I would love to thank Marana, and sarahsmithysweet for reviewing! It means a lot to see that people are enjoying my story :) Again, I own nothing recognizable as Tolkien's works or characters. I only own Elva, Isil, and Aerin. Reviews are highly welcomed, and all flames shall be used to warm our homes. Enjoy!

Chapter 4: Rivendell

The group traveled through the underground tunnel. Elva's claws clacked quietly on the stone floor beneath them. It helped calm her mind as they walked. Her hackles were raised and ears pinned in worry. Imladris was the last place she wanted to return to. And now it was the one place they were headed. Each step she took felt as though the stone itself was attempting to keep her feet planted where they stepped. Her paws felt heavier than ever, and she just wanted to freeze where she was forever. A part of the rock and stone. After a short time of navigating the tunnel, the company reached the end. It opened up to a magnificent view of Imladris. The Elven city was grande, Elva knew that, even the Dwarves stood in awe of it. But it was not the city that caused her such unease. It was who waited in the city for her return. She sat at the mouth of the tunnel and pinned her ears. Every part of her being said to turn back, but how long could someone run before they finally exhausted themselves? Gandalf came up behind her and smiled softly. She glanced up at him, wondering if his plan to lead them to Imladris was just to seek guidance from Elrond, or if there was something else he had been planning along with that.

"The Valley of Imladris." He announced. "In the common tongue it is known by another name."

"Rivendell." Bilbo stated softly.

"Here lies the Last Homely House east of the sea." Gandalf said.

"Blast it all, Wizard." Elva snarled at him. "What are you playing at?"

Gandalf gave her a look, but said nothing in reply. Thorin was also outraged at where they had been lead. He held no love for Elves in his heart.

"This was your plan all along." He growled. "To seek refuge with our enemy."

"You have no enemies here, Thorin Oakenshield." The Wizard replied. "The only ill will to be found in this valley is that which you bring yourself."

Elva glanced at the Hobbit, and noticed he had a smug look on his face. It was a look that could almost be seen as haughty. Elva gave a soft snort of mild amusement. Thorin would hear none of what Gandalf had to say.

"You think the Elves will give our quest their blessing?" He asked. "They will try to stop us."

"Of course they will." Gandalf nodded. "But we have questions that need to be answered. If we are to be successful this will need to be handled with tact, and respect, and no small degree of charm."

"Well that leaves you out as liaison." Elva quipped with a smug, wolfish grin.

"Which is why you will leave the talking to me." Gandalf finished with a glare at Elva.

She snorted in amusement and padded along with the rest of the company. She kept a slight distance, wanting to be alone with her thoughts; and so she could prepare herself for who was waiting for her. Bofur walked in the back, a little behind the Dwarf with part of an Ax imbedded in his skull. He noticed Elva's lag and paused so she could catch up. Elva swiveled her ears towards him and gave the Dwarf a look of confusion.

"We don't bite, ya know." He said. "It's safe to walk with us."

Elva's ears twitched and she watched the ground in front of her sullenly.

"But something tells me that isn't what you're so worried about." Bofur concluded. "Want to talk about it?"

Elva shook her head.

"Well, just know if you ever need an ear, I've got two of them." The Dwarf clapped a hand on her shoulder and sped up a little.

"Why do you do that?" Elva asked him angrily.

"That's not something I'm going to get used to." Bofur started at the sudden voice in his mind, glancing back at her. "Do what, lass?"

"So freely give out pity for one you don't even know?" Elva replied.

"It's not pity." Bofur shook his head, pausing so she could catch up again.

"What would you call it?"

"Friendship."

This caused Elva to stop in surprise. She tilted her head trying to wrap her mind around what he was implying.

"We hardly know each other." She stated, walking again. "And yet you say we are friends?"

"We don't have to call it friendship." Bofur remedied. "We could be cohorts, acquaintances, associates, familiars, companions, partners, compatriots, allies..."

"You talk far too much." Elva scowled.

Bofur laughed and nodded.

"Aye, I suppose I do." He agreed. "But a coward loves the sound of his own voice."

This, too, caused Elva much confusion.

"You are no coward." She told him, a hint of sorrow in her voice. "Not even close."

"Course I am." He disagreed. "Didn't you see me when the Wargs attacked. I was useless."

"You saved my life." Elva reminded him.

"That was a fluke." Bofur shook his head. "Wasn't sure what I was doing. I'm not a warrior, not like Thorin and his nephews, or Balin and Dwalin. Not even like my own cousin, Bifur. I'm a toymaker. I carve out playthings for children."

"Then why did you save me if there isn't a warrior in you?" She challenged.

"Because I had to." He replied seriously, then returned to his lighthearted manner. "It was just a stroke of luck I hit the Warg and not you."

