This one happens a few years after the last one-the exact amount of time doesn't really matter. There'll be big gaps between a lot of these chapters, but it won't be obvious because elves don't feel the passage of time the way we do.

Updated 5-2-22. This is the last one I'm planning to update for a while, though I may put in a couple more new chapters at the beginning-so if the writing quality drops a bit soon, don't worry, it'll gradually improve again.

"Dwarves? How many?" Sky's day, which had so far been rather dull, had suddenly taken a turn for the better.

"Twenty-five," Thranduil told her, frowning for some reason she didn't understand. "You are to supervise them during their stay."

Something wasn't right here. She leaned casually against the wall of her—well, Storm's—house. "And you trust me to do this?"

"No." Not at all, his tone said. Never in a million years.

"But your father wants me out of his hair for a while," she inferred. "Or maybe he hopes I'll annoy them so much they'll get rid of me for him." She glanced out the window. "Can Storm come?"

"If desired." Thranduil was very much aware of how this was going to go. It did not surprise him that she liked dwarves, the rowdy, rude, dirty things.

"Are you coming?"

"If I were, you would not be invited," he assured her. She wasn't sure she believed that; the prince had been going far out of his way to keep an eye on her recently.

She was momentarily disappointed, but it'd been too long—seventy-two years—since she'd hung out with dwarves, and she was excited whether there'd be a prince around to annoy or not. "So am I giving them a tour or not?"

"You are to entertain them until the negotiations," Thranduil said sternly. "That is all. Am I understood?" He seemed to say those words to her a lot, as if he thought she needed clarification and not a reason to obey.

"My only responsibility is to entertain them," she repeated, grinning.

Thranduil was quite aware he had left her a giant loophole, but he was even more aware that he did not want to deal with it right now. He had a massive stack of paperwork to do; let someone else deal with her and the dwarves for once. He left without another word.

"You heard that?" Sky asked when he was out of range.

Her brother slipped through the window. "Is it only us two?"

"I was going to ask him, but he just walked out. You'd think a prince would be more polite." She snickered. "And we didn't even set a trap this time." The year before, they'd rigged a bucket of soap to fall on the first elf to open the door, which just happened to be the prince. He hadn't spoken to them for a month afterward.

"Maybe last time was too much," Storm observed wryly, thinking along the same lines. "So. Dwarves?"

"Yes, please. Y'know, I get the impression the prince doesn't like them much," she noted.

"There's no understanding some people," Storm said with a shrug. "C'mon, let's go correct any misunderstandings our visitors have about elves."

. . . . . .

"Hello, dwarves!" Storm called, leaping gracefully out of a tree into their midst. Sky followed a moment later.

Thirty dwarf hands went to weapon hilts, and thirty dwarf eyes narrowed suspiciously at the two newcomers and the four guards who'd been watching the dwarves as they waited in a sunny little clearing. Sky decided to earn their trust.

"Don't take the way they're acting as an insult," she said in dwarvish, indicating the elven guards who stood, seemingly emotionless, in their shining new armor—Sky was supposed to wear some during training, but no one had felt like dragging her in to get it fitted, which they would literally have to do. It would ruin her fighting style, anyway.

"I think I'd be grumpy too, if I had to stand still like that and be quiet," Storm added.

The dwarves were perplexed, though the emotion manifested more as grumpy. The king and prince did that sometimes, too, Sky thought. Both would probably dislike it if she compared them to the dwarves out loud.

"You speak dwarvish?" the dwarven leader growled.

"Of course," Storm said, as if surprised that had been in question.

The dwarf's brows knitted together, but he lowered his axe. "You have any food around here?"

Storm looked at Sky. "Um, do we?"

She grinned evilly. "I'm sure we can find something. Hmm... I do believe the storehouse is full—y'know, the one by the king's house?"

Storm looked at her like she was crazy, which, of course, she was. Why that was a surprise, she didn't know. "You're not saying..."

"Scared?"

"What're you talking about?" the dwarf demanded gruffly.

Storm scratched his head. "My insane sister thinks it'd be fun to raid the storehouse—the one that's, y'know, guarded, and that Oropher threatened us about, remember, Sky? That bit about how if anything else disappeared from there, we wouldn't see the sun for the next fifty years? Sure, he'll never catch us—but what about the dwarves?"

The dwarves found that, for the first time in their lives, they agreed with an elf. Which elf that was varied between them.

"C'monnn," Sky begged. "Haven't you seen how much's in there? Fifteen trolls couldn't make a dent in it. And don't worry, dwarves, we know hiding places Oropher's never dreamed of. And it'll drive him crazy. If he ever finds out, which he won't."

