along the smaller one's neck, sweeping hair out of his way as he did so, fingers travelling down over a cloth covered chest as hands slid, flat palmed, in a possessive gesture. Elladan could not see who either of the people were, but from their voices, he ascertained that they were two of the Elvish folk. Neither of the two seemed to hear the awful sounds that encroached upon his own hearing, in fact, they appeared to believe that they were the only two in the room.

But one had spoken to him…of that he was now sure, and he knew that both of them were conscious of his presence because every so often, he could see one of the silhouettes glancing towards him. "Who…are you?" He asked, taking an unwillingly step forwards as the smaller figure rolled its head back, completely submitting to the taller one. "Can you not hear those people?" He took another step closer, beginning to feel slightly nauseous as the shrieks of what sounded like the wounded and the dying reached a fevered pitch. "Can you not help them?" He pleaded, moving even closer.

"We do not help them." Purred the taller one, whose face was hidden in shadow, "We delight in their suffering." He laughed even as there was a gurgling scream in the darkness, abruptly cut off, and the smaller figure let out an impassioned moan. "We enjoy their pain and fear."

"We are corrupt," The smaller one breathed, leaning backwards, into the other's embrace, "We have fallen and would see all fall with us."

"Fallen, how?"

"For a sin forbidden to all, from the lowliest peasant to the highest elf lord…but we desired too much…too much…"

"Who…who are you?" Elladan repeated again, taking one step closer. "Show me your faces, for in this light it is difficult to see."

Light flared from one of the torches placed in a bracket in the cavern and the scene in front of Elladan was illuminated in sharp relief, making him gasp and stumble back until he came into contact with the rough surface of the cavern wall again.

Two pairs of green eyes regarded him with cruel amusement as long, dark hair shimmered and rippled in the torchlight. The taller of the two elves possessively dragged the smaller back to him, nibbling on an earlobe, even as he watched the living one's horror. "Do you not like what you see?" He questioned a moment later when no comment seemed forth coming from the shocked Elladan. "This is what you wanted, is it not?"

"No…not this…never this." Elladan's fingers scrabbled for purchase on the unforgiving wall as he tried to stop himself from collapsing in shock. "I never desired this…"

"You lie." Hissed the smaller figure maliciously, sliding slowly down to kneel in front of the taller one, but still facing the shocked elf. "This is what you have wanted for a long, long time."

"Who are you?" Elladan questioned again, feeling bile rise in his throat.

Identical faces turned towards him, and the kneeling elf smiled at him, slowly licking his lips. "I am you."

********

Elrohir stared up at the ceiling, listening to the steady drumming of the rain against the leaves and other foliage outside. There was no light in the room, so the strange, grey shadows that come from water on glass were evident, spilling across his chest, making him look as though he was submerged in water, perhaps drowning, perhaps floating, but certainly not living.

Green eyes were staring blankly upwards, his lips slightly parted as he breathed in a slow, even pattern. If it were not for the rising and falling of his chest, anyone who saw him would have believed him dead. Dark, silken hair spilled across green clad shoulder and spread like waves over the cushion that was propped behind him. Pale skin looked as though it were cast in marble and was accented by perfectly arched brows. Anyone glancing in would simply have believed him to be a statue, a piece of cold, unfeeling stone…certainly not living.

Elaría stepped into the room, her footfalls quiet as she moved with the grace that is often found in the Elven women. Carefully she placed the tray she was holding on a nearby table before glancing around the room until her eyes landed on Elrohir, who was lying on the bed next to his unconscious twin, looking for all the world as though he too, knew nothing.

"Elrohir?" The woman sat down on the edge of the bed and smoothed some of the dark hair back from the pale face. "You must eat something." She said gently as dull, green eyes turned towards her. "You will not aid Elladan by starving yourself." A pale hand reached out to clasp her own as Elrohir sat up slowly, his face still icily calm as he looked at her.

"I will not aid him by eating either." He managed with a smile that looked positively sickly. "Leave me alone Elaría, you do not understand."

