This. Seriously. Sucks.
I just realized :) that I happened to delete my newest copy of all of the chapters. Congratulations to myself. I've got to see if I can dig it out... I wanted to be good since I've finally gotten off my ass and updated... so I was going to put out two chapters... grrrrrrrr...
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Ohh! Who's good! (I happened to have it on an old disk... hehe...) So here's the chapter. Two in one day, aren't I good?
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Note: I love every single one of those of you who put me on alerts and favorites. Although- I noticed that approximately half of you have never reviewed- please do.
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Chapter 5: Súláríl
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When morning came, Elizabette was well rested and felt much better. Legolas appeared to show her the way to the dining hall.
"Elizabette," he said, "I know you did not want me to speak of your trunk to my father. But what else could I have told him?"
Elizabette shrugged her shoulders. "I was not angry because you told him about the trunk as much as I was angry that you told him about my family."
"Why should I have not told him about your family?"
"I feel that it is my business, not his." She turned away, closing the subject.
"Do you know what causes the disease?" he asked.
"No. But I am certain that it is the same disease that killed my family."
"Exactly." Legolas stopped walking and faced her. "The strange thing about this disease, Elizabette, is that it harms elves only. Mortals are not affected."
"Are you certain? Perhaps it has not spread the the areas where the humans live yet."
"No. It has spread everywhere. But, Elizabette, you are not understanding. Listen to what I say. The disease harms elves only. Humans are not affected."
Elizabette frowned. She did not comprehend. Then she understood, and her eyes widened.
"It harms elves only..." she echoed. "My family must have been elves."
"Yes. Either there are elves in your world, or your family comes originally from Middle- Earth."
He resumed walking. Elizabette took the Star of Eärendil out of her pocket. "Where do you think that this came from?"
"That I do not know. If you give me your leave, I will ask my father."
"All right... I suppose." She paused. "Legolas, I apologize for the way I acted last night. I should not have been so rude. The king made me irritated."
"It is all right. Perhaps I should not have told my father about your family before asking you."
Elizabette shrugged. "It does not really matter."
They reached the dining hall. The king gestured them to seats at the high table. The lower tables were still and empty. The silence and absence of elves made Elizabette shiver. She hung back slightly.
"Come, Elizabette," Legolas told her.
Halfway through breakfast, Legolas told the king what he and Elizabette had worked out. Thranduil was surprised but had to agree that they were correct. Legolas told him about the star necklace and the king asked to see it.
Elizabette drew it out and handed it to him. The king agreed that it was wrought of mithril.
"An exquisite piece," he told Elizabette. "Power runs through it." He added to his son in Elvish as they finished the meal, "Tanaroccor ana Heri Elénwen." (Show the horses to Lady Elizabette.)
"Tancavë, Atar. Manen Silrocca?" (Yes, Father. How is Silrocca?)
The king smiled. "Oatë cenonya!" (Go see, my son!)
Elizabette sent Legolas a puzzled glance but he raised his eyebrows and shook his head.
When they had finished, Elizabette and Legolas left together.
"What were you saying?" asked Elizabette of the elf.
"My father asked me to show you our horses. I asked after my horse, Silrocca."
They walked in silence for a few moments, then Legolas told Elizabette, "My father suggests that you wear clothes that are more... usual in Middle- Earth. I believe that some were placed in your bedchamber." He left her outside her bedchamber and proceeded to his own.
Elizabette opened the door of her wardrobe and gasped. Five or so dresses hung there, all in about her size. The one in front was plain and serviceable, navy blue cotton or something similar, with a wide skirt that would be easy to walk in.
The others, however, were anything but plain. The one behind the navy one was of a deep crimson velvet with gold threads sewn in as decoration. Another was of sky- blue silk, with delicate lace cuffs and collar and a gathered skirt.
The nicest by far was of rich purple velvet, with tiny jewels set at the neckline. The skirt was full and fell almost to Elizabette's ankles when she held it up.
They are beautiful, thought Elizabette. But I would not look right in them. I am only an orphan. She chose the navy blue cotton dress and slipped it on, surveying herself in the mirror. There were several pairs of shoes in the bottom of the wardrobe. Remembering that Legolas intended to bring her to the stables, Elizabette selected a pair of ankle boots made of supple black leather.
Elizabette's hands were completely healed from Matron's whipping. She smiled. She had not meant it the night before when she had wished that she was not an elf. She was glad she was an elf, the healing powers the least of her reasons.
Elizabette tucked the necklace into her pocket. She had never put it on but felt that it was safer when she had it with her.
Legolas knocked lightly on the door. "Are you ready, Elizabette?"
She opened the door and slipped out.
"Hello. You look nice," he added, smiling. He started to walk.
"Thank you," replied Elizabette, smiling back. She noticed that Legolas carried her bow and quiver and wore his white knife. "Why do you carry weapons?"
The elf's smile faded slightly. "Mirkwood is far from safe," he replied somewhat sadly. "It is best to be prepared."
"Surely it is safe near the palace?" Elizabette asked.
"Near the palace, yes. But we are not staying near the palace. Seeing that you are presumably going to stay here, for a time, at any rate, my father thinks that it is necessary that you learn to ride a horse. I will teach you to ride."
"A horse? I do not know..."
"Come on, Elizabette. How bad can it be?" he asked with a teasing grin.
"We will see," replied Elizabette, laughing. "But you might be disappointed."
Legolas laughed also. A few elves near the stables heard his laugh and glanced around. How long had it been since they had last heard their prince laugh? Many of his friends had passed to the Grey Havens, and his close friends Orodír and Calënil had both died from the disease.
Legolas led Elizabette to a large stall where a silvery white mare stood, facing the back wall, with a dejected expression.
"Silrocca!" he called softly. "Manen nar tye?" (How are you?)
The mare's head shot up and she came over to the elf, nickering. She rubbed her face against his hands.
"Yes, my friend," Legolas said softly to Silrocca, "I have returned."
Elizabette hung back. There were other horses in stalls around her, but it seemed to her that Silrocca was the most elegant. She noted curiously that the elf's face was oddly blank, although his hands rubbed Silrocca's face joyously.
"You can touch her," Legolas suggested over his shoulder to Elizabette. She approached hesitantly. Silrocca's intelligent gaze shifted to her. Elizabette held out a hand to the mare. Silrocca sniffed it and then nodded her head down, offering her forehead to Elizabette.
"She accepts you. You can pat her." Legolas was watching closely.
