Chapter One

She had just lost her mother.

Daralis Isolde Storms walked out of the room in the hospital slowly. Her silky, dark brown hair lulled around her face and her sparkling blue eyes shone even more as they filled with tears. Everything felt cold around her, and her tears made a hot contrast down her light mocha colored cheeks, cold from the loss of blood she felt throughout her body.

Rhiannon hadn't even been fifty yet. She had just, gotten sick, began to deteriorate, in what had become her later years of life, and now, finally, she was at peace.
Which made it quite unfortunate that Daralis couldn't feel the same serenity.

She and her mother, Rhiannon Melody Storms, had lived together for all of her nineteen years of life, her mother never marrying, never bringing anyone home or staying out late, unless it was to work at her law firm, and she had never given Daralis any siblings. Daralis remembered asking her why one day.

"I think a child should be brought into the world with love, Dara, and I've just never been in love since your fa- since you," had been her answer. But when Daralis had questioned how much she believed that, as she was a lawyer and never even went after her father for child support or anything like that, her mother hadn't spoken to her for nearly three days before finally releasing, "You just have no clue how wrong you are."

And now, through all the amazing vacations they went on together and the dirty jokes that made them both laugh and the shopping sprees, she was gone. Just like that. Here one moment, and gone the next.

Daralis had always expected to have her mother long into her days, and this loss, so absolute in its certainty, was crippling. She could feel the numbness in her body as she climbed into her car, and drove to her (surrogate) Aunt Melissa's house to tell her the news.

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Daralis pulled up to the house that was about 15 minutes from the house she would now inherit. She walked up to the door, but when she rang the doorbell Melissa's husband, "Uncle" Matt, answered.

"Hi, Uncle Matt May I please see Aunt Melissa?" Matt gave her a peck on the cheek.

"Come in, honey, and sit down or something. I'll go get Missy for you." Daralis moved to the couch, thinking about his words. Everyone else called her Missy, but Daralis had always preferred her real name, Melissa. She thought it was prettier.

Melissa descended the steps, and Daralis stood with watery eyes to face her.

"Aunt Melissa," She began, breathless at actually speaking the words, "She's gone." Melissa looked at her in horror, then to Matt, and back at her, eyes wide and mouth open, a clear frown evident on her classically beautiful face.

"Wha-What are you talking about, baby? What are you talking about?" Daralis dreaded having to say it again.

"She's gone, Aunt Melissa, just now, she- she left me." Melissa's knees buckled, and Matt caught her before she hit the marble tile beneath them.

Melissa's head was hanging down, and she drooped in her husband's arms, sobbing uncontrollably. He sank down to the floor with her, and Daralis left quietly to let them have a moment to themselves. She still had to be strong, or at least strong enough to make it home.

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She had dashed home in the Passat, with no regard for her life and little regard for the lives of others. But she made it home, unharmed and innocent of murder with her car. There, she bathed, and dressed in big, baggy pajamas, the kind her mother liked to wear, and she climbed into her mother's bed, where she had been sleeping ever since Rhiannon had gone to the hospital two weeks ago.

She sobbed uncontrollably for the rest of the night, not sleeping, just remembering, and clutching at the sheets around for something to hang onto to keep her from drowning in her sorrow.

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The next day, with red eyes and face, along with a congested nose, Daralis decided to go through her mother's bureau, so she could clean it out and move into the room. She felt closer to her mother in there- every breeze across her face was a kiss, the warmth the blankets lent her was a hug from her. The room had her smell, vanilla, and something unidentifiable, but comforting all the same. This room was her mother. And it, the photos and her own memories were all she had left of her now.

When she opened the top drawer, she saw a leather pouch she had never seen before. She supposed it had been left there for her by her, mother, because when she had gone through the drawers all those countless times before she hadn't caught it. She opened it, and two letters and a package of photos fell onto the top of the vanity, to be held down by the enormous diamond that fell out next. Daralis' breath came out quickly, and she picked it up gingerly, turning it around carefully, as if it would break if she handled it too roughly. She placed it carefully to the side and picked up the letters. One was addressed to her, and the other was addressed to someone called 'Silmeamin'. First she read that one. As she opened it, she noticed spots where the ink ran from someone crying above it.

"Silmeamin -

I write this to you as you sleep, quite near to me. Your hair is falling onto your face, and your body is slowly rising with each breath you inhale. It seems that when I think I have found a moment in which you could not appear more beautiful, you prove me wrong. Perhaps my knowledge of what also rises as you breathe makes you that much more beautiful to me.

I am sorry for not having told you this, but I have known since the second time we were intimate that you carried our baby. I feel certain that as you are reading this, you also know of your condition, one that could not have been caused without my full knowledge. I only knew, Silmeamin, that I wanted no other to carry my child, and I had hoped to be there with you. I am ecstatic over this news of our child's arrival, and my grievance at leaving you only parallels to my grievance at never seeing our little girl, and missing her birth. Elves can die of heartache- the only thing I have to keep me alive is our memories and the knowledge that we have shared worlds before, and that possibility leaves a chance, slim as it may be, that I will see you again, and meet our daughter.

When an Elf gives his heart, he has not another to give. I love you, Rhiannon,"

Daralis was shocked to see her mother's name, but continued.

