I would like it if you review, cuz I happen to actually enjoy writing this, and when I have a passion to write a story, it is a big thing. But thanks for the review from lossendholiel greenleaf, I appreciateit and congrats on being the first reviewerof this fic.

So here me be…

Disclaimer: I can never be as great as Tolkien, and I don't own anything he has made, except my own characters. Why? Cuz he's the man-man.

………………..

Ch.3

A quiet she-Elf sat on the room's most comfortable couch. She had claimed it as her own years before, and there she played her harp until late in the night, when she was too tired to keep her eyes open any longer; then she would fall asleep on the couch.

True she had a perfectly nice bed, but she never used it. She preferred she sofa, where she could let the long days of her life pass by, with only her harp, and occasionally her sister for company.

Right then, she was playing her beloved instrument with perfect precision. Her nimble fingers plucked the worn, but tuned strings almost subconsciously to form a soft, sad melody.

And, standing before her, was her elder sister playing a mithril flute, as was their morning ritual. Play several songs together to keep their skills sharp, and then the elder would run off to wherever she pleased for the rest of the day. Then at night she would ask her little sister what she had done that day, and, as always, she received the simple answer of, "I've made a new song."

At the present, Anariel had once eye open, watching and listening for any flaws in her sisters playing. When she found none, she smiled against the flute to her lips and lowered it. "Ai, Anarion, why do you always want to play such depressing notes? It's a bother playing the slow tune when I want to play faster. Why do you like them so?" she eyed the she-Elf sitting on the over-stuffed couch, and smirked. "I want to know."

Her sister had ceased playing the harp and she had sat back from her position of leaning over it. Her dark eyes studied her elder sibling and she smiled back. "I enjoy them, because minor notes are much harder to create than majors."

Anariel sighed and nodded. "Well, before I go, I wanted to ask you if you knew why lord Elrond invited all our allied races here." As if to assure herself that they were there, she leaned to the side and gazed down at the strange people milling about below their window.

Anarion looked up at her sister and said, carefully, "I believe they are here because of the hobbits."

Anariel turned back to her and said, "Or more specifically, your saying they are here because of Bilbo's nephew. The hobbit- Frodo, I believe- who came with the One Ring?"

They both shuddered at the thought of the terrible object, and they shared understanding gazes. Anarion arched an eyebrow and said, "Why did you wish to know? It seems you alreadydid, correct?"

Anariel smiled. "You don't miss anything, do you?"

"I miss plenty. I am merely observant." The younger replied, curtly.

Anariel grinned and studied her younger sister.The she-Slfhad grown to become lovely. But, the elder had to admit, she was fairer than Anarion.

It was likely because the younger never took pride in herself. Her hair was brushed and neat yes, but it was more out of cleanliness than outof the wish to be presentable. She never accented her looks, especially her body, for she always wore some sort of cloak or dress that draped over her shoulders, and so showed not many of her curves.

Anariel smiled, as she thought about the first time her sister had started amoon cycle. Anarionhad shrieked and cried that she was dying; very strange behavior for her. The elder would have thought it was some clever joke, but she knew her sister was deathly serious by the frightened look in her large, violet eyes.

Anarion noticed her sister's smile and asked about it. "Oh, nothing."Anariel replied as a knock came to their chamber door.

A maid appeared and she said, "Lord Elrond has invited you to the banquet tonight. He says to bring your instruments for later; the usual, miladys." She bowed and left, shutting the door behind her.

Anariel cried out and flopped down onto Anarion's couch, as the younger showed her annoyance; she wasprotective of her old, lumpy sof. However, she foundsmiled as well. "Oh, what luck! A banquet!" the elder exclaimed with great mirth. "It has been so boring and dreary for months, but now…!" she allowed the obvious to sink in, and she stood again, causing a depression in thecouch when she had once been sitting.

"Now, we will need to practice our best songs." she said, and laughed. "And," she continued, "I will have to braid your hair, Anarion."

With that, Anariel held her lovely mithril harp, her most prized material possession, and held to her lips, saying a song's name which she wanted to practice, "Vanima."

Anarion, glad to return to something that made sense, set her hands on the harp and began to play the soft, sweet song in a duet with her sister. She didn't understand or enjoy banquets, but she would always plug on through them to the end of the night to when she could play her harp before an audience.

…………….

Elrond and his daughter, Arwen, led the guests out of the dining hall and led them to the Hall of Fire. It was a room in which one could find peace, good conversation, and laughter; as long as it wasn't too loud or disturbed anyone.

