Disclaimer! I don't own anything from the Silmarillion, or the theme of Cinderella.

I have come to the conclusion that my step-mother absolutely hates me.

Lady Alquasar she is called, for her face is fair and white, hair a golden shade of light, and never once has she been to disappoint the expectant onlookers who wished to see her face upon the morn as Laurelin waxed on the third hour. She is as graceful as a swan, for her name is swan-veil. Her eyes shine like the Mingling—a bright array colors such as blue, green, violet, and hazel.

She is also a blond bimbo in my opinion.

I understand why my father wedded her—she is beautiful, I do not deny that—but I certainly do not understand why she, of all people, would be chosen when there were so many other decent Elf-ladies. My case was not different from Prince Fëanáro, whose mother Queen Míriel Þerindë departed for the Halls of Mandos, never to return, and thus allowing King Finwë to marry again. But my mother did not die of her own choice; she was killed.

But Lord Almarawë is now deceased, and I am left to serve her and her vile offspring that she spawned long before meeting him.

Today, she seemed determined to demean my dignity.

"Silmalir, wake up your step-sisters," Lady Alquasar ordered. "Then prepare the carriage. We are riding out to the palace of Tirion." Then she took one look at my tunic and pants and scoffed. "Change out of those wretched clothes. Proper ladies like I wear dresses."

'Silmalir this, Silmalir that.' She is no lady. She is simply a puppet for the Court to play with.

I grudgingly went to my step-sisters' rooms and roused them from the bed. Then I had to fill washing basins for them, pull out dresses from their wardrobe—all the while complimenting them on how the Trees made their blonde hair glow, how they seemed to get even more attractive after sleep, or some other worthless comment on their appearance, just to boost their extremely large egos. I was surprised that, for once, they did not comment on how tactless my hair was, or even that my face was simply a homely face, and nothing more.

Aicelen and Lohtilin actually seemed nervous. I enquired them politely, but I regretted doing so.

Lohtilin answered with a shaking voice; "We are meeting with the sons of Prince Fëanáro."

As I said before, I regretted questioning their anxiety. "Oh."

Even more ridiculously, Aicelen recited their names with a slight tremor that betrayed her excitement.

I was then introduced to the 'Speech of What I Should Do When Arriving In Tirion,' in which I was told not to speak, not to embarrass them, and not to act foolish. I could not see myself committing any of these acts. Though I was an Elf, I did not exactly possess the grace to draw attention from my step-mother and step-siblings' admirers.

"Now, do not embarrass us, Silmalir," Aicelen told me with earnestness. I wanted to be earnest and punch her in the face, but... "You are but a maid, so you must not draw attention to yourself."

Lohtilin agreed with her older sister. "Indeed, Silmalir. Your face is plain, hair lacking in a glorious shine, and your eyes are an odd shade of blue."

Believe me, I am used to these comments on my appearance. They were raised without moral and hardship, and so they were unable to see true beauty except for their own false assumptions. If the Valar were to put them in a forest filled with edible herbs and plants, they would look down upon it and say that the children of Lady Alquasar are too noble to eat such things.

And speak of the devil!

Said devil entered the room with two gentle taps to the mahogany door. "My beautiful daughters—" Note how she only speaks of her daughters, but it matters not, for I do not wish to be known as a witch's daughter; "—are you ready for the ride of Tirion? The carriage awaits, and you both look even more beautiful than Queen Indis." Lady Alquasar literally showered praises onto her two daughters.

I never knew what it was like to have a mother, but if she was a disgusting kiss-up, then I would prefer to be an orphan.

"My lady," said the butler Arátor from the doorway. "If you would?"

Lady Alquasar nodded and swept from the room dramatically, just like a stuck-up princess who thought the ground was unfit for her to walk. "Come, my daughters!"

Aicelen and Lohtilin left the room, leaving me to ponder if I should continue to wear my tunic. It would be harder to maneuver with a dress...and Lady Alquasar would obviously put down my outfit, saying that I was unfit to wear such elegant clothes.

