Hi everyone! thanks for reading! This chapter is going to move pretty quickly so that you can get into the meat of the story more quickly. I promise my future chapters will be a bit more beefy (to continue the meat analogy) and will better depict the OC as a person. This chapter of course is very Confusing for the OC so her character will naturally behave in a confusing manner. Please take a moment and review!

Thanks so much!

-ZombiexBunniez

Legolas

A crisp spring breeze floated through the trees of the Mirkwood forest bringing the sweet smells of wildflowers and damp moss. The last frost of winter had loosened its hold only days before but the forest was already bursting with new life. Despite the beauty all around him Legolas Greenleaf could not find it in himself to enjoy the day.

He sat, reclined in one of the highest limbs of an oak tree, a broken bow lying limply across his legs. The beautifully carved shaft of the weapon was cracked in the center, making the bow look very much like a tree fallen victim to lightning strike. The eloth's pale hands stroked the bow tenderly, and his blue eyes showed the sorrow he felt at the loss of his inanimate companion.

It had been eighty short years since it had been gifted to him by the elves of Lothlorien, and it had served him more than well. It deserved to be mourned. A pang of regret bit at the eloth's senses. I should not have been so rough with this bow. He chided himself cruelly. Not a soul in middle earth could accuse Legolas of being a poor archer, but the reality did not matter. He would not accept that it was age that felled his bow.

Eighty years to an elf is like a blink of an eye, but ever since Legolas had returned home from his journey with the fellowship, his days had stretched cruelly. He missed, with an awful pain, the excitement of living beneath the stars and constantly having a task to be done. He missed the adrenaline that accompanied every battle, and unlike any other elf, he missed war.

With a deep sigh the elf looked up through the leaves of the tree that cradled him. All of my friends have gone away. He thought. They have all moved on. With another bewildered sigh Legolas gently wound the bowstring around the two pieces of shaft and placed it inside of the satchel that was slung over his shoulders. I am alone.

The great warrior elf slid from the branch where he had sat and made his way to the forest floor. He did not swing through the branches as he might have once, or race the wind through the leaves, instead he moved more like a chameleon, wanting very much to disappear forever into his surroundings. The past eighty years had made him weary, and prone to disappearances. The quiet did little to improve his mood, but noise did not improve it either. Music no longer soothed him, food no longer filled him and wine no longer warmed his weary soul. He had become not unlike a ghost.

For a time he allowed his feet to take him where they may as his mind relived the old glories of his former life. He mourned the dead and envied his own memory as he wandered the Mirkwood. He wanted to get lost among the trees of his home as many a traveler had done before him, but the dear trees he had been raised under would not allow such a thing. Eventually he found himself before the gate of his father's kingdom. He frowned as the doors opened for him. He stood for a long time staring at the gaping abyss of darkness before him. His stomach twisted spitefully as he considered turning away from the gates and trying once again to lose himself but the concerned call of one of his men woke him from his contemplation.

"Are you well, my Lord?" The guard asked. Legolas looked at him for a long moment, making the guard shuffle uncomfortably before he decided to nod. With a cold empty look he passed the Eloth and entered his home. He could not even muster kindness for his brothers in arms.

The captain of the guard stopped the young prince and bowed to him. Legolas did not speak to him.

"His highness has requested your presence in his chamber." The guard announced. Legolas stood very still and examined the man with a disinterested absence in his eyes.

"Does he?" The elf asked to the air. He rubbed his square jaw for a moment and then nodded to the guard.

Legolas had been spending a great many days avoiding his father, but he was far too weary to evade his father's shortening patience any longer. With long strides that no longer held their former purpose Legolas moved through his home, towards his father's chambers.

He wishes to see me in his chambers. Legolas thought warily. This audience will not bear glad tidings. Legolas knew that it must be a matter of grave importance if his father did not wish to discuss it from his throne. Thuranduil was overly fond of his throne room and the power with which it instilled him. Few were ever spared from scrutiny at the foot of his throne. Only his son bore the careful consideration of which battles to burgeon in company, because Thuranduil knew full well that only his son was brazen enough to contest him.

Upon reaching his father's bedchambers Legolas beat impatiently upon the door. He had little patience for his father's games. Without permission to enter Legolas pushed open the large overly adorned door and entered the lavishly decorated room beyond. Fine silks and velvet were strewn about everywhere, articles of richly embroidered clothing hung from the drawers of his wardrobe and the king's crown hung carelessly from the arm of the king's favorite chair. A haphazard pile of royal decrees sat on the desk directly before the king's chair and a black stain marred the elvish rug beneath it where his father had spilled a bottle of ink ages ago. Legolas frowned at the mess and chose a position near to the door but far from his father's inherent discord. Legolas had been raised to keep an obsessive tidiness. A warrior must be systematic, organized, nothing about him could be hectic.

