Back again for another chapter. Thank you to the new follows and favourites, everyone. Replies to reviews will be at the bottom of the chapter.

Hope y'all enjoy this chapter and don't forget: I welcome all kinds of feedback except unnecessary and rude criticism – if you're going to give any make sure it's helpful and you have points to back up your "It's shit" statement.

Btw I haven't received any of those kind of reviews, in case it sounds like I have. Just want to put it out there I guess.

Anyhoos, onward!

DISCLAIMER: I do not own LOTR or any of its characters. Only Maethoriel.

By the time the Council had finished, it was nearing evening. Lord Elrond therefore obviously found it logical to have a feast in honour of the company that very night. As the elves of Rivendell busied themselves with preparing the food and the hall and the entertainment, the guests were allowed to do as they pleased. Frodo and his fellow hobbits went off to Bilbo's room, Gandalf went to speak with Elrond, the dwarves went away to their quarters as did the men, the elves seemed to have disappeared amidst their Rivendell kin, and Maethoriel took to wandering the gardens.

She had seen probably every inch of Middle Earth from her father's Starpost; but to be so close to the features of the land that she could smell and touch them was another thing altogether. Everything seemed brighter and more alive from the ground, and she could spend hours smelling each and every flower, memorising its scent.

The gardens of Rivendell had a multitude of flowers, growing on a large expanse of grass with stone paths winding through it. She followed these paths, walking slowly through them with one forearm outstretched so that her fingers could trail the stems and petals by her side. The chirps of the birds and the sound of the gentle breeze brushing through the trees were like music to her ears; and then there was the singing and laughter of the elves that seemed to be a constant feature of the valley as well. Everything seemed so inexplicably beautiful and happy.

Maethoriel noticed then the sound of footsteps behind her, and she turned to see Elrond, Gandalf, and Aragorn walking along the path in her direction. Unlike her, Elrond and Aragorn did not seem to be acknowledging the happiness around them – instead they seemed rather concerned. Only Gandalf looked as if he shared her contentment. "May we speak to you, Maethoriel?" Elrond asked politely, forcing a smile.

She cocked her head to the side a little and studied them. "You wish to dissuade me," she murmured, a light crease appearing on her forehead.

Aragorn stepped forward then, with a pleading expression. "I understand that your father wishes for my survival, and I am honoured by that; but I do not want your life to be risked to ensure it."

"You are an Emberling, the child of a Star," Elrond added. "Your life is more important than any other who walks these lands."

The crease on Maethoriel's head deepened. "We are not the ones that are courageous and brave, the ones who sacrifice their lives for who they love and what they believe in, the ones who feel pain, anger, despair," she cut herself off, feeling that she was rambling, "We are the ones who watch others experience those things. We only ever watch. How can we be more important?" Elrond and Aragorn averted their gazes; but when Maethoriel looked to Gandalf, he smiled. This gave her more confidence in her argument, and she stood up even straighter than before. "Just because you do not see Stars or Emberlings often does not mean that we are superior. There must be hundreds, thousands of us." She walked to Aragorn and put a hand on his shoulder. When he lifted his gaze to her, she smiled encouragingly. "I understand your concern," she said softly, "But there is no need for it. I did not volunteer to join the Fellowship just because I wish to ensure your survival. I was also tasked with ensuring the destruction of the Ring." She looked to the others again. "I told you before that I would give my aid where it was needed, whether it was welcomed or not. I do not regret those words, nor am I taking them back." She took her hand down and lifted her chin proudly. "The Stars are lending aid to those who need it; and though we are not superior to you, it would be wise to accept that aid."

Elrond and Aragorn looked at her in wonder, while Gandalf came forward to stand by her side. "I agree with Maethoriel," he said. "This really doesn't need to be made a big deal. Legolas is a prince, and yet he is allowed to offer his help. Aragorn, you are the heir to the throne of Gondor, and you are also allowed to offer your help. Maethoriel is a daughter of Stars – who, need I remind you, did not actually partake in the battles your songs and stories speak of – so why should she not be able to do the same as the others?" When Elrond and Aragorn said nothing, Gandalf looked to Maethoriel and gave her a subtle wink, which she grinned at in reply.

