Dear guys,

I'm so sorry for not updating for so long! Has it been a month? I dunno but I am SO sorry. Schoolwork and other stuff has had me under a lot of stress and I have nearly no time to post. I'm sure this isn't in HIATUS yet but...I'm doing the best I can. Thanks for all of your patience and devotion! You guys rock!

Try to have a great night/day!

-Badass Archer Daughter

Chapter 16

The sound of chamomile tea rushing into a porcelain cup rung through the room like a clear waterfall. Not a drop was spilled and the teacup was filled right at the perfect point, a skill that could take a host hundreds of years to master. There was a light clinking of teacups and silverware before the tea was handed over.

"Thank you mellon," nodded Gandalf at Elrond as they sat down.

Elrond shook his head. "There is no need to thank me, Gandalf. You are like part of our family."

There was a silent in which they sipped their tea. Elrond's office was warmly lit with a crackling fire and the room gave a welcoming aura to it's guests. Elrond put an empty teacup down after dumping all of it down his throat and he tossed a thin twig at the fading flames breaking the silence.

"You might wonder why I'm here."

"Oh, really? I thought you were here merely to enjoy the pleasure of my company!" exclaimed Elrond and some thin smiles cracked between their wise lips, full of wisdom unsaid.

"Other than that, I suppose," shrugged Gandalf and Elrond's attitude shifted.

"Do you bring ill-tidings?" asked Elrond settling back into his chair in a straight pose. His posture was straight and regal, his senses heightened.

"What else can I bring these days?" replied Gandalf shaking his head somberly. "It is confirmed...it is getting stronger. Even Radagast of all beings can sense this change. His birds feel it for Valar's sake! What else is there to say?"

"Have you warned the others?"

"Of course I have, you're my last destination," stated Gandalf. "I went with the Men first, stubborn as much and then to the dwarves in their stone mines. And last I went to your kin, the great Eldar kingdoms."

"What about the halflings?"

"The halflings have no need to know this," replied Gandalf. In truth, in his heart, Gandalf held a small soft spot for hobbits. Little creatures who liked peace and quiet and who lived their lives in beautiful pure harmony. Yet they were underestimated for their true powers. "They did not fight in the war...they do not need to know."

"They live in this world."

"But what could I say to them? I am but a mere, old rambling wizard who can create fireworks for them! What would they want to hear? All they want is their peace, land and second breakfasts."

"They still deserved to know."

Gandalf sighed. "Then perhaps I will go there after I talk to you. But I must tell you Elrond...they will pay none of their attention on me. Like the Men. The Rohan king did not even let me talk for more than twenty minutes and I was checked at least three times over by the guards in Gondor! To later be insulted as a 'rambling grey wanderer seeking tales' by the Steward himself!"

"They are Men, do not expect them to know much. I have seen there in their weakest points," said Elrond gravely. "This should have ended in that mountain, it should have ended in Mt. Doom. Isildur should have thrown the ring in...I should have stopped him."

"Do not put the blame on yourself Elrond," snapped Gandalf. "You have no fault in this...you did what could be done."

Elrond sighed, rubbing his temples. "Maybe you're right Gandalf but...war will come. And if Isildur had thrown the ring in, we would have been spared thousands of years of bloodshed."

"Do not spend your time wondering on what could have happen and what would have happened and instead focus on what did happen and what we are today," advised Gandalf. "Do not work yourself out too much. Remember, you're not alone."

"I know I'm not," muttered Elrond and he looked up. "How did the dwarves go?"

"Better than the Men but not much," Gandalf said. "They were patient, heard me and offered me their food and wine. However, they had already begun to forget of my very existence once the first few drops of dwarven beer had entered their mouths."

"What did you expect from dwarves?" asked Elrond, snorting. "They are dwarves. They care little for the world outside of theirs. They only need their iron caves, their carven thrones, their stone mines, their molten gold as well as some barrels of beers. Besides, they will not want to fight with strangers."

"There's also your Eldar kin."

"Did you go to Greenwood?"