Elva gave him a sidelong glance and shook her head. He was obviously trying to get her mind of off where they were headed. And his humour did make her feel better, if only slightly. What she didn't realize was that the icy, stone walls she built around her heart were beginning to crack with every word he spoke to her. They crossed the bridge into the main courtyard in the city and were met by an Elf named Lindir. He gave a bow to Gandalf and walked over with a smile. The Dwarves whispered to themselves uncertainly. Lindir spoke to Gandalf in Elvish. Elva swiveled her ears behind her to where the company had just arrived from. She could hear the hooves of Elvish horses coming.

"We heard you had crossed into the Valley." Lindir said.

"I must speak with Lord Elrond." Gandalf said grimly.

"My Lord Elrond is not here." The Elf informed them.

"Not here?" Gandalf asked in unbelief. "Where is he?"

The same horn blast they heard on the plains called out again. A band of Elvish horses and their riders galloped across the bridge and surrounded the Dwarves. They made a tight circle and held closely to their weapons, preparing for an attack from the Elves. Elva slunk to a shadowy corner praying the one person she did not wish to see was not there.

"My friend!" Gandalf called. "Where have you been?"

"We've been hunting a pack of Orcs that came up from the south." Elrond replied, dismounting his steed. "We slew a number near the Hidden Pass."

He embraced Gandalf in a brief hug and held up an Orc scimitar.

"Strange for Orcs to come so close to our boarders." Elrond commented. "Something, or someone, has drawn them near."

"Ah..." Gandalf said sheepishly. "That may have been us."

Elrond finally glanced at the group of huddled Dwarves in the center of his courtyard. Thorin stepped forward.

"Welcome Thorin, son of Thrain." Elrond said genuinely.

"I do not believe we have met." Thorin replied, begrudging the fact he was forced into the home of Elves.

"You have your grandfather's bearing." Elrond commented. "I knew Thror when he ruled under the mountain."

"Indeed?" Question Thorin. "He made no mention of you."

Elva pinned her ears at the Dwarf and stalked forward, but only because she was sure she would not run into the one she did not wish to meet. Elva knew why Elves and Dwarves did not get along. It was due to the impatience of Aulë. He created the Dwarves so he could teach his craft to someone, for he was concerned over Melkor's betrayal. Eru forgave Aulë and granted life to the Dwarves, but they would not be awaked until after the Elves. For they were to be the first born race of Middle Earth. And because of that, the Elves and the Dwarves were cursed to always find strife with one another. But since the Elves were a higher race, they could find civility an easier feat than the Dwarves. Elrond was not angry, he simply looked amused at Thorin. Then he spoke to the Dwarves in Elvish, knowing they would not understand him. Elva glanced at him in surprise, she did not think he could be such a deviant. She snorted in amusement, catching his eye.

"What does he say?" One of the Dwarves demanded. "Does he offer us insult?

"No Master Gloin, He's offering food." Gandalf calmed them.

The Dwarves conversed with each other for a moment.

"Ah, well." A thick bearded, ginger Dwarf said. "In that case, lead on."

Elva shook her head at them and followed along at a distance again. She kept her ears pricked for any indication that removing herself from sight would be appropriate. Elrond led the group to the dining hall where they could rest. Elva sat in the corner, as far from them all as she could manage. Elrond spoke with Gandalf and after a moment he walked over to Elva and looked at her sadly. She pinned her ears and looked up at the Elf Lord.

"May I assist you," Elva questioned. "Or have you come simply to stare? If so, I would like to inform you that a portrait would, in all likelihood, last longer."

"You have fallen so far." Elrond commented. "There is someone who wishes to speak with you."

"I do not wish to speak with him." Elva growled. "I know what he would say to me. And though I have every right to know his hatred, I would rather not face him to feel it."

"Hatred?" Elrond asked.

"You are rather mistaken." Said a new voice.

Elva turned in surprise at the newcomer. She only then realized that there was a second presence in her mind. But it was so similar to her own, and one she had not felt in ages, that it slipped past her unnoticed. Standing in the doorway was a tall man of regal bearing. He wore pale blue robes with golden embroidery and a silver cloak. The man was tall, standing a little over six feet. He had wide, owlish, brown eyes. His nose was long, slender, and slightly hooked. His grey hair was short and slightly shaggy. In his arms he held an ancient looking book. Although with its size it could better said to be a tome. He placed it on the table, glided over to Elva, and knelt in front of her. She pinned her ears and turned her head away. The man reached a hand towards her face to turn it back towards himself. Elva flinched away as though afraid of a blow. The man sighed.

"Elva." He said softly. "Look at me, my dearest sister."

