I'm sooooo sorry that this took so long to be updated. So very, very sorry! Even so, I'm glad you're liking what I've been doing to this so far. I know it's only one chapter in, but…well, I've had a lot of time taken up by the menial tasks of homework, tests, and housecleaning, and – on top of that – my computer decided to go ass wonky. Which sucks, especially since I just got it back after a five-month hiatus. So, I hope you like what I've done to Chapter Two, and I'll try to get the updates coming in faster…

They're not mine…blah blah blah…

A/N: Language is going to get progressively worse from here on in…nothing too horribly bad, I shouldn't think, but a lot of the lighter end of the swearing spectrum. Rhiannon, it seems, can be somewhat of a potty mouth at times.

Rhiannon blinked awake, yawned, stretched and snuggled down into the blankets. Boy that dream had been really weird. Something about an Elf named Legolamb, or whatever, showing up in her bed? She sighed. The beginning had been nice, though, until she realized what was going on and totally freaked out. Couldn't explain why she'd done that – freaked out. It wasn't as though the Elf who'd appeared was ugly, or evil or anything. In fact, inasmuch as Rhiannon could remember, Legolamb had been pretty damn hot. Oh well. Pity it was only a dream. She felt she owed this Elf an apology. Maybe he'd show up again tonight? That thought made her giggle. She wouldn't be so stupid next time.

With another sigh, she turned over and squirmed into her pillow. She inhaled deeply the scent of forests and a slight hint of foreign musk and sighed yet again (she was doing a lot of sighing this morning, it seemed). Her pillow smelled wonderful. In fact, it reminded her so much of her dream… She paused as a small memory of last night's events slid up for inspection and she sat up.

There was an Elf sitting on Vicky's bed. He stared at her from across the attic.

Rhiannon stared back for a moment, blinked, took a deep breath and lay down again, closing her eyes.

"I'm still asleep," she said to herself. "That's it; I'm still asleep. I haven't woken up at all, and this isn't really happening." She thought she heard movement from the far side of the room, and risked opening her eyes, sitting up in bed, one hand groping for her burglar deterrent.

The Elf was gone.

Oh boy. She closed her eyes, heaving a sigh of relief as she lay back and snuggled up in the covers again. Occasionally, she giggled at her gullibility. Of all the things! That dream must have been a particularly powerful one, if elements of it were showing up here. With a sigh that was more a huff, Rhiannon turned over onto her side and tried to get back to sleep. She obviously needed more sleep if she was tired enough to be delusional. The fact she didn't feel tired didn't occur to her.

But, after a long while, she realized that her attempts to return to the land of dreams were not successful because she was gradually becoming aware of someone standing over her.

"Bugger off, Bean," she growled at the person she thought was her younger sister. "I had the weirdest dream last night, and it's spilling over, so I think I need to sleep more." When no answer was forthcoming she risked opening one eye.

"Oh, it's you again," she said, thinking that perhaps dealing with this hallucination as though it actually was a hallucination might make it go away. She closed her eye again. "Haven't you found a way back to Mirkwood yet?"

"I regret Lady, that I have not," Legolamb answered.

"Damn. You know, I'm somewhat glad you showed up in my dream, Mr. Hottie, but you really should let me wake up. Because if I wake up, you might get to go back to your hunting, or whatever it is that you were doing."

"That is a kind thought, my Lady, but I do not think it shall come to fruition. You are already awake."

She opened her one eye again, not at all surprised to see that Legolamb hadn't left yet.

"I don't believe you," she answered, "because hot Elves don't stay around when you wake up. It's against the laws of reality."

"I assure you, Lady that I am actually here." Legolas just had to wonder just what this young woman was talking about. 'Hot Elf'? But the temperature in this room was not sufficient enough to make him…hot. He surmised that there must be another idiosyncratic use of the word 'hot' in this context that he was not aware of.

"Look, I'll prove it to you." One of Rhiannon's hands slipped out from under the covers and a finger poked Legolas' leg. When said leg did not turn out to be made of mist, light or tightly woven flakes of ham pasted with apricots, Rhiannon ventured another finger, and then her entire hand, to the exploration of this apparently solid leg before her, while the Elf in question watched her with growing horror. Her questing hand was moving steadily up his leg in entirely the wrong direction to maintain propriety. He was, after all, a guest in her house, regardless of how such an arrangement came about. In his admittedly large experience, hostesses didn't do this.

