Well, thanks to Idhrenniel for admitting that the last chapter was read.

Hope you enjoy this chapter, too.

If anyone else would care for future chapters, please let me know you're reading!

Chapter 3 Long since forgotten

Ashes closed her eyes and let her head rest against the stone at her back. It was all so familiar… and yet, nothing was. Everyone she had known had changed. Some subtly, some quite dramatically… at least, from what she could tell at the moment. Three days back was not much, considering the centuries she'd been away.

When she opened her eyes, there was another elf in the small garden she'd escaped to. He was her height, with light blond hair and eyes the color of the sky after a violent storm… but momentarily less bright than normal. He was looking at the small stone bench that was sheltered in a crook of rock, looking at it with a wistful longing that made her eyes close for a long moment more.

He stretched out his hand and dropped a bunch of flowers to the seat, looking at them silently.

She studied those flowers—they were considered the most beautiful of the flowers the gardens of Mirkwood could produce, but she had long since forgotten their name. Bright white and fully formed with layer after layer of petals, she found them rather annoying. They were too full and ornate for her to consider them beautiful.

A sudden intake of breath snapped her eyes up to the bright blue ones now focusing on her. His ears flushed a little, and he shifted his weight back a bit self-consciously.

"I didn't mean to intrude," she offered, turning her gaze to the side.

He moved a bit closer, shielding the flowers from view with his body. "Few have ever come here. How did you find it?"

"Wandering," she answered truthfully. "I have the entire day in which to do so."

He inclined his head after a moment. "Most of your patrol is still resting."

"Most of my patrol drank quite heavily at breakfast," she retorted dryly.

With a tilt of his head he began walking. "To steady their nerves, perhaps?" he asked, looking slightly over his shoulder.

She joined him in his meanderings. "There was nothing in the night to shake them."

He smiled swiftly and glanced at her. "Where do you come from?"

"Everywhere and no where," she murmured after a long enough moment he'd begun to believe she wouldn't answer at all. "I have no home, and no home has me. Loyalties to Mirkwood were engrained in me at an early age, though."

"And so you returned?"

"And so I returned," she agreed softly, glancing into rooms that were open as they passed.

"What did you do, while not here?"

She laughed softly. "While not here," she teased softly, "I did very little, really. Spent some time in most every bit of forest the known world offers… and even some in the unknown world. I have dwelled among all peoples who are yet living that you could name—even the dwarves, for a time."

"Why on middle-earth would you want to do that?"

She laughed brightly, remembering that time. She answered in a dwarven tongue, which made him frown, his brow crinkling as he tried to remember his lessons from very long ago.

"My… friends were there?" he asked after a long moment. "Is that what you said?"

"It is indeed," she agreed, closing her eyes as they walked. "You should brush up on that."

"It's hardly a language skill I've needed," he responded dryly. "You…"

"Hmm?"

"You fight with many styles."

"I've been many places."

"Yes…"

"But?"

He smiled ruefully. "But Jarthey said you had not had formal training."

"I haven't… not really."

"Then in what manner did you learn?"

She grimaced. "Practice."

He frowned. "Practice?"

"Practice. As in I often came across fighters from other lands who didn't like a cloaked stranger wandering through unchallenged. While they would not have killed me without a reason of some sort, they had no qualms about trying to show me they could kill me, easily, if I didn't cooperate." She shrugged slightly, and motioned at the split in the hall.

He tilted his head, guiding them down the left branch of the corridor. "So you have fought many warriors."

"Yes."

"Of Imladris, Lothlorien…"

"Gondor, Rohan, Moria, and many you'll not have heard of."

"And you stayed there, for a time?"

"I've been a wanderer—even if I consider a place my… camp for a time, it is a very brief time—even by mortal standards. A few months, maybe a year or two at the absolute most. Then I move on."

"You must have quickly run out of places to be."

"I often returned to different areas, though the cities and dwellings of others I tended to edge around, for the most part."

"Why?"

"Why not?" She glanced up at him. "If you spend most of your encounters with other beings being attacked and surviving only on the skills you learned from previous fights, you would be a bit wary about going near other people."

