(Disclaimer: I have made a few minor changes to the timeline. Mostly the condensing of events, and I'll admit I totally botched Celebrian's life progression. Nothing too terribly serious, but please be aware :)

(Note: Also, if you are interested, there is a link to some music that has inspired parts of this story - check it out in my profile!)

The Silvan elves are capable of cruelty. It was often that I had to stop them while they beat other Silvas for no other reason than dislike. I hated to see a crying, curled up young man being kicked by other malicious youth. They would sneer at me, and mock me.

"Pardon, O wise one," they would say. "Thy wisdom beams into our minds and erases all reason."

I tried not to let it upset me. They were young, after all, but so was I, and so was Thranduil. Thranduil was arrogant, hot-headed, and conceited, but never cruel.

He was the prince, the only son of our king Oropher, and I was known as the daughter of a nobleman from Lothlórien, who had sent me to be schooled in Oropher's care. And so the young prince and I were trained together – him to be king, and I was to be an emissary of the elves. Although we spent almost every day in one another's company, the only thing we ever agreed on was that we hated sitting in classes. We would scheme together to get out of our history lessons, but once we succeeded we often began fighting, and our free time would be spent apart, each sulking and not enjoying the freedom as we had hoped. He wanted to sword fight, I wanted to shoot arrows. He wanted to raid the kitchens, I wanted to climb trees. We were as opposite as day and night, but we were also the only friend the other had. Our forced companionship made us the best of friends, and the vilest of enemies. It was a tumultuous relationship, but one that I treasured as my only amity.

Once we had a short poetry competition, caused by a disagreement over the technicalities of verse. The news of the impending event spread like wildfire through the eager elves living in Greenwood, and our audience overfilled the king's reception hall.

"You may still withdraw," Thranduil told me as we watched elves file in to observe the competition between the prince and the noble-girl. He was smirking. He knew of my distaste of public speaking.

"And let you win with your lousy declamation? Never," I replied, resisting the urge to stick my tongue out at him. As the lesser noble, I performed first. I am proud to say that my voice did not tremble.

In a pond, a butterfly rises
By a stream, a snake abandons a rock.

Such is life; such is life.

Over a pool, a kingfisher dwells
Under a fallen branch, a fish survives.

Such is life; such is life.

In a tree, lovers meet
Under the glimmering Moon they reunite.

Such is life; such is life.

I received a well amount of applause. I had always been told that my poetry was mature for a still-young girl, and I expected to win. Thranduil always minced his words. But today he did not, and his back was straight as he recited:

Your feet fell fair upon the snow
as you ran to me. Your fingers,
you opened to catch the winter's river.

My hands sought there
to keep you, yet you flowed out.
In this sad tale, I clutched naught but water.*

The listening audience laughed at the ditty. I was livid. It was clever! He had never shown an aptitude for poetry before, and this was a fine time to reveal it. I confronted him after the other elves began to leave.

"Those are not your words!" I said. "They cannot be!"

Thranduil, in reply, winked at me, brandishing the prize of a silver necklace before my eyes. "Ah, but who is to know?" he asked.

He had cheated!

"No one will believe you, Caradel," he said. My face must have been murderous. "Perchance, for a smile, I will part with the prize. It would look far lovelier on your neck than mine."

I stomped away then, refusing further banter. He merely laughed. Such was our relationship. We never stopped trying to outfight, outwit, or outperform the other.

One facet of Thranduil's personality that always troubled me was that he never supported me in my protection of the weak. He would merely watch as I broke up the mob of youths torturing their fellow, or freed a pregnant mole from a cruel trap.

"You are wasting your efforts," he would say. "You said it yourself – such is life."

"That does not make it right," I said. He simply shrugged and walked away, leaving me to tend to the mole.

We were young; perhaps I should not have judged him as harshly as I did. I would not speak to him for several days after such incidents, and he seemed not to care.

We came of age the same year, as did many other young men and women in Greenwood. It was to be a summer of festivities and merriments, and I nearly trembled with excitement at the prospect of dancing late into the night, drinking wine and flirting with men that could be my future beaus. Thranduil took quite a different attitude.

"Bah," he said, arriving at the library late, where we were assigned to study the War of Wrath. "This frippery is ridiculous! Imagine – four hours of being stuck with pins by ruddy seamstresses!" He collapsed noisily into a chair, disturbing the air and causing pages from the book I was reading to ruffle. I tried to stop it – but I lost my place. I was very close to losing my patience.

"Think," I said, willing myself to stay calm. "You only come of age once. It is nothing to get upset over."

"I don't want a silly dance."

"Don't be a brat." I tried once more to turn my focus onto the dreary volume.

"Let's go riding," Thranduil said, standing up and upsetting the pages once more.

I closed my eyes to keep my temper in check. "Very well," I said. "Since it seems that I cannot get any work done."

"Come on then!" My hand was impatiently clenched in his hot one and I was dragged down to the stables. We quickly saddled our respective horses.

"Where are you two off to?" The head groomsman, Varandil, strode in to watch our eager actions.

"We're going riding," Thranduil replied, on the defensive.

"Alone?"

"Aye. Are there rules against that?" Thranduil's voice was rising, and this time I did not try to prevent my eyes from rolling.

"Propriety matters," Valandil said, pulling down a saddle of his own. "I will accompany you."

Thranduil's face was murderous. "Don't be daft," I said at him from the next stall over. "We are almost of age! He's right – it's not seemly for us to depart together without a proper chaperone." Thranduil stuck his tongue out at me, and I wasted no time telling him just how badly he smelt of orc dung.

"Prissy brat," he said under his breath.