The king in question appeared through a doorway that opened out from the far wall. Even when he was hidden from his public the king preferred to be dressed lavishly. He had lost all resemblance to a warrior.

"I see that you have decided to finally mature and stop ignoring your duties?" The king's cool, voice prompted as he took a seat in the chair where his crown was hung. Legolas watched his father with a cautious frown but did not respond. The king, completely unabashed by his son's silence continued. "You know that I am loath to mince words, so I shall not tarry, you have reached the age where a prince must find a suitable wife." The king stated it smoothly without hesitation; he did not even glance at his son. If he had, he would have seen a foul mood brewing in his cold blue eyes. "I have taken many suitable young ladies into consideration and have chosen one that will suit the station as your wife." The king stated as he began to shuffle through the papers on his desk. "I sent for her some weeks ago, she shall arrive tomorrow evening…- I expect you to be present and respectable." The king finished harshly. Legolas stood stark still, one would have to strain even to see his breast rise with a breath. His pale face had morphed into one of cool, controlled rage. The sort of face only a man who had known a close relationship with death could produce.

"You did not think to include me in this venture?" The prince questioned sharply. His rage dripped into his words like venom. Many suitable maidens? Does he think I am daft?

"You were obviously unfit to participate." The king quipped in response. That only served to anger Legolas further. He felt himself clench his fists tightly and his blood began to pump faster. Unfit! By the Valar!

"So you have saddled some poor maiden with a useless husband?" Legolas spat. He could not believe what his pointed ears were hearing.

"You are far from useless, and she should be more than honored to bear your spawn." The king's flippant response made his son's blue eyes open wide in astonishment. "Besides, noble marriage is a transaction, not the rubbish one reads in fairy tales, you are more than old enough to know that."

"And who, pray tell, is expected to marry me?" Legolas asked, raising his voice. He knew there was no choice in it and that his father had made it so. To turn away the girl could mean war, let alone Legolas was not one for dealing with women. Of course he had bedded them before but to blatantly turn one away when she had traveled countless mile no doubt would be cruelty. He was cornered and he didn't like it.

"The daughter of Loth Lorien, Celablassel Edledrihl." The king answered unmoved by his son's rage.

Celblassel Edledrihl

The daughter of lady Galadriel sat tall on her horse, the picture of nobility with her dark reddish-gold hair braided back and her pale white cloak floating about her like a cloud. Though her lovely round face and pale blue eyes were the picture of serenity, she was panicking on the inside. She rode on an unfamiliar horse behind an unfamiliar guard who had met her caravan at the edge of Mirkwood to guide them to its center. She had traveled in a small group. Three Lothlorien guards including Haldir, the march warden, her ladies made and a wagon driven by a common elf that contained her belongings and dowry was all that traveled with her. Her parents had tried to convince her to take an entire parade of elves with her but she would not hear of it. She may not have a say in her impending union but she refused to be paraded about like a prize trophy to an elf whom she had never met. And the closeness of the Mirkwood forest made her doubly glad of her decision. I would be hard pressed to assume that elves dwelled here. She thought skeptically. This is nothing like the woodlands of my home. The princess gave the slightest of frowns.

With a shiver Celeblassel drew her cloak closer about her and pushed her steed into a slightly faster walk. She was not fond of the closeness of the trees. The forest felt too cramped and musty. Compared to the beautiful woods she had called home with elegant, reaching, malorn trees and beautiful wildflowers it seemed snarled and malignant. Celeblassel's handmaiden must have noticed the princess's change in pace because she was quick the Celeblassel's side.

"Are you well my lady?" She asked politely. Amberwen had been appointed to the princess's employ at the start of their journey due to her heritage as a Mirkwood elf.

"Yes, I am fine, Amberwen, thank you. It is only the trees. They are very…" Celeblassel drifted off into thought as her blue eyes drifted to the leaves above them. Amberwen had learned that the princess was prone to moments of such deep contemplation that she would sometimes pause in her speech only to carry it on some time later.

"Different, my lady?" Amberwen prompted, hoping to help the princess continue and not become lost thought so close to their destination. The princess blinked her large pretty eyes and looked at Amberwen as if woken from a dream.

"Yes, exactly so… I was just thinking that they are quite a bit shorter than our own trees, almost stout. Rather like dwarves. " The princess whispered the last bit with a secretive smile. "Don't you think?"

Amberwen wrinkled her delicate nose and scoffed.

"I should think not, my lady! Our trees are just as fine and elegant, if one has the pallet to appreciate them." Amberwen snapped in defense of her homeland's trees. Some of them were her friends, and such a grotesque comparison was insulting. Amberwen watched as the secretive smile slipped off of the princess's face and felt deeply chastised as the princess gave a little frown.

