Chapter 1
The song drifted across the grass, enticing, entreating, someone, anyone, to come. But no one came. Too many frightful tales had been told of this place, enough to even stop the bravest warriors from coming, not that there were many left. Most folk doubted there were any. In fact, there were some, but they were busy romping around killing various evil things. So, the song and the singer were lonely, in this lonely land.
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“Peregrin Took!” came the voice ringing across the meadow. “You come back here or I’ll – “ The voice abruptly stopped as the hobbit in question turned around and tackled him. He immediately started tickling him. Laughter rang out across the open grass.

“You’ll what, Merry?” Pippin said, straddling the other hobbit. “Hmm?”

Merry wriggled out from under Pippin and got up, hands on hips. “You evil little hobbit! You can’t just leave like that!”

“Yes I can! I did, didn’t I?”

“You shouldn’t! I had to clean all those dishes, and from the amount you eat, I’m surprised I’m done!”

“Oliphaunt ears and autumn skullcaps! Merry, I’m sorry, but – “

“But nothing! Either at supper you do all of them and most of them next dinner, or we go on that walk!”

“Why do you want to go on that walk?”

“I just do!”

“And at night too – are you all right?”

“Yes! I just want to go on a night walk – “

“ – and you don’t want to do it alone.”

“I’ll do it alone, I just want you to come.”

“No, you’re scared.”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are.”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

“Spider!”

“Orc!”

“Warg!”

Having exhausted their slim repertoire of evil creatures, Pippin scramble about for another insult. “Um, um, um, oh, poisonous puffballs! Merry, you’re scared, and you know it!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yes you are!”

“Fine!” Merry yelled. “Fine! I’ll go alone, that’ll show you I’m not scared!”

“Fine!” Pippin turned around, decided he didn’t want to go that way, turned around again, and stomped off.

“Oh, by the way, you have to do the dishes today and tomorrow then.”

But Pippin was already gone.
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Gimli son of Gloin sighed. His father had taken him along to meet this hobbit, who no doubt was great burglar and everything – they just happened to talk about the most boring stuff together. He had politely as possible excused himself and was now lounging outside the hobbit’s door, fingering his axe. All the hobbits were so happy and carefree, unlike a few other folk he had seen or heard of. Like the elves, and the rangers, and people like that. And he couldn’t say his people were carefree – the mark of the dragon still remained, though it had been years. And there were reports of returning orcs in the Misty Mountains and Mirkwood.

He shifted around and sighed again. The sun would soon set, and his father and Baggins were still at it. Baggins had come out several times and asked if the dwarf would like any food, but Gimli had declined. Maybe he would go for a walk in a while, if they were still talking, just for a change.
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Estel the foster son of Lord Elrond paused. Mithrandir had asked him to check up on the hobbit that he suspected had an item of terrible power. He had obliged, but now he wasn’t sure which one Mithrandir was talking about. There were so many – and they were so carefree, getting into arguments about petty things.
That was the mark of happy people, who didn’t have bigger things to argue about. Like deciding whether they should attack a certain person they believed to be a dark lord, or whether they should put additional troops here or there. In that he pitied Legolas, one of his best friends, who unfortunately was getting less and less time to spend with him because of the increasing attacks on the elven realm in Mirkwood, despite the fact that the Necromancer was gone. Legolas had to attend court quite often as the new Crown Prince of Mirkwood, or Eryn Galen, as the elves that lived there persisted in calling it. He secretly felt that that was a little bit – well, it was like they were clinging to the memory of Greenwood. But of course that was what he probably would do if his home were being steadily corrupted.

He continued scanning the bright green meadows of the Shire, noticing two hobbits talking - well, yelling - to each other. He carefully moved closer, striving to hear them.

“Yes! I just want to go on a night walk – “

Mithrandir had said that this hobbit might be a bit more adventurous than the rest. Maybe he had found him. He carefully memorized the details of the face from what he could see, and decided to follow this hobbit at night, just out of curiosity.
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The small party of wood-elves stopped for the night, in a little forest outside of the lands of the perian. Every elf was silent and pensive, especially one golden haired archer.

Legolas leaned against a tree and thought about the events leading up to – this. His naneth had decided to sail across the Sea; there wasn’t really any doubt she would not have.

Gilnar had been the pride of her life, her firstborn child and Legolas’ older brother. He had been killed in the Battle of the Five Armies, and the whole family had mourned, but none so much as his mother, sweet Linelaew. But that was not the only loss that his mother had taken.

Next came her brother, along with her father, in a raid by orcs. Her mother had escaped the raid, only to be caught in a landslide in the Mountains of Mirkwood. Linelaew had not taken this well, but she would have stayed, would have survived, would have still kept faith in a rapidly failing land and race. But then she lost her voice.

Elves do not get sick naturally, and this was obviously not a natural sickness. It had come suddenly, a racking cough that had kept her up all night. Mirkwood’s – Eryn Galen’s, Legolas stubbornly told himself, though he knew it wasn’ t true, not anymore – healers could do nothing about it. They had sent for Lord Elrond, and he had ridden as fast as he could, but then he had found that the mountain passes were blocked. He had tried to come – Elrond was as stubborn as Thranduil, making their relationship somewhat strained – but had had to turn back.

A few weeks after she first contracted the sickness, Linelaew lost her voice. It had been beautiful; it had been a way for her to hold the grief back. By singing she could forget everything else.

And now she couldn’t. So she had, while slowly fading, decided to sail. The whole family – which was soon to be just Legolas, ten-year-old Celebglin, and their father and King of the Mirkwood Realm, Thranduil, were not quite shocked – it was as if they were expecting it but they couldn’t quite get used to the fact that she was indeed sailing to The Blessed Land.