"I did."

Silence.

"And you talked to Thranduil?"

"Yes."

Elrond snorted, shaking his head. "Thranduil was and is my best friend. We spent our childhoods together. I taught him how to ride and he taught me how to fight. We were inseparable. But now...he is not the elfling I used to know. Let me guess...did you argue with him?"

"Quite a bit," admitted Gandalf. "But we all know how he is. For a while I thought we had a decent point of view when suddenly, the tones started increasing and before we noticed it, we were dismissed from his kingdom."

"He's a stubborn elf, what else can I say?" sighed Elrond. "He was never spoiled but Thranduil always got what he wanted...and he always stuck to what he did. Once he's into something, he won't budge. So let me guess another thing, Thranduil does not want to fight with the others?"

"He has got no intention of doing so...at least now."

"It's impossible for it to happen Gandalf," said Elrond. "Since the War, his hatred has boiled for all beings. Have you seen how he has been shutting down all of Greenwood? I love him as a brother would to another but there are times when I worry for him."

"Grief is strong," said Gandalf slowly, now inhaling from his freshly lit pipe. "His grief is even stronger, since it's so fresh. His father and then a few thousand years later, his wife. And now with the darkness of the Necromancer surrounding his lands...well, I would not be so happy either."

"I agree," replied Elrond somberly. "I have to admit...for such a critical situation, Thranduil has been dealing with it pretty well."

For a while, there was a cold silence in the air. A chill in their spines that refused to fade away, a forever lingering imprint in their minds. A stone hard reality of the darkness that they would face...not today but a darkness they would eventually meet.

"Well, in the bright side," stated Gandalf trying to lighten the mood. "You have completely all of Lothlorien's efforts!"

"Indeed," said Elrond. "But that was no surprise...Lady Galadriel and Lord Celeborn have always been quite some wise elves. They've always been close friends and allies of Imladris."

"Yes, and talking about how Lorien, how have your relationship and Lord Celeborn's been these days? I hope it's sunny with a dash of daisies for the sake of your tongue."

Elrond snorted. "That will never happen in a million years. But wait-how do you know about the tongue-hanging? Did you read the letter?"

Gandalf chuckled. "Of course not, I respect privacy. However, it is only logical for a father-in-law to act over protectively over his daughter. And since we're speaking of Lord Celeborn right now-"

"-it was only logical," muttered Elrond ending for him. "I swear that in more than a thousand years, whatever I do, that elf will always seem to hate me!"

"You puked on his robes."

"I was drunk!" argued Elrond back indignantly. "And it was only once. I didn't know my servants couldn't distinguish the difference between Imladris and Greenwood wine!"

And so, the old friends laughed. Gandalf's laugh was merry, a bit reserved but full of mirth and Lord Elrond's booming and expressive chuckles could be heard from across the hall. It was a beautiful thing, laughter, and even though they laughed heartily, the friends both feared for one thing.

They feared it would be the last time they did so.

Arwen couldn't sleep.

She lay in her bed, feeling incredibly guilty as she let the night's cool wind ruffle her hair. She watched as the dark strands of hair flew in the thin light that the moon allowed through her window. Since her room was still being cleaned, she slept in a room that was just a few rooms across from her brother's and therefore, also Legolas'.

'I shouldn't feel guilty,' thought Arwen. 'Especially with what Elladan and Elrohir did to me.'

Arwen had to admit, her brothers' prank had been elaborate but not close to pretty. They did what they called the "Itsy Bitsy" Effect. They had tied ropes all over the room sticky with honey and sap so that they could look like spiderwebs. Her furniture had been turned upside down in the process and some of it was stuck in the ceiling because of the 'webs.' Reelia had immediately been stuck to the rope and it had taken about half an hour to get her out.

So her friends had told her that she needed to counter attack them...and that night, they had.

She knew that when her brothers woke up, it wouldn't be a very nice scene to be in but well...it'd tell them that they just couldn't mess with her anymore. A smile tugged behind her slender lips, oh, they would pay for what they had done to her all these years. What a surprised they'd get.

