Well, here it is. Long time coming I know, but it's long so that's fair. This was hard to write. I had to cram loads of info and make it interesting, hopefully it's ok though. Um.. quick note, it begins with Arien being 13. You should be able to follow it from there. Again thanks to all the reviewers, all the readers, and all the people who put me on alert and favs! Keep the reviews coming they're great incentive.

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Chapter 4.

Arien knew the day that she had entered Mirkwood that if she had any designs to make her home there she would have to do as her mother had always taught. Make the bed before you get into it.

Many times in her life Arien had been warned against the dark wood. Yet on the bleak, rainy night that first found her standing under its trees surrounded by shadows she had an overcoming sense of security. She knew that beneath, above, and between the branches of the great wood she would be hidden, safe from all that sought to hunt her. It did not occur to her to seek a safer refuge, though she knew the dangers all to well.

Her thin nightdress and numb skin torn and caked in blood she journeyed through the forest with one goal in mind. Stumbling in the dark in her exhaustion she fell through a thorny thicket into a small clearing. Ignoring the blood blossoming from several new and reopened wounds she stood. Settled feet ahead of her, as if predestined, was a large and ancient tree. What Arien saw however was not just a simple tree, but a future home, somewhere that would become a place of sanctuary that would bar her from the world.

Forcing her run-tired muscles she climbed to the highest branch that would still support her weight to spend her first night. Surrounded by the unfamiliar sounds of the wood's nightlife she fought off sleep fearful of reliving the horrors of reality in the land of dreams. Shivering and shaking thoughts came unbidden to her mind.

She was alone. There was no longer a being in the world that she could rely on, and there never would be again. If she were to continue to live she would have to do so on her own, never again to see family or friends. And there was no one to blame but herself.

In a position that would normally call upon the comfort of self-pity Arien felt only self-hatred. No mercy was to be given to the child that had lost all in one night, no quarter for the young soul that was aching for the comfort of home. That child deserved nothing but loathing, and disparagement. For that child was dark, evil, and soon enough all would know it.

The night was long, and painful, and the morning dawned with a heavy realization. Though she had accepted the idea of being alone with an alacrity that was slightly frightening she had not fully considered what being alone truly meant. When the shock of the past day started to wear off and her more serious wounds made themselves known she began to understand. Food was now hers to gather. Water was hers to find. And injuries were hers to heal. She could no longer depend on the support of others for her survival. Her very life was resting in her tender, inexperienced hands.

She started slowly, only venturing far enough away from her newly appointed home to find enough sustenance for the day. Sometimes she would get lucky enough to find a cache of nuts and seeds hidden for the cold season by a well-prepared animal. Most of the time she was stuck eating an extremely seedy beery, that while edible was very unsatisfying. However these ventures barely took half a day leaving the rest to her self-destructive mind and soon the lack of a purpose took its toll.

Memories plagued her, driving her to near manic heights of activity if only to escape the pain. She learned quickly the condition of the wood as she scoured the land for food, water, and building materials. However, any traveler was in great risk of attack, be it by orc, spider, or other forest creature. A small girl with no weapons to defend herself was practically a free meal. The idea of living in such a situation indefinitely was absurd.

After observing the unnatural creatures of the forest Arien decided very quickly that there was room enough for only one sinful creature in the wood and she was determined for that creature to be her. She spent many months deciding precisely how she would go about getting rid of the scourge that had plagued her kin, defiled the land, and caused her such personal hurt. But when she finally did decide and put the action into play she felt a great sense of accomplishment.

Her first objective was to build her home and base of operations, the sight of which would be the tree that she had slept in since she had arrived. It took her nearly a year to complete the project. Located off the trail it was most unlikely to be seen by travelers, and located far enough away from any orc camps or spider nests to be out of immediate danger.

Lacking the true makings of a flet it was more what one would call a fort. Without any true building materials she was unable to recreate such artistry. The rooms, instead of being built directly into and on top of the tree, were hung from its branches. There were such three rooms, a bedroom, a food store, and a war room all connected by simple rope bridges. Draped over each hung structure was a leafy canopy keeping it all from sight.