Elizabette tentatively rubbed Silrocca's forehead. The mare watched her, then shifted her gaze back to Legolas as Elizabette stepped back.
Legolas opened the stall door. Elizabette jumped out of the way as Silrocca stepped out, elegant head held high. The will of the elf tugged her mind and she followed him.
"Now, a horse for you." Legolas considered a moment before leading Elizabette and Silrocca down a narrower aisle. At the very end he stopped.
Elizabette noticed that this stall had a higher door than most of the others.
"This horse has no name," Legolas told Elizabette. "No one has yet been able to harness the fire within him. You may ride him."
Elizabette peered into the stall. Inside stood a reddish chestnut. His face was dished and his ears delicate with fluted tips. He had a white spot on his forehead and a white sock on his off hind foot, but otherwise his coat was pure reddish- brown, with gold glints where the sunlight struck him.
Elizabette noticed that he watched her warily. Legolas slid the door open and the horse stepped out. Elizabette held out her hand, expecting him to sniff it. Instead, he bared his teeth and snapped at her. She jerked her hand back.
Silrocca stepped forward, nudging the chestnut with her gray nose. He calmed, accepting her touch.
Elizabette again offered her hand. This time, he sniffed it, but when she tried to touch him, he shied away.
"What is wrong with him?" she asked Legolas.
"His fiery spirit serves no one. He will work in partnership with someone, if he trusts them... but he trusts no one. He has become afraid."
"You expect me to ride him?"
"Yes. You can do it."
"Can someone else not ride him?"
"He trusts no one else."
"He does not trust me!"
"Not yet. He will. No one can ride him."
"Why not?" She again offered a hand to the chestnut. He sniffed it and backed away.
"If you must know..." Legolas nodded to Silrocca and she gave the chestnut a nudge, urging him to follow the elf. Elizabette walked behind Silrocca, wary of her hooves.
When they reached the open air, Legolas turned, and, in one swift motion, sprang lightly onto the chestnut's back. He sat astride, gripping with his knees.
"Watch," he called to Elizabette.
The chestnut seemed surprised for a moment, then in a split second he reacted. He threw himself up into a rear, then landed on his forefeet with a sudden jolt that would unseat anyone but Legolas. The elf stayed on his back. When the horse reared so high that Elizabette thought that he would topple over, Legolas jumped off, landing easily on his feet. The chestnut shied away from him. Silrocca again touched him with her nose, calming him.
"That is what he does to everyone," Legolas told Elizabette.
"How can I ride him, then?" she asked.
"You must get him to trust you. Say, 'ni ávan hastatye' to him."
"Ni ávan hastatye," Elizabette repeated, looking at the chestnut. His attention shifted to her from Silrocca.
"It means, 'I will not harm you.' Now concentrate on those words, in Elvish or Common Speech, and direct them towards the horse."
Frowning, Elizabette did as he told her. I will not harm you," she thought over and over. I will not harm you... I will not harm you... I will not harm you... Suddenly, the words were gently shifted aside and into her mind came the words, I know.
"What?" gasped Elizabette aloud. The chestnut watched her, but the fear was gone from his eye.
I know you will not, the voice repeated. I trust you now.
"Wha-a-t?" Elizabette's eyes strayed to the horse. Then she knew. The fear in his eyes was replaced by trust. He had spoken in her mind.
"You felt it, Elizabette?" asked Legolas.
"What happened?" she replied.
"Elves are joined with their horses by mind contact. The horses can see only into the mind of their own elf friend. It is how we communicate."
"How old is he?" asked Elizabette. The chestnut seemed fairly young to her.
I am two years of age, he said into her mind as Legolas replied aloud, "He reached his second year a few months ago. Silrocca is his mother."
Now that she knew, Elizabette could see the similarities. They had the same dished face, the same ears...
In her mind, she asked, Have you a name?
No. That is at your discretion.
Aloud, glancing at Legolas, she asked, "When we were in my world, you told me about Silrocca. You said, 'She is beyond my contact here.' Did you mean that you could not contact her in your thoughts?"
"Yes. Some barrier divides the worlds, and her mind could not reach mine. As soon as we landed in Mirkwood, she felt my thoughts and I greeted her."
Elizabette considered. "What about him?" She gestured toward the chestnut. "Why does no one speak in his mind and tell him that they will not harm him?"
Legolas rubbed Silrocca's silvery neck. "The horse has to make the first contact, to bridge the minds. After that, you will be able to contact him and he you."
Elizabette frowned. "Can he not hear when someone speaks aloud to him then?"
"He can hear you but he cannot respond verbally. That is why we use ósanwë-centa, mind- contact." After a moment, he added, "My father asked me to show him to you. He thought that you might be able to win his trust. He is yours now."
I am not 'yours' any more than you are 'mine', the horse complained good-naturedly into her mind.
Elizabette walked over to the horse. He lowered his head and she touched the white spot between his eyes. His mane and tail were lighter than his body color, but they also had the touch of gold.
"Let us go," said Legolas.
Elizabette rubbed the horse's forehead gently. He suddenly seemed very tall. She was not entirely certain that she wanted to be up that high.
"He is so tall," she said to the elf.
"He is only fifteen hands," replied Legolas. "Silrocca is nearly sixteen."
Elizabette glanced at Silrocca. She was indeed taller, but even the chestnut seemed too tall.
"Do you not use saddles?"
Legolas laughed. "Saddles?" he replied. "Those leathern seats that Men put on their horses? We elves do not use them. As we can communicate directly with our horses, we need no crude methods of substitution."
Elizabette shrugged. "How do I get up?"
"I shall not help you," replied the elf. "You will need to be able to mount on your own. You will have to sit sidesaddle with the dress. Be careful; and do not land hard on his back, he will not like that." He came around to Silrocca's side. "Watch now." He sprang lightly from the ground and landed sidesaddle on her back. He swung one leg over to her other side and patted her neck. She turned to face Elizabette and the chestnut.
Elizabette did not think for a moment that she would be able to do it, but she copied his movements and was surprised to find herself on the chestnut's back.
Be careful with me, she requested lightly of her horse. I have never done this before.
Neither have I, he replied truthfully in her mind.
Elizabette laughed, patting his shoulder.
Silrocca and Legolas stepped over to them. "We will try a walk first," Legolas told Elizabette. His expression blanked briefly and Elizabette knew that he was asking Silrocca to walk with his mind.
Shall we walk? she asked the chestnut. He responded by breaking into a springy, energy- filled walk.
Elizabette froze on his back, one hand clenched in his mane, the other on his hindquarters. Relax, the horse said.