Arwen sighed. Now she needed to go back to sleep...great. She had already been trying for half an hour doing everything possible-singing, counting, reading...nothing seemed to work! She didn't know if it was the guilt or the excitement of what she had just done but it was incredibly frustrating.

She sat up, leaning against the wall. A thin gust of cool air entered through her window, which allowed a comforting breeze. It was as if the air sung a lullaby to her, it was soothing and calm yet still...she couldn't sleep.

Grunting in more frustration, she decided to go take a walk. Opening the door, her steps were soft and delicate, in case anybody was watching. She didn't want to disrupt anybody else's sleep. The hall was empty without guards. A soft growl teased her stomach and she sighed...maybe this 'walk' would be longer than she thought.

Tiptoeing down the stairs towards the kitchens to find some pastry to sneak out (hey, Elladan and Elrohir had taught her some moves too!), she allowed her light elven glow to guide her through the night's darkness. Some rooms were brightly lit in the inside though, so it wasn't hard to travel through the beautiful halls of Imladris.

She was walking along the floor, looking around her to make sure she wasn't caught walking around after curfew when suddenly...she bumped into something, or rather, somebody.

Arwen collapsed backwards and so did the other person. She let a small squeak while the other person let out a gasp when suddenly, Arwen shook herself from the floor and looked down at the person. Her eyes had to adjust for a second and she frowned, "Vara?"

Vara's light brown locks had been wrapped and hidden in a turban. As she slowly stood back up, her light blue eyes shook with a teensy bit of fear. "Arwen, what are you doing here at midnight?"

"I couldn't sleep, so I decided to take a walk," stated Arwen calmly and then she looked at her. "Why are you up at midnight?"

"I-" Vara looked around, "I was hungry. So I wanted to get a snack to eat...something quick really, although I didn't want anyone else to think I was stealing."

Still a bit suspicious, Arwen smiled lightly, letting her friend go off with that excuse. "Walk with me then! That's just where I was heading!"

The two elleths soon made their way to the kitchens quietly. Sitting down on the tables, they whispered lightly as they discussed everywhere things while licking their fingers after their scrumptious strawberry tarts. The uneasiness had faded from Vara and she was herself once again, rambling about everything.

However, soon, it was indeed too late to linger out at dark. A few wisps of light curled from the window, signaling the fact that it might be one or two in the morning. After saying a quick farewell with her friend, Arwen hopped off and set her way back to her room before her father (who was an early waker) could check and notice she was gone.

In a few moments, whistling a merry tune, she was surprised on how she had been able to slip through the guards' view. However...she didn't want to argue with that. She was glad she hadn't been caught at all. Oh, she didn't want to get in trouble with her Adar. Suddenly, her ears raised and she halted in steps. She looked around, her ears perking up, her eyesight becoming more keen...she had heard a noise. Well, not a noise really...

It had been a scream. And judging by her senses...it was coming straight from Legolas' room.

"I am sorry sire."

The room was dark. Even a darkness so deep that an elf would have needed to squint. Yet however, lying in the cool shade of the shadow, two figures were conversing. One sat in a black chair fashioned with silver and some gold imprints while one stood slightly shaking in front of him.

"You were late and caught," snapped a figure. "And yet you are begging sheepishly?"

"I wasn't c-completely caught," argued the standing figure. "But...please forgive me sire. It will never happen again, it is promised."

"It better be," snarled the sitting figure. "If this repeats then I will have no mercy on you. I will have your head on another of my spikes and I will display you like a piece of artwork to my enemies."

The standing figure internally gulped. "Y-Yes sire. It is guaranteed...I will not be caught again."

Snorting, the dark figure sitting in the chair snapped back at the trembling standing figure. "Ugh, and I thought elves were supposed to be half-agile at least. Guess I tried with the wrong specimen...you're as much of a klutz as a silly Man and as much of a failure like an orc. Your mother, ugh. The very thought of her disgusts me...what a whore she was. And I thought perhaps some of her lies and witts would get into you but no. You are as stupid as a warg."