Her next task took a bit more planning. The orcs were heavily armed and equal if not superior to her in strength. After several attempts to fashion her own weapons Arien decided to leave the comfort of the wood and seek the nearest human village to acquire the many things that she could not make. By that time she had nearly grown out of the torn nightdress that she had been wearing day in and day out and was in much need of new clothing. She had no doubt that anyone who saw her would consider her to be a woman of the lowest disrepute.

Upon leaving the last trees of Mirkwood she traveled three days until coming to the village of Woodside. It was a small place with large posts fencing in a cluster of little ratty buildings full of leathered and worn people. However with orcs being such a problem the one thing the small town had in abundance were smithies and leather workers.

Orc raids were also evident in the number of people who were loitering around, or rather weren't. It seemed that if there wasn't a particular reason to be outside they weren't going to risk it.

Before revealing herself Arien braided her excessively long hair carefully over her ears in hope that she would be taken as a human child. It worked to tremendous effect. The women flocked to her desperate to be needed, clucking, and tsking in general bemoanment of her state of undress. And though the men saw her as another mouth to feed in an already lacking society they did not treat her negatively.

The small community took her in with few questions. Though she felt slightly guilty for using their kindness for her own gain she felt better when she convinced them to let her work for her keep. In addition to the jobs she was assigned she took on extra duties to earn some money of her own. After several months of being passed from family to family she was eventually taken in by an elderly widow whose first and second husbands had both been killed in raids.

Despite her attempts to distance herself she came to truly care for the people of Woodside, particularly Widow Gaeda, but she never let herself forget who she was. What she was. And how she was fated to spend eternity alone.

Though she often wished she didn't have to leave she knew she could stay no more than two years. After that they were bound to notice the lack of change in her appearance. As it turned out she needn't have worried about how and when she would leave, one dreary, chilly morning it was all decided for her.

As Arien woke early that morning she could feel the death around her, she could taste it on the wind. It drifted through her hair and seeped into her skin. It was that day that the Protector was born though it would be years until anybody would call her such. It didn't matter that the ones that she was protecting were already past the point of caring.

The orcs had made an impressively quiet attack. The guards had been taken down before the alarm could be sounded. Those performing their morning chores outside were taken with no mercy. Their screams brought more victims running to help. Arien still wondered how it was possible for her to sleep through such noise. She couldn't help but think that she ignored the sounds of horror subconsciously in an effort to avoid witnessing another massacre.

One was enough for anybody.

Sliding from her cot in the corner of the small kitchen she peered past the window cover. She knew without a doubt that she was the only person left. Bodies and their parts littered the ground. Though there were a few lifeless orcs among them there weren't nearly enough. Looking at the piles and trails of the dead she could almost reenact the entire battle. Near the well was a trail of woman strewn like breadcrumbs that lead her to the worst site she had ever set eyes upon.

She could see in her minds eye how it had happened. The moment the orcs burst through the open gates the women had gathered the children and made for the village cellar. It was pointless of course. The women should have been grateful that they were discarded with a simple slash of jagged blade, their blood cooling before the real screaming began. For no scream is like that of a child's.

Like a heap of broken dolls gnawed on and tossed aside by a careless dog they lay. Their small bodies ripped, bent, and severed. Whole limbs missing, chest cavities gaping, jaws unhinged and pried open in unnatural screams. A toy sword hanging in a pale, limp hand, blood streaming from wrist to tip. A blanket of flies lay over the site, a light buzz filling the air, a testament to the carnage.

A sharp taste of acid and Arien was retching into the kitchen scrap bucket. The moment her stomach settled she stalked to Gaeda's bedroom. At the foot the widow's rickety bed sat a large chest filled with her husbands' possessions and other things she couldn't bear to see anymore. Her heart burning with anger the young elleth threw open the lid. Lying on top was a short sword and matching knife. She picked them up rolling the hilts in her hands, testing their weight.

Arien knew the mechanics of swordplay ten times better than any child her age. This was the only reason she was even considering what she was considering. But she had never actually fought anyone before, and she knew that somewhere outside were beasts that knew quite well how to fight and inflict pain. She bore many reminders of there abilities on her own body.

