Disclaimer: Refer to chapter one.

Author's note: In my little corner of Tolkien's universe, Dwarves live a VERY long time and dwarf women do not have beards. Trust me, it makes it all work!!

Thank you so much to everyone taking the time to read and review...you are all wonderful!!

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Legolas reined in his mount as apprehension welled up in his stomach.

"This is it," he murmured, scanning the land ahead carefully. He was nervous, his neck tightened with unease. He had followed Elrohir's directions carefully, the last day of his trek spent picking his way through a narrow canyon next to a stream. It had finally opened into a small valley tucked into the foothills of the Misty Mountains. A rambling collection of squat shacks and roughly fenced pasture sat next to the creek where it ambled through the plain. Legolas urged Embryn forward as night gathered around them. Faint candlelight soon shined through the windows, making the squalid settlement seem somehow more inviting. As he entered the outskirts of the village, he saw pigs huddled under lean-tos in the corner of their pens and chickens wandering across the single muddy street. All of the buildings had the same simple design, they were boxy wooden structures with no ornamentation. There was one notable exception. At the end of the street sat a two-story building with a simple sign hanging from the eaves, a single word splashed across it in blue paint. "Tavern."

The smell of unwashed bodies and pig manure assaulted Legolas's senses as he crossed the threshold of the tavern. It was a dingy little place, but warm in the chill of the night. The men drinking and laughing were haggard and plain, but well fed. Legolas stood scanning the room, fully aware he had drawn the attention of everyone there. Just as an eerie silence began to build around him, Legolas saw her.

Moraelin sat at a table in the corner. She was leaning back in a chair, a contented smile on her face as she listened to a Ranger's tale. She burst out laughing at something that was said, and leaned forward to reach for her ale as Legolas's piercing blue gaze fell upon her.

Moraelin stopped with the mug halfway to her lips, her dark eyes meeting his calmly, as if even after centuries of separation, she had expected to see him there. She slowly set down her mug and her gaze dropped to the scuffed tabletop. Her companions were eyeing her curiously now, and then looking up at the glowing elf archer who strode through the crowd toward her. As he came to stand directly in front of her table, still Moraelin did not look up, her black lashes cast down over her eyes.

"Moraelin," Legolas said quietly.

Finally, she raised her head, and the carefully crafted composure on her face stunned him. A smile formed on her lips but never reached her eyes.

"Highness. You are far from Mirkwood. To what do we owe this great honor?"

"I must speak with you, Moraelin." Legolas ground his jaw, uncomfortable with the eyes of the Rangers trained suspiciously on him.

Moraelin's cold grin only grew and she sat back carelessly. "Surely whatever you have to tell me can be said in front of my friends."

"Please, Moraelin." A hint of desperation had crept into his voice, "There is something very serious we must speak of. Captain Talendil is in grave danger."

"Captain? Captain Talendil," Moraelin chuckled incredulously. Her eyes suddenly turned steely as she scowled up at him. "How long did it take for your father to promote him to captain? Two, three hours after I was gone? Or did he wait a few days, so it wouldn't be so obvious that that was Talendil's reward for getting rid of me?"

Legolas nearly flinched at his foolish slip. He just stared back at her, his face devoid of feeling. For several seconds they watched each other, a silent war of wills being waged amid the pipesmoke and the lazy buzzing of flies. Finally, Moraelin sighed.

"All right, we will talk." As she rose from her chair, the green- eyed, grizzled Ranger at her side caught her sleeve.

"Will you be all right, Moraelin," he asked, his intelligent gaze full of concern for his friend.

"I'll be fine," she said, addressing the whole table, "Order me another drink will you? This shouldn't take long."

She marched toward the door, not looking back to see if Legolas followed her. Legolas clenched his hands into tight fists for a moment. He had not expected it to be like this. True, she owed his race nothing but her scorn. But, he had never imagined she would look at him as if she felt...nothing.

Legolas, on the other hand, was fighting for control over his rampant emotions. As they slipped through the doors, he thought he caught her scent on the cool night breeze, the distinct sweetness of lilacs. *Impossible* he scoffed *where would she get lilac oil in a place like this.* It then occurred to him that maybe it was not the smell of lilacs that compelled him so much, but her own distinct aura, that he could not separate the two. He wanted to reach out and brush a hand over her shoulder, or crush her to him. He crossed his arms tightly over his chest, the only way he thought he could resist the urge.