Legolas and several of the finest warriors in Mirkwood were accompanying her. Thranduil had wanted to go, but Legolas had pointed out that he would only serve as a target to the orcs whose numbers were steadily approaching and surpassing what they had been before the Five Armies, and Linelaew agreed and told them that as well as she could. They could not send many guards either, for they needed troops to guard the realm. Thranduil had pointed out that Legolas would be a target as well, and Legolas had pointed out that he would not be as big of a target. Thranduil had pointed out that he was important enough, and Legolas had pointed out that Linelaew needed someone in her family to accompany her and that Celebglin was too young. Thranduil had reluctantly conceded on that point, and so Legolas had gone.
Legolas decided he needed some time alone, and slipped out of the camp to walk under the stars.
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Linelaew – singing star bird
Gilnar – echo of fire
Celebglin = silver gleam
Periain = hobbits

Review, pretty please?

In truth, Merry was a bit scared. In fact, he was very slightly terrified, if that made any sense. He did like going out at night, and he did like walking, but a combination of the two made him a little bit – apprehensive. When he usually went out he usually was just outside, a few steps from the door. Now, not angry at Pippin anymore, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to go.

He paused, wondering if he should just not go – but here was Pippin. He came running down the lane, breathless. “Still going?”

“Of course.”

“Alright then. When will you come back?”

“A hour or so. Why?”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Fine.” Now he did have to go. He set off, outwardly calm, but inwardly frightened, toward the open meadows.
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Gimli was even more bored than before, if such a thing was possible. He twisted his braided beard idly. He had gone in and had had supper, but not mid afternoon snack, before-supper snack, after-supper snack, and countless others. Of course those were not the hobbits’ main meals, thankfully; they only had six or seven of those. Breakfast, second breakfast, mid-morning snack, dinner, afternoon tea, and supper. He still wasn’t sure whether midnight snack counted.

It was dark, and if he was a human it might have been cold, but he decided that he was going to play up his endurance and pretend it wasn’t. He looked at the bright green door. The sounds of talk were still coming from behind it.

Knowing that his father wouldn’t be too worried if he wasn’t there, Gimli got up and stretched. Then he started off, planning to stay out all night, walk, and then go to a few taverns and get nicely drunk.
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The night was cool and fresh, and the stars twinkled in the velvet sky above. Legolas drank in the sweet scent of tranquil night over the grass and under Isil. He trod lightly across the green grass.

Then he heard a voice, sweeter than an elf’s even, singing. He cocked his head and hurried toward the source of the song.

It was farther than he had thought it would be. He ran for a long time and could still not catch up with the voice. It seemed to fill the air yet pierce through it like sunlight. He stared out at the horizon, not looking where his feet led him.

And suddenly, the singing stopped, and the whistling of air took over. In horror he realized he had stumbled over a cliff…
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Strider the Ranger followed the hobbit as silently as he could, trying to remember what his name was. He supposed a Ranger should know, but he had been barely listening to Mithrandir when the wizard had asked him to do it, hearing only the words hobbit, shire, adventure, weapon, and Sauron. His mind had been on other things – namely a pretty elven lady. He berated himself for that. The twins were right – he spent far too much time mooning over her. Or maybe they were just being protective.

Anyway, the problem at hand was, although not much of a problem, still what should be on his mind instead of – oh, now he was mooning over her again. Stop it, Aragorn Elessar Strider Estel – um, lets see, Thorongil? Wait a minute – what are my other names? Oh, the hobbit’s getting to far away. Run run run. La de da de da. What’s that?

He had just heard what could be counted as a scream. Uh oh. Great, now he had more than one problem on his hands. Okay, go to the source of the screaming or follow the hobbit? It didn’t take much time to figure it out, as the hobbit was going to where the scream came from. All right, fine. We’ll follow the hobbit until he veers away from it or stands there staring – all right; he’s standing and staring. If I’m not mistaken, that’s a cliff.

Aragorn the Heir of Isildur ran towards the edge of the cliff and looked down in horror. The swift rapids glistening in the moonlight illuminated the body that was falling. That was Legolas!

Not even stopping to question why Legolas would be there at all, he immediately cast about for a way to save his friend. Not finding any, he panicked. That was when he saw what the hobbit was staring at.

There, in the middle of the small river, on a wet and slippery rock, stood a lady quite like Arwen. In fact even more beautiful. He had no doubt she would be as fair of heart as well. He stared just like the hobbit, forgetting his friend completely in the haunting thread of the lady’s song.
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Merry didn’t even hear the scream. He was too busy staring at the pretty hobbit girl that was singing in the moonlight. He unconsciously took a step towards her. He had thought that he would never fall for a girl, unlike Sam, who was besotted but seemingly afraid of Rosie. Or it seemed like that. That was his last coherent thought before he took another step and the light cover of bark and grass collapsed and he fell into the tunnel.
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Gimli had been walking for a long time, and he wondered if he maybe should turn around and find a tavern. Then he heard the tune.

Normally he didn’t go out for such stuff. He left it to the elves, those stupid stuck up creatures who thought that they were such wonderful things that the earth can’t go without. Mining songs, stuff like that, but not sentimental things. Sentimental things were usually boring. Some dwarves did like them, but Gimli was, as he thought, practical.

But this one drew him. This one tugged at his mind. Frowning, he walked toward the sound. He came upon a two cliffs on the sides of a river, an entranced human, a hole in the ground, and a lovely dwarven maiden.