"My apologies, Maethoriel," Elrond finally spoke. "I only wished to keep you safe."

"I know, Lord Elrond," she smiled. "But there really is no need. It is the people of Middle Earth who need to be kept safe, not I."

The wizard and the elf then took their leave, and Maethoriel walked along the path towards a large, magnificent fountain, Aragorn at her side. They sat on the wall in companionable silence for a long moment while he seemed to ponder what to say. "You need not apologise," Maethoriel told him quietly. "I am sure, if I was in your position, I would have said the same. Even now I act the same as you, because I do not want people to be in awe of me, or feel that I am too important to endanger. To be honest, I'm not used to that kind of attention, and I must say that I am not too fond of it."

Aragorn smiled. "I feel the same. When I was with the hobbits, even though we were in danger, I enjoyed it, because they did not know or care who I was. Even now, they still address me as 'Strider'."

"They are an interesting people," Maethoriel nodded. "I have always enjoyed their personalities."

"They are very surprising," he agreed, chuckling to himself at something he remembered. He seemed to be about to continue when another voice cut in.

"Sorry to interrupt." The voice was soft and yet strong, with a melodic twinge to it – it was the voice of an elf. He came to stand beside Aragorn, and they saw that it was Legolas. "But Lady Arwen asks for you, Aragorn."

"Thank you," he replied. "I will see you both at the feast tonight." With that he stood, bowed his head, and left in search of his love.

Legolas smiled brightly at Maethoriel. "My name is Legolas," he spoke, offering a small bow.

She inclined her head in return, smiling herself. "Maethoriel," she replied, "And I know your name, son of Thranduil."

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to where Aragorn had been sitting.

"Of course."

He sat down and looked to her, and Maethoriel noticed that her eyes were only level with his nose. "I know I should not be surprised or affected by the fact that you know who I am," he said. "I have no doubt that you know who many elves, men and dwarves alike are; but," he paused and smiled again, as if at himself, "That does not stop me from feeling flattered."

She grinned at his ignorance. "You should not disregard the feeling so," she told him, earning a curious look. "I often watched you train with your bow – in fact, I watched you become one with it. And after doing so, I was met with a sudden wish to be the same. It is because of you that I chose to carry that weapon with me while I am here."

He grinned, his blue eyes flashing with delight; but it also seemed that he was holding himself back. "Have you watched others like that?"

"I have only ever paid so much attention to you and to Aragorn," she admitted.

His grin faded as he thought of something more serious; but there was a brightness to his eyes that she knew had not been there before. "You carried more than a bow," he said, "Which means that you must be trained to fight."

She nodded. "Yes. When the Stars were given their names and the stories behind those names, they began to learn what it was they were named for. Baramaethor, for example, trained to be a warrior. Idhrenion, my father's neighbour, learned all that he could about life and the worlds, and watched those who shared the same trait as him: wisdom. An Emberling, however, can choose what area they will learn. Some even choose multiple areas. I chose to be trained as my father did, because I had a thirst for adventure and I knew that, one day, watching others go on adventures would not be enough for me. I knew that I would join one eventually."

Legolas nodded. "How skilled are you? If you do not mind me asking."

She smiled. "I can certainly hold my own in a fight. I have travelled to a world before, accompanying a friend of mine on her quest, and things took a turn for the worse. I was able to protect ourselves and a few innocent bystanders, and then my friend decided to return home."

"After our quest is over, if we manage to destroy the Ring and Middle Earth is freed from evil, will you also return to the sky?" he asked, frowning a little.

The question surprised Maethoriel slightly. She did not see why she would stay on this world – after all, it was not her home. "I do not think any Emberling has never returned to the sky," she said, deepening his frown. "But I have heard of a few that return to their favoured places sometimes."

