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*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic, it really lifts my spirits~! You people are awesome~! :D ***

*** Note II – Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the too-awesome-for-words Tolkien Universe. I own my ever-growing long list of OCs~ :3 ***

*** Note III – LOL, Siriel/Cereal references anyone~? xDDD I know a few of you pointed that elvish name/food reference out; and I'll have to say, my laughing was hardcore~ x333 Lyrial will eventually give her the nickname "Siri," and will make an abundance of IPhone jokes~ Tee Hee ~ xD ***

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~ 005 - Welcome To Your Fantasy ~

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"I like nonsense, it wakes up the brain cells. Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living."

~ Dr. Seuss

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The Elvenking's face was that of bewilderment. "Planes? They are non-living and they can fly? Humans 'pilot' them to have them fly?"

Lyrial laughed. "Yes! I know it's not easy to grasp, but this is from a highly technologically advanced world compared to Middle-Earth. I think it's possible for this world to develop them in the far future, even."

They were in the gardens, and they sat atop grass, underneath a vibrant fiery-leaved tree. Lyrial could have sworn, at first, that Thranduil was a common elf; wearing simple garb and no crown present. He was interested in these aerial machines. "Can you sketch one out?"

Lyrial's eyes widened in mock-fear. "Planes are complicated to draw, and my skills are terrible."

Before he could respond, they were smoothly interrupted by a dark brown-haired Galion. He bowed to his king. "Aran nîn, General Himelon has returned. He requests your presence in the throne-room, immediately. Lord Nithron is there, as well."

Thranduil's eyes sparked with delight at his friend's return, yet they also held concern. "Le hannon, Galion." The butler left; and so did the Elvenking, after exchanging friendly parting words with the elleth.

A couple of young light brown bunnies caught her attention, as they moved curiously near Lyrial. She grinned joyfully. "Aww, hello little ones!" And she extended her hand towards them. One rabbit extended its neck and sniffed her palm, its wet nose against her skin. The rabbit then moved closer towards the elleth and she pat it.

Lyrial marveled at the adorable bunny's heavenly soft fur. The fluff ball settled itself beside her legs, touching her upper thighs with its eyes closed. She then felt a weight on her lap; so she looked down, and came face-to-face with the second rabbit. It looked at her expectantly with its black beady eyes, nose twitching. She pat this rabbit gently on the head and played with its ears, to which it snuggled up closer against her stomach. The elleth cooed. "Aw, you're such a cutie!"

And then her eyes caught sight of a familiar black leather-bound sketchbook. She deadpanned at it. How could he just leave it lying about?

"Oh, how adorable."

The masculine voice startled Lyrial, as she then turned her head upwards and smiled. "Aeluin! I haven't seen you in three days. . ."

"I went patrolling with a few wardens," the handsome Sinda recollected as he sat cross-legged by the elleth. "There were apparently some questionable sightings – turned out that it was a group of five wild wargs."

Concern filled her eyes. "Oh! Was anyone hurt?"

"One ellon was clawed in the stomach, and another was bit in the shoulder. But they are alright, only bedridden."

"That's a relief."

He hummed in agreement. "They seem attracted to you," he mentioned as the rabbit by Lyrial's thighs stood up and hopped onto her legs, beside the other that was still snuggled up against her stomach. This little fluff ball gazed up at Aeluin, its nose twitching in that rabbit-like fashion. He smiled softly at the creature and pat it, to which it closed its eyes and leaned into his touch.

She responded cheerfully. "I'm glad; I love bunnies! By the way, are animals allowed in the palace?"

Aeluin looked at her with an amused expression. "Not unless you swear absolute responsibility to look after them. You want to adopt these two?"

"Maybe. I'm leaning more towards a 'yes.' But maybe . . . I assume I have to ask your brother for permission?"

"Unfortunately," came a voice to the side. Arayan sat beside his twin in all but flesh and blood, his long legs stretched out before him. "So, what is the happening?"

"Cute bunnies," responded Aeluin. "And how were your recruits today?"