The standing figure was silent. Rage boiled inside of that person yet fear mixed and gurgled inside, hiding that rage and making her afraid to express it. She had a specimen of feelings...broken ones, jabbing straight at her heart. Hot, thick salty tears formed in the corners of the figure's eyes, where she tried for them not to flow. She gulped them down her throat and spoke up, "If she was a whore...I will try my best not to fail you like she did."

"You'll do I suppose," sighed the dark figure helplessly. "Although your half-brother would have done better..and he would have done much more."

The standing figure sighed, trying to control the trembling. "Well...I'm here to report."

"Then talk, for god's sake. You've been mute for half an hour."

"The Mirkwood prince is there sire, the young one."

"I don't care which one he is," snapped the dark figure back and then leaning back into his chair or now that we're talking...throne. "He's a son of Thranduil and even though one is worth more, they're his sons all the same. Go on."

"He's here to represent Mirkwood for the festival," said the standing figure, now gathering a bit of flow and confidence. "He has been treated as a honored guest and he has been following his guides, Elladan and Elrohir, both sons of Elrond. He is believed to have a company of thirty other Mirkwood elves with him, although right now they're helping Elrond with the preparations. He has shown some bonds with the twins and also, it seems Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar of Imladris, has been quite 'attached' to him."

The dark figure snorted. "In that manner?"

"Slightly but yes," said the other figure.

"And how do you know this?"

"I hold a good cover...little would the elves suspect of me. Besides, information lies in the very air of Imladris, waiting to be gathered. It was not hard. The elves in Imladris gossip so much...it would sicken you sire."

"Everything sickens me of Imladris," growled the sitting figure. "The light, the flowers, Elrond Half-elven and the very air they breathe."

Suddenly, the figure leaned back, pensative. "However...this may come to my advantage. A double score, some may call it. It is as if the Thranduilion has been a spurt of luck. Yes...oh, yes. I have a plan but I need more information and I need the right way and I need the right time."

"What is there for me to do, sire?" asked the standing figure. This-this may be the chance to prove her potential! Maybe it could be seen how much she was capable of...maybe she would be approved, accepted and finally...she would fit somewhere.

"You must do what I say and only what I say," snarled the sitting person and then he stood up. His aura shone of greatness...but not the good kind. There was a certain, maleficent shadow in him, a darkness that did not sleep and a cripplingly sour soul that sickened the mind. "And this time...you must not fail me."

NOTE: THIS FLASHBACK CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT INVOLVING VIOLENCE AND RAPE. IF YOU CANNOT HANDLE IT, PLEASE SKIP THROUGH IT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

Legolas sucked his breath.

It seemed as if the orcs were not pleased with his mother's suffering. They laughed and sneered at her pain, as she writhed and hot burning tears rolled down her eyes. All beauty and innocence had faded from her, replaced by only horror and pain. Oh...the pain. Bruises and cuts marked her face while blood streaked her every corner. Skin exposed, ripped and tattered, injured to the worst decree he had ever seen.

Legolas was scared. He had never seen anything like that. The shrieks turn into higher pitches and one of the orcs kicked her, losing the humour out of her suffering and trying for her to shut up. Legolas trembled...his entire body shook so much he was afraid he'd fall backwards.

Yet, he was stuck in place.

He wanted to cry. To curl up in his Nana's laps and to hear the song of the forest again. To be kept warm by his Nana's happiness, by her laughter, by her kind eyes.

The orcs were now growling to each other and suddenly, Legolas found them talking from orc-tongue to Westron. An ugly orc with a large nose turned to the leader, "I knew it. They are coming. Do we take this one?"

The leader eyed Legolas with interest. "Hm...he might do. There are many who will pay for him. And even more who will pay good for such a good-looking elf. Or the Master will want him...yes. The master might want him."

Others muttered in languages foreign to Legolas but he knew that they were agreeing. Legolas, who was currently tied up to a pole, could do nothing but fear. Who was this master? And who would pay for him? Why?