After a moment she caught her balance and began to settle with the movement, enjoying herself. Legolas and Silrocca led the way down the path.
This is fun, she thought to the chestnut.
Yes, he replied. It is a nice change from bucking and rearing.
Why did you buck?
I trusted no one.
Why do you trust me?
You trust me. The chestnut tossed his mane and looked around at the dim trees.
Mirkwood is indeed a gloomy place, Elizabette remarked after a moment.
Yes. My mother tells me that we horses used to be allowed to roam free, awaiting the mind- call of our elf friends. Now there are too many dangers.
Do you trust Legolas?
More than most people. Not enough to allow him to ride me.
Does it hurt you when I sit on your back?
No, not at all. My back is strong, and you are light. He sped up a little so that they were just behind Silrocca and Legolas.
Legolas glanced back at Elizabette. "Do you want to trot?" he asked.
What is trot? she asked the chestnut in her mind.
A faster pace than the walk, came the answer. I shall warn you, it is a little bouncy for you.
Shall we?
Yes, why not?
Elizabette withdrew and glanced at Legolas. "All right... I guess."
The chestnut broke into a faster pace. It was indeed bouncy.
Legolas looked back. "Are you enjoying it?" he called.
Elizabette felt that she would bounce right off of the horse's back. She was certain that the elf could see her discomfort.
"Relax," he called back. He was sitting easily with the movement, his lithe body absorbing the bounces. "You are tense. Relax with his stride."
Elizabette tried to relax but could not. Can you go a bit more slowly? she asked the chestnut. Immediately he slowed to a smoother trot. She was able to settle to that.
At their faster pace, Legolas and Silrocca drew ahead.
Shall we catch them up? asked the chestnut a little mischievously.
What are you going to do?
I will canter. Hold onto my mane, I spring into it and you do not want to fall off. It is my favorite pace.
All right. Let's do it, Elizabette agreed enthusiastically.
The chestnut bounded forward. Elizabette gripped his mane tightly until she got the feel of the motion.
They passed Legolas. "Hello!" called Elizabette, smiling.
Silrocca also leapt forward into the canter. The chestnut rounded his back and slipped down into a rocking canter, allowing them to get ahead, then flattened out and raced them, catching up. The two horses ran neck to neck, but neither was able to gain an advantage. Both Legolas and Elizabette were laughing.
I will gallop, warned the chestnut. Hold on!
Elizabette held his mane as he switched into a four- beat gallop. A moment later, Silrocca also accelerated up into the gallop. She and the elf caught up but again neither could pull ahead. Elizabette was thrilled with the exhilarating motion.
Suddenly, the chestnut's ears flicked forward and Elizabette glanced ahead. Over the thundering hoof beats of Silrocca and the chestnut, she could hear the slower pace of a trotting horse. She squinted forward into the dim trees. There were two horses, trotting at a matched pace.
Silrocca and the chestnut slowed to a canter, then to a trot. The other riders were two male elves, both on bay horses.
They turned and stopped, nodding to Elizabette and Legolas.
Elizabette recognized one of the men, Duinral, the palace guard. Legolas confirmed this by saying,
"Aiya, (Hail) Duinral and Ryncäl. It is your day off?"
"It is, Legolas."
Elizabette caught their puzzled glances. What is wrong with these elves? she thought. Am I that strange?
In truth, the two elves were merely pleased to see the elf laughing. He had not laughed much since the war. Of course, he laughed when there was something to be amused at, but neither of the guards had seen Legolas race anyone for an age, at least. This lady must be a very good rider, thought Duinral, for it was well recognized that the elf was one of the best riders in the realm. Yet they had been racing neck to neck.
Ryncäl gasped as he recognized Elizabette's horse. "Is that the untamable chestnut?" he asked.
The chestnut listened. I am not untamable! he protested.
Elizabette laughed, replying, To them, you may seem untamable.
"Yes, that is him," Legolas answered Ryncäl.
"Lady Elénwen was almost beating you," Duinral teased the elf gently.
"Yes," replied Legolas, smiling, "Silrocca and the chestnut are a close match."
In her thoughts, Elizabette asked the chestnut, Can you hear other people's thoughts as well as mine?
No. I can hear only yours.
Do you know who I am?
You come from another world, where you had no family. An evil woman tried to kill you, so you fled to Middle- Earth when Legolas asked you to come. You own a locked trunk and you know not what it contains. You resented the fact that King Thranduil knows of your family. You have a symbol of the House of Elrond, and you know not where it came from.
Elizabette was surprised. Did you read my memory?
Yes. You also supplied me with thoughts as I spoke.
I did?
"Elizabette!" Legolas' hissing whisper cut off the chestnut's reply.
Elizabette snapped back to the outside world. The guards were trotting off down a side path and Legolas asked,
"Would you care to canter again?"
Shall we? Elizabette asked the chestnut.
Certainly.
Elizabette nodded to Legolas and both horses broke into a canter. This time, however, Elizabette felt a different in the pace; the chestnut's back was rounded and the gait was smooth and rolling.
The chestnut's voice spoke in her mind. I know something else, also.
What?
Legolas and King Thranduil think that you can heal the elves with the strange disease.
How do you know?
We horses hear things. If an elf tells his horse, that horse could tell other horses and we hear of it that way. My mother told me. Legolas may have told her.
When did she tell you this?
When you first took me out of my stall. How could I have known before? I knew not that you even existed.
Are you certain?
Yes. Legolas and the king think that you have powers that can stop the disease.
How?
I know not.
"How can they think that? I am only an orphan!" Too late, Elizabette realized that she had spoken aloud.
Both horses slowed to a walk. "What did you say?" asked Legolas.
"He just told me that you and your father expect me to stop the disease." Elizabette touched the chestnut's shoulder.
"How could he have known that?"
"He says that Silrocca told him."
The elf shrugged. "Well, it is true. We did not expect you to find out in that manner, but yes, we do think that you can do it."
"Is that why you brought me here? Not because you care about me, but because you care what I can do?" She did not give him a chance to answer. In her mind, she quickly asked, Do you know how to return to the palace?
Yes.
Then let's go! Leaving Silrocca and Legolas standing on the path, she and the chestnut cantered back the way that they had come.
---
We must follow them! Legolas thought to Silrocca.
No, replied Silrocca with her usual calmness. We should leave them be.
Why?
Lady Elizabette is very angry, can you not see?
Why? What should I do about it?
The answer is in your own mind, cundunya. You will find it there. She turned and followed Elizabette and the chestnut, but she kept her pace to a walk. (My prince.)