But he didn't move or try to stop her, even when he realized the direction he was heading in. He knew mortals had fragile minds – at least, the mortals around his forest home – and he did not want to do anything that would push the already precariously balanced mind of Rhiannon over the proverbial edge. So he pushed down his urge to grab her hand and let her come to her own conclusions. It had to be the hardest thing he'd ever had to do.

The invisible wish granter giggled, as well as an incorporeal being could. 'Hard' wasn't the word that it would have expressly chosen for that instant.

When Rhiannon realized that the leg did not yield to her exploration, not just because it was an opaque mass but because it was made up of solid muscle and clothed in some of the softest fabric that she'd ever touched, she withdrew her hand as though burned, and screamed.

This time she got to see the Elf cover his delicate ears in an attempt to block the frequency of her voice, even if her scream this time was little more than a terrorized squeak. It was a loud and rather high-pitched terrorized squeak. The Elf, for his part, then got to see Rhiannon dive back under the covers and start talking to her self in a rather frantic manner.

"That's it, Rhiannon," she said, voice slightly muffled by the blankets the buried her. "No more stories or late night drinks for you! And no more sugar, either! That includes chocolate! And you know mum said to never eat pineapple before bed – maybe this time you'll learn that lesson. But especially no more sugar! Not if this is going to be the result!"

The invisible wish granter would have been howling with laughter if it had a mouth.

When Rhiannon had sufficiently calmed herself down (before she'd hit the rocking back and forth stage), she peaked out from under the covers and looked at the creature that she thought to be a dream. He was still standing above her, now with a slightly sick and weary grin plastered on his face, as though he was afraid that she might turn feral at any moment.

"You're still here?" she asked.

"I'm afraid so, Lady," the Elf replied. "I am sorry that this cannot be the dream you so hope for." Legolas identified the tiniest wedge of disappointment that Rhiannon wanted him to leave deep, deep down at the back of his mind that was squashed with the tiniest of efforts.

"I gathered that much by the fact that I haven't woken up yet," Rhiannon said and then stopped as she thought over what she had just said. "Or whatever," she added. The Elf seemed more amused than before, and a little less weary, but not by much.

He was well built, Rhiannon realized now that her mind was in a slightly more rational state, and the green that he was wearing matched his long silvery blonde hair and grey eyes rather well. Memory rose and her guilt at her bout of uncharacteristic snarling from last night doubled as she remembered that this guy was supposed to be some sort of prince. She looked at him closely, trying to determine if he actually was a prince, and her mind just hadn't been playing tricks on her anyway, and making her hear things that no one had really said. After all, she was talking to a person who, by all rights, shouldn't even be there.

"You're a prince, aren't you?" she asked.

"I am," Legolas replied, and left it at that.

Ye Gods! I behaved that way towards royalty! Rhiannon groaned and buried her head under the covers once more. She had a lot of explaining to do.

Taking a deep breath, she began.

"Err…your Highness, I owe you a huge apology for my behaviour last night. I don't know what came over me, but I am so sorry!"

"You apology is accepted, Lady," the Elf's musical voice assured her. "You thought yourself dreaming, and it is no wonder that you reacted as you did. It must have been quite the shock to find yourself within my arms. I assure you that it was a shock for me as well."

Rhiannon didn't know whether or not to be pleased at that admission. Her vanity suggested that she should be, her modesty that she shouldn't, and her rational mind was still trying to convince her that Legolas wasn't really there to start with, so it didn't matter in the long run whether or not she was pleased by what Legolas might or might not have meant.

By the time Rhiannon finished her inner battle with this little bit of politicking, Athena had awoken due to the sound of their conversation, had sat up, and was now staring at the Elf from across the room.

"He's still here, Spooey," Athena said with a rather slack-jawed expression.

"Tell me about it, Bean," Rhiannon replied, using in kind her nickname for her little sister from her place under the covers in her own bed. "At least you didn't majorly freak out on his Highness." Legolas looked back and forth between them

"What are we going to tell mum?" Athena asked after a brief moment of tense silence. "She's got to know that an Elf has appeared in the middle of our bedroom."

