Dear Readers,

It would very much appreciated if you could leave a review or a comment. I am open to reviews, comments, suggestions, opinions, and constructive criticism. Should you decide to leave a review, thank you for your feedback as it is most valuable. Should you not wish to then thank you for taking the time to read my story.

I would like to extend an offer of thanks to the individuals at .net because their plethora of Elvish pages have been invaluable for this story. Thank you.

Warm regards,

~Anariel RR

Flashback – 600 years ago…

"Don't cry, little one. I will fetch you some goodies...some sweets perhaps." Brethil reached over me and pat my head. His action caused me to plunge further into the sorrowful abyss of reality - the reality that my very own parents were dead.

"Brethil...pe channas!" Laerorn jeered in an easy but mean-spirited manner. I would later come to realize the fact that everyone in the Guard seemed to give Brethil a hard time because it was funny. He got so angry so easily, thus the appeal.

"Me? Pe channas? Hah!" Brethil cried in protest, pointing his finger accusingly at his dark-haired friend. "Well I say to you...Ego, mibo Orch!" Laerorn didn't even seem offended at that but burst out with laughter at the turn the conversation was taking.

"Laerorn. Brethil. Focus." Legolas urged two of his companions, shaking his head slowly. When Legolas spoke in that authoritative tone, he meant business and expected his friends to adhere.

"Of course, ernil vuin." Laerorn dutifully bowed his head, all hints of jokes or hilarity vacating his facial expression.

It had been a couple days since the trio discovered me in the forest and they were able to divulge who I was exactly. After I had been consoled a little, they had brought me to King Thranduil himself. While Laerorn, Legolas, and Brethil were immensely warm to me, the King appeared lukewarm. When he had first witnessed me, Legolas had spoken that they had discovered me in the forest. King Thranduil wore the expression "why do you bother me with these matters"? He might as well have said "get this brat out of my sight" because his face wore a half-sneer. Shifting my green gaze between Thranduil and Legolas, I could easily discern that they were father and son - quite a fair pair. King Thranduil sat erect on his throne, long silvery-golden hair cascading down his shoulders in a bright waterfall with a splendid crown of branches atop the crown of his head. The crown was decorated with autumn leaves and holly berries. He looked beautiful and I was utterly mesmerized. The hue of his hair reminded me of my mother but I never made so much as a peep.

"This little girl has lost her entire family to Orcs. She tells me that her name is Tauriel." Legolas had said, his voice echoing around the throne room and beyond.

"How unfortunate." King Thranduil had muttered unfeelingly but rather tepidly, his long clever fingers curled so carefully around his staff. "And what are we to do, pray?" He looked curiously at his son, his facial expression not changing at all.

"We can offer her a home here. She assures me that she has no one left." Legolas was every bit my champion as well as my savior. If it wasn't for his bravery, his thoughtfulness, I am not entirely sure if the King would have agreed to let me stay in Mirkwood.

"How dreadful." The King uttered, his face bearing an unpleasant expression as his gray gaze wandered over to me. He was not at all enthused by being bothered with deciding the fate of a little Elfling. He was king and he had other more essential decisions to make. The destiny of a child was nothing to him. "Are you sure that this little maiden has no family left?" His eyebrows elevated as he made that inquiry.

"Yes." Legolas responded, his gaze falling upon me before he glanced once more at his father. "Furthermore, her father was a hunter of Taur-e-Ndaedelos. She tells me that her father was born and reared here." Thranduil's face exhibited some real emotion for the first time ever - surprise. He sat up further in his throne, head tilted completely, "Is that so?" He shifted his head to face me as he finally addressed me directly rather than through his son, "Who was your father, child?"

"Dûthalion...a...a hunter, aran vuin." I stammered, frightened somewhat by the magnanimity of his person as well as the coolness of his veneer. From afar I had glimpsed the Lady Galadriel and the Lord Celeborn. The two of them were quite warm towards me, especially towards little children. During one of the Elven holy days, Lady Galadriel would give wondrous gifts to her people: sweets, beautiful toys for little Elflings, and little crystals. I had remembered Lady Galadriel well for the gift of my little doll I named Giliel - named so for I loved the stars. The great Lady always beamed at me as if she was a star herself, so warm, so encumbering, so loving. I loved her utterly, almost as I loved my very own mother.