Moraelin stood for a moment on the crude wooden porch of the tavern, taking a deep breath of the mountain air and reassembling her mask of confidence. Then, she turned to Legolas, a smirk turning up her lip just slightly. She leaned back casually on the hitching rail, propped up by her elbows. He said nothing, he just stared at her with those dangerous blue eyes. He was in front of a grimy window, his broad shoulders blocking most of the light as he stood with his arms crossed and his body held stiffly. The orange glow spilling out behind him cast his face in shadow. But, Moraelin would swear those hypnotic eyes were shining with their own icy light, trying to strip bare her protective layer of indifference. She looked away, casting her eyes to the upper level of the inn, pretending to find something very interesting to watch in the second floor window.

Legolas saw the slight arrogance with which she stood as she was bathed in the fiery glow from within the inn. Her rough garments were similar to those that the Dunedain wore, dark and utilitarian. The clothes could not fully hide her short frame, which was small but powerful. Her dark hair was still in the style of the woodland elves, half pulled back, with small braids tucked behind her gracefully pointed ears. He glanced at her ears, a glint of metal catching his eye. In each ear, a small gold hook had been forced through near the top with two delicate chains dangling from it. *She has changed.* He thought sadly, but knew he should have expected no less. They had both been through so much over the years, he wondered how different he appeared to her eyes. A horse that was tied to the other side of the rail edged his way over to Moraelin, rubbing his nose against her neck. Moraelin giggled for a moment, turning to brush a small hand over the blaze on his forehead. She murmured something to the animal, a gentle smile stealing across her face. She hopped up onto the rail so that she might rub the mangy-looking animal as she watched Legolas cautiously.

"You always did have a way with horses," he said on a near whisper, one corner of his mouth lifting in a tiny grin. *Maybe there are some things that never change,* he thought, his eyes finally softening.

Moraelin could feel the pull of that smile, she remembered how many times she had been charmed into doing something for Legolas by it. She would not fall for it tonight. She set her jaw, her chin lifting a notch. "What do you want, Legolas?"

The smile dropped quickly from Legolas's lips and he narrowed his eyes. "Your brother needs your help."

Moraelin simply shook her head, denial and hurt etched on her features. She jumped down from the rail and made to go back into the tavern, refusing to look up at Legolas.

"Moraelin, wait," he said, catching her by her arm. She gasped slightly, glancing down at his graceful hand where it grasped her, "Please, you must hear me out."

The girl's face contorted in pain, but her voice was harsh with barely contained anger. "The only thing I wish to hear about my brother is that he is sorry. If you are not here to deliver an apology then I don't want to hear it."

She wrenched her arm from his grip and moved toward the door again. Legolas's voice followed her, his heartfelt words ringing down the silent street, "Talendil's army engaged a band of Dwarves living in the mountains. Talendil was captured and is held in the mines. He will not survive long underground, and unless you speak with them, he will die. He made a mistake in betraying you, but if you ever loved him, even when we were children, then you cannot just leave him there. Please, Moraelin."

She had stopped with her hand halfway to the doorknob. She did not turn, but listened to Legolas's plea as she faced the heavy wooden door. She closed her eyes for a moment, daring to think of her brother. She had banished all memories of him from her mind long ago, for they hurt her too deeply. Now, Legolas's words cut to her very soul. He was right; she could not just leave Talendil to wither in the caves.

Moraelin turned slowly to face Legolas. Her carefully crafted mask was now gone, and raw emotion shined in her eyes. She nodded once. Legolas smiled sadly and dared approach her. "Moraelin," he whispered, brushing his knuckles along her cheekbone, "I'm sorry to bring these sorrows upon you."

"No, Legolas," Moraelin replied, her voice tired and resigned, "This is not your fault. I do not blame you for coming here. You are a good friend to my brother to do this for his sake." They stared at each other for a few moments as a coyote howled and yipped far in the distance. To Legolas's surprise, Moraelin's face broke into a stunning smile and she laughed suddenly, "It is good to see you Legolas. I have missed you and your mother terribly."

His face darkened, "Then you should have come home." The words came out sharper than he intended, and he regretted them immediately.

Moraelin just shook her head, taking a step away from him. "There are arrangements I need to make. And you look like you could use a bath."

Legolas grinned sheepishly, "Yes, I suppose I do."

"I'll see what I can do. Come, you can meet my friends. I am sure they would like to meet the famous elf warrior that fought at Elessar's side."

Legolas felt his body relax, some of his tension melting away on a slow sigh. He had found Moraelin, and she had agreed to return to Mirkwood with him. That much of his task was accomplished, and he had never truly believed he would get that far. His eyes were alight with relief. "Lead on, Moraelin."