"and no one I ever encounter can change that, for I have fully given myself to you. The mere fact that we are apart physically will change nothing for me, as I hope it will change nothing for your love for me. Your beauty is not only in your body, it is equally in your heart and soul, and the memory of your face and the heart and soul you have shared with me is more than enough to outweigh the pressures of anything other. The one thing you can always be sure of is my love for you- no condition, circumstance or event will ever dilute it.

The accompanying letter is for our child when you feel that she is ready. I only ask that, since I can have no part in her upbringing, that you let me contribute to her life in the only way I can think of at this point - her name.

I would like you to name her Daralis." It means 'beloved one'. I ask so that she will know that I love her, no matter how far apart we may be, and that I always will. Her name is something that she will carry throughout her life and beyond, as is my love and protection of her. "

Daralis stopped, tears clouding her eyes. She remembered asking her mother why she was named so strangely, but never receiving a straight answer - it was given to her by a family member. She hadn't guessed a family member so immediate as what appeared to be her father. She read the last paragraph, skipped the others. She felt as if she was intruding on a secret her mother had wanted to keep from her.

" I know that I need not ask you, Silmeamin, to protect our child. I do beg of you, however, to always have her know that her father loves her. Her knowledge of my undying love for her is the only other thing you could give me, for you have given me everything I could ever want or need.

Never forget me, my Starlight, my Great Queen, for I will never forget you, no matter how many ages pass me by. I love you.

Namaarie. Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'.

Legolas "

"What the hell does that mean?" She muttered, before tearing open the one addressed to her.

Butterflies flew in her stomach, bumping into its walls, from the feel of it.

Daralis-

I know that you will read this letter from your true father with some contempt, as you have never known me. I promise you, however, that if I could have been there for you, I would have been. Your mother was the only one who could convince me to return to my first home.

I feel almost certain that your mother never married, and that she has had no other children. For that, I am truly sorry, and yet, at the same time, I am pleased. I know that there is no other I could ever find that would compare to her, and I would do the same.
My love for your mother, Daralis, is immeasurable. Never have I loved so completely and I know with pure confidence that I will never love the way I loved her again, not because I wish not to, but because I cannot.

As was my love for your mother, my love for you carries strength beyond measure. Without ever seeing you, I know what you will be - beautiful, for you are your mother's daughter. You will be intelligent and strong, for you are your mother's daughter. And you will love, and love so strongly that it takes complete hold of you, for you are your mother's daughter.

There is nothing more I can say to you, for I do not know you I as I dream of knowing you. You, my daughter, are the one thing I regret in my life- I never knew you, I never raised you, and you never heard my voice telling you my love (unless, that is, you remember the sound from when I spoke to you when only I knew that your mother was with child).

Please only know that I am proud of you, without having to know you, and that I admire you, and love you. I will always dream of our meeting, for as long as I live.

You are a treasure to me, and to the rest of our people.

Your father,

Legolas

Now Daralis' letter was streaked with tear marks, but she couldn't help it. She felt so completely and utterly alone. She held it out from her body quickly to prevent it from receiving more damage, and ended up placing it back on the bureau to pick up the packet of photos.

She picked up the pictures, and opened the paper packaging, whose flap had been opened so much that the weak paper tore when Daralis lifted it.

"Guess I should have been more worried about this thing," she commented, and she pulled the stack of photos out of the wrapper, keeping her finger on the sides of them as she looked. The first ones were of her mother and Melissa, which she set aside to give to her later, and then there were the pictures of the man she saw her self in - eye color, hair texture, slightly pointed ears, though his were much more exaggerated than hers.

"My father," She whispered. She saw what her mother must have, he was very handsome, and she switched to the next picture, which showed him smiling happily at who could only be her mother, as the next picture was a shot of them in a kiss, and it seemed to have been taken by him. She smiled faintly at seeing her mother in such a prone position. If she had been there, she would have gloated at her.

' If she had been here, you wouldn't have found this stuff, ' Daralis thought to herself. She took the three pictures containing her father and returned to her mother's bed, looking at them for minutes at a time, inspecting each one as if she would never see them again and etching them in her mind. There was a slight familiarity with the photos, as if she'd seen them before.

'He's gorgeous,' Daralis thought. ' I mean, Mama was beautiful, but he's.. perfect looking. I wonder where's he's from.'

Daralis sat up with a compulsive idea. She went back to the top of the bureau, and picked up the diamond. She looked at it more carefully, and what seemed to be blood was on the edges of it. She cringed, but continued with her idea. Undoing the clasp, she re-attached it at the back and let the jewel hang around her neck. Almost instantly, she felt dizzy, but she chalked it up to not having slept the night before and being hit by a sleepy spell. Photos in hand, she moved for the bed, reaching behind her neck to take off the necklace, but she hit the floor and was out cold before she could finish doing either.

WELLLLLLLL?!!? Whaddaya think? Ooh, here's an idea! TELL ME BY REVIEWING, SO IF THERE'S ANYTHING BAD, I CAN FIX IT! Legolas deserves no injustice towards his name.

Alright, here's a bunch of stuff that I should have said before the story started, but I thought it would stifle the affect of the opening.

This is the first chapter of the sequel to Regaining Control. It can be read alone, but I highly recommend reading the other story first (and reviewing it J ).

I'll say this right now, and not again, because it bugs me and it's totally obvious to anyone who reads it anyway :

I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING FROM TOLKIEN'S WORLD. I WISH I DID, BUT I SIMPLY DO NOT. SO THERE.

I am working on the whole Orlando Bloom thing, however. Mark me words.