Do you know the answer? Legolas asked.
I found it in your mind. Silrocca set a barrier around her mind so that the elf's thoughts could not enter and find the answer there.
Legolas thought back to the day before, when Elizabette had said, "No one cares about me and I care about no one.'" The words seemed to ring in his head.
Yes. Very good, cundunya. Silrocca removed the barrier and sent that thought to him. Now you must find a solution.
Can we not go any faster? asked Legolas impatiently. They might lose their way.
My son will find the way home. Silrocca's tone was final. Legolas, you must find a solution.
Do you have one?
No.
---
I need to slow down, the chestnut spoke in Elizabette's thoughts. I am starting to become weary.
All right, Elizabette replied. He slowed at once to a half- trot.
Why did that make you so angry? he asked.
Elizabette thought back to the day before, pulling out memories and emotions for him to read.
After a moment, he replied, Yes, I see. I understand your reasons to be angry if King Thranduil and Legolas care only about your powers. But how do you know that that is all that they care about?
I don't, really... I guess. But the way he said it... She was silent for a time.
What shall I name you? she asked a few minutes later.
That is your decision.
Do you have no preference?
Offer me some names and I will judge them.
I know little Elvish... Do you know the word for 'spirit'?
The words fëa and súlë both mean 'spirit'.
Súlë and fëa... How do you like the name Fërúnya? Or Súláríl?
Súláríl? I like it. What does it mean?
I think that it means 'fire- spirit'.
I like it... You may call me that.
Are we not nearly back to the palace? she asked a few minutes later.
Nearly, replied Súláríl. The palace is around the next bend in the trail.
Glancing ahead, Elizabette saw the curve. As they went around it, she could see the palace gates.
"Ma oatnë símen?" asked an Elven voice from inside the gates.
"Elénwen," replied Elizabette, remembering at the last moment.
Again, a guard opened the small door. "Heri Elénwen." He called over his shoulder, "Latya i andor!" (Lady Elizabette. Open the gates.)
The gates opened and Súláríl stepped through. He continued his way to the stables.
Once they arrived at the stables, Elizabette slipped off of his back. Súláríl followed her to his stall.
What should I do now? she asked him.
You must groom me, Súláríl replied. My brush is over there. He nodded his head toward the door of his stall. Elizabette pulled open a drawer and took from it a soft wooden brush.
They continued to communicate mentally as Elizabette brushed Súláríl. You know not how strange this seems to me, said Elizabette at one point. When I awoke this morning, I had no idea that horses could speak in the minds of the elves. I had never even touched a horse!"
Súláríl let out a whicker that sounded quite like a laugh.
Elizabette smiled. What do I do now? she asked
You are finished. You may stay in my stall if you care to.
Elizabette sat in the corner, comfortable on the dried fern leaves that were used for bedding. She slipped the necklace out of her pocket. This is the symbol of Elrond's House, she told Súláríl.
Súláríl sniffed it. I sense power in it, he commented in her thoughts.
So everyone says, she replied a little moodily. She began to wonder what would happen is she were to put the necklace on. She was not ready to try. Not yet.
---
Silrocca was trotting easily. Legolas unconsciously sat the motion. He was determinedly pushing away all thoughts of Elizabette. He concentrated on the disease.
No one know what had caused it. It had been noticed about twenty years after the War of the Ring, and had started in Mirkwood. At first, the elves could recover, but as the disease progressed, it got worse until the elves died less than two weeks after displaying the symptoms.
Now it was widespread. Three elves had died in Lothlorien, and ten from Mirkwood. Only one had yet died in Imladris, but news came that others were ill.
Everyone tried to be cheerful but a dread fear had fallen over the elves. Anyone could be next- the disease was not transmitted in any recognizable way.
Perhaps that is why everyone stared at Elizabette and I this morning, mused Legolas. We were laughing.
You are sorry that she misunderstood you, interjected Silrocca.
Yes. I do care about her, and not only about what she can do for us. Tell me why, Silrocca. You an access parts of my mind that I am not aware of.
Silrocca paused for a moment. You are holding back some thoughts, but from what I perceive, you like her partly because she can make you laugh. Also, you admire the power she holds within herself.
How did you know that? asked Legolas. He had not known it himself.
It was all in your thoughts, cundunya.
They reached the palace gates. When they were admitted, Legolas led Silrocca to her stall. Do you think that I should search for Elizabette? he asked.
No. Leave her alone.
Legolas groomed her quickly, then left for the palace. A few minutes after he had left, Silrocca said into his mind,
I will leave my stall. I wish to see my son.
Do not leave the stables, cautioned Legolas.
I will not.
---
Súláríl pricked his ears, saying into Elizabette's mind,
My mother approaches.
Is Legolas with her?
I think not. He whinnied softly to Silrocca as she came up to his stall.
I should go, Elizabette told Súláríl.
I shall see you later, Súláríl responded.
Elizabette went to her bedchamber and played with the lock on her trunk. She wondered if it could be opened without the key.
---
Silrocca contacted Legolas. Elizabette was here but she went to her bedchamber.
What did your son tell you?
Elizabette has named him Súláríl.
Interesting... Is she still angry with me?
Silrocca paused. Yes, but Súláríl has been listening to her thoughts, and she is wondering about her trunk. She knows not how to open it.
Legolas walked to Elizabette's bedchamber. "Elizabette?" he asked, knocking on the door.
Elizabette opened it slowly. "Yes?" she asked.
"Have you opened your trunk?"
"No, Legolas. How can I?"
Legolas sighed inwardly. She was still angry. "I may be able to, if you give me leave to try."
She stepped back as he entered, then closed the door.
Legolas drew his white knife, and examined the lock. The padlock itself was of rough, dull steel, but the latch was antique brass and had always been part of the trunk. He set the knife against the padlock and cut cleanly through it. It fell away.
Elizabette unlatched the trunk and slowly opened it. Both she and Legolas leaned forward to look inside.
A sheet of folded yellowed parchment lay on top. Elizabette carefully took it out and unfolded it. Legolas, watching her, saw an expression of shock cross her face. It was followed by disbelief, and complete amazement.
"Elizabette, are you all right?" he asked. Elizabette wordlessly held out the parchment. Legolas took it and glanced over it. His eyes widened. It was a family tree, showing the lineage of the house of Finwë. Legolas' eyes trailed down the chart, catching on the names Adrian Aicamacil and Lauren Laurëwen, and, on a thin spidery line below them, Elizabette.