"You're crazy," Storm repeated, but he grinned. "But if you're doing it anyway, sure, I'll help."

The dwarves huddled up and whispered for a moment. When they dispersed, the leader's bearded face offered the elves a wide smirk. "You're lucky the king's not here, lad and lass. He has never seen Oropher's arrogance and would not understand." He was a young dwarf, and impulsive—maybe not the best choice for a diplomat, but most of the options hadn't wanted to go, or so he explained to the elves later. He bowed low. "Corgad, at your service."

Sky and Storm bowed back; they weren't exactly in the habit of bowing to people, but this was a show of respect between equals, and dwarves didn't put too much emphasis on proper etiquette, usually. "Sky and Storm, at yours."

The dwarf snorted. "Those aren't names."

Sky wasn't offended. "Well, my full name is Skyfire—Eithryn in Silvan elvish—but when you're fighting orcs, Sky's quicker to yell."

Corgad had to admit it made sense, put that way. "And you?" he asked the stripey-haired one.

"Storm, Stormfire, or Coryn, whichever you prefer," the elf answered.

"Too many choices," Corgad complained.

"Storm, then."

Corgad harrumphed. "Well then. Good to meet you, Stormy and whatever-your-name-was, but we're hungry."

"Right this way," Storm said, pointing in the proper direction. The guards, who didn't speak dwarvish and hadn't understood a word they'd said, let them go.

They were lucky; the paths were mostly empty, so no one asked where Sky and Storm were taking the herd of dwarves, and they reached the storehouse quickly and without trouble. Also luckily, one of the two guards was their favorite partner in crime.

"Hey there, Kilvara," Sky said, speaking in the common tongue so the dwarves could understand. "How's guard duty?"

The she-elf took off her helmet and shook out her red-orange hair. "Can't talk now, getting attacked by a group of dangerous criminals." They both giggled. "But really, it's dull. Who're all these?"

"Friends, for ransacking guarded buildings."

The other guard, also Silvan, felt like he should be doing something to stop this, but he had no wish to scuffle with the copper-haired siblings, never mind the fifteen dwarves and Kilvara. He started to back away as Sky introduced Kilvara to the dwarves.

He turned to run as he rounded the corner, but skidded to a stop when he spotted a pair of green-and-brown-patched eyes.

. . . . . .

Half an hour later, the dwarves were getting to the few desserts in the warehouse when the door creaked open.

Thranduil had done his best not to think about Eithryn and Coryn and the dwarves, but his conscience had tormented him with images of telling his father about the havoc they could be wreaking, so that he was almost relieved when someone showed up to let him know they had seen the group approaching one of the storehouses—until he remembered Oropher mentioning a possible inspection of the area that afternoon. Inquiries about his father's whereabouts confirmed the worst possible scenario for the prince, who seemed to be held responsible for the little demon's antics no matter how hard he tried to distance himself from her.

He did not see how he could get her out of this one, but he waved Eithryn over anyway—Coryn was there, as well, but he was well aware of which one always instigated the trouble.

Eithryn came over curiously, but she was not the only one who had noticed the prince, and one particularly brave dwarf loosed an apple—saved because it was a healthy food and therefore not considered edible—at Thranduil. Eithryn caught it easily and threw it back, striking that dwarf in the forehead and attracting the attention of the rest of the dwarves. Thranduil yanked her outside and slammed the door as a multitude of sticky missiles flew at them.

Sky tapped her foot impatiently as he closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Her eyes swept over the second guard, who was securely tied to a tree, just as she'd left him, and to Kilvara, who hadn't been tied beside him—or gagged—when Sky left her out here to keep watch. In response to Sky's raised eyebrows, Kilvara tipped her head toward Thranduil. Sky giggled, wondering how the prince had known to bring rope.

Thranduil's head snapped up. "And where do you find the humor in this situation?"

She couldn't pick just one thing, so she said, "Everywhere?"

Thranduil almost slapped her. How was she so impossible?! He half-turned, planning to leave her to his father and claim he had been far, far away, but could not quite do it, perhaps because he knew his father was low on patience and might actually hurt her this time. For some reason, his memory brought up an image from their first patrol, when she had almost been killed. It irritated him that the picture of her, bleeding and pale but still fighting his attempts to help, had stayed with him for so long, but he gave in all the same. "You have ten minutes before my father arrives," he told her.

She grinned. "Whoops."

"This is not funny!" Thranduil snapped.

Sky jerked back, startled, but she recovered quickly. "It's not?" she asked innocently.

Thranduil glared at her.

Sky realized she'd gone too far and held up her hands in surrender. "Okay, so what're we going to do? There's no way we're cleaning all that in ten minutes."

Thranduil turned his face away.

