Ernestine: Thank you for your praise. However, I have used real Elvish for the names. Believe me, I know not to use Grey Company. Yuck! I have been informed that Gwenneth should be spelled "Gweneth," and it means Young Maiden. Thank you for you good wishes! (PS- I thought something like star or flower would be a bit too cliche.)

iell nín- my daughter
Naneth/Nana- Mother/Mom
Mell nín- my beloved/dear
Pheriannath- Halflings, Hobbits
Naethen- I'm sorry

Many days later, a horse arrived at the Elven-king's halls. On its back was borne a rider, of the Elven folk, but not of Mirkwood. Gweneth had been sorely disappointed when she saw that it was not Legolas arriving back, and had beensunk into a foul temper ever since. Her hopes had risen when she had heard of the rider's coming, but the dive that those same hopes had taken had put her in a sulky mood. Perhaps she was a bit over-attached. She stayed in her chambers for quite some time thinking about Legolas, until her mother, Gwenél, came in and sat with her. "Iell nín, why is your face so downtrodden? Had you thought your prince had returned?"

Gweneth smiled sadly. "Aye, Nana. I thought for sure that the rider was he. Who was the Elf that arrived just this morn?" Gwenél hesitated before answering, and Gweneth looked up at her. Her face was troubled. "Nana? Who was he? What news did he bear to the king?"

Finally Gwenél answered, "Gweneth, he was- he was a messenger from Lord Elrond of Imladris." Immediately from her mother's tone Gweneth gathered that something was wrong, and realization of what it must be caused her breath to be snatched from her lungs.

"Legolas, Naneth. Is he hurt? What has happened? Speak, Naneth, I beg you!" She felt her eyes filling with tears, though without founded cause. It was simply a messenger from Rivendell. Surely that did not have to mean anything about Legolas. But if it did not, then why had Legolas not returned with him, or borne the message himself? Gwenél tightened her arms around her daughter.

"Hush, child. Legolas is safe and well, as far as I know. You should be proud of him for the task he has undertaken. It is a noble deed, and will bring him much honor." Gweneth slumped against her mother's arms in relief, but it lasted only a moment. She realized that her mother had not yet told her what it was that he had taken on.

"Naneth, there is more. Why has he not come back? He said he would return within a month- it is drawing near to that time. What task has he taken?" Gwenél again hushed her daughter.

"Listen, and have patience. It seems that, at the time that Lord Legolas was in Imladris, the Lord Elrond called a council. We know not much of the council, but for its outcome. Legolas has taken on a journey, with one or some of the Pheriannath, and others. Gandalf the Grey is with them, as well." Gweneth's eyes widened in fear that gripped her suddenly. She was most certainly over-attached.

"Where has he gone? When will he return, and from what? What sort of journey is this? Naneth, please!" Gwenél let her daughter go and pulled a package from her robes.

"The messenger bore this from Lord Legolas. He was bidden to give it to you. Perhaps it will explain more than I know. Be strong, iell nín, for it is only for a time." With that she slipped out the door with a comforting pat to Gweneth's shoulder. As soon as her mother closed the door, Gweneth untied the strings that bound the small linen-wrapped package. Inside was a little scroll sealed with Legolas' insignia, and a small leather pouch. Gweneth pulled the seal away, doing it as little damage as possible, and unrolled the frail paper. She smiled slightly, reading the words that she knew came from the mind of her beloved.

Mell nín Gweneth,

I beg you to forgive me for betraying my word to you. I know I swore to return within a month, and I had full intent of doing just that. However, fate spins webs that even the Firstborn cannot see. What follows is my deepest, most loving apology, and as much of an explanation as I can give.

It seems that the Ring of Power has been found. It is in the steady hands of one of the Pheriannath, a young (by our standards) lad, Frodo Baggins, son of Drogo. His uncle, Bilbo Baggins, who raised him, has quite an interesting tale having to do with certain Dwarves whom were held captive in Mirkwood some years ago. However, that is a tale for another letter. The point of this letter is to say this.