Being a sensible dwarf, he wondered why the human was so entranced with a dwarven lady. Humans usually didn’t like them. And there was that hole in the ground – he decided to check that out.

Walking to the rim, he peered over the side. There was quite a bit of darkness and quite a bit of yelling. He frowned, looked around for some wood, found none, and accidentally fell in the hole.

Agh! was his first thought. Dang! was his second. Uh oh! was his third, especially when he heard a skittering in the darkness. He gave out a dwarven battle cry and attacked on pure impulse.
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It was after midnight. Pippin was pacing back and forth. He had told Sam and Frodo about it, and they were there, too, for no particular reason. “Is he back yet?” he said for the tenth time in the last five minutes.

“No, Pip. Stop pacing,” said Frodo wearily.

“He said he’d be back in an hour.”

“Maybe he just wants to stay out later.”

“I didn’t mean it when I was goading him! Now he could have had anything happen to him! Maybe – “

“Pip, nothing’s going to happen. What could happen?”

“Lots of things! Like maybe he was attacked by wild – wild – trees!”

“Pippin, you have too big of an imagination,” said Sam. “I’ve been a gardener all my life and I’ve never heard of wild trees.”

“Orcs then! Or something like that!”

“Orcs? Why would they be here?” asked Frodo.

“I don’t know!”

“Pippin, he’s just a little bit late.”

“A little bit! He left an hour after sundown! It’s after midnight! It’s been more than four hours, Frodo!”

“All right then. If you’re really that worried, we’ll go and look for him.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

“Pippin, whoa there. He’s probably in no trouble at all.”

“Thank you anyway.”
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The roar of a dwarven battle cry distracted Thorongil the knight of Gondor from the beautiful lady. He frowned at the distraction. Looking around, he discovered the source of it, a gaping hole in the ground. He went over to the rim and looked in. Little points of light were darting everywhere, around what looked like a dwarf. The dwarf seemed to be swinging his battleaxe. There was another shape there, too, a bit smaller than the dwarf.

Lots of little shadows came, then, and started attacking the dwarf. Elessar Elfstone spared one more glance at the lady before jumping in to help the dwarf.
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Isil - the moon
Review, please - and tell me if I've got 1) Aragorn's names and 2) the hobbit's meals right. Please.

Sorry this took so long, I was and still am behind in my work. Next time I write a story I will finish it before I post it, but give me this, this is my first fanfic unless you count the poem. [This note was written assuming someone is reading this.]

Merry was really, truly, terrified. First the ground had gone out from under him, and then a large shouting shadow thing had jumped into the hole and started swinging what looked like a weapon about. Then a bunch of little lights started buzzing around, and not a one of them stayed still long enough for him to see them.

Then another shouting shadow, this time taller, had jumped in the hole and started swinging what looked like a weapon about. He huddled in a corner, or at least by the edge.

When the two shadow’s blades crashed together, he jumped and ran screaming down a tunnel that just happened to be there.

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Estel the hope of men landed on both feet in the hole and immediately started looking for the enemy and quite rashly swinging his sword around. When he didn’t find any, he turned to the dwarf to ask him what he was fighting, but the dwarf roared and attacked him. He instinctively parried and swung his sword around – but then he thought.

Just in time he angled his sword so it wouldn’t slice into the dwarf’s side. It whistled past the dwarf’s ear, and the dwarf immediately swung his axe towards Strider’s stomach. He stepped back and to the side, narrowly avoiding the axe.
Then he retreated back to the wall and put down his sword. “Whoa, whoa, I’m not an enemy.”

The dwarf kept his axe. “An’ why should I trust you, eh?”

“Um, um, can you just not attack me for now?”

“You not going to attack me?”

“I won’t, I swear.”

“Good. What do you want?”

“Nothing. What were you fighting?”

“Whatever that was.”

“Whatever what was?”

The dwarf changed the subject. “What are those lights?”

Aragorn looked. “They look like fireflies.”

“Fireflies?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

They stood in silence for a while. Then Thorongil asked, “Who was that other person in here before?”

“Who, the one that ran screaming down that tunnel?”

“Yes.”

“No clue.”

“Ah. Should we go after him?”

“Maybe.”

Elessar stared at the dwarf. The dwarf stared at Estel. They stood there for a long time.

Then they heard more screaming. They turned towards the tunnel entrance. A small person, shorter than a dwarf, came running out of the tunnel closely followed by some small people, shorter than the person who was smaller than a dwarf. More fireflies flew flightily flickering above them.

They were still staring at all the little things when Strider felt something sharp sting him on his right shoulder. He turned his head and saw one of the fireflies. It looked more like a dragonfly now, sparkly in the light. But it was different somehow. As he stared at this strange apparition, he became aware of not being so aware anymore. The world swirled around him and he didn’t know he was falling.

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Legolas the green leaf of Mirkwood, Crown Prince of Eryn Galen, smashed into the water at quite a few miles per hour. Some very strange thoughts went through his head, like what would happen if he could run that fast, or if he could fall up through the trees. It took a few minutes for him to realize he had probably broken quite a few bones, the water was freezing cold, and there was a very pretty elven lady standing on the stone he was washing by.
Then the water completely enveloped his head and he was swept along at an impossible speed through the rapids.

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Gimli bumped along about a foot off the ground. It felt like the time that he had fell into that one stream and the current had swept him along. He shuddered at the memory. It had been unpleasantly cold and fast, and he had bumped into a few rocks.