"If it helps any," she said, "I won't mention you were here."

He didn't respond, and she realized with a pang that she'd really made him mad this time. "All right," she told him meekly, "I repent. I was stupid, and I'm sorry. Really."

He ignored her.

"I'll tell your father it was all my fault."

Nothing.

"I'll take over your fighting lessons for a month. ...Two months? ...A year? ...What if I promise to leave you alone for a few days?" She was getting upset now. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to make an attempt to be helpful," he growled. Really, after so many failed attempts to discipline her, it turned out all he had to do was ignore her for a few moments and she crumbled?

"Okay," she said quickly. "Helpful. Will you forgive me now?"

He looked down at her with a frown. She put on a pleading expression and made her eyes as large as she could.

Thranduil found, much to his annoyance, that the expression was affecting him. "Fine," he groaned.

"Yay!" She was instantly cheerful again. "Now, our only hope of averting disaster and getting to stay in Greenwood is to distract your father long enough for Storm and the dwarves to clean up, which they'll know to do 'cause they're listening to us right now." On the other side of the door, Storm chuckled and the sound of dwarves clomping away could be heard. "I guess you'll want to be nice to him, which means no traps."

"Perhaps I could tell him he is needed elsewhere?" Thranduil suggested.

"Yeesh, an orc could be more creative than that. I'd do the job, though," she added before his scowl could return.

Thranduil let the insult pass and nodded. "I will take care of that, and you will stay here and work."

The sad look returned, but this time Thranduil was prepared for it (well, sort of). "This is your fault," he insisted, and so you will fix it."

"Exactly. I'll be more helpful if I go with you, trust me."

"I truly do not think I ever will," he responded, but he indicated for her to follow him.

They found Oropher just in time; he was accompanied by a pair of guards and a scribe and was about four minutes early. Sky hid in the bushes and watched as Thranduil approached the king. "Felrion wished to see you," he said. Good idea, Sky thought; Felrion had recently been appointed the primary healer for the area. They'd have to find him first and arrange a cover story, though.

Oropher nodded and kept going. Thranduil moved into his path. "He said it was urgent."

Oropher stepped back and frowned at him. "I will go after I examine the storehouse; it is not far. What is the matter with you?" Thranduil appeared to be having an internal argument over whether to tell him what was going on, or so Sky interpreted the faces he was making.

Sky decided the prince needed help. "He's fine," she said, appearing out of the bushes.

"So I thought," Oropher muttered, thinking she meant Thranduil.

"Felrion still doesn't believe you said we could do it, though," she continued, making it up as she went.

Oropher whirled around. "I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, he didn't believe you gave us permission to melt the swords down. I don't know why he's making such a fuss; it's not that dangerous, even if Storm did burn his hand—"

The king's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "What did you do?!"

Sky sighed and started again. "I said, he didn't—"

"You MELTED THE SWORDS?!" Oropher roared.

"Storm said it was fine with you," she said so innocently that even Thranduil almost believed her.

"It—you—" Oropher reached out as if to strangle her. Then something occurred to him. "WHERE ARE THE DWARVES?!"

"Oh. Um..." She looked around. "They'll be fine by themselves, right?"

The king spun on Thranduil. "How were YOU involved in this?"

"I was only told to find you!" the prince lied, mentally cursing Eithryn.

Oropher gave him a venomous look, then ran in the direction of the armory; his guards followed, looking startled. "Find the dwarves!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Or you will regret it, Thranduil!"

The prince gulped, then rounded on Eithryn. "He will know we lied."

"Correction," she replied, holding up a finger. "He'll know I lied. As far as he knows, you're still completely on his side."

Thranduil was not sure he liked what she was implying there.

"Anyway," she continued, "he can't prove anything, because there won't be any evidence left by the time he gets back to the storehouse, if he doesn't completely forget. Who knows? He'll probably think I was messing with him."

"But the dwarves—"

"Were with Storm the whole time. And we'll make sure that other guard doesn't tell anyone."

Thranduil narrowed his eyes at her. "If you are wrong..."

"Then you'll be perfectly justified in throwing me in a cave and letting me starve."

Thranduil resolved to do that, although he did think he would feed her.

Probably.

. . . . . .

They returned to discover—to Sky's amazement as well as Thranduil's—a completely spotless storehouse, looking just like it had when they'd arrived, except the supplies were stacked differently so the losses wouldn't be noticed. Storm winked at them as he placed the last bottle.

"Wow," Sky said, and Thranduil had to agree. Perhaps the distraction had not been needed after all.

"As it turns out," Storm observed, "dwarves are great at throwing breakable things."

Thranduil pretended not to hear that, instead sending an icy glare at a dwarf who came too close.