"Improving," answered the elf captain with a smile. "They are a lot more focused than the last batch a few years ago."

"Mhmm. And how is Tauriel?"

"Who?"

"Your recruit with the fiery orange hair. You devote your attentions onto her."

The Greenwood captain irritably glared at the ellon. "It is nothing. She just has potential and I am assisting her in said potential."

"If I recall," Lyrial spoke up; flashbacking to one of the times she observed Arayan's training sessions, "all of your recruits seemed to have potential." The two bunnies, wanting to play around, hopped off her legs and chased each other into one of the flowerbeds.

"They do; but Tauriel more so."

And then Aeluin piped up with a smirk. "But I can pin-point a few others with just as much potential as the lovely young elleth."

Arayan felt heat rising to his cheeks, and he hoped no blush was visible. He deadpanned at his close friend, stood up and grumbled. "You know what? I don't like you anymore."

Aeluin's eyes widened and he gasped in mock-hurt. "Oh, come now! Surely you do not mean that?" He wrapped his arms around the captain's leg in an awkward "hug" for dear life.

"Ai! Let go, you!" Arayan exclaimed with a seemingly annoyed expression. He was trying not to break out into a grin and laugh.

The Greenwood prince tightened his hug around the other's leg, and buried his face against it. "Never!" He secretly smiled.

Lyrial laughed and rolled her eyes at their elfling-like behavior. She adjusted her body slightly and wrapped her arms around the prince's neck; the top of her head came into contact with the side of his neck. "It's okay, Aeluin. Unlike him, my fond of you will never falter." His heart skipped a beat at her action and words, but he chose to ignore it. She was only playing along, as a friend, anyways. She continued. "So just ignore him." To which Arayan gaped.

"Yes, Lirimaer, I think I will," Aeluin jested as he turned and returned her hug (meanwhile, Arayan sat back down and released his held-back laughter from the whole ordeal). The Sinda prince had his arms securely around Lyrial, and he appreciated the delicate curve of her waist and cherry blossom scent. "Sweet Valar, I want you," he mumbled in Sindarin against her shoulder.

"I'm sorry?" Her gentle feminine voice broke him out of his, well, kind of growing arousal. Arayan simply stared at him.

Aeluin parted their 'friend-like' hug. "I apologize."

She rose an eyebrow, confused. "What for?"

"The words I've just spoken."

"You spoke in Sindarin; I don't fully understand the language."

"Right. . ." A wave of relief washed over the icy blue-eyed ellon; albeit, he had a small and lingering nervousness. "Oh, it's Thran-Thran's sketchbook. How could he just leave it lying about?" Aeluin stood up with the book in hand and walked off. "I will see you two some other time!"

Lyrial and Arayan simultaneously gazed after Aeluin. They looked at each other, then back to where the prince walked off too, and then back to each other.

She started. "What . . . Did he say?"

The emerald-eyed captain shrugged. "I did not hear him." He lied; he did not want to, but he did. Arayan thought it unimportant and just a careless throw of words on Aeluin's part. Lyrial did not have to dwell on that.

Thirty seconds of silence.

"Pfffttt . . . 'Thran-Thran.' Genius."

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Aeluin sauntered through the intricate palace hallways towards his older brother's chambers. Whew, good thing I did not say that in Westron . . . Arayan probably heard . . . Oh, how stupid of me!

He honestly could not have helped it. Of all the ellith he had either talked to or flirted with, Lyrial was one of the few in which he wanted to befriend. When he entered the private gardens, he was captivated by her joyful smile and her lovely eyes lighting up when she interacted with the pair of bunnies.

The ellon arrived at Thranduil's room. As soon as he opened the door, the sketchbook slipped out of his hand and fell open, the black cover facing him. Kind of surprised at that, Aeluin picked it up and flipped it over.

He had no words about the sketch he currently gazed at. Yes, it was the usual detailed and lovely piece of work; but it was the subject that made his eyes darken, teeth clenched, and he felt a small pang of jealousy. Lyrial was the subject in this sketch. Lyrial reading a book as she sat at the base of a tree. Aeluin remembered this, as he was there: Lounging about on one of the tree branches, speaking to the elleth every now and then. At that time, Thranduil sat with outstretched legs, with his back against a different tree; in his own world, sketching.