The younger woman pursed her lips, took a calculated aim and hit him around the face with all the strength she could muster. "Like Valar I don't!" She shouted, her voice echoing around the room, "You two or like sons to me, I've been with you since I was no more than twenty years old, looking after you, serving you…" She stood up, her plain dress swishing around her ankles as she looked down at the shocked prince. "Twenty, Elrohir, that was hardly more than a babe in arms, and I'm now over two and a half thousand years old…so don't you tell me about not understanding."

Elrohir looked up at her, one hand clutching his cheek, which now had an angry red print mark on it. "I…" He paused and blinked, noticing the tears welling up in his mentor's eyes. "Elaría?" Carefully he stood up, "What's wrong?"

The elf woman sniffed and then, without warning, burst into a flood of tears, burying her face in the front of Elrohir's tunic. Her shoulders shook with the force of her sobs as the confused prince patted her on the back, looking puzzled as he stared at the top of her head. "I try…" She managed in between small hiccups, "I try and I try to look after you…all three of you…but it never works."

"…." Elrohir managed, feeling vaguely embarrassed.

"But now Elladan's unconscious, you appear to be turning into a wraith as I speak and Arwen's losing her heart to someone who is not faithful." Elaría's lower lips trembled as she looked up at her charge, and for one awful moment, Elrohir saw her looking very worried, very scared and very young. "I don't know what to do." She muttered, releasing his tunic and stepping back. "If I tell your father…"

"No!" Elrohir looked at her, worry etched onto his face. "Please…don't tell father…we can deal with these problems."

Elaría opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a small noise from the bed.

Immediately Elrohir had dashed back to his brother's side and leant over him, biting his lip as he watched his twin begin to stir. "El…El, can you hear me?" He asked softly, brushing dark strands back from the identical pale forehead. "El, it's me, Elrohir, are you awake?" Red lips moved as his twin's eyelashes fluttered, a small frown creasing his brow. "Elladan, come on…wake up."

Elaría bit her lip, pitying the distraught prince, even as she wiped the last remains of tears from her own eyes.

Elrohir bent even further over his brother. "Come on El, you have to wake up."

Green eyes flew open and Elladan screamed.

********

Boromir had often wondered if his very existence was some cruel but poorly played joke that the universe had thought up and then dumped on his mother's shoulders…or to be more precise, in her womb. He'd never been exactly brilliant at anything and whilst he was fiercely loyal and honourable, he did not consider himself to have the unique talent of leadership that was required of the leader and sometime keeper of Gondor. Whilst he knew he was good looking, he did nothing to flaunt it and because of this, women did not take much notice of him, in fact they all but ignored him, looking instead, with more favour towards his younger brother Faramir.

But that wasn't the worst of it…far from it in fact. The worst was probably that he was currently pinned against the wall by a woman half his size who had a dagger at his throat and was currently baring her teeth in a grin that was not exactly what one would call friendly.

Oh yes, someone somewhere was killing themselves laughing over his life.

"Look," He said as reasonably as possible, "I really had no intention of doing anything to you…I only walked past you in the corridor in fact! You'll have to forgive me for saying so, my lady, but that simple action offers no excuse for you to threaten my life."

The woman raised one blonde eyebrow, her blue eyes disbelieving, but she withdrew the blade from the nervous Steward's throat nonetheless and stepped back, allowing him some breathing space. "Then where were you going at so early an hour?" She demanded sullenly, "What kind of a man walks the corridors just before dawn if he is not someone of ill intent?" Her blonde hair shimmered in the torchlight as she plucked several strands away from her face.

"I was…" Boromir's throat tightened involuntarily, choking off his next words.

"Well?"

The man sighed. "If you must know, I was going to a…a rehearsal."

"A rehearsal…of what?"

Boromir's expression could only be described as sulky as he looked at the warrior maid. "A dance production." He muttered reluctantly, and so quietly that if one did not have very good ears, they would not have heard him…. unfortunately, the woman had exceptionally good hearing and her face split into an amused smile.

"You? A warrior, performing in a dance?" She asked, her tone of voice just bordering on derisive. On the tall man's reluctant nod, her eyes softened slightly, and she said something quite unexpected. "Take me with you, I wish to see this dance."