But no matter her fear she would not and could not cower in the corner and watch as the creatures desecrated her friends' remains. Her past was damning enough. There was no need to add fuel to the fire.

Gathering her anger about her she tread purposefully to the door, and shoved it open letting it bang against the wall. Though she felt more that she was on her way to joining her friends and not protecting their remains as she intended she was not about to make careless mistakes. She had yet to see any orcs. If she could draw them all out into the open then at least she would be sure that she wouldn't be putting her back to one unknowingly.

As predicted the smelly creatures began to trickle from buildings to investigate the noise in the otherwise silent town. She waited in the doorway until she was sure they were all out. They were even more revolting than she remembered.

Covered in nothing but loincloths they walked bent over and half crouched reminding Arien forcibly of young children not yet trusting of their legs. Pieces of flesh hung from between their lips, still stuck between sharp teeth. Some looked as if they had rolled in their 'food' before they had eaten them. With the amount of blood, hair and sinew dried to their skin she wouldn't have been surprised if they had.

She looked at them closely. There eyes looked strange, distant. They staggered towards her leering, nearly drunk from their recent feed. Arien was emboldened. She stepped forward, a blade in each hand.

It was surprisingly easy to make her first kill. She watched in satisfaction as the creature fell holding it's large hands over the clean whole in its heart, a look of astonishment on its face. It was as if someone had unleashed a beast inside of her. All the hurt, all the negative emotions joined to create an amazing source of power, and all she had to do was direct it.

The task was made easier by the fact that very few had actually had the foresight to bring their weapons out with them. Though instead of feeling guilt at killing the creatures unable to protect themselves she felt only amusement for their stupidity. Soon enough she had made her way through the surviving group with only slight disgust at the filth covering her from head to toe.

It took her near two whole days for her to finish the burials. After that there was nothing left for her to do but return to Mirkwood as she had planned. She would not however, return empty handed. Arien scoured the village for anything she could bring back with her. By the time she left Woodside she was heavily weighed down by everything and anything she would need to begin her life in solitaire.

She raided the leather shop first, picking up a large travel pack and two water skins. She then headed to the smithies strapping a few extra knives to her thighs, belt and upper arms. Next she went back to the house that had been her home for the past year and a half. After packing all the non-perishable foods she could find she went back to Gaeda's trunk.

There were many strange odds and ends floating around the bottom though nothing she could use. Just as she was about to settle for the things she had already gathered her eye was caught by a glint of gold. Reaching down she pulled out a dress. Hot tears pulled at her lashes. It was the most beautiful thing she had seen since…forever. It reminded her so much of…home. Unable to resist the elven inspired gown she folded it carefully, slid it into her pack, and headed back to Mirkwood.

It was that dress that she had hitched up to her knees as she carefully made her way over the uneven ground of the wood. It had been over four hundred years since the day she left Woodside and she could count on one hand the number of times she had worn it. And only ever for one purpose.

Approaching the wash pool she slowed, listening for any who might already be enjoying a cool soak. Hearing no sounds that would suggest occupation she parted the bushes planted for concealment and stepped into the clearing surrounding the pool. The moment her feet hit the ground she regretted it, for who lay tunic-less on the bank but one Prince Legolas.

It had been thirty-seven years since the day she had met the prince and it seemed that he had only gotten more handsome over time. Startled from his slumber by the sound of her footfalls he sat up, a welcoming smile on his face. Arien forced herself to smile in return. Don't act strange. "Good day, Prince," she said, attempting her first curtsy in many, many years.

"Mae govannen, My Lady. It is not oft that I see young women out this far. You are not unaccompanied I hope?" he asked in a concerned tone. She cast her eyes downwards searching for a plausible lie.

"No…um…" She raised her head slowly with a sudden inspiration. She straightened looking the ellon in the eyes. "No, my brother is taking a walk till I'm done here. We just came from the city. It is not oft that we get to come out here and we both have favorite spots to visit." She finished, mentally giving herself a pat on the back. True Lunor couldn't exactly be considered her brother especially because she wasn't male, but the sentiment behind the words would be enough to get by the prince.

