SUMMERY - To the Elves she was Relomore, daughter of night, and the outcast. Legends of men knew her as The Shadow. Nearly one thousand years have passed since last she walked in the sight of either race. But what is long lost may one day wake again from sleep.

WARNINGS - Violence in later chapters

DISCLAIMER - I do not own LOTR or any of its characters. All rights belong to Tolkien, New Line Cinemas, ect. I receive no money for my writing, it is merely for entertainment.

A/N

Thank you so much to the people who reviewed; I was beginning to think no one was reading this.

Vlad07 - Glad you like it. Thanks a million for reviewing.

Mari Knickerbocker - Thanks. What exactly are you hoping will come true?

TheFlyingPotatoes64 - Thanks, I didn't think the poetry was all that great, so I'm glad you thought it was good. And thanks for the encouragement too.

- A thousand years of sleep has weakened me, but at last my strength is returning. Soon I shall have again the power that was mine so long ago. -

Chapter 3 - Burning Sorrow

(Legolas' PoV)

I have ridden without stopping, agonizing over Aragorn's safety. But at last I have reached the white city.

Horses are not allowed in the upper levels, but I have not the time to dismount. Aside from the guards at the gate, none have stopped me. They know why I am here.

As soon as I reach the fountain and vault from Culgwae, I am met by a servant. He is dressed in the black of mourning, and I want to slap him. Estel is not dead. He cannot be.

The man bows low.

"My lord, the queen awaits you in her chambers."

I push past the human and lope up the stairs. There is no point in waiting; he will catch up eventually. And right now, Arwen needs me.

At the door to Arwen's chambers is a pair of guards. They are both young. As I reach them, they stand, hands on the hilts of their weapons.

"What business have you in the queen's chambers?"

I throw back the hood on my traveling cloak, something I realize I should have done earlier. My tone is gentle despite my haste. I do not fault them for caution.

"I am Prince Legolas of the Elves, the lady Arwen has requested my presence."

They bow deeply, hiding the red that tints their high cheekbones with strands of dark hair.

"Our apologies, my lord. Surely we ought to have know you."

"Never apologize for doing what is right. I commend you for your swift responses. At times such as this, your vigilance may save a life."

As they youths straighten, I lay my hands on their shoulders for an instant. Both look pleased, and the move quickly to open the door. When they salute me and I return the gesture, the younger's face splits in a wide grin. The doors shut behind me.

Arwen is sitting on a small couch. At the sound of the doors closing, she looks up. She knew, of course, that I had arrived the second I answered the guards. For though the Evenstar has chosen a mortal life, her senses are strong as they have ever been.

"Lord Legolas, thank you for coming." I know not why she has fallen back on distant formality, but I do not intend to let her continue doing so. I sit down at her side, and pull her closer with an arm around her shoulder.

"Arwen, we have been friends for many lives of men. Do not hide yourself from me. I care for you as deeply as I ever did."

She looks up, her eyes searching. I am surprised, but for some reason she needs to do this, so I let her. After a moment she nods and lays her face against the hollow where my throat and shoulder meet. I run my hand gently over her silken hair and she begins to cry.

(Elrohir's PoV)

A week has passed since we received the letter. A week of hard riding with little rest and less food. It is high noon and we are cantering through the streets of Minas Tirith, men and women jumping out of our paths.

Suddenly, a child runs in front of my horse. I pull him to a halt so quickly he rears, and I feel a slight prick of guilt for hurting him. But the life of a human being is worth the slight injury to Celebmor's mouth. Elladan has already dismounted and is carrying the child from harm's way. The citizens are furious.

"What do you two think you're doing, riding through the upper circles? How did you get past the guards?"

We had shouted passwords and names at them as we trotted by, but I didn't think the man would like that answer.

"Isn't it enough that we had to dodge one cloaked rider already this morning? You nearly killed my son!"

"He wouldn't have been in any danger if you had kept control of him. Or do your children make a game of running in front of horses?"

"Why you -"

Elladan moves easily between me and the man, who is starting forward. He lays a light hand against my chest and that of the human. But the scorching glare he turns on me is anything but light.

"'Ro, kindly keep your temper in check. Sir, forgive my brother's discourtesy. We have ridden long and hard, and he is tired. We wish only to see our sister."

"And who is this sister of yours, exactly?"

"We are Elladan and Elrohir of Imladris, brothers to the lady Arwen Undomiel." His voice rings through the thoroughfare.

The change is instantaneous. Immediately, men and women move to the edges of the street, sympathy and respect on their faces. Elladan remounts.

"Citizens of Gondor, I thank you for your kindness. I am sure my sister is proud to be queen of such good people."

They cheer as we ride off, and El grins at me from beneath the shadow of his hood.

"You see, dear brother, keeping reign over your temper often has good results."

We meet no other resistance until the guards at the palace doors, but they are quick to let us pass. But at the door to our sister's rooms, two young guards vault to their feet, hands ready to draw their weapons.

"What business have you in the queen's chambers?"

"The lady Arwen is our sister. We wish to see her."

The pair glance at each other uncertainly. But before they have a chance to question us further the doors are pushed open from the inside. Standing in the opening is Legolas.

"El, 'Ro; thank the Valar."

- Foolish Elves; do they truly think to save their friend? Sons of Elrond, or prince of Greenwood, it matters not. Even Galadriel herself could not stop me. -