Dearest Reviewers:

1)Please do not mind the aaaaaaaa separation lol I have Word Perfect so it will not show your recommended punctuation.

2)Do tell me how you like this chapter. I am feeling rather iffy about it. Sigh'

3) I know this chapter is quite short, but I did not want to ruin that ending!

Mailëa's face became distorted with utter anguish. His body seemed to melt. His fingers were like dripping butter and his knees like magnets to the grass below him. He stared down at the ground, wholly immobile. He seemed to be regrettable and remorseful. Suddenly, his neck snapped upwards. The corners of his mouth were pulled in tightly and his eyes were narrowed. He fixed his gaze on Alkarinqua. Impetuously, he let out an unearthly laugh that shook the ground beneath their feet. Each iris turned blood red and every muscle in his body became tense. All at once he bolted for the old elf, a sparkling silver knife in his hand. The company let out a gasp of pure horror at the unexpected weapon. Where had he gotten it? Had someone left it there?

Everything seemed to unfold in slow motion. All at once, Alkarinqua cried out with four others running to his aid. Lindelëa cried out the savage's name in repulsion. Mailëa heard none of it. He lifted his arm, reaching Alkarinqua just seconds before the others. The knife slid deep into his chest, crippling him. Others just stared, unable to move. Lindelëa, felling hatred anew creeping up her body, looked around her. Spotting a broken arrow not a stone's throw behind her, she grabbed it and ran up to the engagement

Her eyes were puffy, her lips pressed firmly together. She wavered a moment, her eyes scanning the scene. Nessima's face was the only one looking straight at her. He firmly nodded his head, reading her body language. Her mind raced with nothingness. She couldn't bring herself to focus on anything. Her eyes fell on the still corpse of her friend lying on the ground. Over it was the crooked figure of her foe. As though it were a reflex, her hand lurched over Mailëa's smooth back. Then, as though it had been released from a bow, the broken arrow dived, straight and true, into his spine. His body sprang into a curve. His hands reached for the piercing object. But, as the life inside him faltered, he dropped his hands and fell backwards, ramming the spear further through his wobbling frame. His eyes reeled up to her. His blood splotched her face, hands, and clothing. His quivering hands reached out to rub her leg. He cast an malicious smile her way and then his eyes lulled, rolling backwards. His body twitched and then was still. Nessima stared at the wretched cadaver. He walked up to Lindelëa and took her arm, leading her away. Many followed. Others stayed to prepare Alkarinqua's body for a proper funeral. Others still spit on and kicked dirt at the other body.

"Lin," Nessima began in an effort to console. "I cannot believe what you did, but I am happy all the same. Do you not see? You have rid yourself of that filth forever. We are free!" The others looked at him with doubt in their eyes.

"Yes," the others seemed to say to once. "but what will Celeborn say about this?"

"He will understand. Our Lord loved us and cared about us. He would not have left that beast in charge if he knew what grief he would bring upon this ill-fated camp."

Another elf, named Laisi and considered young in the group, came forth. His long, brown hair gleamed in the dreary sunlight. His eyes glowed with tears of sadness, for Alkarinqua had been his dearest Uncle. He had taken in his young nephew when his parents had been killed in an orc raid, the same that had murdered Lindelëa's. They had grown fond of each other and had spent many days together, thinking about their home in Rivendell. They had been conceived and born there up until that evil day. The two families had been close, along with a few others, and had gone out of the borders to explore. Foolishly, they went so far as to lose their way in the underbrush. Not skilled in the ways of fighting, the families stood no chance when a rather large group of orcs spilled out from the underbrush. They had been waiting for them, told by spying birds and things they were walking to that area.

Now one of Lindelëa's closest friends, Laisi sat down beside her. She, still in shock, allowed him to pull her head and lay it gently on his shoulder. He stroked her head and rubbed her shoulders. At one point she looked up and around at the others sitting about the fire that Nessima had built in front of her. Then she sighed deeply and fell asleep, lastly feeling warmth and love all about her.

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

"Well, I must be going back to the company. We are out hunting! I am sure they will wonder where I am off to. I shall keep your arrival a secret. I think it would be best for you to go right to the hall and eat something before you go to meet anyone . . . although I believe that is quite inevitable." He smiled gaily and, after patting them both heartily on the back, vanished into the heavy plant life around them. Gimli looked to his friend.

"I think that went rather well. Do you not? Your knowledge of him far surpasses my guessing."

Legolas looked thoughtfully about him. "I think he liked you. My father is a proud king and usually does not let many outsiders enter the kingdom willingly. Be very grateful. He did not even seem at all opposed to the idea. Times are surely changing. I cannot believe Lord Celeborn has gone to Rivendell and left the elves of Lothlòrien to their own skill. But the reports, as my father has said, are of nothing ill." He glanced southward, sighing. "I do miss that place. The singing, the lore, the depth of their wisdom." His eyes lingered another moment but, at the gruff signaling of his friends, begrudgingly turned back towards their destined path. If he had only known at that moment the remaining elves of the fair Lothlòrien had chosen to seek blood.