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten that this was your home, Amberwen. Do forgive my rudeness." The princess apologized with such quiet grace that Amberwen left her own rushed apologies on her tongue. Celeblassel noticed her dismay and smiled once again. "I may be a princess dear friend, but I am horribly forgetful and clumsy, please help me to remember my manners in my new home." I must be sure to make this elf like me. She will be my only friend in my new home. She is the only shoulder I have to lean on. The elith gave a small smile but did not seem fully restored. Celeblassel sighed and looked at the path ahead. Why must she be so affected? Celeblassel wondered. I'm only an elf.

"Perhaps the princess would like to hear about her betrothed once more?" Haldir offered with a kind smile. Celeblassel smiled and nodded eagerly. I will miss Haldir. She thought with a pang of sadness.

"Yes, Amberwen, tell me again about the prince." Celeblassel asked with a happy smile. Amberwen looked at her for a moment before smiling and relinquishing herself to the princess's good mood.

"I am not sure what else I can tell you, my lady. Prince Legolas is a very…. Aloof sort." Amberwen said with a smile. "He is kind though." She finished with a note of reassurance in her voice. Haldir Smiled and shook his head.

"That is not how I remember Legolas! He certainly wasn't the sort to talk your pointed ears off but he could tell battle stories with the best of us. He has a humor too, though it may not be the sort for a lady's ears." Haldir told the two Elith's as he fondly remembered his friend. "He saved my life a time or two." The march warden continued cheerily. Celeblassel tried very hard to piece together a person out of the descriptions she was being given but she could not dispel the sense that neither of her companions could prepare her for what she would find inside the walls of king Thuranduil's fortress.

"We've arrived." The guard who rode in the head of the column called, shocking Celeblassel out of her imagination. The great gates of the fortress had risen out of nowhere, surprising the princess and plunging her into an even worse state of unease. Celeblassel began to worry her reins and sweep her pale eyes from side to side as was her habit.

The great gates opened and they rode into a large chamber where many guards stood. Their serious faces and the way they stood unmoving made Celeblassel drop her eyes to the ground. A guard stepped forward to help Amberwen to dismount and Haldir helped Celeblassel off as soon he was dismounted. Dark haired elves came forward and took their horses silently.

"It is so dark in here." Celeblassel breathed as she took Haldir's arm and held tightly to him.

"Don't fret, my lady, it is not all dark." Amberwen said with a kind smile. Celeblassel swallowed hard and nodded. I hope that Haldir cannot feel me shaking. She thought as she tried to steady herself.

"His Highness and the Prince of Mirkwood will receive you in the throne room, my lady." The guard who had led them through the woods announced to the group. Celeblassel's eyes widened in surprise and she looked up at Haldir frightened. She was suddenly extremely aware of how she must look and smell. I must look akin to an orc! She fretted quietly. She worried her messy braids and bit her lip.

"Haldir, I am not clean! I cannot be introduced to my betrothed like this!" Celeblassel whispered into the march warden's ear. I have not complained about missing baths this entire journey, but I cannot be seen in this state. Haldir nodded and looked to the guard.

"Is she not to be settled first? She has been traveling for a great many days, it is cruel to force a lady into such an impromptu audience. Surely they mean to give her time to prepare." Haldir said with a cordial smile and an air of charisma that was learned from years of dealing with nobility. Despite the fact that the guard was no one he needed to impress he was determined to be on his best behavior. He could not shame the princess or disappoint the Lord and Lady of Loth Lorien.

"His Highness anticipated such a request, and has instructed me to tell the princess that she need not pretty herself for this audience." The guard replied before turning away from them and moving farther into the fortress and down a corridor.

Celeblassel stood in utter shock as several eliths appeared. They popped out of doorways as though they were insects crawling out of a hive. They all wore surreal smiles and they all giggled like a bunch of young girls.

"Look! Look it's the new Lady!" One squealed. They all converged on Celeblassel, prying her from Haldir in a flurry of skirts and shrill introductions.

"My isn't she exotic looking!?" One of the ladies exclaimed. A roar of agreement followed as the eliths pulled and pushed Celeblassel down the same hallway that the guard had just disappeared into. Celeblassel felt too crowded. She tried and tried to get a word in, to ask where she was going but the other Eliths spoke to quickly and too loudly. OH how I hate them! She screamed in her mind. Why won't they let me go! As soon as they entered the throne room the eliths did just that. They all disappeared just as quickly as they had come and took their shrill laughter with them.

When Celeblassel laid eyes on the two noble eloths, one sitting on the throne and one standing next to it, she wished for the swarm of females back. She was standing before king Thuranduil and Prince Legolas. She had been brought in rather unceremoniously and could not decide whether to be awestruck or horrified. The elf upon whom her eyes were fixed was unmistakably the prince of Mirkwood.