"It is a lie..." whispered Elizabette. "It cannot be true... How is this possible?"
Legolas' eyes raked back up the parchment to Eärendil, down to Elrond and his two brothers, Elros and Elray. According to the chart, Elizabette's father Aicamacil was related to Elray through his wife, Elray's daughter, and Elizabette's mother Laurëwen.
"I do not believe that it is a lie," said Legolas thoughtfully. "I did not know that Lord Elrond had two brothers, but that does not mean that it is untrue. There would be no reason to lie."
"My father's name was Adrian," Elizabette said softly. "and my mother was Lauren... They must have changed their Elvish names to sound like everyone else's..." She stared at the family tree. "I cannot believe it... I am related to Elrond... In my world, he does not even exist..."
Legolas was quite surprised also. "Elrond is... was your mother's uncle. Your great- uncle, I suppose."
Elizabette had forgotten her anger at him- for the moment. "How can this be possible? I am only an orphan..."
"Perhaps there is something in the trunk that will explain," Legolas suggested practically.
Elizabette folded the parchment and set it aside. Underneath it lay a small box made of light wood. Elizabette opened it carefully, for it was very heavy, but inside there was only a nondescript rock of a dark brown, roughly two inches in diameter. It was crudely hewn into a spherical shape, but it seemed that its maker had not worked overmuch on it.
Legolas took it from her hand with interest, weighing it in his palm. "This is heürn, a rare stone with magical properties," he said, examining it carefully. "We have only a few samples of it here in the palace."
"What can it do?" Elizabette queried, looking at the stone with new interest.
"In lore, it protects against evil," the elf replied. "But it is said to have other powers as well. I do not know what."
Below that was a letter from Elizabette's father; Aicamacil in Elvish, Adrian in Elizabette's own world.
Slowly Elizabette drew it out of its envelope and flicked it open.
-
Dear Elizabette,
As I write this you are four years of age. The disease has taken your grandfather Elráy, and your grandmother is struck with the symptoms. Your mother bids me write this, for you will not understand if we tell you now. Your mother fears that the disease will take us also, but it will not take you, for in you runs the power of your ancestor Melian the Maia.
We are elves, Elizabette. Elves from the land of Middle- Earth, which does indeed exist. Your grandfather, Elráy, was one of the brothers of Elrond Half- Elven. Elrond and Elráy chose the Elven- life. Elros chose the mortal life. He died long ago in the deeps of time.
You are nearly full- Elven. Someday you will enter Middle- Earth. I came from there as a young elf. Your mother has never been there, but your grandfather left Middle- Earth long ago.
He left quite by accident. Elráy always had a passion for the sea. He set sail in a small gray ship one day with his wife, Celewen, and was never seen again in Middle- Earth. Somehow the seas changed and they landed in this world, in America, instead of Valinor as they intended. Perhaps it was meant to be so.
Celewen had a necklace of the Star Eärendil, made of truesilver. She gave it to your uncle, Thomas Rhuan, as you know him, but his true name is Turcë Rúnya, Strong Red Flame.
He will bequeath it to you when the time comes. It will aid you.
Your Father,
Adrian Aicamacil
-
Elizabette stared at the letter. No, she thought. Impossible that it could be true.
"Elizabette? What is wrong?"
"The letter..."
The elf took it from her gently. He skimmed it quickly. "It is true, then," he said as of reading her thoughts. Elizabette nodded mutely and picked up the necklace from where it lay.
She stared at the star. It will aid you... When the time comes..."
"My father cared about me..." she whispered, so quietly that even with his Elven- senses, Legolas barely heard her.
"So did my uncle... and my grandfather... But I cannot remember them!"
Legolas was startled at the pain in her voice. "Elizabette? Something is wrong?"
"Oh, no, nothing is wrong, Your Royal Highness! I have only just discovered that no one in my family is who I thought they were and I cannot remember any of them! Nothing is wrong, of course." The biting pain and anger in her voice cut Legolas to the bone.
He was about to reply, although he was unsure of what he had been about to say, when Silrocca's quiet voice stopped him.
Legolas. Try to understand what Elizabette is feeling. Do not get angry, for she does not mean it. You are her only hope when things get dark.
What do you mean?
You will discover that later.
How do you know this?
We horses know many things, replied Silrocca unhelpfully.
I will try to be patient, he sighed wearily.
"Elizabette? Is there anything else in the trunk?" he asked. Elizabette crumpled the necklace into her her hand and looked. Her eyes widened in her surprise.
Either the trunk was magical, or it was playing a fey trick on Elizabette's eyes. When she looked inside, she saw a tiny sword, the hilts and tip of the blade touching the sides of the box. Yet when she reached in and took it out, it was the size of an ordinary sword.
Elizabette drew the sword from its dark leather sheath to see the blade. It was white, quite like Legolas' knife, and its long expanse, infinitely sharp, tapered in an elegant curve to a sharp point.
The sheath was of dark leather, smooth and plain, but it was cut out and sewn together so neatly and carefully that Elizabette knew that someone had labored long on it.
She sheathed the sword and glanced back into the trunk. Only one thing was left. Lying flat on the dark bottom of the trunk was-
"The photograph," whispered Elizabette, taking it carefully. She stared at it, tears in her eyes. Legolas came over to see it also. He understood that the photograph had some special meaning to Elizabette, although he knew not what.
A knock sounded lightly on the door. "Lady Elénwen?" came the king's voice.
"Yes?" replied Elizabette, pushing the sword under her pillow and stowing everything else neatly into the trunk. She closed the lid carefully.
"Have you eaten the midday meal? I was informed that you were riding this morning and missed it. Also, have you seen Legolas?"
"I am here, Atar," replied Legolas, opening the door.
"Have either of you eaten?"
"No, Atar."
"We will take the evening meal soon. Do you wish to wait until then?"
Legolas glanced at Elizabette, who shrugged. "All right, Atar."
The king left.
Legolas took the sword out from under Elizabette's pillow. "May I look at this?" he asked.
Elizabette shrugged again, picking up the photograph.
Legolas drew the sword.
Elves usually did not favor swords. Most preferred bows or knives. However, Legolas, as a prince, had been taught to wield the weapon.
The balance on this sword was excellent. He admired the blade.
"This is an old sword," he told Elizabette. "Ancient. Thousands of years have passed since its making."
Elizabette nodded. "Yes, Legolas."
Legolas sighed. Was she not going to relax?
Have patience, cundunya. You must prove that not only her dead family cared about her.