Once his mind finished thinking that thought, it turned to exactly why he was a foot off the ground and swiftly moving down a long dark tunnel lit by fireflies. It grasped that he was being held tightly by something, but nothing he could think of was a foot tall and could also tie someone up and carry him. He frowned thoughtfully. So, if it wasn’t anything he could think of, what was it? For the first time he wondered if it would be good, being an elf. They seemed to know about everything. Then he dismissed the idea as preposterous.

Then he figured out that the shiny lights weren’t fireflies, they were some sort of long-toothed four inch tall things that looked slightly elven, were dusted in a shimmering golden glow, and had dragonfly wings on their back.

Strange.

He had never heard of something like that before, so it was quite natural to think that these things were quite obviously something he’d never heard of before.

Wait, said his incredibly groggy mind. I’ve already been through this before. I know I’ve never heard of these things, and I certainly don’t know why they are doing this, unless they’re some type of miniature orc, and I’ve never heard of a miniature orc before. But then I’ve never heard of these things before, either.
He was quite hopelessly confused, and as he was wont to do when he was seemingly drugged the dwarf slipped back into unconsciousness.

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Merry woke up with a pounding headache. He started to get up off of his most incredibly uncomfortable bed, but he couldn’t. When he figured out why he couldn’t, he nearly passed out again from shock. Why he would be about a foot or so off the ground and bound as well quite exceeded his imagination for the extraordinary. Who would bind a hobbit?

There were a couple of other dark shadows being carried by smaller shadows lit up by little shining lights. He distantly wondered if they were stars, and then he remembered that he was underground. So what were they? He saw that they had wings. He went through his mental list of things with wings. Bugs, dragons, birds, and those strange squirrels, toads, and snakes were the only things he could think of that could do anything remotely close to flying, unless you counted the time Pippin had jumped off of the roof of the old mill on a dare and almost broken his neck.

They were changing course, slipping into a side tunnel. After a while of watching which side tunnels they went into were, Merry got bored and his body decided, because of his pounding headache, to knock itself out.

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Frodo and Sam ran along, trying to keep up with the very frantic Pippin. They were running in the direction where Merry had gone, and had been doing so for about an hour. Both Frodo and Sam were exhausted, but Pippin seemed to have boundless amounts of energy. “Merry!” he called. “Merry, where are you!”

Merry didn’t answer. For about fifteen more minutes, he still didn’t answer. Pippin stumbled on a rock and fell heavily to the ground. “Ow! Merry!”

Frodo and Sam used this chance to catch up with the young hobbit. “Pip, you do know you shouldn’t be so worried?” said Frodo breathlessly.

Pippin ignored him. “Merry! Where are you? I’m sorry, Merry, where are you!”

The hobbit got up and started running again. “Merry!”

Frodo turned to Sam. “Do you think that we can calm him down?”

Sam thought a moment. “Probably not, but we can try!”

The two hobbits ran after the third.

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Pippin was terrified something might have happened to Merry, and it would be all his fault. Berating himself for possibly putting Merry in danger, he tripped yet again. But this time he didn’t fall on ground.

He fell through it.

Estel the hope of Men was not feeling very much like a prophesied king at the moment. He was tied up to some hard wall, and he was feeling very groggy and headachy. That infernal light wasn’t helping it much either. He opened his eyes fully and closed them again at the bright, dratted light.
Strider opened his eyes very slowly and was relieved to find that the golden light didn’t blind him. He looked around and blinked in astonishment.

Little people were sitting, standing, and arguing in various places around the circular cave – no, it was more like a burrow. Or a barrow. Not a completely Mordorized one, though. The golden light was coming from the little firefly creatures, but the reason the light was so bright was because of the gold. It covered the walls and the floor and it was piled up in great heaps everywhere. In fact, the only place that any earth could be seen was on a few spots on the ceiling where the ornately carved mirrors covering it were chipped away or had fallen off.

He tried to focus on the people. They were smaller than hobbits, a foot tall, and dressed kind of like wood elves, very small wood elves. He looked to his sides. To the left there was one of the Halflings, in fact the one that he dimly remembered tracking at some time, and to his right there was a dwarf that he recognized.

“Gimli!” he shouted in surprise. The echoes of his voice reverberated off the walls, causing all the little folk to quiet and stare at him.

The dwarf, who had been unconscious, woke up very suddenly and looked towards the place where the voice came from. “Strider!”

The human and the dwarf stared at each other and simultaneously asked, “What are you doing here?”

Gimli coughed rather self-consciously. “Was that you in the tunnel?”

“Tunnel? Oh, yes, the tunnel. I think so. But what are you doing here?”

“Well, my father was visiting Baggins, you know, that hobbit I told you about.”

“Oh. Would Baggins be the one – “

“Battle of the Five Armies, burglar, various things like dragons and spiders and orcs and wood elves.”

“Ah. I was looking for him.”

“Why?”

“Oh – well, just – “

“What?”

“Just nothing.”

“You wouldn’t be seeking a hobbit for nothing. I swear, they can talk all day, except when they’re eating.”

“I’ve heard.”

A small, indignant voice came from the left of Aragorn. “We do not talk and eat all day!”

Thorongil winced. “I beg your pardon master hobbit, I was only saying I heard,” he defended himself. “In fact as I believe it was master Gimli here who insulted you – “

Gimli frowned. “There you go blaming me again. Just like that time with the goblins – “

“Well that was because I – “

“ – and those slavers – “

“That was necessary – “

“ – and the other goblins – “

“What other goblins?”

“The ones at the pass, remember?”

“I did not blame you for anything then!”

“Yes you did!”

Elessar had probably had as many mishaps with Gimli as he had with Legolas, and he didn’t want the dwarf quoting them all in an attempt to make Estel look bad. “Now look, dwarf, the only times I ever blamed you for anything was – well, they were only a few times!”