"Not just in our bedroom," Rhiannon began, "but in my bed. Although I don't think mum needs to know about that part. Though, really, you know mum would find out even if we didn't tell her. Remember the incident with the neighbours' Christmas tree?"

"Yeah," Athena said with a slight grin at the memory. Legolas looked slightly confused. He was having some issues with the dialect of Westron that these ladies were speaking. They spoke more quickly than the humans he'd known over his life, and also had a tendency to drop syllables and hard consonants whenever it suited and with no real pattern. He also didn't know what a 'spooey' was, but he figured it had the same sort of sentimental value as Rhiannon's referral to her sister as a legume.

"And besides," Rhiannon continued, "we've got to figure out what to do with his Highness here. What will Vicky say if she comes home to find an Elf in her bed?"

"Probably," Athena said with a large, mischievous grin, "something along the lines of 'hot damn'. I know that's what I'd say, anyway. None of this screaming that you pulled off last night."

No one noticed the look of surprise on the Elf's face as he worked out the context of 'hot damn' in relation to the word 'bed'. These girls were more forthcoming than most women where he came from. Interesting…

"Well pardon me, Mistress of Surprise Awakenings," Rhiannon began hotly, sitting up from under her covers and forgetting for a moment that Legolas was even there, and that she was wearing a rather low cut (depending on the angle) nightgown, "but the next time you wake up in the arms of an Elf you've never seen before, much less even knew that he existed, try not screaming and see where it gets you."

"No need to get snippy," Athena threw back.

"I can be snippy, if I damn well feel like it. It was my dream that turned out to be real, you know."

"Yeah, but you spoiled it!"

"I did not!"

Legolas looked from one to the other, sensing the need to step in. "Indeed, Ladies, there is no need to fight," he interjected. His face lit up with an amused smile as he remembered the similar arguments that he'd once participated in, a long age ago. Both girls turned their heads to look at him, starting as though they had forgotten he was there. In truth they had, if only for a moment.

"Right," Rhiannon said after a few seconds of abashed silence. "Let's get this whole meeting-of-the-parents thing over pretty fast."

"Yeah," Athena added. "Come on then, your Highness."

Rhiannon and Athena rose from their respective beds and grabbed their robes.

"Please," the Elf Prince said when he, gentleman to the core, had turned his back to give the sisters some privacy even if they really didn't need it. "Call me Legolas. That is, if I may call you by your given names as well?"

"Of course," Rhiannon said, wrenching on the belt of her robe. She was much calmer than before, now that she had her robe about her. She'd realized at the slightly coloured cheeks of Legolas that she had, indeed, put on a nightgown that perhaps bore too much in present company. "Come on. Let's get this over with."

The three walked towards the stairs. Or rather, Athena walked her side of the attic being mostly clean. Legolas seemed to float over the mess that was Rhiannon's side, being an Elf. And Rhiannon trod on something sharp, tripped over something else as she jumped aside to avoid another piece of junk, swore, and then lost her balance and would have fallen over had Legolas not caught her.

For an instant, it seemed time slammed to a stand-still. Rhiannon felt, if only slightly, the same sort of comfort that she had felt the night before, before the more rational side of her mind had spoiled the whole dream by pointing out that it wasn't a dream. She also noticed, for some reason at that particular point, that Legolas' tunic was even softer than his leggings and suddenly found herself fighting the urge to burry her head in his chest.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her face going a brilliant shade of red.

Legolas chuckled softly, which did nothing for the state Rhiannon was in. "You apology is accepted, my Lady," he said in a low tone of voice. For one who was a gentleman to the core he was certainly not acting like one.

Athena cleared her throat. Rhiannon jerked upwards, righting herself, and time returned to its normal passing rate.

Legolas traversed the stairs first at the insisting of the two sisters, wondering just what happened back then. Rhiannon was mortal, and while pretty, her beauty could not compare to the Elf-maidens he knew were waiting for him to notice them. Furthermore, he had known her for all of twelve hours, give or take, and in that time had been more confused by dialect and idioms than by his arrival here, and even more confused by Rhiannon's reaction. He shook his head. The stairs creaked beneath his feet as he descended, and he heard behind him a hastily whispered and hotly argued conversation that he chose – very wisely this time – not to interfere with.

"You did that on purpose!"

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did, you tramp!"

"Tramp? Who are you calling a tramp, wench?"

