(A/N: Sorry for the long wait. School and the rest of regular life has been keeping me from updating. By the way, The Battle of Five Armies was amazing! I've finally finished with diplomacy with Fanfiction so here's the new chapter.)

I found that we would be leaving tomorrow and I just can't find a way to keep myself occupied. And of course this is why I would either go hunt or somehow get into some form of trouble back home.

I climb up to the top of a tree and pull out my bow and arrows. I notch an arrow and aim right at the eye of a bird in another tree.

The arrow flies to its target and hits it dead on. I jump down and race over. I pick up the bird and pull the arrow out.

It seems like such a waste to hunt something, but not to have it be used in a way.

I walk over to the waterfall and set the bird gracefully down into the water. It floats slowly down stream until it's out of sight.

I dip my arrow into the water to clean it when I hear a snap of a twig behind me. I notch an arrow just in case and turn around. It's Aragorn.

"I didn't realize you were such a good shot, for a woman," he says and sits down.

I shrug, "I'm surprised you snuck that far up behind me. Yes you did break a twig right behind me but the fact that you made it that far without me hearing you is amazing considering I'm an elf."

"Well I am a ranger," he says humorously.

"I've seen how you act around Arwen. You are in love with her," I tell him. He nods, so he must be in love with her.

I put the arrow I had been cleaning back into my quiver and stand up. "You know, Aragorn if you want, I could spar with you. Most of the other elves don't fight with a sword like I do."

"I accept your offer, and I will meet you in an hour," Aragorn says then walks away.

I pace while waiting for Aragorn to come. I left my bow and arrows in my room and now I have my handcrafted sword of my own making strapped at my side.

I pull it out of the scabbard and look at the piece of metal I made a few hundred years ago: Vornalda. The silver blade is etched with gold and the large handle fits both hands when I need to and only one as well.

"That's a well made sword, Nemlas," I hear Aragorn say as he comes over. His sword is strapped to his side and has a wide handle.

"Yes, I made it myself many years ago."

"No time to chat. Let's start," Aragorn says then takes his sword out of its sheath. It glints silver in the light.

I look at my own sword. It gives off a dark feeling, but that is why I named it dark tree. The darkness of Mirkwood lives in its blade, and it will strike fear into the enemy.

Aragorn is a good swordsman and the duel ends in a stalemate. We both have a blade to our neck in the end. I smile; we are evenly matched.

"Well done, Aragorn. Not many people can match me in a duel. I killed many in the Battle of Five Armies, sixty years ago," I tell him.

"I can see that," he replies, calmly, and he lowers his sword and sheaths it. The cold aura that surrounds my sword vanishes as I sheath Vornalda.

The next day is spent just trying to kill time: climbing trees, shooting arrows, sharpening my blades, making more arrows, etc. Unfortunately, I get bored nearly to death by noon.

I groan, as I sit at the top of a tree facing the waterfall. "Why is there nothing to do here?"

"Maybe that is because you have a narrow mind, Sister," I hear a familiar voice say.

"Perhaps, Legolas, you may have just found the reason for all of the trouble I have caused back home," I say, and shift to see my twin standing down below me at the foot of the tree. "Like the time I caused a wave if snow come flooding through the gates one Hrivë (SL: winter). Or the time I chased a herd of deer right into our home when we were getting low on game."

Legolas smiles, which he doesn't do often, "And what about when you set a live snake in father's room, when he tried to make you wear a dress."

I laugh; I never wear women's clothes and mother (who died when I was young) never wore them either from my early memories. When father first tried to make me wear a dress one time, I had hated his guts and wouldn't rest until he was driven to his level of treachery. I had set a potentially deadly snake in his chambers and you could hear him scream like a girl all the way from the edge of the forest!

"I suppose that father will never forget that," Legolas says.

"Nor will he ever try to get me in a dress again," I reply. I climb down and stand next to him. "Let's go see if your archery still matches mine, brother," I say, holding up my bow, which I had carried up the tree with me, and walk over to the targets, where we could practice.

We each hit the center of the target with each arrow, but I struck my arrow in the same spot each time. The arrows were literally in pieces (with the exception of the last one, which didn't have a scratch upon it). "Well, that will be something to do, today," I comment on the broken arrows.

And that is what I end up doing for the rest of the day. By nightfall I have forty new arrows made and I still have ten from before, so I should have plenty of arrows, but if there will be a battle, I won't worry about that: I will just cleave my enemies with my sword.

I settle down to rest for the night as we leave for Mordor tomorrow. Even though elves don't need to sleep like men or dwarves or hobbits, I know that this will be a long, hard journey.