“If you could call that many times a few! Must have picked it up form associating with those elves. Not that I have anything against Lord Elrond, but some of those wood elves are – “

“I really wish you would stop insulting them, Gimli. They – “

“They’re elves! Nasty elves.”

A small laugh came from next to Strider. “You sound like Gollum.”

Gimli said, very slowly and clearly, “What did you say?”

Merry decided that it wasn’t such a good idea to get the dwarf mad. “Um – it’s just the nasty thing. Y’ know, nasty hobbits, nasty Baggins, nasty Pale Face and nasty Yellow Face, nasty goblins – “

Gimli glared at him as best he could. “I am nothing like Gollum! And how do you know about him anyway?”

“Oh, I know Mister Baggins. He told us the story.”

“Hmm.”

“Do you come from the Lonely Mountain?”

“Yes.”

Merry was about to reply when Aragorn cleared his throat. “Um, I have a feeling we really shouldn’t be chatting right now, considering as we’re tied up and everything.”

Gimli thought about that. “Right. What are these things, anyway?”

At that the creatures that Gimli was referring to showed a mixture of shock, anger, and comtempt on their faces. One of the more ornately garbed ones cleared his throat and stepped forward. “We would take it very kindly,” the little person squeaked, “ if you would not insult us by calling us things.”

Thorongil nodded. “All right. What should we term you as?”

“We are elves.”

Merry frowned. “What?”

“We are! We are not myth or legend, we – “

Elessar coughed. “Um, that wasn’t what he meant.”

The little person turned his frosty glare to Estel. For a moment Strider wondered if they were indeed elves, and if this one was related to Legolas’ father, but then he dismissed that idea. “Well, you see, we have – “

“Have what!”

“A different idea of elves.”

The elf’s (for lack of a better word) jaw dropped in horrified shock. “A different idea of elves! How – “ he staggered about and dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

Aragorn was lost for words. They really believed they were elves? Elves that were a foot tall? It most certainly didn’t make any sense, and now this one had just fainted in front of him. “Um – “ he said.

Another elf glared at him. “What sort of idea do you have of elves? Wings? Little tinkly things? Those are fairies! They are our pets! They are class one intelligence level, on the same as dogs, cats, and dwarves! Do you seriously think that – “

Gimli stuttered in utter revulsion. “What? Dogs? Cats? Those – those little tinkly things? Dwarves? Why you little – “ he started swearing in dwarvish. Then he continued, “And what class are elves, hmm? Level – “

The elf interrupted him. “We are elves, and we are class one hundred intelligence level. Now if you would kindly – “

Gimli’s face turned purple with rage. “For your information we dwarves are very intelligent! I bet you can’t even – “

Thorongil interrupted him. “Gimli, please do not make them mad! I beg your pardon, sirs, Gimli has a short temper.”

The elf looked slightly mollified. “Ahem. Is that your idea of elves?”

“No, it is not. Our idea of elves is actually more like people the size of humans with pointy ears, really keen senses, really light-footed, and various other things.”

The elf snorted. “They sound like a cross between monkeys, wolves, and deer.”

“Well, they’re not really. But you see, I’ve met some of them, and – “

“Then they are not elves, they are merely lying! What do they call themselves?”

“Quendi, I suppose. But they also - ”

“Well, that’s what they are, then. Kwuh-end-ee.”

“Um – “

“We are the true elves! We are the terrorizers of the countryside! We steal valuables and we make the goats go dry! We waylay humans and make them go mad! We – “

“What?”

“But lately she’s been taking all our victims. She nearly took you. We’ll give you a deal, human. Defeat Lorelei, and we’ll let you go free. If you do not she’ll probably kill you. Understand?”

“Wait. Who is Lorelei?”

“She is evil! Go defeat her.”'

“How is she evil?” queried Elessar.

“She sings!”

“So?”

“Her tune enchants the very soul! She lures people to their deaths!”

“How are we supposed to defeat her?”

“I don’t know! Do you accept our offer?”

Merry looked nervous. “Well, I’d like a little more –“

Gimli nodded. “Yes, we do. Show them I’m smarter than a cat –“ he muttered.

Suddenly there was a crash. Several of the mirrors broke, tumbling to the ground along with lots of soil and a body. The elves muttered to themselves. “I knew we should have strengthened that – “ said one of them.

Merry, however, was staring at the person who was getting up very slowly. “Pippin?” he cried.

I am very very sorry that I have been gone! Very! I hate authors who do that and now I am one. *sighs* Sorry again, but school is being evil and I had a very severe case of writer's block.

A half-conscious Legolas soon found himself tumbling down a waterfall. Desperately he tried to grab onto any little ledge that he could. Getting a grip on a little protrusion that was swiftly being worn away by the relentless fall of the water, he gained a brief respite from the feeling of helplessness, if not the cold and the pain.

Suddenly, the little bit of rock left wore away and Legolas fell down to the whirlpool below.

-------------

Pippin moaned. The lights were altogether far too bright in his opinion, especially since he had just been running outside in the dark. He had also landed on something very sharp and presumably pointy. He lifted himself up on his arms and then maneuvered himself in to a kneeling position. Looking down, he saw that he had landed on a mirror. Odd, he thought. Should there be a mirror here?

He heard a voice come form somewhere to his left. “Pippin?” it queried anxiously. He turned his head, which had inexplicably developed a throbbing ache, toward the source of the voice. He blinked a few times, and then saw Merry.
“Merry! What are you doing here? I’ve been looking for you all night!”

Merry frowned. “What am I doing here? What are you doing here! You were supposed to wait for me, not come running after me! I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself!”