He'd got it wrong, Boromir thought as he escorted the strange lady down the corridor, the universe wasn't killing itself laughing, it had probably just died.

********

Gimli was leaning against one wall, his arms folded across his chest and his eyes fixed on the elf who was sitting in a disconsolate heap by one of the windows. The sun was streaming into the warm room, making golden shafts of light in which tiny particles of dust danced, flashing and twinkling like thousands of tiny stars. One beam rested on the elf, surrounding him in a soft nimbus that gave him a radiant, ethereal look. His hair was shimmering like a rush of gold under water and his pale skin looked like warm and living marble, but his eyes…

Gimli frowned; the elf's eyes were like sapphires, beautiful in their own right but lifeless, sparkling without real joy and reflecting only that which was visible to others. He had heard somewhere that the eyes were the window to the soul, if this was the case; it appeared that the elf didn't have one.

Tugging on his beard thoughtfully, the dwarf stepped nearer to the listless form. "What ails thee Legolas?" He said gruffly, reaching out to gently tap the other creature on the shoulder, causing the elf to jump slightly and look up from where his chin had been resting on his knees. "Are you sickening from something?"

"Nay," The elf's voice was hollow, "Elves do not sicken, just as they do not grow old…we are doomed to walk this earth after all that we love best is gone…" His voice trailed off and he stared ahead once more. "But I have no more wish to do so."

Gimli was a simple dwarf, but he realised something was wrong and whilst, as a rule, he did not tend to show sympathy towards his fellow creatures, he felt that the occasion had risen where he should now do so. Sitting down gingerly next to the blond elf, he put a friendly hand on Legolas's arm and looked at him with pity. "Is it Estel?" He asked carefully and felt a small sense of satisfaction at having guessed correctly when his companion's eyes flickered with a brief emotion before it was quickly stamped out again.

"Nay, what gave you that idea?"

Gimli shrugged, deliberately not doing anything that would provoke the elf. "There is no reason for my supposition, I simply wondered since he has not yet appeared and you show little concern over this." He smiled kindly, "Well, whatever the problem, it will right itself in time…you may be thousands of years older than me, but I know these things." Gimli patted the elf on the shoulder once more before standing up and moving to peer out of the window. "The sun is already high, do you think the other's will be coming at all today?"

As he spoke, the door burst open and Boromir tumbled in, followed by a woman in a plain dress, her long, wavy blonde hair caught back in a loose ponytail.

"What…" Gimli began, but was cut off as Boromir straightened and turned to observe the lady behind him.

"You see?" The Steward of Gondor demanded, "These are my companions…I was on my way to a rehearsal, good lady."

Instead of looking irate, the woman smiled, seeming pleased. "Oh good," she said happily, "I thought you might have been lying." Glancing around, her smile grew wider. "My name is Eówyn, I am taking the place of Elaría today, since she is otherwise occupied." She gave a small curtsey then strode to the centre of the room, "I am here with my brother Eómer to attend the councils of Lord Elrond but I was requested to assist here." One slender eyebrow rose, "Has anyone got any questions they wish to ask me?"

"Yes," Boromir muttered, but so quietly she wouldn't hear him, "When will Elaría return?"

Gimli, however, heard him, and snorted with barely contained laughter, before flicking a sly glance at Boromir, "You wish so much for the Lady Elaría to return my stout companion? It appears to me that you enjoy her company a mite too much." He felt a warm glow of smug satisfaction when Boromir choked slightly and shot him a filthy look, the tips of his ears turning a dull red as he then turned to face forwards and began resolutely ignoring the chuckling dwarf.

Just as Eówyn signalled for Gimli to step forwards so she could teach him the new movements, there was a loud thump from the door, before it flew open for a second time to admit a very dishevelled looking Aragorn. His grey eyes slightly wild, he scanned the room until he caught sight of Legolas, before he charged forwards, grabbed the startled elf around the wrist and dragged him back out in one swift movement; completely ignoring the other occupants of the room in his haste.

Boromir, Gimli and Eówyn all blinked, feeling vaguely embarrassed and annoyed, but not wanting to admit it as they looked at one another, all wondering the same thing.