"How often do they return?"

"Well, it is often in the terms of my people; but not, I think, in the terms of even yours. Why does this sadden you so, my friend?" she asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He smiled. "This is a rare moment," he replied, "I only wish that you could stay. Middle Earth seems a better place with your presence."

She retracted her hand to brush a strand of hair away from her face, which felt strangely warm. "You are imagining it," she told him, unable to hide her smile. It was strange, how she was feeling – before, when she first arrived and all watching seemed in awe of her, she had felt uncomfortable; but, now, though she still felt uncomfortable, it was not an unpleasant feeling. "If our quest does succeed, I have no doubt that there will be many orcs and other evil creatures still hiding. They will need taking care of, and – if I have survived until then – I will aid those who hunt them."

Legolas seemed disturbed by the possibility that she might not survive. "I will ensure that you live to see this quest completed, Maethoriel," he told her with determination, "Even if it means the death of me."

She frowned and looked up at him quickly. "No, Legolas. You will treat me as if I were another elf. I do not wish for special treatment."

His face softened. "But you deserve it." Her frown deepened and she opened her mouth to retaliate; but he spoke before she could. "Not only because of what you are." A soft warmth covered Maethoriel's hand, and she looked down to see his own envelop it. She could not tear her eyes away from the foreign gesture, wondering at the strange feeling in her chest, until he spoke again. "Not even the Lady Galadriel can rival a beauty such as yours," he said, and she looked up at him in surprise.

"This is not my natural form," she retorted quickly.

"No," he agreed, smiling. "But it is the embodiment of your essence, is it not?" She could say nothing, so she merely nodded mutely, her face feeling warmer than ever. It only got worse when he continued. "Your beauty is too rare, too precious, to be left unguarded."

She stood then, her hand slipping from his grasp, and he followed quickly with a troubled expression. "You have my thanks, son of Thranduil," she said. "And I apologise, but I must take my leave now to prepare for the feast." She bowed her head and walked away before he could say anything more.

She had so many questions, and yet she was reluctant to voice them. Why did it feel nice when he complimented her? Why did her face warm up as it did? And why in the name of the worlds was her heart beating faster than normal?

Melethainiel, the Star of love, hovered in her Starpost, watching Aragorn and Arwen speak words of adoration to each other. She did not usually look to Middle Earth for love, as the majority of its lands were shrouded in the darkness of evil; but whenever an Emberling travels to a world, most Stars tend to pay more attention to that world, and so Melethainiel was watching Middle Earth along with many of her kind. She realised, having seen the bond Aragorn and Arwen shared, that she would most likely be watching over the Emberling's quest merely to see how the two dealt with the separation, and whether they would be reunited in the end.

This realisation strengthened when she looked to said Emberling, and saw her conversing with another elf. Melethainiel could sense the elf's immediate interest in the Emberling, the immediate attraction – and she could also sense that the Emberling did not feel exactly the opposite. She knew that Maethoriel, had it been someone else in her position, would have seen what Melethainiel could see now: the way that the elf was reluctant to look away from the Emberling's face, and that his skin itched to touch hers. But those kinds of ideas, directed at Maethoriel, were completely foreign to her, and so it would be a long while before she realised them.

Melethainiel suddenly felt the conscience of Baramaethor the Warrior, the father of Maethoriel, and she smiled knowingly. "I can see them, Baramaethor," she said.

"How strong are their feelings?" he asked.

"It is a mere... fascination," she replied, "For now."

She sensed his unease. "Will it get in the way?"

"These feelings may be new to Maethoriel; but she is not unwise. Her priority lies with the tasks you gave her."

"What if the feelings become too strong?"

"Do not doubt your daughter's loyalty to you, my friend. She is capable of handling the two situations if it comes to that."

He was quiet for a long moment. "And if she falls in love? What then?"

Melethainiel watched as a red-faced Emberling quickly walked away from a saddened elf, her body and mind flustered. "Then she will have to make a choice: return to her kingdom and her people; or stay on Middle Earth until whatever end awaits her there."

