Correction to what I said last time—it IS supposed to be funny, just not like NLFLA. And it probably won't be as long as NLFLA, unless I'm hit with a burst of inspiration (a rare occurrence).

Chapter Seven: Evil Plotter Extraordinaire

Almost out of the forest. Almost. ALMOST. Alllllmost. Almoooooooost. Okay, maybe not 'almost.' Manwe give me strength; does this path ever END! It's just trees, trees, and more—you guessed it—trees!

"This is taking forever." Belgaer said suddenly, voicing what all of us were thinking.

Ten minutes later, we find ourselves before Thranduil.

"Who is it?" he asked blearily.

He looks so dazed I really can't imagine it's very easy for him to see. So I'm not really offended. Too much.

"It is I, your granddaughter Saeriel." Gah, I hate that name. Demon name. Grr.

His eyebrows furrow in thought. Clearly I'm not exactly one of his top-ranking and most-memorable grandchildren.

Hmmm, awkward.

Belgaer shoots me a sympathetic look, and I return it with one as if to say that I get this a lot. Which I do. All the time. I can usually predict what happens. Once he finally realizes who I am, there will be the ever present question…

"Ah, yes, Searel. How is your mother?"

Yeah, I get THAT a lot too.

"Uh…good." Annoyingly so.

"Is there a reason for your visit, Sairieal?" Is that even a name?

Arwen, Eowyn, and I look at each other, at a loss. We hadn't really established a plan. As familiar as I was with these woods, I had assumed we had still had another fifty or so shadowy-trees-that-all-look-the-same before reaching the palace.

So what if I've lived here all my life? Once you've seen a good deal of trees, they all start to look the same.

Yes, that is my pathetic excuse. Don't laugh.

"Well," Belgaer says, stepping forward. "We wished to hold a banquet with everyone in Mirkwood invited, so that we may sing the praises of the lovely Lady Starr."

"That sounds magnificent. And who are you?"

"I am Lady Saeriel's servant, My Lord." Belgaer replies smoothly. I bet she would have bowed if she thought Thranduil was paying more than the absolute minimum attention to her.

She's a lot smarter than I previously supposed. It was a good idea to mention Starr's name. That would catch his attention and keep it. She's also pretty sneaky. What IS it with the sneaking of everyone but me! I'm starting to feel left out of the Sneak Club.

It is becoming PAINFULLY obvious that I did not get enough sleep last night.

So, he agreed. A chance to ramble on about how great Starr is? Yeah, I didn't doubt that he would. For a mindless love-zombie, that's like heaven! That'll be a lot of fun. For him, maybe.

"Great." I mutter as we exit the hall. "Tomorrow is the Day I Go Mad and Seriously Consider Hanging Myself From the Battlements."

Belgaer is just smiling, like it's all going according to plan. "It's all going according to plan."

"What plan?" Eowyn questions, clearly having as little of an idea of what was going on as Arwen and I.

"My plan. I'm Belgaer, evil plotter extraordinaire."

"Funny, I didn't see that on the resume." I whispered. It was kind of funny she didn't find it necessary to clue us in on the plan.

A slightly comatose servant led us to our substandard rooms. Arwen and Eowyn were happy to be keeping a low-profile right up to the banquet and Belgaer was just happy to be near the kitchens. Me?

Well, I wasn't too happy when I saw that first rat scamper by, but I got used to it.

I'm kidding. The rooms weren't THAT bad. There weren't rats.

They were cockroaches. Ever since then, I've developed an aversion to cockroaches. I've always had a feeling that it would come back to haunt me one day…

It's about twenty minutes to the banquet time. Outside I can here the conversations of the Elves of the kingdom. Thranduil had invited them ALL. I attempted to count the number of times I heard Starr's name.

I lost count after five hundred.

"So…" Arwen began. "I still don't know what we're saying…"

I rounded on her. "WHAT?" Could this day get any worse?

Eowyn smirked. "Contrary to what you may or may not believe, we are not perfect (like your mother) and occasionally have no idea what's going on."

"Well, you sure hide it a lot better than I do." I huffed.

"Anyway. The plan is—" Belgaer breaks off as all of us turn and face her with our complete attention. She looked slightly flustered.

I grabbed her shoulders. "NO! DON'T YOU DARE WIMP OUT ON ME! YOU HAVE TO BE COMFORTABLE SPEAKING IN FRONT OF PEOPLE!"

"It's not like I'm exactly USED to it!" she said, back to her normal self. "I'm just a young Hobbit girl and you haven't exactly taken me seriously so far."

"Give me a reason to." I growled, suddenly on the defensive. Belgaer looked slightly worried. I guess I'm scarier than I thought. That could come in handy later. If Nellekeighdettalina ever tries to give me a manicure while I'm sleeping again, she'll wake up with a lot more than a fake spider in her bed.

"This is shaping out to be quite dramatic." Arwen murmured to Eowyn. I glared at her.