Legolas sheathed the sword. "Elizabette, the dinner bell will ring soon. You had best change, my father will wish for you to wear something nicer."
"Yes, Your Highness," replied Elizabette as Legolas laid the sword on the bed.
Legolas moved toward her door. As he opened it, she said,
"Legolas." He looked around. "Do not speak of this to your father." She turned away. "Not yet, at any rate," she muttered as he closed the door.
Elizabette dressed quickly in the dark crimson velvet dress. She put on shiny black shoes and combed her hair.
Elizabette was unfailingly polite to the elf throughout dinner. Too polite, Legolas felt. He knew that she would not be rude to him in the king's presence but she did not have to be so unerringly polite.
"Did you ride the chestnut?" the king asked of Elizabette.
"Yes, sir. I named him Súláríl."
"Did you enjoy yourself?"
"Yes, sir."
"She is a good rider, Atar," interjected Legolas.
The king smiled at Elizabette. She liked him better now that he was less stern.
As they finished the meal, the king said, "Legolas, I will speak with you in my study."
Elizabette went to the stables after dinner. Súláríl was waiting for her. I expected you, he said into her mind.
Elizabette sat in the corner. Súláríl stood nearby, eating his evening food.
My mother told me many things, he added.
What?
She told me a mystical tale that we horses pass down from generation to generation. In this tale, there was a magical horse whose name was Fëasúrë, or 'Spirit of the Winds'. He ran about the country, helping people in need. With his magical powers he could heal any disease, any wound. He was special because he allowed no one to ride him, and worked in partnership with no one, and yet he could speak in anyone's mind and hear their thoughts.
In this way, he could perceive what they needed and he could give it to them, and he was loved by everyone.
But when trouble came to his lands, a man threw at him a spear that lodged in his chest and injured him sorely. In time, Fëasúrë healed, but he forgave not the race of man and he fled from the world. To this day, none have seen him.
Now there is sickness and disease in all lands and there are few who can heal them, he finished.
What is your point, Súláríl?
Do you not know?
Elizabette sighed. Is it that you think that I should forgive him?
Súláríl spoke slowly. No. Do not forgive him yet. Forgive and forget, the old saying runs. Wait to forgive him. The time will come. Forget for now. Later, a time will come when you will do both and put the difficulties of your childhood behind you.
Do you understand what he did to me? asked Elizabette. Do you know what I most wish for?
There was a pause and Elizabette fancied that she could feel the horse actually sorting through her thoughts.
Yes, he said after a time. All of your live save for that brief time that you barely remember, you were pushed into the crowd. No one cared about you in particular, no family meant no visits, no break from the monotony of everyday life. You had no friends because of your intelligence and the simple fact that you had no family.
When Legolas came, you hoped that he might care about you, that he might be your friend. When he asked you to come here, you thought that he was your friend, and you were glad. Yet, this morning, when you learned that he hoped that you could save his people, you believed that he brought you here only for that reason. And now, you know not what to think.
You are correct, Elizabette answered. I did not know that I had thought all of those things.
You are conscious of only a small part of your mind, replied Súláríl. As am I, of my own mind. However, someone from outside can access most of your mind, save for the small part where you lock your innermost private thoughts. That is surrounded by a wall of iron and only you hold the key.
Do you enjoy speaking in riddles? asked Elizabette with a laugh.
I was not speaking in riddles! Súláríl protested. I meant what I said. You do not always know what you are thinking in that part of your mind, but no one else can break in there.
How far away can you hear my ordinary thoughts?
Many leagues... My mother once told me that an elf- horse can hear his elf- partner's thoughts over three hundred leagues away. The bond between minds is as strong as steel.
Elizabette considered. Súláríl? You seem to be able to access my thoughts. Why can I not go to yours?
You can. I can also lock my thoughts against you. You would then be able to access only the tiny part in which we communicate.
How can I get to your thoughts?
Concentrate on my mind, as you did this morning. Allow your thoughts to leave your mind and drift freely. Then think of my mind, and your thoughts will be drawn into it. It will be difficult at first, but you will become accustomed to it.
Elizabette relaxed against the stable wall, urging her thoughts to drift. As they left her mind, she suddenly felt the clear consciousness of Súláríl's mind. She concentrated on that feeling, pulling her thoughts into his mind.
Suddenly she felt a change. She was in his mind. She could feel his thoughts and his memories, and she detected the locked place that he had mentioned.
She gently pushed her thoughts into the area of his mind where he kept his memories. She sifted through them delicately, looking them over. She saw his memories of his early years, when he had been just a colt. She looked over a few, then gently withdrew. She found herself once again in that central place of his mind. She completely withdrew and opened her eyes. She thought to him, It is very strange.
It is at first. You will be able to enter my mind more easily as you practice. It is how we horses communicate.
Súláríl? Were you listening to my thoughts when Legolas and I were opening my trunk?
Some.
You may enter my mind and read what we found.
Súláríl was silent for a time. Elizabette played absently with the fern leaves on the floor. Finally Súláríl commented,
Lord Elrond is your great- uncle. That is very interesting. Elros, the more commonly known brother of Elrond, died long ago. But we horses know that Elrond and Elros had one other brother, one who disappeared when all three were still fairly young. No one knows what happened to him, as he was never seen again.
His name was Elráy, Elizabette told him. How do you horses know this?
We have tales that we pass down through the generations. Tell me about the sword.
It is quite plain, she replied. The blade is white, and the sheath is of plain dark leather, though it is neatly and well made.
You should show it to the king, suggested the horse. He may know where it comes from. Will you tell him the other things that you learned?
I suppose that I should.
Perhaps. He may be able to help you.
Are you certain that I am supposed to be able to heal this disease? she asked.
It is what the king wishes for, replied Súláríl.
Do you believe that I can?
Yes. The necklace of Eärendil will help.
Yes... Elizabette stood. I should go. It is getting dark.
I shall see you tomorrow. Do not be rude to Legolas. Remember, forget for now.
Feeling tired but not completely comforted, Elizabette left. She returned to her bedchamber and took out the necklace again.
---
Legolas sat in his father's study, waiting for the king to arrive. He played with his thoughts, sorting them around, attempting to make their jagged edges fit like a puzzle.
So Elrond is Elizabette's great- uncle. I never knew that Elrond and Elros had another brother. The story makes sense, however. I wish that I had asked Elizabette for permission to speak of what we discovered to my father. I dare not without her leave.