It was Boromir who eventually plucked up the courage to voice the thought in all their heads. "What," he said carefully, "Was all that about?"

********

Gandalf leant heavily on his staff as he looked thoughtfully at Lord Elrond. "You are sure?" He asked, one heavy grey eyebrow rose as he looked at the ancient elf. "If you beg my pardon, is it possible that both you and the Lady Galadriel are mistaken? Surely all of this business was laid to rest many thousands of years ago?"

"Nay…" Elrond began, but a flicker of movement at the edge of his vision caught his attention and he spun to look at the person now standing to his right. "Who…" He began, but was cut off by Gandalf.

"My apprentice, I took him into my keeping when his parents were killed by Orcs." He shrugged, his age-old face showing slight puzzlement, "To this day, I have never worked out why I did this, such acts of mercy are not normally my style. However…" He smiled slightly, "I am grateful I did so, he is an invaluable aid to me." His face showed lines of deep thought, "He is at least half man…as to what the other half is, I cannot guess, but he does possess some powers, of that I am sure." Seeing Elrond's disbelieving look he elaborated. "How else do you think you completely missed him until now?"

Elrond nodded and turned to the young man who was regarding him with level ice blue eyes. "And your name is?"

"Dante." (1) The man's voice was deep and smooth, with no hint of an accent as he regarded the Elf Lord with mild interest. "You must be Elrond of Rivendell; much have I heard of you and your greatness." He smiled then, a small curl of his lips as he tugged on a strand of his white hair that, Elrond realized belatedly, should not be natural in a man unless he was of extreme old age.

"Yes, I am Elrond of Rivendell." He replied carefully, "Welcome to my home, Dante, apprentice of Gandalf."

The man bowed, but it was slightly ironically, which earned him a sharp look from Gandalf, who was now sitting in a nearby chair. "Anyway," the old wizard said, steering the conversation back in the direction he wanted it to go, "you say that The Spirit now possesses Arwen, and uses her at will?" He rubbed one hand over his face tiredly.

Elrond nodded, tearing his thoughtful gaze away from Dante, who was now looking at one of the tapestries on the wall. "Yes, my old friend, that is correct."

"And we are sure it is…well…her?" The Wizard inquired delicately.

"Mithrandir, I would stake my life upon it." Elrond said firmly, his blue eyes showing no hesitation. "'Tis Lúthien, I would swear upon it."

"Lúthien?" Dante had apparently been listening as well as studying his surroundings. "Forgive me Lord, but surely she died in an age long past? Her grief for Beren destroyed her life and she passed to the Halls of Mandos to be judged."

"That is the story." Elrond sighed and shut his eyes in a moment of tiredness, "However, it is not true. Lúthien did indeed love Beren, more than life itself and she forsook her immortality for him and devoted herself to him. But Beren was only a man and although he loved her, he took a lover also and Tinúviel became jealous, and begged Beren to reject his lover, but he would not do so, until eventually he died from grief, torn between his first love and his new love.

"When Lúthien Tinúviel saw what she had done, her sorrow was so great and bitter, that her heart broke and she began to die. But before she passed from this life completely, she begged the Valar to spare her spirit so that it might guide her descendants so they would not make the same grievous errors. The Valar pitied her and agreed that she would not be judged in the Halls of Mandos until she had fulfilled her tasks and so her spirit wanders, restless, throughout Rivendell, seeking to achieve its aim." Elrond sighed, "It appears the new age is upon us, where Lúthien's task will be fulfilled…but who will suffer? Even the wisest know not."

Gandalf nodded, "Wise is your learning indeed, Elrond, and if you know this tale and you still believe that Galadriel is correct in her assumption, then I will do all that I can to aid both you and your daughter in this time of trouble." He glanced sideways at Dante, "My apprentice, too, will serve you as unquestioningly as he does I, and so may we protect you and all you care about."

"There is one more thing…" Elrond began, but was interrupted again, this time by a knocking from the door. "Enter." He called, shooting an irritated glance at the wooden structure.

The door opened and a blond head peered around, green eyes slightly wide in a pale face. "Forgive me for interrupting, Lord, I came only to present my mother and father's regards to you."

