Hello everyone! Me again. Here's ch 4. I really love writing this story--and I just figured out how to write a particularly troublesome chappie. I've always known what would happen to Adlanniel, but I couldn't figure out how to write it! So now I'm good!

Okay, no more rambling. On with the story!

Adlanniel called her horse to a halt when she reached the top of a hill, looking out at the rising sun. She strained her eyes and saw a thick black stream of orcs at the edge of the horizon. They would be there within the day, they may reach Legolas before she did. She bit her bottom lip, considering. She could move faster than they could, but they were further south than she was, and on open plains, she would have to navigate through the trees. They should arrive at about the same time. "Noro lim!" She told Turtegiel. She thanked the Valar her horse was so strong and had such excellent endurance, she had slowed considerably during the night, but now it would be a race to the finish. Her horse was running again, her hooves barely seeming to touch the ground. Not long now, not long.

She heard the sounds of battle before she saw it. By the Valar! She cursed inwardly. She had lost! Whipping her bow off her back, she rode out of the cover of trees and into the fray. There were elves in the trees, shooting the orcs below with pinpoint precision, elves on horses, some shooting, some using swords or spears, elves on foot, using swords or spears or knives. Legolas was in the front and slightly to the right, on his pure white horse, cutting down orcs by the dozen. In one fluid motion, Adlanniel fit and arrow to the string and shot an orc behind Legolas with it, soon to be followed by a volley. Her bow was humming, her arrows flying straight and true, raining death on the enemy.

Adlanniel heard a loud clicking behind her. She turned her horse and saw two giant spiders attacking the rear. She aimed her bow carefully, intending to hit the one closest to her in the eye. But at the last moment, her horse started kicking and bucking and she missed, her arrow embedding itself in a leg instead. "By the Valar!" She exclaimed. She calmed her horse and cut up a few more orcs with her sword. When she was safe again the spiders had been taken care of, though several elves were lying on the ground beside them. She was putting her bow back on her back when Turtegiel collapsed beneath her. Sliding off, Adlanniel gasped with horror when she saw what had happened. When her horse had bucked and kicked, it was because she had been cut. Her back and right flank were bloody and red. She was in no shape to fight. "You survive, understand?" Adlanniel whispered in the horse's ear. "Tyulta. (Stand up)." She commanded. Slowly, with extreme difficulty, Turtegiel did as she was bid. Adlanniel slammed her knives deep into an orc's chest. "Nornoro! (Run away, fast!)" She commanded the horse. "Na varna! (Be safe!)" The horse nuzzled her back once before following her mistress' orders. It was an age old custom of the elves, to send their horses somewhere safe if they were wounded. Turtegiel would probably go just out of the range of the battle, or maybe back to Thranduil's palace.

Legolas looked out over the battle. The elves were winning, they were pushing the elves back. He saw a jet black horse, wounded, running from the battle, and he was reminded of Adlanniel. Ai Elbereth, I hope she's safe. He continued hewing the orcs, believing that his sister was safe at home. But she was close to right behind him.

Duck, slice, spin, thrust, step back, slice, knives between armor, chop, step right, block, thrust, duck, jump left, slice, spin, block, impale, half-turn, plunge knife in, block, slice, twist…Adlanniel fought the orcs almost mechanically, killing quickly and efficiently. They received a better death than they deserved at her hand, unlike when they killed an elf, they may just cut off limbs and leave them to bleed to death. Orc arrows were covered with splinters, and the points were barbed, making them an incredibly painful way to die, an orc would receive a quicker, more painless death from Legolas' arrows. Adlanniel pondered this as she cut and sliced, blocked and weaved in and out of a group of orcs. Why do those who deserve death get a relatively painless one, from a well made arrow or sword, when those who deserve life die painfully, from a splintered arrow or slowly bleeding to death from losing a limb by a dull and rusty blade? Should we give them say same amount of cruelty they show us? No, for that would make us just as bad as them. I wonder- Adlanniel let out a cry of pain as an arrow punched into her right shoulder, going completely through. Her shoulder burned, and she held it, watching her own blood trickle onto her fingers and stain them red. An orc gave her a cruel, twisted smile. "Here's the one we want, boys." He yelled to the orcs, grabbing Adlanniel's arm. She sliced off his head with one of her knives and drew her sword, which glinted in the noon sun. Waves of pain flooded her as she reached back and broke the arrowhead off, sliding the shaft out of her shoulder, grimacing in pain as she did so.