Pippin frowned back. “Why are you tied up?” Then his jaw dropped. “Why are you tied up? Is it – orcs!”

Merry shook his head. “Don’t let them hear you calling them that, Pip. They don’t take very kindly to – “

“Orcs!” came a shrill, altogether too loud voice from right near his head. “Orcs! That is a worse insult than can be imagined! Orcs are class zero intelligence, only above rabbits, pigeons, and hedgehogs! And even they are smarter in some ways. We are not orcs, little half-size excuse for a human!”

Pippin turned toward the voice, quite angrily. “What did you call me?”

“Half size excuse for a human! Or perhaps a beardless, fat, ugly, short excuse for dwarves who are all those things except for the beard part!”

Now Gimli, who had already been fuming, was about ready to – well, you really don’t want to know. His face turned even redder and he started shaking. Estel looked at his friend nervously. Uh oh, he thought.

The hobbits weren’t quite as bad as Gimli, but they were close. “We are not half size excuses for humans – have you ever really seen a human who isn’t either terribly heroic or terribly not? And dwarves have far too short tempers. You’re just – what are you, anyway?” he asked, having just noticed the stature of his insulter.

The elf drew himself up proudly. “We are elves!”

Pippin frowned. “Aren’t elves about the same size as humans? Pointy ears, really graceful – “

“Yes, yes, the Kwuh-end-ee. We’ve heard about them, and really, I’m quite tired of hearing about them. Those are not elves. We are.”

“Um – “

“Speak no more! Will you go with these others to defeat the Lorelei?”

“What?”

"You know," Aragorn noted, "That name sounds a bit like Lorien." Everyone ignored him.

“The Lorelei. Will you go and defeat her?”

“Who is the Lorelei?”

“She has an enchanting voice. Do not by any means listen to it.”

“Why not? I would think it would be rather nice, if her voice is enchanting.”

“Not a good type, you fool of a Took!”

“I’m not a Took. And how do you know about the Tooks, anyway?”

“What? What is a Took?”

“It’s a family! And why would you call me one if you don’t know what one was?”

“Well – um, see, we saw someone use that phrase a lot in a little mirror basin thingy in a forest – “

“A basin thingy?” Strider interrupted. “What sort of basin thingy?” Not Galadriel’s Mirror, not Galadriel’s Mirror, he prayed.

“It was filled with water, and we just took a quick peek – “
Galadriel’s Mirror! Oh no, oh no. How?

“How?”

“What do you mean?”

“Weren’t there – people around?”

“What? Oh, yes. You mean those silvery things. Several – but they never saw us. No one could ever see and certainly not catch us if we didn’t want them to. We are the best thieves around!”

“Ah – I see.” Galadriel’s Mirror. Well, she had to have known somehow. Right?

“There were some quite valuable things in that area, too – but never mind that.” He turned back to Pippin. “Do you accept our offer?”

“What offer?”

The elf rolled his eyes. “Will you go and defeat the Lorelei or not?”

“Um – “

“They – “ he tipped his head in the direction of the hobbit, the dwarf, and the human who were tied up on the wall. “ – Have already accepted.”

“What’s the alternative?”

“You stay here and we drive you mad. If you accept, we will let you go freely.”

“Um – I think I’ll go.”

“Very well. The easiest way to get to her favorite haunt, besides falling off the cliff, would be – that way.” He pointed to solid – well, dirt wall that was covered with gold. “There should be a tunnel somewhere here – ah, here it is!”
The gold slid to the sides, revealing a long, dark passageway. The elven warriors clambered up the wall and untied the three prisoners. Aragorn, Gimli, Merry, and Pippin – the latter two were quite close together as if seeking protection from the elves and these nasty adventures – started down the passageway followed by the glares of the elves.

-------------
Frodo and Sam rushed to the spot where Pippin had disappeared into the earth. “Pip! Pippin!” Frodo cried out, quite distressed. He peered down into the little pit in the ground. “Pippin!? Pip, are you down there?”

There was no answer. “Pippin!” Sam joined the frantic call. “Can you hear us? Are you all right?” Still no answer.

Frodo began to get angry. “Pippin, this isn’t funny! Come out now!” No one answered.

Sam tapped Frodo’s shoulder. “Um, master Frodo?”

“What is it, Sam?”

“Um – there’s something over there – “

-------------

Legolas washed up onto the hard stone ground. The small waves brushed up against his side, but the elf didn’t move. A tall, ghostly figure came out from behind a boulder and gently shook the limp body. When she got no response, she frowned and shook him harder.

Suddenly, the elf awoke. He started coughing almost immediately, coughing up water with traces of blood in it. She stood up and stepped back, watching him carefully. When he ceased coughing (which took a while), she spoke.
“Hello,” she said, as sweetly as a greeting can be spoken.

He lifted his head gingerly, wincing as his numerous wounds made themselves known. “Who – who are you?”

“My name is Caen. Who are you?”

“Legolas – where are we?”

“Well – are you claustrophobic?”

“No – why?”

“Because we are quite a ways underground at the moment.”

“Under ground? How far undergroun – “ he suddenly dissolved into another hacking fit. The lady gasped and sank down to her knees.

“Are you all right?”

He gasped for air. “For the moment – is there a healer anywhere near?”

She smiled. “Why of course, I am one myself!”

“Well – can you heal me?”

“I don’t see anything wrong, other than you keep coughing.”

He stared at her. “Blood. I am coughing up blood.”

She shook her head warily. “I see none.”

A/N: Sorry! But it’s longer than the rest; once I got started I couldn’t stop.