"Only my older sister, who seems to think that throwing herself into the arms of the only male to see this room other than our dad or brothers is acceptable."

"I did not throw myself into Leggy's arms! I bloody well tripped and you know it!"

"Sure, sure."

Rhiannon had Athena and Legolas wait in the in the family room, lovingly referred to as the Romper Room, while she went for Mum. Thinking briefly of what she might say, Rhiannon was thankful that at this time her father had gone to work early in the morning, and would not be home until much later, early evening at the earliest. She was not looking forward to what her dad – a guard at the local prison – would have to say about the whole incident and that she was informing her mother first. Dad tended to be a little…hesitant…in dealing with boys (if saying things along the lines of "I'll put the fear of God in them if they so much as come near this house" could be called 'hesitant'), or with Rhiannon or her sisters leaving the house wearing anything above the knee, or even slightly formfitting. Rhiannon suspected that her dad would be happiest if she didn't leave the house at all, and if she did, it was wrapped in six layers of burlap with a mask over her face. Honestly – she wasn't that good looking, and besides: being midway through her first year of university, Rhiannon knew that it really wasn't up to her father what she wore, who she talked to, and so forth. How was she supposed to stare at the cute boys in her classes otherwise? Reaching her mother's bedroom door, she knocked hesitantly.

"Come in," her mother called.

Rhiannon opened the door and found her mother almost ready for work. She tried to clear her throat, and took a deep breath. "Mum, I had a really bizarre dream last night," she began.

"I know," her mum said. "You scared your father half out of his wits and got the dogs barking loud enough to wake the neighbours. How'd you get them to be quiet?"

"I'll explain in a minute, but…this dream…

"Go on," her mum encouraged her to continue.

"It…the problem is…it wasn't really a dream." Rhiannon had begun to wring her hands and was biting her lower lip.

"What do you mean?" her mother asked suspiciously, more than slightly confused.

"Erm…well, you'd better come see for yourself." Rhiannon led the way out of the bedroom and back to the Romper Room. She turned just in time to catch the rather priceless look upon her mother's face at the first sight of Legolas.

"Oh my…" her mum's voice dropped off. "Rhiannon?" Silence followed as Legolas looked at Rhiannon's mum, and Rhiannon's mum looked back. "How…?"

"Well," Rhiannon began, "his Highness here, well, he sort of…I had a dream," she began again, "and then in my dream I woke up and found his Highness sort of…inmybed," this was said really fast, "…and I freaked out and Bean calmed me down, and then when I woke up this morning, I thought it was all a dream, at least until I realized my pillow smelled really good, like the scent of forests and a hint of musk, and it was really nice, but I smelled it at the beginning of the dream that really wasn't a dream, and then I sat up and he was still there, and I thought I was still dreaming, but I wasn't." Rhiannon only stopped because she ran out of air.

"In your bed?" her mother asked after a short pause while she absorbed what Rhiannon had just said.

Legolas noticed that Rhiannon's face was turning an interesting shade of red. "Er…yeah…I mean…he wasn't really in my…" the colour deepened, "bed…more like on top of my covers."

"Right. Why do you keep calling him 'his Highness'?"

"Well," Rhiannon said slowly. "He said he was this prince of some forest thing, but I've never heard of it."

"A prince, eh? And how, mister Elf prince, did you manage to end up in my daughter's bed?" Her mother had raised an eyebrow. This was not a good sign, in the world of Mum's Body Language.

"That I do not know, Lady," Legolas replied, his face honestly bare of guile or deception. "As I told your fair daughters, I was hunting Orcs with my kin. We had just paused for a rest, and I placed myself into a light trace, and found myself in what I thought was a vision. Until Rhiannon screamed, I had just accepted it as an image within my mind."

Rhiannon's mum stared hard at the blonde Elf before her, her eyes narrowed, searching for any sort of deception that he might be trying to pull over their eyes.

"And do you have a name, or should we just call you 'Elf'?"

"I am Legolas, Lady, of Mirkwood Forest."

"Legolas?" Rhiannon's mum asked, and the other eyebrow rose. "What sort of a name is that?"

"A name of my people, Lady," Legolas replied calmly. Again, Rhiannon's mum stared hard at Legolas, a practice that – as she admitted to herself later – wasn't that hard.