The council called by Elrond (or most of it) has agreed that the Ring must be destroyed to rid us of Sauron's power before he destroys us. Thus a Fellowship was formed to accompany this Ring-bearer (the aforementioned Frodo Baggins) on his journey to Orodruin to destroy the Ring. As you may have guessed by this time, since you have a sharp mind, I have agreed to go with Master Frodo and lend him all the assistance I may. Please do not be angry with me, meleth nín. This is what I feel I have to do. I know that no words I speak can compensate for this, but I hope that you will understand.

Naethen, Gweneth, and still I say this: We will meet again. Whether in dreams, in Aman, or in life, we will meet again. I will not make such promises as I did before this and say that I will return, for every one of us who embark on this quest know that we may never return from it. I do not say this to frighten you. Know, Gweneth, that the fate of Arda rests upon the shoulders of this Fellowship, and on the small back of the little Ring-bearer. I believe you would find him and his companions quite comical. It is on this note that I bid you farewell, Gweneth. Please speak none of this to anyone, but leave it in my father's able hands. Guren nallatha nalú achenin le Melithon le anuir

Estelio enni

Legolas

PS- Please accept what is enclosed in this pouch, it is my offering to you as a token of my love (and a request for forgiveness).

(A/N: Guren nallatha nalú achenin le- My heart shall weep until I see you again. Melithon le anuir- I will love you forever. Estelio enni- Trust in me)

The smile had faded, replaced by tears, by the time Gweneth finished reading the letter. She rolled up the scroll and tucked it into her raiment. Then she turned her attention on the little leather pouch. Anything to keep her mind from the obvious was welcome. She carefully untied the little drawstrings and pulled it open, fishing inside. She drew out a fine silver chain on which hung a thin disk, also of silver, no wider than the size of two of her slender finger-widths. On one side was etched a miniscule leaf, and on the other the Elvish words, "Melithon le anuir." (I will love you forever.) Gweneth laughed even through her tears and slipped the chain over her head. She laid the pouch and the cloth it had all been bound in on her desk and left her chambers, wiping her tears as she walked down the near-deserted hall.

At their camp the first day of their journey, Legolas sought to be merry, and succeeded, for a time. But after a while he found himself gazing up at the sky. A gentle, wizened hand on his shoulder caused him to turn to face Gandalf. The old wizard was smiling knowingly at him, pipe in hand. "There is a strange light in your eyes, Legolas. You miss her, do you not?"

Smiling playfully, Legolas replied, "Who, Mithrandir?" The old man chuckled and brushed a hand at the prince's arm.

"Do not think to play the fool with me, Greenleaf. You know of whom I speak, the charming Elf-maiden whom I met on my last visit to your father's halls." Legolas smiled wistfully.

"Gweneth. Aye, I miss her. I fear to think of how she has reacted. She always was a bit too attached to me. I joked with her about it, but it is true. I sorrow for her." Gandalf nodded thoughtfully.

"Perhaps. But I think this will be good for her, in a way. She will learn that, though she is stronger with you, she can also be strong without you." Legolas considered a moment, then laughed humorlessly.

"Gandalf, you speak as if you truly expect me to come back from this journey alive. I know not if I will. I plan to, but..." Gandalf shrugged in understanding.

"But time spins its own patterns." Legolas nodded in agreement. "Still, I believe you will come out of this alive." With that note of encouragement, Gandalf wandered away. Legolas wondered what Gweneth had thought of his gift. It was not what he would have wished to give- the gift of his presence- but it would have to do. He headed back to their small fire and smiled and laughed with the other men. That night the crebain came.

From her quarters, Gweneth went to the court of King Thranduil and begged admittance. Her relationship with the prince was well-known, and the king had a fatherly affection for her, so she was soon let in. There was the Elven-king in all his glory, smiling down on her as she was led in. "Lady Gweneth, beloved of my son, what service may I do you?"

Gweneth bowed her head before the king. "My Lord, I wish to speak to you of your son and his errand." She applied what she hoped was obvious meaning to the last word. Within moments, Thranduil had dismissed all servants but a dark-haired, relatively short Elf in the corner.

"You have been told of his quest, Gweneth?"

