Chapter 5

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a/n: Hello! Sorry it took me so long to post! I took a week off of writing because I just celebrated my 13th birthday, and I went away to a place with zero connection. Very annoying, I must say. I would really love some feedback on what you all think of my chapter sizes. Are they too short? I usually average around 1500 words per chapter and I try to post every week (not that that has gone very well), so I am not exactly sure if that is too short for the wait or whatever. I am currently writing several different things, so it's hard to always be one time (not that I ever am), but that's my excuse. 

Also, I have this fic pretty planned out, maybe going to twenty-some chapters, possibly more-but until I reach the big important climax-  thingy, I may have to have a few filler chapters. If any of you lovely readers have any ideas possibly for some of these filler chapters, like teenage drama or something to take up some time, I would be very grateful.

Read, review, and vote!! Thanks!

A few days had passed since the most recent Councillors' meeting; having deemed it pointless to meet before the dwarves' visit. Everyone, excluding a smug Bronte, was skeptical about the dwarves. Not the species themselves -- they had actually shared decent relations in the past-- but in their inclination to show up. I mean, why would they? Or at least, that was the question that hammered in the heads of the elves. Endlessly pondering, obsessing, assessing. It was vital for them to obsess, to reassess interminably; their survival depended on it. The survival of the elven race, and most likely all the other intelligent species that had been of aid to them, rested solely on the shoulders of one recluse deportee-- and everyone knew it.

Emery paced his study, muttering curse words every time he stubbed his toe; his hands obsessively flicked dirt off of his tunic. This wasn't the Emery everyone had grown to know. Hell, when he looked into the mirror in the morning, he hardly recognized himself. This Emery, the one pouring over thousands of texts, pulling fruitless all-nighters in an attempt to find something-- anything he could about this woman. Old photographs, yearbooks from Foxfire, medical records, job interviews, ability testing documents all dating back hundreds of thousands of years-- this Emery, was different. Cold, obsessive, frustrated, not determined, ambitious, and fair-- no, he was different, and everyone knew it as well. 

"Useless," he muttered under his breath, the words no more than a soft whisper; but a soft whisper filled with frustration and regret. It was the only word that he had spoken all night. No other word could possibly be appropriate in regards to his findings. Useless. A waste of time. 

Though, he decided that there were worse words. Worse words he could think of that would accurately construe his nonexistent findings. Yes. There were words such as the one pestering him, nagging at the back of his brain. Oh, yes, there were far worse words to describe how he felt... how he felt about the situation. But he wouldn't dare mutter that word. Because, should he mutter that one deleterious word, he would be giving up hope. And as of right now, that was all he had. 

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"Any news?" Sophie asked anxiously, as Grady walked into her room.

"Not yet, Kiddo." He gave her a halfhearted smile. The same smile he had given her the day before, and the day before that. Sophie felt as though all she had ever seen was halfhearted smiles, quarter grins, false laughs... happiness didn't seem real anymore; but then again, nothing did. It was war.

His grin faltered at the look on her face. "Hey, Kiddo. You can't give up. They'll come." He wrapped her in a comforting embrace, resting his chin on the crown of her messy blonde hair.

"How can you be so sure?" She said softly, her voice... timid, almost.

Grady winced at her question, the pained look on his face only intensifying when he caught a glimpse of her worry-stricken face. "Because they have to. Like Bronte said, they want this war over as much as we do. They'll come. They must."

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