AN: Hi all! Summer's rapidly winding down and fall looms ahead. Of course, falls means school for most of us, myself included. I'm headed off to Graduate's School in the fall. Don't worry, though! I'm taking later classes and I have Fridays off! I'm hoping that'll mean more on-time updates and things like that. Actually, I don't mind fall so much since it also means my dance classes start and I get to go back to play Girl Scout Leader (or Zoo Keeper, as I sometimes call myself since I have little kiddies). Anywho, please continue to read and review my most excellent readers. I really appreciate any comments you have on this story whether they are good, bad, or indifferent.

LJP: LOL…it's quite alright. I get mixed up all the time about things, especially when dance classes are concerned. If steps from different dances are alike, they're mixed up and placed in dances where they don't belong. Anywho, I'm glad you liked Emma's dancing. I wasn't sure about sticking it in there.

Elven Script: I'm happy you liked the chapter and the fact Emma's dancing again. I figure it was about the only thing she could do where she would be totally uninhibited and free. I'm glad I made you laugh! Happy I could do that, really! There'll be some bashing coming up soon! Hope you enjoy it!

pixie88: That's a very interesting take on Thranduil's little feast! It's one of those cases where he just wants to keep a normal face no matter what's going on. That includes keeping Emma as far away from him as he can. Especially since he's not sure where Algernil stands on her being there. Dancing is something that can be used to really show what a person is thinking or feeling, or so I heard from people who have watched others dance. For Emma and Algernil, dance it sort of a way for the two of them to understand each other without either of them knowing about that understanding. It'll be used later, I can assure you. Here's some more and thanks very much for the review.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except for a handful of made up characters. Tolkien thought up the concept and, as such, it belongs to him. I'm just playing in his world. I'm broke and in Graduate School. All I own are Pointe Shoes.

Algernil found it easy to track Emma's movements as the dancers scattered. She was, after all, wearing a distinctively colored costume and she carried herself different than the rest. Her height was a mild problem to say the least, as it made tracking harder but, then, the path the little elfling took seemed to be preplanned.

Probably well practiced as well since dancers were like that. Every move, every motion had to fit with the overall theme the dance master was trying to set or so Algernil heard. She had never been much for dancing but a dear friend of hers had and she tried to explain such things to her.

Emma had scattered in a larger group towards the throne. The group broke like waves on the shore and scattered into many different directions. One for every compass point it seemed. Emma took a sharp left and weaved her way through a maze of tables to appear at her brother's side.

Though Emma moved with the soundlessness of every elven being, Legolas seemed to know just when she appeared at his side. He gave her a grin and handed her a goblet full of water sweetened with some kind of berry juice. The drink struck Algernil as strange but, then, Emma had not been raised on elven food and drink. She would not be given even the lightest of wines at this celebration because of that fact. Rather, Emma would be given what was given to the smaller elven children because that was what her system could tolerate.

A smile of thanks was given to her brother as he gestured to someone for a chair for Emma to sit in. The smile faded quickly when Emma felt the eyes of her father fall on her. It was uncomfortable for all sitting at the table, to say the least, as Thranduil threw his youngest child the most scathing of glares.

A glare Legolas ignored- something Algernil applauded- as he informed his sister, in a very truthful sounding voice, "Wonderful as usual, Little Elf."

Slipping into her seat, the little elven child kept her eyes down as if she was trying to memorize he pattern on the cloth covering the table.

Still, she had the where with all, blush and answer, "Thank you."

Taking the lead, and trying to test Thranduil's reaction once again, Algernil added, "You have some skill as a dancer, young lady."

Looking a bit stunned, as if she hadn't expected the compliment from Algernil, Emma countered, "Though I appreciate your compliment, my lady that is not exactly the truth. It is just a hobby I happen to have and I happen to enjoy a great deal."

"I truly doubt that, Emma. You must have some sort of skill in order to dance with them in any type of performance. If my memory serves me correctly- and I assume it does because it seems very little has changed since I last lived- those dancers do not let just anyone into their ranks," Algernil rebuked.

She had heard, from Legolas that Emma had danced in the other world and had used that training to earn her spot among that dance troupe. The spot was not just given because she was a member of the royal family or anything of the sort. It was skill and not rank that had earned her a spot. Something that spoke to both her skill as a dancer and her character as an elf.

She would not take something offered, it seemed. Rather, that something had to be earned first.

"As you say, my lady," Emma, politely, replied.

Algernil was about to make another commented, when Thranduil cut in with, "Is there not someplace else that the little runt can be?"

Algernil and Legolas both glared at the ruler of Mirkwood. Though they had not spoken to one another, the reason for the glare was about the same. He was disrespecting his own daughter by not even calling her by name. It was almost like he was stripping her down and leaving her without anything. Not name, not title. Nothing to make her as an individual elf.

"I guess I could do sit with some of the other dancers," Emma mumbled, speaking mostly to herself and getting to her feet.

It seemed her safest bet to leave, anyway. Though she enjoyed spending time with her brother, it was greedy of her to want to spend time with him outside his own chambers. Out here, they had to put on the face of the royal family.

A family, she wasn't supposed to be a part of, according to her biological father. Not that it bothered Emma because she had a mother and a father already. Alright, they weren't related to her by blood but it was family enough for her.

Besides, it seemed Thranduil approved of her decision to sit elsewhere.

He nodded and commented, "Get going….hurry up. This table is for the royal family only. Not for children who befriend the prince."

Emma tried to hurry but, in her haste to get away, began to act in a clumsy manner. Her motions were not longer dancer smooth and organized. Her hands were fumbling and she was becoming almost frantic.

Thranduil's treatment upset Algernil to no bitter end. Illegitimate as she was, that was no way to treat a child. Especially a child who had been granted the title of "Princess" by the crowned prince.

"Emma, please stay a while as a guest of the queen and her son," Algernil offered, earning her a gawking stare from her husband and a shocked glance from her son.

Even Emma stopped stock still in her tracks. That was something she had not expected to hear from the queen. After all, she wasn't quite sure where the queen stood on her being there to begin with. Maybe this was a good sign after all.

"As you wish, my lady," Emma answered, trying her best to hide her surprise and her happiness.

As Emma sat back down next to her brother and started speaking with him about something or other- Algernil wasn't sure what they were going on about. - Thranduil threw his wife a questioning look. He, too, wasn't sure what to make of her behavior.

All Algernil responded with was a smile and a slight shrug.