"I thought we wanted a male elf!" An orc exclaimed.

"Maybe, but this one does fit his description perfectly." Another one pointed out.

While they were arguing, Adlanniel was systematically killing the orcs around her.

"But she's no male elf! That's a she-elf, Ecaffrab!" The first orc protested.

"Don't mouth off." Ecaffrab growled, slicing off the orc's head. Adlanniel sliced off the head of one more before moving to another part of the battlefield. "Now look at that! You let her get away!" Ecaffrab roared in fury, chopping the limbs off of the two orcs near him one by one.

Adlanniel had no idea what the orcs had been talking about, she was just grateful to get away. She tore off a strip of her tunic and bound her shoulder tightly. It was painful, but she would survive. She cursed when she realized she had dropped her knives. They had been her mother's; the hilts were black opal with deep blue patches that glinted and shone with an inner fire when the sun caught them. The blades were long and curved, with her name engraved on one and her mother's on the other. She treasured them: the only person who could even touch them was Legolas, and no one but her could use them. The mere idea of an orc touching them made her temper flare. She fought her way back to where she had lost them, against all common sense, mutilating the orcs that she passed in her anger. She reached the place and found them both still laying there, the sun making the opals flash blue. She sheathed her sword and picked them up, apologizing to her mother's memory for forgetting them. With the knives back in her possession she fought with a renewed vigor, killing orcs by the dozen.

Perhaps half an hour later, when the crowd of orcs had been greatly diminished, Adlanniel felt the white hot pain of another arrow piercing her left shoulder. This one did not go completely through, causing flashes of intense agony to temporarily paralyze her. "See Deahdiputs? I told you I'd get her. Now the boss'll be able to torture her. She won't ruin his plans in the future now will she? No, in fact, she might even help them!" The orcs laughed and walked up to her. Adlanniel was fighting to remain conscious, the pain in her shoulders causing her muscles to tremble and shake involuntarily. The orc on the head hit her on the face with his bow, making Adlanniel's head snap back, and she knew no more.

Legolas plunged his knives deep into the chest on the last orc and walked back to where the elves were gathering together. "I do believe we have killed them all." He announced to the weary but happy group. "How many have we lost?"

"That's what we're trying to figure out, Milord." An elf answered. He looked puzzled. "We know fifty for sure, but we can't figure out whose these are." He handed Legolas a gray-green bundle.

Legolas unfolded the grey-green cloth and discovered it was a cloak, one of the ones the Galadhrim made. He shook it, and two knives fell out. He didn't notice but just handed the cloak back with a raised eyebrow. "'Tis merely a cloak, I do not see why it would matter-"

"It isn't the cloak, Prince Legolas, but rather these instead." An elf interrupted, picking up the two knives and handing them to Legolas. "Those and a jet black horse that was found just outside the battlefield. It was wounded, we assumed its master had ordered it away. But none of the elves here can identify it."

Legolas didn't hear a word the elf said. He was just staring at the knives. They had opal handles, and you could see splotches of blue that glinted in the sun, and on the blade in his right hand it read 'Falanthia', the one on his left 'Adlanniel'. "Adlanniel! Theldithen! (Little sister!)" He cried, tears coming to his eyes. "Where were they?" he asked harshly.

"This way. So those belong to Princess Adlanniel?" A new elf wondered, leading Legolas to the area outside the trees and not far from the River Running.

"Yes." Legolas forced his answer out through clenched teeth. Elbereth Glithoniel Adlanniel! You promised me! Legolas was fighting to keep his composure when the elf showed him the exact spot.

"I found them, they were right next to that bloodstain there." The elf said.

Legolas fell to his knees, reaching out to touch the blood with one hand, holding the knife with Adlanniel's name on it with the other. "Adlanniel…theldithen…why? Why did you come? You promised me, Adlanniel! You promised me!" Legolas screamed at the bloodstained grass, as if his sister was lying there. He realized he was sobbing, harsh, gasping, uncontrollable sobs. "Adlanniel! Theldithen! Why? You promised me, you promised ada, we loved you, you left us! Don't leave me Adlanniel, I love you, theldithen!" He looked at his hands and saw drops of red blood on them. Her blood.

"Prince Legolas, would you like to see the horse?" The elf asked. He was acutely uncomfortable, he had never seen Legolas lose control before, and now his prince, his captain, his friend, was kneeling on the grass, crying, clutching the knife, running his hand over the bright red blood stain.

