Disclaimer: Same old, same old. Anything familiar is Tolkien's work.

A/N: Well, there you go! I've decided I won't update anything until I get more reviews, though. Just two reviews and Chapter 4 will be up- am I really asking for to much? Come on people, I need to know I'm not wasting my time here and that there really is someone who's actually reading this. Thanks for reading though, if you are. Ok, here goes:

Chapter 3

Erin woke once again to the all too familiar sound of her aunt's shouting. Groaning, she sat up in bed, wondering what the heck she had done (or not done?) this time. She got up and put on the clothes she had been wearing the day before: baggy jeans, a sweatshirt and a tee, all in black. Black had been her favorite color since her mother died.

She felt exhausted. Last night she had revisited Mirkwood again. Each time it all seemed more real, more detailed. It was tiring, though, as if she hadn't slept at all. Nevertheless, she had come to enjoy Mirkwood so much she was quite keen for the dreams to continue.

The elves had become her best friends. They were very different from anyone she had ever known, but then again, she had never met elves before. She had seen plenty of them by now, of course, and it didn't seem to matter what she used to think of them. They were quite different from what she had expected- so old and young, cheerful and sad as it was.

Then again, Mirkwood elves were very different from other elves, Imrel had warned her. They were more dangerous and less wise- more rustic, so to speak- and proud of it. They had at first dwelt mostly by the edges of the forest, from which they could escape at times to hunt or to ride and run over the open lands by moonlight or starlight; but since the coming of Men they had taken ever more to the gloaming and the dusk.

And finally, there was Imrel himself. He was different even from the other elves. His looks and the way he dressed made him stand out among them. He wore dark grey instead of the browns and greens of the other elves; his hair was a much lighter shade of brown than theirs, and his dark honey colored eyes were so unlike their grey ones. He had inherited these features from his mother, Amyl.

Amyl was a human. She had run away when she was seventeen, and met an elf called Rahíl. To make a long story short, they eloped, and she died in childbirth. Rahíl then departed over the Sea, mourning his lost love, and left the child in the care of his best friend, the King Thranduil.

It hadn't been easy for Imrel to live knowing the truth about his origin. Thranduil had decided that it was best to tell him the truth instead of 'making him live in a world of lies'. But sometimes, we need our lies more than we need the truth.

True, he was very lucky, having grown up in the household of a king. Thranduil had always treated him as his one of his own, and he was grateful for it, but it still didn't make things a lot easier. Imrel had grown up in Mirkwood cared for, but not beloved, as was Legolas. But in spite of having to live in his shadow, Imrel did love Legolas as a brother, and they would often go riding and hunting together.

Erin hadn't met Legolas yet. She was, of course, very curious about him, but the elves seemed very reluctant to mention his whereabouts at the moment. She suspected he was out there somewhere, doing his bit for Middle- Earth as a worthy member of the Fellowship of the Ring.

She wasn't worried about Legolas, nor Middle-Earth. She knew she had no need to be so. But she was worried about Imrel. He hadn't come near her for days now, spent most of the time alone, and wouldn't speak to anyone. The other elves told her he wasn't acting strangely, that he was always that way, but as with the Legolas affair, she knew there was something else to all this, something they didn't want her to know.

A/N: I know it's real short, but Chapter 4 will make up for it. Meanwhile, see that little button on the left? You know what it's for, and you know you REALLY want to use it, so GO AHEAD.