Taking the statement to mean she could speak of it in front of the man in the corner, Gweneth nodded, dipping a curtsy. "Aye, my Lord. He sent me a letter, and a gift. His letter explained things." Thranduil nodded.

"Of course he would do so. Tell me, Gweneth, did he reveal to you whom this prisoner was that escaped from us? I have been told you knew of that."

"Nay, my King. He told me only that a prisoner had escaped, but not who- or even what- it was. Is this a troublesome thing, Lord King?" Thranduil shook his head, then frowned.

"Enough of these courtesies, Lady. Take a seat. You are as my daughter, and soon will be, if Legolas gets his wish." Gweneth smiled. She knew of what Thranduil spoke. Legolas had been asking his father to allow him to wed Gweneth for quite some time. Thranduil had always responded that both Legolas and Gweneth were still too young. That was true; though they were both grown, they really were young by Elven standards. But it sounded as if Thranduil were weakening on the subject, or at least thought that they were approaching an appropriate age. Still, all that depended on whether or not Legolas returned.

"Nay, it is not bad that he did not tell you, only strange. I had thought he told you everything."

"He does, my Lord. Most things. But he feared I would be troubled by it. Or perhaps he was ashamed that he had allowed the prisoner to escape and did not want to speak more of it. Who was the prisoner, and why is it so troublesome that he escaped?" Thranduil waved a hand at the man in the corner, one of his advisors, as Gweneth now recognized him, and the man brought a seat for her.

"This will be a long tale. The creature's name was Gollum. Sméagol, if you like. He was a prisoner appointed to us for keeping by Gandalf the Grey. Unfortunately, whether out of lacking care or over-kindness, he escaped." Thranduil went on to tell her the whole tale, or what he knew, of Gollum and Gandalf's instruction. "I sent Legolas to Imladris to inform Lord Elrond of the escape, so that Gandalf might hear of it. But it seems that strings of fate had become tangled in even a worse snarl than we could see." He told her of the news from the messenger, and a bit more about the quest that she had not known. But it seemed that even he did not know much. "I await his return as eagerly as do you, Gweneth. That is all I have to tell. Is there any other thing you needed, or are you satisfied with as seemingly little as I can tell you?"

Gweneth curtsied as she rose from her chair. "Nay, King. I am satisfied. Thank you for taking so much time to speak with me." Thranduil kissed her hand and looked up at her with sorrowful eyes.

"He is my son. I fear for him as well. I beg, for the sake of your heart and mine, that he returns home unharmed." Gweneth nodded and left, feeling her tears coming again. She did not understand herself; it was not as if he was dead already.

"But he could easily die," she grumbled to herself, wiping away tears. That was what made it so bad. She could not know, she could only wait, living in painful suspense each day, waiting for and dreading the arrival of a messenger to say that Legolas had been killed. Or maybe she would never find out, or at least not until long after he had died. She shook her head. "I must stop thinking about this." She resolved to go find her mother, and perhaps help her in the kitchens. Distracting herself was going to be her main effort for quite some time.

A bit less than two months after the messenger had arrived, another messenger rode in with a letter for her and news of Legolas. The rider was from Lórien, and his message was that the Fellowship of the Ring had passed through there and stayed a time. The whole of the kingdom of Elves was grieved to learn of the fall of the old wizard Gandalf, but Gweneth's heart, though saddened, felt lighter than it had since Legolas had departed.

The letter was much the same in structure as the first; he told of his activites and the beauty of the Golden Wood, his sorrow at the fall of Gandalf, and other things, including his growing friendship with another of the Fellowship, Aragorn, known to the Elven-kin as Estel. He repeated his love for her many times, and his hope that she would still love him, though he would be parted from her for a long while and he had not kept his word and returned. Gweneth thought she would have slapped him had he been there when she read that he feared she would desert his love. He should have known better. After that letter Gweneth heard nothing of Legolas for quite some time, and began again to worry fiercely for him.

What do you think? I, personally, am very proud of this. I think it has a good feel to it, at least, better than many of my other fics. Please review! It's simple, really! Just type a few words and submit.