Legolas suspected that she was in the stables with Súláríl. He was amazed at how easily she had tamed the chestnut. Her name for the horse was interesting. It was a fitting name, yet strange. He guessed that Súláríl had told her the Elvish words.
And the sword... his thoughts were interrupted abruptly as his father entered the room. Tall and imposing, King Thranduil dominated any room that he entered.
Legolas stood and bowed. "Atar," he said respectfully.
"Be seated, Legolas."
The elf sat again in the chair. "Yes, Atar?" he asked.
"Has Lady Elénwen opened her trunk? I feel that it holds something that will help us destroy this disease."
This put the elf in a difficult position. Elizabette had asked him not to tell the king of of this, and yet now his father asked him to speak. "Well, Atar..." he replied after a moment, "She did open her trunk, this afternoon... I helped her- but she asked me not to speak of what we discovered."
"Why not?"
"We were both quite surprised by what we found."
The king sighed. "She does not trust us, does she?"
Legolas frowned. "I am not certain, Atar. At first she trusted me, but this morning Súláríl told her that we wish for her to heal the disease and she became angry."
"Why?"
Legolas shifted uncomfortably. "I... I do not think that she would wish for me to say, Atar. It's personal."
The king frowned but did not protest. "Have you seen her since dinner?" A good hour had passed.
"No, Atar, but I expect that she is with Súláríl." His expression blanked as he contacted Silrocca.
Silrocca?
Yes, cundunya.
Has Elizabette been to see Súláríl?
She was here for a time but she left a few minutes ago.
Do you think that I should have told my father why she was angry?
No. It is her own private conflict and she would not wish for him to know.
Thank you. He withdrew.
"Silrocca says that she just left the stables, Atar."
"I would like to speak with her. Send her to me."
"Yes, Atar." The elf rose and bowed.
---
Legolas knocked lightly on Elizabette's door.
"Yes?" she asked.
"Elizabette? My father wishes to speak with you."
Elizabette opened the door. "What does he want?"
The elf shifted slightly. "Ah, well... he wants to know what you found in your trunk..." his voice trailed off.
Elizabette stiffened. "You told him? After I asked you not to?"
The elf looked away. "I did not tell him what you found out... I told him only that you had opened it."
"Oh yes," snapped Elizabette bitingly. "The perfect prince of Mirkwood can do anything he pleases, even if he is breaking a promise. Get out of my way, Your Highness."
"Elizabette, wait!" cried Legolas desperately, catching her arm.
Elizabette shook his hand off. "Kindly tell me where I may find the king."
"In his study- down that hallway, turn left, third door on the right." Legolas saw that it was useless to protest. Something inside her was bound by an iron rope of pride- until it was released, no one would be able to win her complete trust.
"Thank you," she replied icily, walking in the direction he had indicated. Legolas noticed that one of her hands was clenched into a fist- he suspected that it held the necklace of Eärendil.
Although it was rather late, the elf headed to the stables. Silrocca had been listening to his thoughts and knew all that had occurred.
Patience, cundunya. All will be made clear in time. I sense that Elizabette does not completely trust herself- and the shock of what she learned this afternoon had made her retreat back inside her mind.
She told me that she trusted me, said Legolas, sounding pained.
Yes. And I think that she does, to a point.
To a point?
The horse nuzzled Legolas' blond hair. To a point. She, as she told you, trusts you with her life but not her secrets.
What does that mean?
It means, cundunya, that her secrets are more important to her than her life.
How can they be?
They are to her. She would sooner trust no one and die with her secrets than speak of them to the wrong person and risk betrayal. You did not keep her promise.
I gave my father no information. I could not lie.
Silrocca said nothing. Disquieted by her silence, he added, Elizabette can trust me.
Can she? Silrocca left the words hanging in the air.
Yes, she can. Legolas spoke more firmly than he felt.
He prepared to leave. As he closed the stall door, Silrocca said into his mind,
Be careful, Legolas. Elizabette's emotions run more deeply than you can fathom. If you say the wrong thing, she may turn on you forever.
Legolas left, feeling a little irritated. What was wrong with everyone? He had not told his father what Elizabette had discovered; he would keep his silence.
Into his mind came Silrocca's voice: You did not keep her promise. Legolas was unsure of whether she had actually spoken or if it had just been a memory of her words.
And what had Silrocca meant by her last comments?
Legolas fell into his bed, feeling that the day had been too long.
---
Elizabette knocked softly on the door of the study.
"Come in," came the king's reply.
Elizabette entered and curtsied neatly. "My Lord," she said respectfully.
"Lady Elénwen. You may be seated." He indicated the chair by his desk.
"Legolas told me that you wished to speak with me." She slipped the Star of Eärendil into her pocket.
"Yes... He mentioned that your horse, Súláríl, told you that we wish for you to heal the disease."
"Yes, sir." She dared not speak rudely to the king.
"Súláríl told you this?"
"Yes, sir. Silrocca told him. But, My Lord, how can you expect me to heal this? I am only an orphan. I have no powers."
"You are in some way connected to this disease... Correct?"
"Yes, sir," responded Elizabette, thinking of her family.
"And you are also in some way immune to it."
"How did you know that, sir?"
"I can sense it."
Elizabette did not reply. He was correct and well did he know it.
"Now," he said, "I wish to know what is in your trunk. I will understand if you do not care to tell me, but I wish that you could trust us."
Elizabette looked long at King Thranduil. For the first time she looked carefully at him, and she saw kindness and compassion in his eyes. Now her Elven- senses told her that she could trust him with this information.
"Yes, sir. I will you trust you with this." She paused for a moment. "Both Legolas and I were quite surprised. In the trunk... on top was a family tree- of my family. It says that my grandfather was Elráy, a brother of Lord Elrond and his brother Elros."
The king displayed no sign of surprise other than the quick flick of his eyebrows. He motioned for her to continue.
"My mother's name was Lauren and my father was Adrian. This family tree tells me that those were names that they took so that they would fit in in my world. Their Elvish names were Laurëwen and Aicamacil.
"Under the parchment was a wooden box that contains a brown rock. I could see no use for it but no doubt there is one. It is of plain brown stone, roughly spherical, but the cuts are very coarse and it is not at all smooth, though it is very heavy."
King Thranduil frowned. "No doubt you will find a use for it someday," he replied.
Elizabette continued, "Below that was a letter from my father." She swallowed hard, willing herself not to cry.
"He wrote it when I was four years of age, just before the disease took him. My grandfather had already died.
"My father wrote that he knew that I would not catch the disease, because I have the power of my ancestor Melian the Maia. However, I know not who she is, as her name is not on the family tree."