He was more beautiful than Celeblassel had been able to imagine. Even by elvish standards he was… extraordinary. His piercing blue eyes were all she could look at for a moment before her own eyes fled from his and she glimpsed the rest of his magnificent form. Broad shoulders and strong limbs denoted his strength, his high cheek bones and stark features were proof of his nobility. The muscles of a battle hardened warrior tightened beneath his silver tunic and a quiet look of surprise graced his face. Quite suddenly Celeblassel felt very small and very insignificant. A spark of anger flared in her and she stood as straight as she could with all of the grace her elvish blood instilled in her. She would not be undermined by the slight inconvenience of being unprepared. She would not shame her parents by making a fool of herself. With a deep breath she restored the perfect porcelain mask that hid who she really was.

"Well met, your highness." She said with a small, modest, smile that bellied every drop of anxiety inside of her.

Legolas

Legolas had been in a foul mood that entire day. He had refused to eat, and had not slept the night before. The thought that his bed, which had belonged solely to him since his birth, would be shared with a complete stranger had made him ill at ease. The time spent standing next to his father's throne, dressed up for the décor to admire, had not played well on his nerves either.

"What is the point of my presence?" Legolas growled as his fierce blue eyes chose another drape to burn their hatred into. He wished his glare could start a fire and give him a valid reason for leaving.

"Do not be so unsociable, Legolas, you know very well why your presence is required." Thuranduil replied with just as much bite in his tone.

"Do I?" Legolas spat back spitefully. Thuranduil slammed a fist onto the arm of his throne and glared up at his son.

"Put your petulant tongue to rest!" He hissed. "If you were to growl and quibble for another thousand years it would not free you from this room! I command you to act your age!" Just as the harsh words left Thuranduil's mouth the doors to the throne room burst open and a whirlwind of females filed in before vanishing just as quickly as it came, leaving one of its ranks behind. The girl before them was petite, and her skin was an odd honey color for an elf. Her hair too was interesting, it seemed to be several colors at a time, but not truly any one of them. Red, gold, and light brown blended together to make a beautiful russet sort of color. Her eyes were shocking. The pale elvish blue of her irises gave a fierce almost owl like look to her eyes, but her appearance was not what struck Legolas most. It was the moods that flashed over her beautiful round face. For a moment she wore a look of shock and then wonder as her eyes danced over Legolas. When she examined him he felt the tiniest prick of astonishment. This tiny elith was assessing him the way an opponent might size up his sword, or a farmer might asses a bull. She, however, did not seem displeased.

With a proud flash in her eye the maiden stood straighter, dawning the presence of nobility the way an archer might dawn his bow. Her doll like face bore a benign smile, but her pale eyes flashed with a brilliance that was all together fierce. He had only seen such a look in the eyes of wild animals.

"Well met, your Highness." She said in a voice that sounded like the embodiment of a cool breeze.

"Indeed." Thuranduil replied. Legolas seethed when he heard his father's voice, riddled with disapproval. The Elith before them, however, seemed unfazed. Is she ignorant or simply playing at ignorance? Another brilliant flash of those eyes told Legolas that she was neither.

"I hope you will forgive my state, my Lord. I have been many days on the road, and have not yet rested or bathed." If it was not for her eyes Legolas might have believed that as a genuine apology but he could see something more there on her face. He could feel the whisper of a smile begin to grace his lips. She looked fit for a ball to him.

"I suppose we shall have to bare it until you are settled. I am sure you will not object to sharing my son's chamber." Thuranduil did not mean it as a question and it made Legolas ashamed of him. The girl's eyes widened momentarily before returning to a mask of kind gentility that hid what must have been shock and indignation.

"In my parent's kingdom, it is forbidden until after the wedding night—" Legolas caught his father's face beginning to purse in disapproval.

"It is customary in Mirkwood. How else will we know if you are a suitable match for my son?" Thuranduil interjected tersely. The elith, Celeblassel, considered him for a moment weighing her mind some decision. Her eyes flashed over Legolas who found himself frighteningly unaware as to whether or not he was showing any emotion. Apparently she found her answer on his face.

"If it is customary my lord then I am bound by good grace to agree." She looked grim, very much a mirror of Legolas' own expression. Thuranduil gave a snake like smile and nodded.

"Very good, Legolas, show your betrothed to your chambers." Thuranduil waved his command with his and Legolas moved from his side reluctantly. As he approached the elith he took his time to do his own inspection. Her head only came to his collar bone and she was well built. The swells of her breasts were confined by a travel bodice that displayed a tiny waist and hips that flared beautifully into what he could only assume was a beautifully round bottom. She had full soft looking lips a few curls escaped her braids. She did not seem elvish. She seemed something far more… exotic. Legolas shook himself from his observation and offered her his arm and a cool look. He had to be wary of this woman. As beautiful and docile as she looked her eyes exposed a fierce will. He did not notice until she took his arm that she was shaking like a little leaf in a windstorm.