"But," growled the leader suddenly grinning with his ugly and dirty teeth sinking out, turning to Legolas' Nana, "let us finish what we started."

"NO!" shouted Legolas. His heart was beating faster. They couldn't do this to him. Not to his Nana. Not him... "NO! PLEASE! DON'T DO IT!"

The orcs briefly stared at him and laughed at his fear when they once again turned to their center of attention. The leader grunted quick orders at his orcs while occasionally looking back as if making sure he had time.

The orcs dragged Legolas' now weak Nana and as she was suddenly tied up to a pole as well, she smiled a thin smile at him, summoning all of her energy for her final moments. She reassured him, brought a wave of fragile comfort on his shoulders.

His blue eyes clouded with tears. "Nana," he whispered into the air. A word that even broke the trees' hearts, who felt sorry they could not help him or do anything.

"Legolas," she whispered as they tied her harder with several ropes at the pole, "le melin."

An orc scurried in, or a scout as Legolas predicted. He whispered something panting at the leader, who frowned. He turned to his Nana and suddenly, in his open hand, was a burning stick. Legolas had no idea what it was for...but he knew it involved his Nana, and he didn't like it.

Then, the orc set the fire on his Nana and...she burned. The flames trickled all over her, sliding through all of her body and she shrieked even louder. Her robes started burning, along with her hair and her skin was starting to rip open, blood oozing out in a depressingly fast rate.

The orcs quickly got on their wargs which were tied near another tree and an orc headed towards Legolas' place, untying him to take with them. He wriggled, kicked and writhed, yet the huge orc was a huge match for him, so he was unable to do anything.

Suddenly, a miracle happened. An arrow whizzed past and sliced through the orc's head.

The next thing was a blur of screams, steel and blood. Oh, so much blood...

Legolas stood up in his bed panting.

Regaining consciousness from where he was, he sighed in relief and leaned back in his bed, still sitting up. He was sweating, he noticed. Sweating bucketfuls making his perfectly gold woven hair stick to his sweaty neck.

"Are you all right Legolas?"

He had to admit...he was surprised. His neck twisted one direction and faced the seed of the voice. Sitting in the floor, was none other than Lady Arwen. Her deep blue eyes shone with kindness and compassion yet there was something else...worry. True worry from her heart. He made himself breath in and out many times before he could respond.

"I'm sorry Arwen, my apologies. Did I wake you?"

"Oh no, no, no!" she insisted. "I originally couldn't sleep...it wasn't your fault. I was just back from taking a walk to see if I could sleep better but I heard your screams. Are you all right Legolas?"

"Er..." Legolas trailed off. He hated being so emotionally vulnerable, to let Arwen see him not as the gallant and handsome archer prince of Mirkwood like everybody thought he was but rather his true self, a fragile, emotionally crippled elfling. "Of course I am, Arwen. I am fine. You can go to sleep."

"I may be younger than you," stated Arwen rolling her eyes. "But I'm not stupid. Adar already warned me that all Mirkwood elves were stubborn. Besides, those screams didn't sound 'fine' to me. Did you have nightmares?"

Legolas sighed in defeat. "Yes."

"It's all right," said Arwen comfortingly. "I have nightmares all the time too."

"You don't have my nightmares."

"Judging by your screams, I think they sound awful," she stated. "Do you want to talk about them? Adar says that if you talk to people, they can help you and you will feel better."

Legolas couldn't help notice how innocent she still was. How gentle and sweet she was at heart and it devastated him...that one day, she'd have to grow up. To shed such innocence, such pretty heart, such lovable soul. He couldn't spoil that soul yet. No...by telling her his nightmares, she'd change forever, he knew it. And he didn't want that to happen, not yet. He sighed and looked at her, "Not today Arwen, not today. Things have their moment to be said but...I don't think my nightmares can be said right now."

"Oh, well...that doesn't matter," she shrugged. "I understand."

Suddenly, she frowned. "Why do you sleep in armour?"

