Okay, so people are reading. A new chapter for you, then. ;-) Thanks to everyone who reviewed!

K'lara 7: Nope, they haven't (save Tolkien's, of course) been in any other stories of mine. Well, any other posted stories of mine. I keep starting stories that fizzle out with Elleri, with Verine. They made it online this time, though.

LJP: I am quite curious to know how you decided she's either their mother or an elder sister.Would you tell me?

Chapter4 Mother hen

"Are you all right?" a slightly concerned voice asked.

Legolas made a noncommittal murmur and lifted a hand to his brow, closing his eyes, trying to block out the light.

"Oh no," a different voice murmured. "Not again, surely?"

He sighed in way of answer and tried to rub the tension from his temples. Hands batted at his own, replacing them. "Verine," he protested quietly.

"Oh, shush. It's obvious you can't do it yourself—if you could, you wouldn't do this every time," she murmured, her tones distinctly scolding. She sounded like the mother-hen she had become at a very early age.

"At least it's only every nine years," another feminine voice piped in.

Verine nodded, but frowned. "Yes, that's true enough. But the trials haven't always bothered him so."

"I haven't always been a captain," he returned, dryly.

"No…" She trailed off hesitantly. With a frown she moved behind him, encouraging him by a nudge from her knee to sit up properly as she knelt behind him, her cool fingers working under his collar, rubbing at the stiff muscles of shoulder and neck. "But it has been a long, long time…"

"Thanks," he muttered.

She rolled her eyes and most likely would have smacked him, if she wasn't trying to get him to relax. "Morsallien," she murmured, frowning. "Do you remember when this started?"

The younger elf shook her head, golden hair shimmering around her. "No. But I don't think he was a captain then."

"Neither did I," Verine murmured, her frown thoughtful.

"What's that to do with anything?" Rithil asked, frowning.

"Perhaps nothing," Verine replied, doing her best not to frown back at the lady. "But perhaps something more than he would allow us to believe."

"Verine," he growled, before giving up his annoyance as the pain bashing in his head began to ease. He wouldn't say or do anything that might make her stop at this point. He let out a low moan and let his head fall back onto her shoulder.

She laughed lightly and kissed his temple, moving her fingers up his neck. Then her sapphire eyes narrowed slightly in thought. "Is it just the trials that trouble you, Legolas?"

"What else would it be?"

"It bothers no other as it bothers you."

He sighed and moved one shoulder faintly in a weak shrug. Weak only because she was slowly turning his muscles to mush, rather than anything to do with his determination. "I am the crowned prince, and it falls on me to be sure they are truly fit for service."

"What, Jarthey isn't enough to deal with that?"

Verine sighed and glared at the intruder as the muscles under her fingers tensed horribly at the new voice, distinctive in its naturally low, rich tones. "Did you have to do that?"

"No. I suppose I could have gone on by and let him continue to delude himself."

Verine lifted a silvery-gold brow and looked at the elf. Dark hair, dark clothes… "You must be Ashes."

A wry quirk of her mouth confirmed it. "How'd you guess?" she drawled, dark humor hinted at in her dark grey eyes.

"You're the only one who wanders around in all black."

"Dark green mostly," Ashes countered, glancing up into the tree branches. She crouched and sprang up, twisting out of sight with very little sound. A moment later she reappeared quite a ways from the ground, hanging upside-down from a branch by one leg, her hands clasped behind her head. She looked around for a moment, studying each elf before her eyes landed and fixed on Legolas. "You didn't answer, Prince."

"Jarthey is 'Captain' to you," he began.

"When in her presence," she countered absently, unconcerned that she had interrupted him. She moved slightly on the branch, swinging her free leg slowly, her balance perfect and her movements totally at ease.

"And she is very good at training them up to patrol standards, but each must be farther trained in many areas," Legolas continued, acknowledging the interruption only by the narrowing of his eyes.

"There is a vast difference between competence and excellence. Thranduil needs both. She gives competence and it is up to each patrol captain to train for excellence. It does not fall to you to run the whole bloody army."

"You speak of Father rather familiarly."

