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Prologue: Little Starlight

The little girl sat, starring off into the trees. She hadn't moved an inch since Myraneth had entered the room, nor had she said a word. Myraneth looked down at the bone-white blond Elfling beside her, "Has she spoken to anyone?" Myraneth asked.

Legolas looked up at her, "No. Everlas has tried, but it's no use."

"It's not that it's no use, Little Leaf," Myraneth said, almost to herself, "She's frightened and alone. Do you come bounding up on an injured deer? No, you let it get used to you first."

"Why don't you try talking to her, Myraneth?" A voice asked from behind her. The woman spun to face Anastasia, the oldest Mirkwood Princess, "You are the Lady of the Wolves."

"It's precisely because I am the Lady of the Wolves that I do not approach her, Anastasia. What would the injured deer think of a wolf approaching it?"

The little girl turned towards her audience, her first movement in hours, "I am no deer. And I do not appreciate being called one," The cousins flinched as one, startled to hear her voice, "If you know my name, you'll know what I am."

"Little One, I have lived in this world almost as long as it has been a world. I know what you are. You are the bastard child of a Noldor house, born to a lowly Silvan Elf. You are Tauriel, and you have a future ahead of you here. Good or bad, whether it be filled with darkness or light, you must face that future head on, Little Starlight," Myraneth held out her hand to the elleth, "Come, Tauriel, it is about time we changed for supper."