Oh how she had missed that gentle, soothing voice. Elva trembled with uncertainty as a war raged in her mind. How was it possible that so few words could so easily break apart her stone walls? Part of her wanted to throw her arms around her brother and beg for his forgiveness, but another part refused to, was unable to, let go of the hatred she had built up over the centuries. With a silent cry she rushed from the room and ran deep into the heart of the garden, as far from anyone as she could possibly be. She shifted back into her human form and collapsed to the ground weeping. Elva curled into as small a ball as she could manage and lay there for a time. She wasn't sure how long she had been there, but eventually footsteps made their way towards her. It was a single, soft pair, and she knew who they belonged to.

"Let me be, Aerin." She whispered.

"I must speak with you, Elva." Her brother replied, sitting down next to her.

"What is there to say?" She asked, glancing at him.

"You must know that I do not blame you." Aerin told her. "Not anymore, at least. Of course I did in the beginning. As did Radagast. But we understand what happened, and we know that your actions were not yours to wholly fault."

"If only the Valar were so understanding." Elva growled.

"Why do you harbor such hatred in your heart, my sister?" Aerin asked.

"Mairon got off free and clear while I am stuck here paying for his crime!" She snapped. "I would believe I had the right to harbor anger towards the Valar for what they did to me."

"No." Aerin shook his head. "It means you learn what they are trying to teach you. That is why you have not been returned. The hatred in your heart cannot allow them to restore you, for you must learn how to let go and how to love again, else how are you better than he?"

"So that is the lesson they wish to have me learn, is it?" Elva questioned. "To open my heart up again? I tried that once, and look at the consequences that it produced."

"That is the risk of allowing others to hold the key to your heart." Aerin reached out and grasped her hand refusing to let her jerk it away. "What of me? Have you lost your love for me, too?"

Elva looked at him in shock, then stared at the ground trying to figure out what she felt anymore. Aerin sighed softly and let go of her hand. He stood up and made to leave.

"When you know how you feel, I am ready to listen." He said, then left.

Elva listened to the receding of his footfalls until they were gone. She looked up at the sky. The sun was only an hour from setting. Perhaps it would be good to return and find her room. She picked herself up and wandered back to the inner part of the city. As she explored the halls, trying to remember where her room had been, she ran into a figure and was knocked backwards. Elva shook her head and glared up at whoever it was. She recognized the figure as Bofur and pursed her lips. He held out his hand to help her up, but she brushed it away and stood back up on her own.

"Sorry 'bout that." Bofur said. "Wasn't watching where I was going."

"No, no." Elva sighed. "I didn't see you. What are you doing wandering around?"

"I was enjoying the sights." Bofur answered.

"It is very beautiful here." Elva agreed stiffly.

"So what made you run off earlier?" The Dwarf asked. "We were worried for you."

"We?" She quirked an eyebrow.

"Aye, we." Bofur nodded. "'Course that doesnae mean all. Mostly myself, Gandalf, Master Baggins, the Elf Lord, and the other Elf that had spoken with you."

"Aerin." Elva told him automatically.

"Pardon?" The Dwarf asked.

"My brother, the other one." She clarified grudgingly. "His name is Aerin. But he isn't an Elf."

"Certainly looks of one." Bofur commented. "If he isn't an Elf, and he is your brother, what does that make you?"

Elva watched him for a moment, eyes narrowed.

"Why are you on this quest?" She asked.

"I was told the ale would be free." Bofur replied with a grin.

"Do you not have someone you are doing this for?" She questioned. "Why would you willingly put yourself in danger if you are the coward you stated earlier?"

"I was asked." Bofur shrugged.

"I don't understand you." She growled.

"Don't worry, lass." He winked. "Neither do I."

"You have not answered my question." Elva said, ignoring him.

Bofur studied her for a moment, his light hearted humour gone. Instead it was replaced with a seriousness Elva had not seen on him before. It was reminiscent of her own sorrow. She looked at him curiously, but could not hold his gaze. The intensity he stared at her was unnerving. Elva didn't know why, or what, she felt. And the worst part, was that she didn't know if it was something she hated or not. Bofur glanced down at a bench beside them and sat down. He motioned for Elva to sit as well. She hesitated a moment. Unsure of whether or not to sit by him. She had made it a habit to be as far as physically possible from others. Things became far too intimate when people were in close proximity. Bofur waited patiently for her to make her decision. After a long deliberation, Elva sat on the corner of the bench. She left several feet of space between her and Bofur, but he accepted it without qualm.

"Do you prefer romance or tragedies?" He asked.

Not a whole lot is known about Bofur's past. Tolkien didn't really cover it, so I hope that my explanation will be acceptable.