"Ah, Sauron." Elrond relaxed slightly, "Come in and greet Mithrandir and his apprentice, who have journeyed far to seek and give council to me in such times that I might need it."

The elf hesitantly stepped into the room, looking slightly awed, but his chin was tilted at a haughty angle nonetheless, so he appeared both questioning and confident as he approached the two great men. "Hail, Elrond, Lord of Rivendell," He said formally, "Hail Mithrandir, great Istari." Then his face broke into a small smile and he hugged the elf lord. "I am sorry I did not see you earlier," he said, his voice full of true regret, "but I was talking with Cousin Glorfindel." He smiled, slightly slyly, "I have heard nothing but good from him about you, dearest friend."

Elrond blinked in mild surprise before he, too, began to smile. "Ah, the wit of youth again," he sighed in mock despair, "They are as subtle as an Oliphaunt, but with a hundred different meanings in one word at the same time." He looked at Sauron, deep blue eyes twinkling, "Your family holds a reputation of great prestige in Mordor (2) and you are welcome here, friend of my family." He turned to Gandalf as Sauron laughed and hugged him again, "See how an elf I have held on my lap when he was a babe, mocks me? Ah, Mithrandir, the young ones today are so insolent!" But he was laughing as he said it.

Suddenly, Sauron pulled back from Elrond and his green eyes widened and it took both of the other men a good couple of seconds to realise he was staring over his friend's shoulder. "Who are you?" He demanded, but with more curiosity than rudeness.

Dante turned and found himself pinned by a stare that was like emerald drills. Smiling slightly, he gave a small bow, dark lashes caressing the swell of his cheek as he blinked. "My name is Dante, I am apprenticed to Gandalf the Grey, or as you call him, Mithrandir." The man's ice blue eyes stared defiantly into the elf's and in the early morning light, his collar length hair blazed pure white as he moved forwards, impatiently brushing strands of it back. "It is good to make you acquaintance Sauron, friend of Elrond." The man took the elf's hand and gently kissed the back of it before straightening.

Sauron glanced up at him, surprised at the man's boldness, and his lips parted in a silent question that found its reply in ice blue depths. (3) 

********

"Aragorn…stop…wait…what are you doing? I said STOP!"

Aragorn found that his quick march down a corridor had come to an abrupt halt and he was being pinned to a wall by slender elf hands as blue eyes stared angrily into his. "Just what do you think you are doing?" The elf hissed, shoving his face nearer to the startled man's as his eyebrows drew together in an angry frown.

Aragorn swallowed and very carefully reached up, unhooking the hands that gripped his collar. "I needed to speak with you, Legolas, so I wished to take you somewhere private."

"It is common courtesy, Aragorn, to ask, first!"

"I apologise, but I did not want anyone to over hear us, and besides, would you have come if I had asked?" The man's shrewd look took in how Legolas' gaze flickered away, not meeting his own, and he found all the confirmation he needed. "This is about…well…why you departed so suddenly yesterday."

That provoked a reaction and Legolas' eyes flew back up to Aragorn's face, his cheeks flushing an angry red. "I did not 'depart' suddenly, as I said, I had other things to attend to."

"Do you think you can lie to me elf? You wished to talk to Arwen about my name, is that not so?"

"How dare you doubt my word, man!"

"I doubt it because you are lying through your pretty little teeth!" Aragorn shoved Legolas backwards away from him and drew himself up to his full height, "You were upset because my name is Aragorn, not Estel? I myself did not know my true name until a few years ago! Why should it matter to you by what name I go?"

"It does not!" Legolas spat, his hands shaking as he felt anger welling up and breaking his normally calm demeanour.

"Then why the sudden objection to my company? Why the avoidance? It has only begun since yesterday…you did not dislike my company before that!"

"Because you are a liar, Estel, you are not who you say you are! I thought you were simply a ranger who had been summoned by Lord Elrond to bear witness to something. It did not cross my mind to think otherwise, but suddenly I find you are my Lord's adopted son and heir to the throne of Gondor! How many people must have been laughing behind their hands at the besotted elf and his precious human!" Legolas almost instantly realised he'd said too much and clapped a hand over his mouth, his eyes becoming wide with guilt as Aragorn stared at him.

