AN: Me again. Hope you're enjoying it so far. I'm trying to keep it moving along slowly, but it doesn't seem to be working very well. Anyways, thanks for reading and reviewing! I appreciate it so much!

Sorry for the short chapter. I like cliffhangers. The next chapter should be up quicker than usual, but no promises. I'm starting on it right now!

Rusty

Chapter Four: Tales of Tragedy

"My Lady! My Lady! Wake up!"

Aliana roused from her uneasy slumber. "What's the matter?" She rubbed her eyes lazily and stretched her arms outwards with a yawn.

"My Lady! You must come quickly! A messenger has come! King Thranduil says it's imperative that her speak with you as soon as possible!"

Her eyes flittered open like the gentle flap of bird's wings. Layanna stood before her. Though it was only slight, Aliana was sure she could sense a hint of urgency and worry in her voice. Something wasn't right…

"Layanna? What on earth are you-"

But before the elf could finish Layanna threw a simple purple dress and her and instructed her to put it on. Aliana did as she was told and quickly brushed out the knots in her hair before tying it back with a ribbon.

"Now…Tell me again what you were just going on about."

"Never mind that. Just get downstairs. King Thranduil is awaiting your arrival."

"Me? Why is he awaiting my arrival?"

Without waiting for an answer, Aliana brushed past Layanna and headed down to the throne room. It was very early in the morning. Even the usual people of the palace weren't out and about at this hour. Through small slits of window Aliana could see only darkness outside.

She approached the heavy oak doors of the throne room. Not even the palace guards seemed awake on this dreary winter's morning. But they opened the doors for her just the same, tired or not.

At one end of the large room was King Thranduil sitting weary-eyed at his throne. His head rested in the palm of his right hand. It was almost depressing watching this sharp-tongued old elf looking so downtrodden.

In front of him, kneeling down on the cold cobblestone floor was a tall elven woman in an elegant satin dress. Her brown hair flowed down past her shoulders with tiny braids here and there. A slender golden crown rested atop her head. Aliana knew who she was without a second glance; Arwen of Gondor.

Suddenly she became desperate, fearful. Her eyes were filled with worry and an unconscious understanding. Her pace quickened, the cold hard floor upon her feet bringing sudden realization that she hadn't put on any shoes.

The woman stood up and bowed her head in reverence towards Aliana. She did not return the greeting, but the women paid no heed, feeling a deep sadness towards the Princess or Mirkwood.

"What's happened!" Aliana demanded, startling both Thranduil and Arwen.

Arwen looked at her sorrowfully and shook her head. "I have some tragic news, your majesty-" She glanced towards Thranduil. "-Aliana-" She glanced towards Aliana, a silver tear shining in the corner of her eye.

"What is it! Tell me what's happened!"

Aliana was not even speaking anymore, she was screaming. She'd lost all sense of politeness and patience. Her face was red with frustration and tears shimmered in her eyes.

Neither Thranduil nor Arwen seemed concerned at her outburst. They both kept straight faces, determined not to show any sign of emotion. It was all he could do to keep from yelling himself and all she could do to keep from flinging her arms around Aliana and hugging her tightly.

Arwen took in a deep breath and continued. "There's no easy way for me to say this, so I'll just come right out with it. Legolas was deeply wounded in battle." Aliana covered her mouth to keep her sobs silent. "We're doing all we can, but our healers aren't sure how much longer he'll last. His wounds are very deep."

Aliana could keep silent no longer. Heavy sobs rolled off her tongue like water from a leaky faucet. She collapsed on the floor, her hair falling around her horrorstruck face.

Thranduil laid his head in his hand and wept silently. He was a strong man, much stronger than Aliana, but even he could not help but cry at this news. Arwen's head drooped sadly, in reverence for Legolas and his family.

Suddenly and without warning, Aliana stood up, swaying a bit to gain her balance, and ran from the room, throwing aside the huge doors. Thranduil looked up, startled. Arwen started after her.

"Let her go."

Arwen looked back at him, startled.

"I knew someday this would happen. Although I was happy my son found his bride, I feared she was not strong enough to be the wife to a prince, possibly the future ruler of Mirkwood. I don't think it ever occurred to either of them. They were so blinded by love that they never thought of the consequences."

Arwen stared back towards the open doors. The guards were peering inside, curious as to what sent their young princess careening through the throne room and out of the palace.

"Are you sure you should leave her alone?" Arwen asked worriedly.

"There's nothing either of us can say to her that will calm her spirits. Now, if you'll excuse me milady, I need to be alone for awhile."

Arwen bowed and left the room. It would be the last time she saw him. King Thranduil, Lord of Mirkwood.