"Okay then, Legolas," Rhiannon's mother said eventually, having come to the conclusion that either Legolas was telling the truth or was delusional. "Do you have any idea how you're getting back to this 'Mirkwood'?"

"Rhiannon asked me the same question last night, Lady, and for you I have the same answer. I do not know of a way to return to my kin."

Rhiannon's mother was silent while she pondered this. "You know, I really don't have time to be considering this. Your brother's showing up to drive me into work in about two minutes. But I suppose that until you find a way to get back to your forest, you can stay here on the couch."

"Thank you, Lady; that was more than I expected."

"Call me Jane."

"Uh, mum? What am I going to tell dad when he gets home?" Rhiannon asked somewhat concernedly. Visions of her father going spare flashed through her mind.

"I'll take care of your father," Jane answered, the same visions going through her mind as well. "Don't worry about that. But right now, I've got to go to work."

It was at about that time that Rhiannon's three youngest brothers decided to come up from getting their breakfast. They all ran into their own room, which was next to the Romper Room on the right, and Rhiannon had thought for a moment that they had not noticed the six-foot, absolutely gorgeous, male Elf standing in the middle of the play/television room. That was, until Wesley, the eldest of the three boys, backed up and put his head around the corner.

"Who?" he asked, pointing at Legolas.

"A friend," Rhiannon answered, refusing to say any more.

The other two boys, Duncan and David noticed the puzzled stare of their older brother and came to investigate.

"Your boyfriend?" Duncan asked, his face lit up with a grin of mischievous intent.

"No," Rhiannon said firmly and with a look upon her face that screamed 'one more question like that and I'll have your hide'. She was beginning to turn red again.

"I bet he is," David added. Rhiannon turned an embarrassed glare on her youngest brother.

"I suggest you boys stop," Athena spoke up, with a look identical to Rhiannon's upon her face.

"What's with his ears?" Wesley asked, completely sidestepping Athena's remark. "He looks like a Vulcan."

"Well, he's not," said a flustered Rhiannon, trying desperately to figure out what to tell her brothers. She settled for the truth, or at least, a version of it. Sighing, she told the boys a slightly twisted version about the appearance of Legolas, what he was, and that if they told anyone she would personally see to it that none of them lived out the remainder of their lives, and if by some fluke they did managed to survive, she would take away their means of reproduction, permanently. This incited a rather choked gasp from Legolas as he realized what this young woman was talking about. Rhiannon glanced around quickly, just in time to see Legolas try to cover his surprise and his slightly red cheeks. "This includes dad," she said warningly, turning back to her brothers. "At least until mum talks to him first. He'd go ape; he really would. Seriously, though, guys. Do not mention Legolas to dad until mum's talked to him, please?"

The three boys promised solemnly that they wouldn't and Rhiannon sent them out of the room to get dressed. "Great," Rhiannon sighed in relief. "Now that just leaves Vicky, dad, and Lincoln."

"How many do you have in your family?" Legolas asked.

"Nine," Athena answered his question. "Mum and dad, my older brother Lincoln, Spooey, who's older than me, myself, Victoria, who's younger, and the three boys, Wesley, Duncan and David."

"We adopted," Rhiannon supplied. "The three boys and Victoria."

"So I noticed, for they look nothing like you."

"Neither does Lincoln, much, and he wasn't adopted," Athena put in.

"How so?" the Elf asked, confused.

"He's got red hair. The only one in our entire extended family who does." Rhiannon answered.

"Ah."

"You know," said Athena after a small moment of silence. "I think that we should get dressed too."

"You're right, but who will stay with Legolas while we're up there?"

"We will!" Came Wesley's shout and the three boys, half dressed, crowed into the Romper Room before Rhiannon could say otherwise. She was about to object when Legolas stepped in.

"It is alright, Lady. They will be able company."

Rhiannon nodded while giving the boys warning looks and went with Athena back up to the attic. They closed the door behind them. Wesley waited until the footsteps on the stairs had stopped before he started. The other two fell shortly in behind.

"Do you play video games?" Duncan asked.

Legolas looked from one seemingly innocent face to another.

"What?"

So…did you like? Let me know…

There. Chapter two. How did you like this one? Better than the last? You guys aren't going to burn my ass back to the pits of Moria, are you? Constructive criticism is useful and wanted. Let me know if you still think it's funny or if I should throw it back down the hole from whence it came.