Maethoriel had been given a deep, forest-green dress for the feast that night. It was sleeveless, with two thick straps over her shoulders to secure it. The soft material hugged her waist and chest, but became more loose and flowing around her legs. It came to her knees at the front, and lengthened around the back to where it was lightly trailing the ground by her heels. Someone had stitched leaves into the material in a soft silver, creating a subtle pattern. Maethoriel had always admired the beauty of dresses, and, though she did not much like to wear them, she was honoured by the gesture and gladly wore the piece. Her pitch black hair was soft and silky in its naturally curly form, cascading over her back and shoulders. Her slight fringe had been twirled around itself and pinned at the side of her head with an intricate and beautiful piece of light metal.

Bilbo came to collect her, instantly commenting on her "splendid" outfit. He escorted her to the hall where the feast was taking place, and her large emerald eyes darted around the room in attempt to take everything in at once. A long, wooden table sat in the middle of the hall, starting a few paces from the doorway and ending right by the other wall. At least twenty-one seats were positioned around it, the largest and most magnificent being at the head of the table opposite Maethoriel and Bilbo. Around this table were many other smaller ones, where elves had already seated themselves and were talking amiably. The pillars holding the ceiling aloft were carved to look like tree trunks, the tops and bottoms spreading out as if branches and roots were growing from them. Torches sat upon the four walls, lighting the room in a bright atmosphere.

Maethoriel followed Bilbo to half way up the table, where the other hobbits were already seated. He took his place next to Frodo, with Sam next to his nephew, and Maethoriel took the seat opposite next to Merry, with Pippin next to him. They exchanged warm greetings and friendly small talk as the seats in the hall began to fill up. On Bilbo's other side sat Boromir, while on Maethoriel's other side sat Gimli. Next to Boromir went Legolas, Aragorn sat next to Gimli, and beside them came Elrond's sons, then Arwen and Gandalf, then Elrond himself at the head.

The food was glorious, with a seemingly never-ending supply, and the company was even more so. Maethoriel listened and laughed at the antics of Merry and Pippin back in the Shire, and every so often shared a few words with Gimli the dwarf, who turned out to be a differently amusing character. He raved about the Dwarven cities and kingdoms, and Maethoriel told him of how she had seen many of them in their glory days, and how she wished she had visited them. He seemed to be more friendly towards her after that – the fact that she had taken the form of an elf had made him reluctant before.

Aragorn spent a lot of his time either speaking brief, tense words with Boromir, or interacting with the head of the table. He seemed to get along well with the sons of Elrond, and they had many humorous conversations with Legolas, who only spoke with the top of the table. Maethoriel knew that it was either because he did not wish to create more tension by looking down the table where Gimli was sat – and on high alert – or because he felt that their interaction by the fountain ended poorly and he did not wish to address it there. Either way, she felt a mixture of relief and disappointment.

For hours afterwards the hall was alive with chatter and laughter and singing, and Maethoriel could honestly say that she had never had such an experience before. When she finally retired for the evening – though the dark sky was beginning to brighten by that time – she fell asleep with a large, joyful smile on her lips.

Thar ya go!

Replies to reviews now.

IceheartsChill: Your demand has been answered! Well as long as you keep reading and encouraging me, that's fine haha. Thanks for taking the time to R&R:)

RescueAngel: Here it is! Thank you very much, that's exactly what I wanted to hear. The fact that you're reading because you're interested and not just because it's a Legolas romance is really encouraging and flattering, so thank you.

.M: Thank you very much, hope you enjoyed the chapter!

P.S- sometimes when I'm writing how Maethoriel and her people "watch" others on Middle Earth, I feel weird and uncomfortable. It just every so often seems a little stalker-ish, and I really, really hope it doesn't come off like that to you. Though, I wouldn't be surprised if it did now that I've mentioned it... oh well.

Peace out homies