How dare he draw her as if she were his to do so? The prince shook his head. No, I'm thinking unreasonably. Thranduil draws anything . . . It's nothing.

Aeluin left the room after dropping the Elvenking's sketchbook onto said king's night table.

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Her first meeting with General Himelon was a random, brief, and kind of weird one.

Lyrial sat at the top of some white steps in the palace's large and stunning courtyard. The cool breeze calmly whipped about her platinum blonde hair as she read a work of fiction. Thankfully for her, it was one of the very few books within the library that was written in Westron instead of Tengwar. She was reading a fairy-tail; filled with princes, princesses, dragons, magic, unicorns and love. It was also a realistic fairy-tale; filled with lies and deceit, death, violence and tragedy. She enjoyed it – the book had an interesting and complex plot with a variety of subplots; no euphemisms, just a realistic fantasy.

She just finished reading one of the best three-way sex scenes that she had ever laid eyes on. It was very hot and detailed; a scene between a promiscuous whoremonger knight and two eager, pleasure-seeking prostitutes.

Lyrial's acute hearing had her removing her eyes from the book, landing on an unfamiliar tall, strong and attractive ellon at the bottom of the stairs. He had straight, almost waist-length chocolate brown hair that was held back from his face by warrior braids. She noted a modest yet elegant golden wedding band on his right index finger, similar to the one she saw on Lalaith's – a healer and friend to Siriel – corresponding finger. He regarded her curiously, accompanied with some shock with his stunning silvery eyes. He broke the stare-in-silence first. "I apologize; I did not mean to stare. You just look familiar."

Lyrial was a little confused. But I've never seen him before. "It's . . . alright. What do you mean by, 'familiar?' I've never seen you before. . ."

"You, especially those eyes of yours, resemble that of Greenwood's previous queen."

"Aran Thranduil had a wife?"

He spoke softer, as if reminiscing the past. "Aran Thranduil never married. I was referring to his mother."

Lyrial did not know why, but she felt a relief at the fact that the Elvenking never married. And then she furrowed her brows. I resemble his mother? How is that possible? And why is that so?

The ellon spoke up. "You seem uneasy? I'm sorry if I was blunt about that, I was just so startled at the resemblance."

She shook her head and offered a small smile. "No, it's fine . . . ?"

"Himelon," the ellon introduced pleasantly. "You are free to call me 'Himelon.'"

Her eyes widened. "So you're General Himelon! Pleased to meet you; I'm Lyrial."

"Ahhh, so that's the name of the 'new' elleth. Well met, young one."

After exchanging goodbyes, Lyrial returned to her book. A minute later, she heard Himelon's name being called. Way across the vast courtyard, she caught sight of the gorgeous Lalaith, hip-length straight silvery hair fumbling a little in the breeze, and her lovely golden eyes full of joy. The healer carried a medium-sized basket of herbs in both arms, but that not stop her from locking lips with her husband right then and there.

Lyrial quickly averted her eyes to her book. Nope. Not watching two people kiss after reading a sex scene.

A high-pitched, excited cry of "Ada!" brought her attention upwards again, as she saw an adorable six-year-old elfling run up to the couple. Oh, how cute! They have a child? Himelon scooped his son into his arms with a grin, hugging him securely. The little ellon wrapped his smaller arms around his father's neck, burying his little fists into the long, chocolate brown hair. Himelon kissed his son's head, to which the little one abruptly rose his head and gave his ada a cute kiss to the nose.

The family left, but Lyrial's eyes stared straight ahead of her, focused on nothing – just at where they were a few seconds ago.

Five minutes later and she was still staring: Her eyes became glossy; her breathing went a little heavier; and, her hands shook, although barely. She felt a pang in her heart, and her lips were half a centimeter parted. They shook also.

The scene with that family was so . . . Perfect to her.

Their actions were so simple and yet so perfect.