Legolas nodded absentmindedly, looking at the girl closely. There was something about her that was not right. At first glance she appeared like any other young woman his age, at the lower end of middle-class if he was guessing right, but if he looked closely enough there was something wrong with each piece of the picture. The thing that set him most off-balance was the way that she stood. Never in his life had he seen a woman of any class let her shoulders fall in what was an unmistakable, and in his mother's eyes unforgivable slouch.

There were of course many other wrongs. Her stubborn looking chin was perpetually pointed down instead of holding her head up in the usual show of self-confidence and/or arrogance. Her gown while impeccably clean looked as if it had been fitted for someone else, was not up to the usual elven standard of make, and was ages out of style. And her breathtaking blue-gray eyes not only had the tendency of drawing him into the world that was all their own, but had a depth that young women their age lacked.

He also realized with slight discomfort that her curtsy, while perfectly well done, was completely wrong. She had pulled a beautiful curtsy, if he had been a visiting tradesman. Obviously he wasn't. That curtsy was for a person one station higher than you. It was the same one his brother's wife used when meeting the Lord of Rivendell. The girl would have to be a high lord's wife for that curtsy to be proper. And she certainly didn't look like a high lord's wife.

However, Legolas was not one to fuss over etiquette, and he definitely wasn't going to embarrass the elleth by pointing out her mistake. Realizing he was still sitting in the grass with his shirt off he stood. "Pardon me, Lady." He said walking towards his shirt drying on a large boulder in the sun. Once again Arien's tongue acted before she could rein it in.

"No need Your Highness, I was quite enjoying the view." She blushed, cursing herself silently as he turned to face her, an eyebrow raised, and a slight smirk ghosting on his lips. Every trace of diplomatic prince replaced with young man.

"Is that so?" Her blush deepened. Quite attractively too, Legolas thought.

"Pardon me Your Highness, my tongue seems to have a mind of it's own these days."

"An interesting prospect I'm sure." His smirk turned into a full-blown grin as her color impossibly darkened and spread disappearing under her neckline. True her dress was out of style and looked as if it was made by an adan, but the wide, off the shoulder neck was very appealing, and the warm honey gold blended beautifully with her skin. Deciding to take pity on the girl who was currently staring at her feet in utter embarrassment he slid his shirt on and tried to erase all evidence of mischievousness from his smile.

"I should take my leave." Arien nodded her eyes never leaving the ground. "Perhaps I will see you again…next week?" He asked in what was truly a subtle suggestion. There was a stagnant pause as she weighed her options.

"I will do my best to make it Your Highness." Came her quiet reply. He took a few steps forward, bringing him close enough to reach out and tilt her head up so that he could look in her eyes. There was a small intake of breath.

"Please, call me Legolas."

"Very well, Legolas." She fought off the returned butterflies as he smiled at her, his hand still in place, his thumb unconsciously stroking her chin.

"And how shall I address you?" Arien stared into his eyes trying not to let her fear show as she searched for an answer to that question, and trying not to ask one of her own. But whether she would ask him to remove his hand immediately, or whether she would ask him to reach up nary a centimeter and stroke her lip instead she didn't know.

"Laurie." The name was beautiful, and held a special place in her heart. It would bring great joy to her to hear it from someone else…or it would kill her. Sometimes risks were worth it.

"Until next we meet Laurie." Joy, pain, and sweet pleasure. It was certainly something she could get used to. He bowed over her hand, a strange look passing in his eyes. Arien watched as he passed through the privacy bushes and stood listening until his quite footfalls disappeared her face wrinkled in confusion.

She had never had such a strange conversation before. If you could call that a conversation. She had seen people flirt before, but had certainly never considered doing so herself. She was however quite sure that the pri…that Legolas had been flirting. The idea sent a small zing of nervous energy up her spine.

I was right. She thought, remembering the lean, sculpted muscles of the ellon. He does have the agility of a mountain cat.

A loud rustling brought her out of her appreciative thoughts. Lunor shouldered her way past the bushes and into the clearing. And as if she knew what the young woman had been thinking the horse looked at her in what could only be a reproachful manner. Arien ignored her. "I didn't ask your opinion." She said, before stripping and diving into the cool, clean pool. Despite herself she found she was looking forward to the next week.