The stone-faced King's face lit up further and he evinced some sort of astonishment, "Dûthalion was one of our best warriors. A fighter who was loyal to me above all else. A child of Dûthalion is welcome to live amongst us here in Taur-e-Ndaedelos."

"Dûthalion...I knew him well." Legolas interjected as he observed the scene, his piercing eyes shifting from his father to me. "A good man...quite the Orc hunter." The prince had recollected to himself, his voice soft almost as a whisper.

"Dûthalioniel." Thranduil had addressed me as daughter to my father, his face finally showing the smallest bit of warmth. "Live with us and become one of us. Who was your mother, pray?"

"Glaurlothiel, aran vuin." I replied mechanically, my hands trembling. The death of my parents fresh in my mind, I broke down in tears, unable to contain it any longer. That was how I came to live in Mirkwood...how I came to be….

Present – Modern day…

Dearest Book,

I awaken from the dark recesses of shadow that spider webs across my mind. How is it to be borne? Of late, every day I seek the smallest bit of respite, if even for several minutes, and I am met with the vision of my parents' demise. It is all that I can see. I glimpse the sorrowing face of my mother, fair but darkening with trepidation. My eyes lock once more with my father as my mother forces me forward away from the Orc rabble.

When I had pulled away from the dream state, I had dressed hastily, strapped my bow to my back, and escaped from my chamber as if it was a prison. For a Captain of the Guard, it is a step down from royal bedchambers, cozy but unneedlessly opulent. Wood and marble trees construct the walls around my room, canopied together with leaves for the ceiling. I have always had this room ever since I came to Taur-e-Ndaedelos. It has been my haven away from other eyes, the place where I can record my deepest thoughts inside of a book. When I am near others, I need to be strong and tough, to put on a veneer of calm vigilance at all times. I like to think of it that I am carrying on my father's tradition of watchful vigilance. I am Dûthalion's daughter after all.

I need to step away from such mournful lamenting thoughts. What transpired in the past is in the past, as much as I try to remind myself of that fact. Part of me believes that I hold onto my losses as a way of attempting to cleave to my deceased parents. Yet I know that one day I will have to let go, to release it all.

At the present moment, I am nestled in a tree different from my usual chosen oak. This tree is a pine tree and its dark lengthy needles conceal me almost completely. I feel safe here...away from the eyes of the world. Here, I can reflect on my thoughts...on the happenings of my day. Now when Prince Legolas goes to search from me, he won't find me as he often does. I want the silence and the peace. Not that he brings chaos, but, of late, I have felt strangely around him. I feel those eyes upon me, searching my face for meaning...for purpose but I attempt to hide it all, as I always have done. Of all the six hundred years as I have known him, he had never once lingered, never once attempted to search out every thought in my mind. Now, he wants to know what I am doing...why people react to me the way that they do...why I do what I do. Why does Legolas take concerns in such things? He is now a mystery to me.

Later I am to go Orc-hunting with the rest of the Guard. We have been tracking a pack of Orcs who have been attacking travelers through our lands and they have been trying to vandalize our ancient trees. We are to be ready by first light at the rallying point and then we will set out into the forest. None hunger for Orc blood more than I! My sword Hathelas thirsts to put an end to cursed Orc filth…to pierce through the very heart of an Orc.

I shall write later but for now I need to prepare for the day. I shall bring along Hathelas, Cuvallorn (my bow), Egros (my bows), and Telveg (my small dagger).

Tauriel

Sindarin Translations:

Aran vuin – My King

Cuvallorn – Crescent of Mallorn

Dûthalioniel – Daughter of Dûthalion

Ego, mibo Orch – Go kiss an Orc

Egros – Piercing Rain/Thorn Rain

Ernil vuin – My prince

Hathelas – Leaf blade

Giliel – Daughter of the Star

Pe channas – Idiot/Moron

Taur-e-Ndaedelos – Greenwood the Great/Mirkwood

Telveg – Silver thorn