Valandil was ignorant of the tension that hovered between Thranduil and me. We rode into the forest in a stiff silence that was penetrated only by shrill bird calls and the rustle of leaves under the horses' stamping hooves. I caught Thranduil glaring at me with eyes that could ignite a meadow.

"Watch where your horse is going, little prince," I told him. "I would hate to witness your demise over a cliff."

"Rich words, from a girl who is clumsy enough to be taken over a cliff by her own two feet!" Thranduil shot back.

"That is an untruth and you know it," I said, sitting up straighter on my horse. "In our dance lessons, I am always commended more often than you for gracefulness."

Thranduil's tone was snide as he said, "Then I must speak with Eberel about that praise. You are getting much too prideful to learn anything."

"So I have caught up to you!" I exclaimed. "The only area you excelled further than me."

"Not true!"

I reined in my horse sharply to face his, who stopped abruptly. "Prove it," I said, vicious to the last.

"Quiet!" Valandil's voice cut through our argument. He had fallen behind and his gaze was now darting through the darkening trees. Thranduil and I exchanged bewildered glances at this, and then turned to the groomsman. Silence crept into the glade as we kept still. I could now sense what had alerted Valandil, but I could not tell the direction it came from. Thranduil was equally attentive, eyes skimming the trees skillfully. Then –

Thunk! Valandil fell from his saddle, a thick, black arrow protruding from his side. "Flee!" he cried to us. The cries of goblins began to reach our ears, and our horses leaped from the scene.

I turned back as best I could on a thundering horse to catch a glimpse of the wounded groomsman, but he was nowhere to be seen. The pony he had been riding was rearing and screaming as it was overtaken by dark forms. Then it was silent once more.

I turned to Thranduil, who looked nearly as fearful as I felt. Ambushed! And so close to the city. We rode for miles into the night, and once the only sound was our horses' faltering steps, I insisted that we stop.

"Where are we?" Thranduil asked, breathing heavily as he dismounted. I could barely see his form in the darkness.

"We're safe," I snapped. "And Valandil is hurt – or dead. Why did you have to suggest that we go riding?" I dismounted and patting my horse down, murmuring words to her of how wonderfully she carried me safely away from the goblins. She whinnied tiredly, blowing hot breath onto my face.

"And was I to know that we would be in mortal danger?" Thranduil was stamping around in frustration. "Gods, it's cold out here. How are we supposed to find our way back to the city?"

"Patiently," I said, emphasizing the word to the point of rudeness. "We've studied the stars. It should be quite simple to navigate."

"Open your eyes!" Thranduil stormed. "There are no stars!"

I looked up – and sure enough, thick spring leaves obscured the sky from view. The trees at this section of the forest were far too tall for even elves to climb. "Very well," I said, leveling my eyes to match the prince's. "What do you suggest?"

"We need to stay safe," he began pacing less violently, and more rapidly, thinking out loud. "Goblins fear the sun, which doesn't matter anyways since it is night. They are cowards – they won't attack a large group of elves."

"We're not a large group," I pointed out.

"But if they think we are a large group, they'll leave us be – for the night, at least. Then when the sun is up we can retrace our steps."

"A wonderful plan," I said. "All we need to fool them is to let you go on about yourself – that shouldn't be hard. You would certainly be boisterous enough."

Thranduil ignored my comment and went about making a fire. Soon a glow began to penetrate the trees, and I welcomed the warmth as the prince went about making several other fires a short distance away.

"It's a good start," he announced once he finished, crouching near me to warm his hands.

"Bah," I said, bad-tempered. "Tonight was to be Lerwen's ball! I was so very excited." I shot him a glance. "I am going to blame you entirely for this."

"Do," Thranduil said, rolling his eyes at me. "Who would want to dance with those stupid inflated adolescent boys anyways?" he mumbled, as if to himself.

"I do!" I said. "I for one am expected to marry – and if I don't run the race I will miss the best prizes."

"Prizes," Thranduil harrumphed. "That's all it is! Fluff and perfume to catch the eye of the most handsome man, or swaggering and puffing for the most beautiful woman."

"Such is life," I flipped my thick braid over my shoulder.

"I would rather wife a women that I know as more than just pretty," Thranduil said.

"Fancy that! I could not imagine a woman with a brain thinking you any more than a spoiled prince!"

"Who said anything about brains?" Thranduil quirked his eyebrow at me. "I want a wife that can sew a shirt without staining it with blood!" It was a jibe at my lack of embroidery skills, and so I stuck my tongue out at him.

"I, for one, will wed a man that has put youth is behind him," I said. "A man that will never cease to romance me as long as we're together."

Thranduil snorted. "You will soon find that such men do not exist."

I turned my nose up, shivering in the growing cold. "I wish I had thought to bring a cloak," I mourned.

"It will be worse in the trees," Thranduil said. "Alas - it is unsafe to sleep on the ground."

I groaned and stood. "The sooner I sleep, the sooner it is morning and we may return the city." I climbed a great oak near the center of all the fires until I was about 10 meters from the ground.

"Don't fall," Thranduil called to me.

"If I do, I'll land on you," I shouted back.

It was a bitter night, and sleep did not come easily. I stayed alert enough to extend my hearing for the enemy (there were no goblins near us the entire night) and to keep myself from tipping over the side of the branch. I trembled at the cold, curling myself into the tightest position I could without upsetting my balance. I also knew when Thranduil climbed my tree.

"Sit up," he whispered. I did, and he situated himself behind me and pulled me into a snug embrace, rubbing my arms to get the blood flowing.

I was drowsy, but grateful for his concern. He had never shown such care for me before. I would normally make a snide comment, but I was too needy of his help on this night. I relaxed into his warm body and allowed my mind to rest.

*The two verses in this chapter were written by J.R.R. Tolkien. All of the poems and songs later in the story are mine, unless otherwise annotated.