Perhaps there was one ounce of her that cared for me, but she only showed it through trying to insult me.

Perhaps.

It turns out, though I should have expected this, I was to ride a horse instead of riding a carriage. I much preferred to sitting comfortably while the stagecoach moved at a leisurely pace. I won't lie—I didn't like riding horses. My thighs were sore from pressing against the saddle, and I was practically doused in sweat. It was not attractive or comfortable. My hair was pulled into a ponytail, but the bangs were clever and moved to fall in front of my eyes.

This, too, was plastered to the sides of my face.

The three witches were probably sitting in the carriage, watching me from the open window as I painfully rode a horse. They would be laughing as I winced every time the horse jumped over a particularly large pebble.

It was even worse when I tried to mount. The poor beast didn't realise that I had no intention of harming him (or her). The end result was that I ended up on the floor with blades of grass stuck all over my clothes. To make it oh-so better, Lady Alquasar insulted my nature of dress.

"You don't look so happy, Silmalir," mused one of my fellow maids, Fánamaril. She rode a horse as well, for only the 'noble' rode with ease. Her appearance was not so much different from mine—drenched in perspiration. "Then again, riding horses is for males. And man-maidens."

I sighed heavily. "My sides and thighs ache. Why did they not make more comfortable saddles to ride?"

"Because," interjected Fánamaril; "males do not need comfort. They only need maidens to fluff their pillows and pamper them with blankets."

I have to admit—I am quite ambitious. Though the family fortune should have been split to me and my step-mother, it seemed to all go to the latter. "If I had it my way, we would be riding carriages, and they would be walking." I was too annoyed to reward a lesser fantasized punishment. "But lo and behold, it is not to be."

We arrived at the palace quite late, and I was not so happy with Lady Alquasar. To say that I was flat-out irritated would have suited better to the situation. She got out from the carriage and was received quite warmly outside by King Finwë, grudgingly acknowledged by Prince Fëanáro, welcomed by Findis, Nolofinwë, Lalwendë, and Arafinwë, and cheerfully greeted by Lady Indis.

I did not see Prince Fëanáro's three sons: Nelyafinwë, Kanafinwë, or Turcafinwë.

Mayhap they were reluctant to see Lady Alquasar. I know I would be.

Of course, only Lady Alquasar, Aicelen, and Lohtilin were welcomed so royally. The rest of us—the servants—were dropped like deadweights on the doorstep.

As King Finwë and his family escorted my step-mother and step-sisters into the palace, Prince Fëanáro, the remaining person, smiled at us.

"Hello," he said. "You must all be tired. I am Prince Fëanáro, and I will show you to your quarters."

He was a lot nicer than I thought he would be. Lady Alquasar said that he would be rudely silent and stare into souls scorchingly with that stone grey gaze. However, when I looked into his eyes, I saw nothing but kindness.

Then again, Lady Alquasar was always biased towards people that held no admiration towards her.

Hehe, this is my twisted version of Cinderella, and there are several Prince Charmings.

Reviewing: constructive criticism is appreciated - should I take this fic off of the site, or if not, discontinue it? And would you kindly point out the grammatical errors?

Meanings of Names: (Note: the 'insert word' is Quenya, courtesy of the Quenya name generator from the website named elf-fetish, which should say in the information box below the link that it is a name generator.)

1. Alquasar - 'alqua:' swan; 'wasar:' veil - swan veil
2. Aicelen - 'aica:' sharp; 'elen:' star - sharp star
3. Almarawë - 'almare:' blessedness; 'aiwë:' bird - bird of blessedness
4. Arátor - 'aráto:' champion; 'tor:' brother - champion brother
5. Fánamaril - 'fána:' cloud; 'maril:' crystal - cloud crystal
6. Lohtilin: 'lohte:' blossom; 'ilin:' blue - blossom of blue
7. Silmalir - 'silma:' shining white; 'lir:' song - shining white song

And...Lord Almarawë is Silmalir's father, and husband of Lady Alquasar (step-father of Aicelen and Lohtilin.)