The king looked over at her. "Eärendil's wife, Elwing, was a descendant of Melian the Maia. Melian was an Elven- Queen in the beginnings of Middle- Earth. She was one of the Maiar, but she dwelt in Middle- Earth for a time. her daughter was Lúthien Tinúviel, who you may know of."
"Yes, I have heard of her." She continued after a moment, "My father wrote that I am almost pure- Elven, though not quite. He also said that someday I would come to Middle- Earth. And now I am here."
"Yes..." The king seemed deep in thought.
"Also, in the trunk, there was a sword- and a photograph."
"A photograph? What may that be?"
Elizabette smiled slightly. "A photograph is a- a picture- sort of like a drawing of people- or things." How could she explain? "You use a machine- a device, called a camera, to take a picture, and the camera... draws a picture of the subject... But it is not a drawing, it is shiny, and colorful..."
The king looked altogether confused.
Elizabette smiled. "It is of my family." Her smile vanished as she continued, "I can remember them taking the picture. It is my only clear memory of my family. I shall show it to you if you wish."
The king pondered a moment. "You mentioned a sword," he said.
"Yes, sir. It has a white blade and is in a brown leather sheath."
"How could a sword fit into the trunk?"
"I do not know, sir. It seemed to me very small as it lay inside, yet when I took it out, it seemed to grow larger until it was a normal size."
"Is that all that was there?"
"Yes, My Lord."
"I should like to see the sword and the family tree."
"Should I go fetch them?"
"If you would."
Elizabette rose and curtsied. She hurried to get the trunk and the sword. When she returned, the king was waiting.
He displayed an intense interest in the sword. "A magnificent blade. It is ancient and the balance is excellent."
"Legolas told me that."
"He was correct. Does your father's letter say nothing of its origins?"
"I think not, sir." She drew out the letter and handed it to him. He scanned it, blue eyes flashing.
"Hmmm... Interesting." He glanced over the hilt of the sword, looking for any marks that world indicate the origins. He appeared to find nothing.
Elizabette took out the folded family tree and the brown stone. King Thranduil sat at his desk, studying them. After a time, he looked up.
"I had heard that Lord Elrond had another brother," he said speculatively, "but I assumed that he chose the mortal life and died. I had no idea that he left Middle- Earth."
Elizabette shrugged. "I know not. Could it not be a lie?"
"No, I think not. It all makes sense."
Last she took out the photograph. She slowly handed it to the king, remembering that day. She and Sara and Michael stood in the foreground, smiling. Her baby teeth were small and pearly. Her hair had been golden then, and short. Sara's dark hair tumbled loosely on her shoulders. One of her front teeth was missing. She had been about five then, and Michael four, like her. Michael's golden hair was windblown from a morning of fun.
Glancing at the photograph, she noted how much she and Michael looked alike. They both had had pale skin and golden hair. Their bright gray eyes looked out on the world. Elizabette caught her breath slightly, thinking that if Michael were still alive, his hair would probably have darkened as hers had.
Elizabette's parents stood just behind. Her mother's golden hair was much like hers. Her name, Laurëwen, Golden Maiden, had come from her hair. Her father's hair was dark like Sara's.
How she remembered that day. If only she could bring it back...
She turned away, hiding the tears in her eyes.
If King Thranduil saw her emotion he did not show it. He examined the photograph carefully.
After a moment, he gave it back to her and studied the family tree again.
"Your name is Elizabette," he said with a frown. "I have heard my son call you that. You told me that your name was Elénwen."
Elizabette shifted guiltily. "I apologize, sir. Legolas gave me the name Elénwen. I used it because everyone stares so, and I did not wish to give them another reason."
The king nodded slowly. "Yes. I think that I understand. There is nothing wrong with having an Elvish name also. Your parents did. But, if you do not mind, I shall call you Elizabette."
"No. I do not mind. I am not accustomed to being called Elénwen anyway."
"Now..." The king indicated the family tree. "These are your parents." He tapped the names Laurëwen and Aicamacil. "But who are these?" He touched Turcë Rúnya and Arërel.
"My aunt and uncle, sir." She picked up the photograph and showed him. "These are my cousins, Sara and Michael." She tapped their images. "They are dead also."
King Thranduil saw her expression and said, "Thank you. You may go."
Elizabette curtsied and carried out her trunk. "Good evening, My Lord."
"Good evening," the king replied as she left. He sat back in his chair and put his head into his hands.
-
Navaer Lalaith: The first dictionary you mentioned I have been to before, but I guess I find it kind of difficult that you have to search for each word instead of just looking through the dictionary. I have a very slow dial-up connection and it takes a while for everything to load.
Do you by any chance know Sindarin? Right now I'm not particularly inspired by this story, but I guess if you think I should, I'll change the Quenya... but I don't really want to learn the grammar rules. I guess it might be worth it... I don't really like the idea of having a story that isn't correct. I happen to be a perfectionist.
You're right about the switching languages thing. I guess my explanation for it is that I needed a reason for them to speak Quenya, so I just made one up.
I changed the spelling of 'Quenya'.
Blonde/Blond. I guess I knew this, but just didn't bother really registering it. I've only taken one year of French, and had an awful teacher, so... sorry.
How is Westron/English being translated? You mean, how is it possible that Legolas, who speaks Westron, can understand Elizabette, who speaks English? Hmmm... I think I already tried to explain that... The way I think about it, the overlap of their 'worlds' just makes it possible. On Earth, English is pretty much the most widely- spoken language, and in Middle-Earth, Westron, while not the most spoken, is the language that the different races can speak. Some of them. I guess I just decided that it was a trick of the overlap, and it made it easier. If that made any sense, good.
This is my first and probably my only fanfiction, and while I'd rather it wasn't cliché, I guess it's just going to have to be. I don't want to totally rewrite it, and my actual plot is starting to come out. Maybe sometime I'll rewrite it, but right now I've got... six? stories going and I don't need another big project.
Finally, thank you so much for your reviews. They really make me think of reasons why I wrote something a certain way, and you point out things I've totally missed. I really appreciate it.
Jr8action: Thanks! Is this soon enough for you?
EyeoftheTigerKissoftheDragon: Yup, she's angry all right. But she'll come around I'm hoping so at least :)
Please review. I know there are people who read and don't review (I used to be one of them) but I really love reviews. They're my motivations on this story, and I really don't have any others.
Might I add that it's a blast furnace out here in the Midwest? Stupid weather... sorry, that was really random :)