"Turtegiel." He whispered. "You sent your horse from you in battle; she could have protected you, Adlanniel! Cerial vainen, im melole Adlanniel, theldithen...(don't leave me, I love you Adlanniel, little sister…)" Legolas pictured his sister's smiling face from the morning before they found out about the war, when they were laughing and joking and playing because he had beaten her at archery. But he couldn't picture her like that for very long, and he remembered her as she was the day he brought her back the palace, half dead. Pale, blood on her clothes, her normally lively blue eyes dull, her blonde hair matted with gore…when Elrond removed Elrohir's makeshift bandage, the blood, her ashen skin stained with it, the tears he cried, the empty chasm he felt inside him where his heart had been…he stood slowly, holding her knives to him and followed the elf who was showing him her horse. Theldithen, why? You promised me…He saw the powerful, black form of Turtegiel trotting up to him. The horse nuzzled his shoulder, Legolas stroked her nose. "You loved her too didn't you? Did you get that trying to protect her?" He asked the horse, nodding his head toward her bloody right flank. The horse snorted and butted his chest, pushing him back in the direction he had just come from. "Turtegiel, I'm not in the mood for games." Legolas snapped, all patience gone, walking off. He removed his own knives from their sheaths and carefully placed Adlanniel's in them, before climbing nimbly up a tree. Why? We never break promises to each other, I thought you were safe! Adlanniel, theldithen, you were my joy, my hope, my confidant, my conspirator, my restrainer, my little sister, my best friend...you were always there for me, even if you were busy or hurt, you would drop everything to help me. Why did you have to leave me? I lost naneth, I shouldn't have to lose you too! He sat on a sturdy tree limb and held the knife with her name on it in his hand, running his thumb over the place where it had been carved over and over and over. He leaned against the tree trunk and cried, heart wrenching sobs, as he remembered everything they had done together. Theldithen…I didn't tell you I loved you before I left the palace did I? I thought nothing of it at that time…ai Elbereth, if you only knew how much I loved you, still love you, maybe you wouldn't have followed! No, you still would have. That's one of the things that made you such a wonderful person, you always looked out for others, you were probably coming to warn me of the new orc horde, you were going to tell me what had been happening at the palace. You were the relief force, you would have lightened my spirits, you would have laughed in the face of the Nazgul, you would have helped care for the ones bitten by the spiders, you would have been there, you would have supported me, you would have…Legolas couldn't stop the torrent of tears that fell down his face. The trees held him, whispered soothing thoughts and parts of the old tales to him, but he did not take comfort in them. He had taught Adlanniel how to listen to the trees, and the look on her face when she had first heard them speaking to her…she had always loved birches and aspens, their silver bark enchanted her. She said that they were more playful than the other trees, although Legolas had always preferred the stately grace of oaks and maples, whose ancient wisdom never ceased to amaze him. He remembered the last time he had looked into her blue eyes. She was crying, she thought he hadn't seen but he had, he had missed her while he was gone, but it was nothing compared to this, this gaping hole where his heart had been, nothing but memories of her in his mind, the pain assailing his soul, the bit of calm she had made for him lost in the turmoil of emotion, washed away in the feelings of loss and grief and loneliness.

Thranduil suddenly felt cold, a pounding headache appearing. He shivered; his spine was tingling, his nose itched. He always felt like this when something bad was happening to one or more of his children. He looked over the desk, there was Aradan, curled up with his book on the couch. His heart sank. Something was wrong with either Legolas or Adlanniel. And if something was wrong with one, something was wrong with both.
Okay then! Fairly long chapter I suppose. Reviews are always appreciated!

Review Responses!
Elf771: It's a relief! I actually ran Adlanniel through a fairly extensive Mary Sue test, adn she scored lower than I expected--within the Unlikely-to-be-a-Sue range! She got a 9. Out of 48. Makes me happy! But anyway, I have put lots of thought into this stotry, and I'm glad to know it's appreciated! Thanks for reviewing!

kingmaker: Even more title clarification in this chappie! Thranduil is doing better--but this chapter isn't about him. In the next chapter we see how well he did! Less Sauron coming up--however we still get a couple fo glimpses here and there. AndI've never seen either Gallipolli or Glory, so I wouldn't know. Well, thanks for reviewing!

Until the next chapter (soon!)
Namarie,
Lady Altaria