"I have known his name since I was able to speak. Why should I not use it?" she retorted, loosening her grip on the branch, twisting on the way down to crouch lightly on her feet, facing them. "Princesses," she inclined her head. She looked at Rithil. "Lady," she tilted her head slightly. Lifting a brow she looked at Legolas again. "Prince." With the faintest of smirks she inclined her head and turned to leave.

"Ashes?"

"Yes, Verine?" she asked softly, paused almost to the garden's exit.

"Have you other clothing?"

"A single set."

"I shall see that you are properly fitted this evening."

"Two sets of clothing have sufficed for centuries. Do not trouble yourself for me." Ashes started to walk away once more.

"It is far from troubling," Verine murmured, her voice making Ashes pause once again. "And it is exceedingly practical. All patrol members led by Captains of the halls live within the halls—their clothing is washed by the laundresses. Two sets will not last you very well here, as it is only collected twice a week."

"And returned once," Ashes sighed, lifting a hand to her temple as she dealt with the memory and the problem of old habits that didn't fit in with her own. "Very well. Where shall we meet?"

"After dinner if you would go to the entrance hall, I can guide you from there."

"As you wish," Ashes inclined her head slightly. "Good day, princess."

"And to you… must you go by Ashes?"

A wry smile touched her lips. "Indeed I must." One last time she inclined her head before leaving just as silently as she entered.

Verine frowned slightly, and looked at her elder brother. "Legolas?"

"Hmm?"

"How does she know so much of the halls?"

"She was once from Mirkwood, Verine. She remembers much."

Rithil sniffed delicately. "Part of the working class, no doubt."

Verine rolled her dark sapphire eyes and caught her younger sister's brighter blue ones. Morsallien was just as thrilled with Legolas's most recent companion, and nodded slightly in silent sympathy with her elder sister. "You'll excuse us, Rithil," she murmured. "But Verine and I were going to spend some quiet time in our garden." She got up and smiled blithely, bending to kiss Legolas's cheek. "See you at dinner, I imagine," she murmured.

He lifted a brow, knowing full well the excuse to leave was simply that. "I suppose so," he agreed, tugging a golden lock before letting her go uncontested.

She smiled and nodded, then practically skipped to the door. Verine smiled indulgently after her, kissing Legolas's cheek as she passed. "Try not to get so tense anymore, Legolas." She frowned at his snort but quickly joined her sister. "What does he see in her?" she asked darkly under her breath once they were a fair distance down the corridor.

"I'm guessing it's not her politeness," Morsallien almost growled, a scowl twisting her features.

Verine laughed, her own dark mood evaporating with her humor. "Mor, leave the snarling to our brothers. Their faces are far better suited for it."

Morsallien snorted a bit of laughter, and shook her head. "You know me," she murmured, shrugging.

With another laugh Verine nodded. "Yes. So you may as well stop pretending," she murmured, affecting the scolding tone she used with such effect on their brothers. She laughed playfully as Morsallien rolled her eyes.

Morsallien's disgust for the elf left behind with their elder brother faded to worry. "Why does he do this?"

Verine shook her head. "I don't know, dear sister. I really don't."

"Whatever does he expect to find in them?"

Verine remained silent, her eyes bleak as she tried to think up a good solution.

"He obviously hasn't found it yet. Why does he think another elf nearly identical to the one he just gave up on will be any different?"

When Morsallien opened her mouth with yet another breath, Verine held up her hand. "Morsallien, do leave him be. He doesn't know the answers himself, even if he's bothered to ask the questions."

"But…"

Verine shook her head. "No, my dear sister. You must let him be. He is old enough to make his own mistakes."

"At what point is he too old to be making so many such disastrous mistakes?" Morsallien asked, looking curiously at Verine as they walked together into her room. Morsallien closed the door and crossed to the large bed, lounging on it.

Verine sighed, shaking her head as she picked up a book at the foot of the bed, smoothing the covers a bit before sitting, her back to the post. "We'll know that when he figures it out himself, Mor, and not before."

"No matter how much we want it to be different?"

"No matter how we think, how Elleri or Ada think, or even how he feels—it has always been up to him, and always will be."

"So as long as he wants to slowly go through every lady in the hall, we have to be silent?"

"What else can we do? He searches for something."

"But what?"

Verine shook her head slightly, having no sure answer, and no speculations she would air, even here, alone in her room with her sister.