"Besotted elf?" He repeated, tilting his head slightly, grey eyes shining, "You love me, melethron?"

"I…wait…what did you call me?" Legolas swallowed slightly, his hear thumping painfully in his chest.

Aragorn's lips quirked in a small, yet slightly bitter smile. "Melethron, it means 'love' or 'lover' in your tongue, does it not?" He sighed and looked away down the corridor. "That is what I wished to talk to you about, Legolas. Arwen spoke to me yesterday, she told me everything…no," he continued as Legolas went to speak, "everything, do you understand? I know of the choice I have to make and how, whichever way I choose, one of you will be hurt.

"I loved Arwen…no, don't turn from me, I loved her dearly, but in my desperation for comfort, I mistook my love for something far deeper and more profound than it actually was. And then, no more than three days ago, I met you. You were swimming in that pool and to my eyes you looked like an angel." Rough hands reached out to grab pale ones as Legolas tried to move again, "It was then that I realised what love was. It was keen blue eyes and golden hair, it was a wicked smile and a sharp tongue…it was you." Aragorn sighed, the sadness creeping up in his eyes.  "You don't know how long I struggled with my conscience last night, Legolas. You or Arwen? It was a choice that should never have had to have been made and I pondered many answers to its riddle.

"Should I just flee Rivendell? But then that would hurt both of you. Deny both of you? Again, it would break both hearts. And then I pondered, what if chose Arwen over you? But again, my conscience stepped in. to choose Arwen would be like agreeing to be caged, locked in a room and only one person would hold the key…and they would never be allowed to fit it into the lock." Aragorn's eyes were fierce as he looked at Legolas, who, in turn, was looking slightly dazed. "To deny that I love you, Legolas, is to deny a part of myself and in denying that part of myself, I would be weak, incomplete and of no use to any soul."

"I…" Legolas's mouth open and shut as his throat worked for a reply. "That's…it's beautiful Aragorn, but you cannot…"

"Have you not been listening?" The man teased gently, before he became serious again. "If I have to live my life without you, it will be bitter, blank, meaningless…as nightfall in winter without a star. Your light, and your light alone, shines out illuminating my path, and I wish to walk it with you."

"Aragorn…" Legolas held up a hand, silencing the ranger, "You must think of Arwen, please. I believe every word you say, and I know that you speak from the bottom of your heart…but dwell on this: in ten, twenty years time when you desire children of your own, I will not be able to give them to you. When you come into your proper birthright, the people of Gondor will not accept two kings ruling them…humans are not as understanding of these things and you will come to despise me for everything I represent. I could not live like that, Aragorn, could you?" Not waiting for an answer, and fearing his resolve would break if he met shocked grey eyes, Legolas turned on his heel and marched away with as much dignity as he could muster.

**Tinúviel – as she was called by some – stood in the middle of the clearing. Her golden hair was unbound now, but she still wore her red cloak, closed tight around her body. Her eyes were full of sadness as she listened to the crying out of her children's hearts and her sorrow was great that day. **

To Be Continued…

CB: Oookay, who's confused, hands up! *Grins* Just a little warning, things will be getting even more angsty before they get better…oh…and this fic is going to be long. Much longer than I anticipated actually! Ah, on another note…again… YES THIS WILL HAVE A HAPPY ENDING, I SWEAR ON THE HEAD OF MY…UH…DOG!

*Glomps and smothers all her reviewers in kisses* Thanks guys! They're all wonderful!

(1) Sorry, I couldn't resist putting Dante in here. For those of you who've never heard of 'Devil May Cry', he's the totally kick ass main character, who's a bit of a bad boy and half demon…but don't worry, he's going to be forced to fit in perfectly with the plot, I promise he's not just a random insert on a whim. (Incidentally, I don't own DMC either…. shame.)

(2) Mordor (because this is an AU) is actually another dwelling place of elves.

 (3) *Cackles evilly* Just to REALLY confuse things, I might put in another pairing…can anyone see what? *Snickers*