In the Hall of Fire was where Legolas was listening to storis told by his fellow Elves. He listened with a half earto their words, and gazed around the room. He would be leaving with the Fellowship, once Elrond's scouts had returned. It could be months before that time, but it would be a fine opportunity for the Mirkwood prince to explore Rivendell and meet new people.

Suddenly a heavenly voice rang out through the room, by lord Elrond's permission of course, and it calmed the hearts and minds of all the occupants there. Legolas looked over by a fire and saw a she-Elf, clad in a billowy red dress, singing in perfect pitch. The fire flickered over her dark hair, and shimmered over the flute of some kind of silver in her hand. He was stunned by her voice, and so he listened to it until the elvish words faded out.

No applause was yet given, for a soft melody rang out across the Hall just as the singing was finished. Legolas looked down at the standing she-Elf's side, and saw another, seated on a stool. His sudden realization of her presence shocked him. Had she been there all along?

He watched her, with her eyes closed and strands of loose hair in her soft face. She wasn't as lovely as the first, not as fair, but she amazed him for no apparent reason except for the fact that she played her harp withstrong skill.

The first began to sing again, and her voice carried out over the Hall with a passion that she hadn't had before…

Gil-Galad was an Elven-King.

Of him the harpers sadly sing.

The last whose realm was far and free, between the mountains and the sea.

His sword was long, his lance was keen.

His shining helm afar was seen.

The countless stars of Heaven's field, were mirrored in his silver shield.

But long ago he rode away;

And where he dwelleth none can say.

For into darkness fell his star, in Mordor where the shadows are.

When his presence fell away,

A love and heirs he left to stay.

His silver life was left to die, in Mordor where the shadows lie.

Her solemn voice faded, and the silence in the room was so that one could drop a pin and it would have been heard. When the awe was complete, the two she-Elves were given enthusiastic applause. They bowed, and the two said their goodbyes; the fair ladyheaded to meet her friends, and the silent lady headed to the door, receiving approval from random people, and also from the few she knew.

Legolas found himself inclined to give his own thanks and praise to her, so he maneuvered his way through the crowd to follow. She took small steps, but she was swift, so he only made it to her as she was out the doors.

"My lady," he called, as she stopped and turned to see him. No one had ever followed to speak with her before…

"Y-yes?" she asked, a bit more than surprised, as Legolas stopped several paces from her.

"You played wonderfully, and I felt I needed to tell you so." he spoke to her truthfully, and he surprised himself at his bluntness.

To her further surprise, Anarion smiled at him. "Then thank you, milord." she said. Legolas found himself bubble with pride as she spoke his title, meaning she knew who he was. She had never met him, but she knew his name; hopefully, anyway.

"Thank you, lady." he said, "May I ask your name?" Anarion found herself shocked. He wanted to know her name? Why? No one ever asked for it, merely told her a quick word of praise and moved on their way.

"I…my name is…Anarion." She could hear here own scream in her head at her stupidity. Why didn't you tell him you second-name! Only your freinds and family can know!

Legolas didn't notice her sudden stiffness, and smiled. "That is a fairly unique name for a lady. Mine is Legolas."

No need for an explanation of her name? Why did she have a man's name?

She was surprised again. How many times had she been surprised that night? Too many to count…

"Well," she began. "I had best be on my way." He felt the need to ask why shewasn't goingtostay, but he held his tongue.

"Then I hope to see you again, lady Anarion."

"And you, milord." she replied, and bowed. Then she turned and left. Legolas watched her retreating back, then he returned to the Hall of Fire.

Anarion watched him leave from the safe side of a pillar. He was very strange, and he unnerved her to no end. But, she heard her mind say, you can say nothing of how strange a person is…

She gave up her musings and decided to run to her room, the only thing she enjoyed that gave her any exercise at all. She loved the feel of the air that collided with her face and arms, and as ran it's slender fingers through her hair she felt that she wasn't alone. Her harp, in it's case that hung off her shoulder, beat against her hip as she ran. It was the only comfort in her life, save for her sister and that big, lumpy couch she called hers.

When she made it to the room she and her sister shared, she opened the door, and closed it behind. She made a beeline to her loveable couch and set her harp, protected in it's case, on the table beside it.

Anarion stretched her back, and flopped onto the couch asa wind blew the curtains of the windows. She watched them dance until she couldn't keep her eyes open any longer.

Hope you liked it. If not, then that's okay too. Just review and tell me, thanks. Aout the song, the first three verses are Tolkien's actual works, and i just added the fourth to go alongwith the story. Again, I take no credit for what he has done.