Why?

Lyrial became reminiscent.

That scene triggered an emotion she so desperately missed and wanted. The warmth and unconditional love of her family. She blinked once, and a lone tear came trailing from her lovely amethyst eyes, slowly cascading down her flawless cheek; the drop eventually splashed onto a book page. She closed the book without looking at it.

Lyrial reminisced her precious memories with her birth parents, until they were killed in a car accident when she only five years old. She blinked again and two more tears trailed down. Her nose felt watery and so she sniffled. She remembered the day of her fifteenth birthday, when her adoptive parents won the court case, took her into their house, and treated her lovingly as they did their younger daughter. A sob escaped her lips and more tears trailed down, increasing their speed.

And then she remembered the period in between the two happier ones, where she had a foster family; a family that violently abused her for years. She remembered a good many times where she would get beat up to the point of not being allowed to go outside, or to school, until she fully healed. During those times, she would become like a "slave" of some sort; her muscles acing and bones weakening, and she barely ate.

Lyrial felt her breathing more laboured. Her chest hurt; it felt constricted. She softly called for the names of her birth parents, and then called the names of her adoptive parents. She brought her knees closer – had her arms wrapped around them – and buried her face into her lap. Her body shook, more so her shoulders, as she sobbed uncontrollably.

She kept crying; trying to stop, but couldn't.

Her delicately pointed ears picked up footsteps. They came closer. And then the rustle of clothing as an ellon sat beside her. She felt an arm wrap around her, and she instantly turned and buried her face into the elf's muscled chest. She wrapped her arms around his waist, grabbing fistfuls of the backs of his dark blue tunic. Lyrial felt strong and protective arms around her; one hand rested against her upper back, and the other cupped the back of her head. She felt the latter gently stroking her head, fingers raking through her hair.

It was not until he spoke in soothing elvish to her that she recognized who this was. Why would he bother?

Lyrial heard another set of footsteps and the rustling of skirts. "Thranduil! What happened? Why is she crying?" The newcomer sat on Lyrial's other side.

"I know not, Thranéal," the Elvenking replied, his saddened gaze still focused on the elleth he held in his arms. "I just found her like this." He stood up, carrying Lyrial. Her grip moved from his back to being fistfuls of the front of his tunic. She still had her face against his chest. "I'm bringing her to her room."

Thranéal stood up. "And I will send for Siriel with a sedative."

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Suffice to say that the whole ordeal rose questions between those that helped her. Lyrial was not comfortable with explaining everything, so she just mentioned that certain emotions triggered within her. All she said was that she missed her parents, and that she had scarring flashbacks of her past.

Not much changed after that, but Lyrial noted something. Before when she had chats with Thranduil, they would immediately jump into some random topic after greeting each other. Now, after greeting her, the Sinda king would ask how she was, in a way of double-checking her well-being.

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One day Thranduil could not take it anymore. Lyrial was becoming a friend to him; and for some reason, it did not feel right to him to have her call him, "Aran nîn."

He wanted her to call him by his name. He wanted to hear his name, just his name, sounding out from those full, soft-looking lips of hers.

And so right before she excused herself, having to go to the library for her Sindarin lessons with an elleth by the name of Hiriel, he stopped her.

"Yes?" She wondered.

Thranduil regarded her with a friendly expression. "Call me 'Thranduil.' You do not have to use my titles."

A pause.

She smiled up at him. "As you wish . . . Thranduil."

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Aran Nîn – My King - (Sindarin)

Le Hannon – Thank You - (Sindarin)

Lirimaer – Lovely One - (Sindarin)

Adar/Ada – Father/Dad - (Sindarin)

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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D ***

*** After Note II – By the way, who ACTUALLY reads the quotes~? {And who actually reads the Notes and After Notes~?} Just curious~ \(≥w≤)/ ***

*** After Note III – Oh My Cake of Sexy Goodness. My last two exams for my final year at high school are this coming Monday. I cannot wait to just get them over with. FREEEEEEEDOOOOOOOOMMMMMM~! (~*O*)~ ***

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