Legolas stared at her. “What?”

“There is no blood. You are coughing quite a bit – that could be because you were drowning, but you seemed to have coughed up the water already.”

“Lady Caen, I am absolutely sure there is blood. If there wasn’t I wouldn’t be coughing it up.”

“You are not coughing up blood.”

“Calls herself a healer – My lady, perhaps you could ask someone else to check.” He started coughing – yes, blood! – again.

“That would require a forty minute trek downwards. It would take eighty minutes for the round trip. That is unless you are coming too?”

She actually thinks I’m going to be able to walk for forty minutes? “Well – my lady, I can’t.”

“Nonsense. You can. Get up.”

“I am coughing up – “

“No, you are not! I know what this is now – come, you are not hurt.”

I’m coughing up blood and she thinks I’m not hurt? Who is this person anyway? “My lady, I – “

“Come, come!”

“What – “

She pulled him up. He almost immediately collapsed again. She rolled her eyes. “Get up!”

“I can’t!”

She pulled him up again, this time dragging him down a tunnel. She’s stronger than she looks, he noted. He tried to hop along after her, protesting that he was very seriously wounded and she wasn’t much of a healer if she thought differently.

She stopped. “When did I say I was a healer?”

His jaw dropped. “Ten minutes ago, just before you started dragging me down this infernal tunnel!”

“What? I’m not a healer.”

“You said you were!”

“I’m not, and I never said that. You are delusional, and I may say that without any lying on my part!”

“You are delusional! You refuse to admit I am wounded, you say you’re a healer one minute and you’re not the next, and I doubt you can even repeat your name!”

“My name is Keely.”

“No! Your name – you don’t know your name.”

“Yes I do. It is Keely.”

“But – “

“Forget what I said earlier.”

“Ah – “

“What is my name?”

“Keely.”

“Good. Am I a healer?”

“No.”

“Right!”

After about five more minutes, Legolas asked, “My lady, I would like to know how much farther it may be to our destination.”

“Five more minutes.”

His brow furrowed. “But – “

She groaned. “Five more minutes. No more questions!”

“Yes, my lady.”

“Good.”

-------------

Pippin clung to Merry. “What is this Lorelei thing anyway?” he moaned. “Just some thing with an enchanting voice that we have to kill – we don’t have any weapons! We have to kill something and we don’t have any weapons! We don’t even know what it looks like! For all we know it could be behind the next bend! It could be right next to us! Oh, Merry, we’re all going to die.”

“First of all, Pip, we’re not going to die – I hope. Secondly, Lorelei is female, so we sort of know what she looks like. Thirdly, I’m sure these two warriors here can take care of her for us! So, it’s not so bad!”

“But Merry – “

“Pip, it’s going to be fine. Everything’s going to be fine – besides, Frodo and Sam are going to find us!”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely!”

-------------

Frodo looked over to where Sam was pointing. A shadowy figure was coming out from the earth. He squeaked. “Sam, what is that?”

“I don’t know but I don’t think it’s a very good thing – In fact I think we should be leaving soon. Very soon.”

“Too late,” whispered Frodo.

“Too – oh.”

The shadowy thing was coming toward them very quickly. “Uh oh,” gulped Frodo.

The shadowy thing sharpened into a tall, red-haired maiden. “Hello,” she said, quite nicely.

“Um, um, oh of course, my lady,” Frodo stuttered. “I – we – um – “

She smiled. “May I ask what you may be doing out here so late at night?”

“Well, we were just – taking a walk, you see, mistress,” Sam answered.

“Taking a walk? I did not think it was a custom for your kind to take long walks, and certainly not at nighttime.”

“Um – well, we just – “

“Why don’t you come to my place? It is surely more comfortable than outside here. It is an uncommonly cold night for midsummer.”

“No thank you, mistress, really, we don’t – “ replied Sam.

Frodo interrupted him. “We would like to very much – by the way, what is your name?”

“My name is Caen.”

-------------

“Stupid elf,” muttered Keely as she dragged him along. “Why didn’t he die? Everyone dies from the Lorelei.”

She had found him being washed along by the stream, unconscious and dripping blood, with broken ribs and various other injuries.

Reaching a certain section of stone wall, she gave a long, low whistle. The wall slid open slowly, and she stepped into a huge, airy cavern.

Calling for help, she took the elf inside a longhouse and lay him on a cot.

A young boy came running into the longhouse. “Keely! You’re back!” Reaching the cot, he peered at the elf. “Who is he? Where did you find him? Is he dead? Did you – “

“Colin!” scolded a woman emerging from the back of the house. “Don’t disturb her with your incessant questioning. Keely, who is that?”

“An elf I found by the stream, Mistress Briana,” she replied. “I believe he was under the influence of Lorelei.”

“Ah.” She frowned. “How did he get there?”

“I do not know, mistress.”

“Hmm. Colin?”

“Yes, Mistress Briana?”

“Go get Cian, Conan, and Keitha. Oh, get Elvin, too. Keely, get aoife, dympna, and noreen.”

“Yes, Mistress Briana,” replied Keely and Colin in unison. Colin ran back out of the longhouse and Keely started rooting around in the herb cupboards.

She found the herbs about the same time Colin came bursting back into the longhouse with four other people; three men and one woman. “Lorelei victim?” asked the lone lady. She had dark red hair and brown eyes, and was wearing a tunic and breeches instead of the coarse dresses most women wore. A short bow was slung over her back along with a quiver of arrows, and a sword was girt at her side.

“Aye, Keitha,” Briana replied. “At least we believe so.”

“If he is, then Lorelei is stronger than ever,” said a tall, black-haired man. “Elves do not succumb easily.”