"But once you proved that you weren't hostile, surely they would have accepted you?"

"Some," she agreed, thinking of her few friends. "And I did sometimes wander through for supplies. I hardly had the patience to weave my clothing," she added dryly.

"And new blades, new arrows—"

"I make my own arrows. I do have to trade for the tips, though. Fashioning them from stone is a tedious art I long ago gave up on. A few hours of chipping and being cut by flying bits of sharp rock, only to have it break within one or two uses…" she shook her head. "At least metal tips I can reuse. Usually until I lose them, actually. Which doesn't happen often."

"But…"

"What?"

He was frowning again. "Why not just stay somewhere? Why wonder endlessly?"

"Because I wanted to wander, Elleri. I wanted to see what could be seen, do what could be done. I have traveled the wilds of middle-earth, met her people, explored her peaks and her depths…"

"But why not stop somewhere for a while? Surely there were many very beautiful and glorious places that you found?"

She nodded. "Those filled with light of the stars, flowers of names unknown, caverns that glitter as if embedded with the Valar's light, forests old and filled with magic, or new and filled with hope. Dwellings wrought from stone that climbs to the sky or little homes cut into the earth. Yes… An elf could be happy in many places on this land, young prince."

"Then… why?"

"You would not leave?"

He frowned at her, paused in the middle of the hall. "What?"

"You would not leave this place? This cavern cut from stone?"

"It… it is my home."

"Yes," she agreed softly. "And as much as I have ever had one," she sighed, "it is mine. At the end of my day as my eyes are closed against the sun or my campfire, or open to barren cliff walls, the darkness gives way instead to the faint elven light that lights the halls, the trees. I have wandered the world upon waking, but always wandered here in my dreams."

He bit his lip. "Then why leave at all?"

"Because I wanted to wander," she repeated.

"But why?"

"When you can answer that, you will know all about me and every other being who leaves home for no reason other than to see what might be beyond the next hill, the next stand of trees." She smiled, a faintly bitter touch to it that made his frown deepen. "All who wander know why, of course, but will never tell."

"Why?"

"Because you do not need to know," she answered simply. "No more today, Elleri. I am weary of questions."

"What of an unrelated one?"

She lifted a brow and glanced at him. "Perhaps."

He grinned. "Good. Why don't you get on with Legolas? You're fine with Jarthey, and with me… but not with your own Captain."

"Legolas is arrogant."

"He is the prince."

"You are as well. Besides, prince and arrogant are not mutually inclusive titles."

"You are prideful, if he is arrogant."

She stopped and stared up at him, then sharply turned her head to begin walking once more. "No."

"Aren't you? You and Legolas have already ignited an interesting flurry of gossip."

She snorted. "Pride is the downfall of many elves—but it has been a long time since it was mine." Her eyes darkened slightly and she shook her head. "That really is the last you shall ask me for a while, Elleri."

"Ah, but I have many more. Such as why call me Elleri, and Legolas prince?"

"Your name is Elleri, and it fits you well. He has made himself fit the title. I suspect he prefers me calling him prince over Legolas."

"Perhaps," Elleri allowed, and motioned at the hall to their right. "That will—"

"Take me back to the great hall," she murmured. "I know."

He tilted his head, watching her leave. Her cloak did flow out behind her a bit, but not with the flare Legolas had described. After a moment he shook his head and continued down his path, turning automatically until he was within the garden he had sought.

"I was wondering if you would ever get here."

He shook his head with a smile and dropped down beside Verine. "I was having a confusing conversation with a rather interesting elf."

Legolas groaned. "You didn't?"

"I didn't. She was in the garden."

Legolas looked sharply at him. "What?"

Elleri shrugged. "She found it."

"It is hardly on the common path," Legolas frowned.

"No. But she has wandered the world, Legolas. I don't think the halls will hold her for long."

"As long as she is in Father's service, they must."

Elleri tilted his head, considering that, then chuckled softly and shook his head. "Good luck, Legolas."