You know what, I'm done with excuses. I'm sorry. I'm just really bad at updating my fics.

Chapter Three

Rîn stared at the ceiling, turning over in her bed to face the painting hung on her wall: a messy but somehow beautiful watercolor her aunt had painted before she left Mirkwood.

"Rîn!" Lelya raced into her room, whisper-screaming her name. "Rîn, I'm scared!"

Rîn sighed and sat up, pulling her sister onto her bed. "What are you scared of?"

"I heard Mom and Dad talking again today, and I'm scared that we're going to leave like Aunt Glasdis."

"It's okay, Lelya. We're not going to leave."

"But Naneth doesn't like King Thranduil!"

Rîn shook her head. "You're too young to be worrying about that."

"Well, I am."

Rîn sighed. "Listen, Lelya. You know what Dad told me once? He said, 'Our loyalties lie with King Thranduil. We will never forsake him."

Legolas had been hearing more and more rumors of disgruntled elves questioning his father's authority, and he knew sooner or later something would rise from the protestors.

He also knew that his father knew just as much about them as Legolas did, but neither of them ever spoke about it.

But now things were getting serious. Like they had never before. The king's own advisor was questioning some of Thranduil's decisions.

The king's own son was questioning some of his decisions.

Legolas knew he didn't have anything to worry about from Rhiadroth. He was calm, wise, and could think for himself. It was his daughter Legolas worried about.

Rîn and Legolas had been friends for a long time, and he knew - even though she rarely voiced her opinions around him - that she didn't approve of any of his father's decisions. He also knew there were lots of elves in the fortress that might blow things out of proportion for her, and he didn't want anyone thinking something was true when it was actually the exact opposite.

"My lord," an elf said from behind him. Legolas turned, and the elf held out something to him. "We found this in the woods."

Legolas took it, turning it over in his hands. It was a pouch of some sort, but the thing that jumped out at him was that it was quite obviously of dwarven make. "Thank you," he told the elf, who nodded and saluted his prince.

"Of course, my lord."

Rîn spotted Legolas walking towards his father's throne room, holding something in his hand. "What's that?" she asked without thinking, falling into step beside him.

"Elros found it in the woods," he answered. He handed it to her, and she examined it. She knew the stitching and fabric was dwarven, but it couldn't be. Dwarves in Mirkwood? "I'm taking it to my father," the Prince said, taking it back.

"What do you think he's going to do?" Rîn asked.

"I don't know."

Rîn nodded, knowing enough not to press the matter further. "Good luck," she said, as Legolas pushed open one of the doors to his father's hall. He nodded and disappeared inside.

Rîn kept walking, thinking. Dwarves? Here? The memory of the guards talking about the dwarves supposedly seen in Rivendell instantly came to mind. If they really were on their way to Erebor they'd most likely pass through Mirkwood, so it was somewhat understandable that something belonging to a dwarf had been found.

But at the same time, it wasn't.

She still had trouble believing that the dwarves really were going to Erebor. With the dragon Smaug guarding it, and given their utter defeat those years ago, she couldn't believe anyone would dare to step anywhere near it.

But the dragon hadn't been seen for sixty years. Perhaps the treasure was unguarded. Perhaps the dwarves were brash enough to try it.

Rîn sat down at the table with her father while her mother washed the dishes and Lelya played in her room. "Prince Legolas found a dwarf's tobacco pouch in the woods," she said.

"Yes, I've heard," her father said. Rîn couldn't resist smiling. He was always a step ahead of her.

"I heard some rumors that a company of dwarves stayed in Rivendell for a short time," she continued. "They're supposedly on their way to Erebor, and—"

"Erebor?" Her mother looked up from scrubbing a plate. "Erebor was claimed by a huge, fire-breathing dragon years ago, Rîn."

"I think we should at least hear her out," Rhiadroth said.

"They're supposedly going to Erebor, and I think it's reasonable that they'd want to go through Mir-I mean, the Greenwood to get to the mountain as quickly as possible."

"Well, your mother is right," her father said, after some consideration. "Erebor is guarded by a dragon. I'm not altogether sure any dwarves would risk it. But I guess we'll see soon, won't we?"

Legolas watched as his father held the tobacco pouch up for closer inspection. "You say Elros brought this to you?" he asked. Legolas nodded.

"Yes. There have been rumors of dwarves in Rivendell, supposedly on their way to Erebor." Thranduil looked up sharply, and Legolas continued. "If they were, it may be possible that they'd pass through the Greenwood on their way."

Thranduil stiffly handed the tobacco pouch back to his son, nodding. "Thank you."

Legolas returned the gesture, slipping out of his father's hall.

He still didn't know if the rumors were true. He knew it wasn't very plausible. Erebor was protected by a huge dragon; everyone knew that. No one would dare to step foot near that mountain.

No one without a reason.

Legolas knew of Thorin Oakenshield, grandson of the fallen ruler of Erebor. He might have the will to try reclaiming the mountain, but Legolas couldn't believe that he would have the forces. Few dwarves would be reckless enough to try to take back the Lonely Mountain, even with how fool-hardy members of their race were. How many dwarves could Oakenshield possibly have rallied to help him?

But it was the only possibility that made sense.