Keitha snorted. “We know you believe elves are gods, Elvin, but the rest of us know that they are not. And what of the other elves?”

“What of them? They do not succumb easily either – they hate Lorelei. Besides, I do not believe they would attack him.”

Conan, brown-haired and green-eyed, shook his head. “They may have, Elvin. What say you, Cian?”

Cian, old and stooped, thought for a moment. “True, but acknowledge Elvin as the expert in such things we must,” he said. “A likely chance of them attacking him there is not.”

Conan nodded. “And what of the chances of Lorelei? Would she have been likely to have enchanted him?”

Keitha replied, “How else would he have been found, broken and bloody, near the stream?”

Keely interrupted them a politely as possible. “Lords, Lady, speaking of broken and bloody, would you allow me to tend to him?”

“Of course, sorry are we,” apologized Cian. The four backed away.

Keely frowned as she tended to the elf. He had several bruised ribs, two cracked, and three broken, one broken leg, and lots of various cuts. Idiot, she thought. By all rights he should be dead!

-------------

Caen took Frodo and Sam underground. Sam whispered, “Frodo, why – “

“She might be able to help. Don’t worry, Sam.”

“All right - ”

She went to a stone wall and gave a low whistle. The wall slid open. Frodo and Sam watched, their eyes wide. She beckoned. “Come on, Halflings,” she said. The two hobbits went after her cautiously and emerged in a large cavern.

“Caen!” A yell came from the healing house.

“Colin!”

He came running out, grinning. “Keely found an elf and he survived Lorelei and Cian and Conan and Keitha and Elvin are there and – “

“Whoa, whoa, Colin! Say that a bit more slowly.”

“Keely found an elf. He was near the stream, and they think he survived Lorelei. Cian and Conan and Keitha and Elvin are there, too. And – “ he stopped and stared. “Who are you?” he asked Frodo and Sam.

Sam smiled. “I’m Sam and this is Frodo,” he replied. “Who are you?”

“Me? I’m Colin son of all, and she’s Caen daughter of Keitha, and – “

“Son of all?”

“Yes! My parents were killed, and everyone’s my parents now!”

“Oh – I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? Why?”

“Well, your parents were killed.”

“Oh, I didn’t really know them. And they’re somewhere better.”

Caen interrupted their conversation. “Come, Sam, Frodo, I’ll take you to my hut,” she said. “You can meet my husband there.”

“All right.”

Colin bounced. “Can I come too? Please?

“Oh, fine. Come.”

Caen’s house was near the middle of the cavern, small, but large enough for two people to live comfortably there. It was dark in there, but quite nice. A tall man sat cross-legged on the ground, scratching something on a scrap of some sort of animal skin. When the four came in, he looked up and put the skin down. Rising fluidly, he stood to greet them. “Caen, darling, you’re back! And who are these?” he asked.

“I’m Frodo son of Drogo, and this is Samwise son of Hamfast,” Frodo replied.

“And I am Baird son of Bowen,” replied the man. “Pleased to meet you.”

“The same.”

Caen smiled. “Baird, what are you writing there? Baird’s our loreman,” she told the hobbits.

“Oh, nothing, really,” Baird replied. “I’m sure our guests wouldn’t like to hear it, anyway; it’s not very good.”

Frodo shook his head. “I for one would like to hear it,” he said. “Of course if you don’t want to sing you don’t have to; I wouldn’t dare to intrude.”

Baird sighed. “I will, then. It’s about the short-elves of the forest.”

Sam brightened. “Elves?”

“Elves, yes. Not the nice kind – distant cousins of the ones that live here, and even more distant cousins of the tall-elves.”

“Tall-elves?”

“The ones the size of humans. The short-elves are about half the size of a tall hobbit,” Baird answered.

“Oh – well, can you sing it?”

“I will – here goes.”

He started singing, an eerie, haunting song.

“‘Neath the leaves of green wood beeches,
By the forest’s farthest reaches,
Hear our song,
Walk along,
The riverside.
There we hide
Our deepest strongholds
Flitting round like fretful shadows,
Wondering, wandering, at your door.

“Long have mortals learned to fear us,
Only those we choose can hear us,
Secret song,
Walk along,
The riverside,
There we hide,
Our captured victims
Fading into fretful shadows,
Doomed to wander, evermore.

“We are dark, fey silent screaming,
We are nightmares, we’re sweet dreaming,
See our spell,
Magic well,
Oh, foolish ones,
See the sun,
In deepest madness,
Crying out for long dead loved ones,
Scorned and feared by those they face.

“Feel no pity for the dying,
Laugh at mortals who are crying,
Mocking spell,
Magic well,
Oh, foolish ones,
See the suns,
‘Twas once immortal
Many suns see long dead loved ones
In the halls of death’s embrace.”

Aoife – (okay, okay, it’s a name, not an herb) /F/ Life (Celtic/Gaelic)
Baird - /M/ Poet, Minstrel (Celtic/Gaelic)
Briana – /F/ Fortitude and strength (Celtic/Gaelic)
Bowen - /M/ Archer (Celtic/Gaelic)
Cian – /M/ Ancient (Celtic/Gaelic)
Colin – /M/ Young child; peaceful dove (Celtic/Gaelic)
Conan – /M/ Wise (Guess)
Dympna – (name too) /F/ Patron saint of the mentally ill (C/G)
Elvin – /M/ Friend of Elves (C/G)
Keely – /F/ Beautiful (C/G)
Keitha – /F/ Female Warrior (C/G)
Noreen – (this is a name too) /F/ Light (C/G)