"Oh, this?" Legolas blushed a bit. He'd never been with an elleth in his night outfit. Which was basically an armour and a pair of trousers. "Um...it's a Mirkwood custom."

"That must be awfully uncomfortable."

"Not really."

"It isn't heavy? Once I tried to hold Adar's armours and I nearly broke my arm. They were so heavy! How can you sleep with all that weight on you?"

"It's actually more like mail," explained Legolas. "You know, the lighter kind. So it's not nearly as heavy as the battle ones. Thalos, my older brother, says that I'm too young to use those."

"But it doesn't it feel uncomfortable?"

"I'm sort of used it, actually."

Arwen nodded, as if she understood and then suddenly, she was piped up with another question. Question after question he had to answer yet he found himself more comforted by them then annoyed. As he talked, his voice became smoother, quicker and more patient...almost forgetting about the nightmare he had had. And suddenly, as he was talking to Arwen, he realized something.

It had been the first time in many years since he'd woken up from a nightmare to not be alone.

AN: One of my favorite chapters! Very exciting too. You finally get to 'meet' the villain! Gandalf brings black tidings, Arwen retaliates in the prank war (Woo-hoo! You go girl!), Vara seems extremely suspicious and our Legolas can finally find some comfort in his nightmares.

I mean gee, wow...I AM evil! Burning her alive? Because stabbing her just couldn't have worked as well. Sorry guys.

Anyways, great reviews! :D

Aragorn-Lord: Thanks! :) And yes, I'll try to update as frequently as I can!

Eraman: Oops, my bad. I was thinking about the current bearers, I guess. What you said totally makes sense, though since Elrond was Gil-Galad's squire and Círdan is...well, Círdan. He and Gandalf are both pretty powerful, so it all makes sense. I really like the fact that Galadriel keeps her ring, like, "Galadriel's a strong independent woman who don't need no man!" Which is totally true. Although it's kind of sad Celeborn doesn't have a bigger role. I am truly curious on his achievements. Anyways, good theory. I always assumed that wood elves could speak to trees and animals better just because they lived closer to them, being you know, wood elves. But it could be magic. And thanks! I'm glad you liked the letters.

Horsegirl 01: Thanks! :D I'm glad you liked them! And yes, the angst will come...now that we have a villain! MWAHAHA! XD

Snoozinghamster: Thank you! :) Of course it is. The hair is kind of a family thing. Except Thalos doesn't seem to have inherited it. Aww :P. Poor Thalos!

BlackMinx17: LOL, yes. It's just to lighten up the mood, really.

Guest: Haha, thanks! :) I appreciate you liking his letters! I really thought that Celeborn's part was a bit underrated and I was always really curious about his involvement and achievements when he was young, other than successfully wooing Galadriel!

Luin: I know...haha, that's a lot of people to write to, I know. Additionally...yes, I will continue all my stories, even if I'm not updating as much as I'm doing. It's just that there's school and then...there's home. But the thing is that I will always try to go on writing. Besides, how could I stop, with such awesome readers like you and others? And yes, I also promise to try and put some Leggy and Thranduil angst! :)

Guest: Thank you!

Schattenjagd (for both reviews): Hey there! Well yes, I am. I appreciate how much you like Legolas here. He is indeed much more serious and that's mainly because his grief is more fresh. Unlike the Legolas in Brothers By Heart, Legolas is not sure of himself and he doesn't know how to cope with himself, especially after such a traumatic incident. Besides, don't think that the twins are able to transform this 'dark' Legolas into the one you see in Brothers By Heart. There's like, a gap that is more than a thousand years old between the two stories and it takes the twins hundreds of years until Legolas is finally the carefree jokester that I picture for him to be. Of course, in the Quest he's much more serious since there's Middle Earth at stake and regardless of his age, I always really pictured Legolas as a responsible elf, in his peculiarly brave way. I do think that there were some fun moments in which he tries to lighten up the Fellowship's mood in which we weren't filled in. However, I'm glad you love this Legolas and thanks for all your reviews! :)