The Life and Times of a Girl Named Blaise Zabini

By Rosy the Cat

Summary: Blaise Zabini isn't your average Slytherin. She's smart, she's loyal, 
and she wants to kick Voldemort's arse. Oh, and she's not human. LotR (movie 
and book canon) /Harry Potter fusion with elements from "The Sandman."

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned 
by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury 
Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money 
is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. 

The Lord of the Rings belongs to J. R. R. Tolkien, probably his family, New 
Line Cinemas, and probably a bunch of other people. 

The Sandman belongs to Neil Gaiman, and DC Comics/Vertigo. 

Chapter 3

Notation: [...] means the words are being spoken in Elvish

*************************

Blaise stared blankly up at her bed's canopy, still garbed in the black dress 
she had mechanically donned for the funeral just an hour ago. 

When had her life become so complicated? 

When her grandfather, her beloved "Granda," had quietly told her the biggest 
secret she had heard yet to date. 

It only classified as that because, with the other secrets she had been told, 
she at had known, in part, or at least suspected, the truth. 

This one blew her away, stripping away almost everything she had thought she 
had known about, not only her family, but also herself. 

Dallandra Zabini, daughter of Legolas Thranduilion, hadn't been her mother. 
That had shocked and surprised her, because, with the exception of hair and 
color, where she was a brown-eyed brunette and Dalla had been a stereotypical 
gray-eyed blond elven beauty, they looked too much alike to be anything but 
related. 

Her main consolation was that she wasn't related in the slightest to Lorenzo 
Zabini, and she'd gone into a little impromptu goofy Dance of Victorious Joy. 

Then Granda had laid the big one on her. 

Dalla had been her *sister*. 

Which meant that Granda wasn't her grandfather, but rather her *father*. 

While she'd been trying desperately to twist her brain around *that* little 
revelation, Legolas proceeded to explain how things had gotten to this point. 

It had all started over a hundred years ago. 

A hundred and *sixteen* years ago, to be a tad more specific...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Well, you see, Blaise," Legolas started, his face composed even as his anxiety 
manifested itself in his hands fidgeting, absent-mindedly playing with the bits 
of yarn that stood up from the surface of the quilt on the girl's bed. He wasn't 
quite certain how to proceed with this, even though he had been preparing for 
it since Blaise had been born. He also didn't know how she would take the news. 
"Umm..."

"Your grasp of the English language astounds me."

Legolas looked at her sharply, eyes narrowed, then relaxed, taking a calming 
breath before starting again. 

"Your mother was a young lady whom I'd presumed was human. She introduced 
herself as Teleute, and we were in a small country pub, she for reasons 
unknown at the time, I observing the anniversary of my wife leaving me for 
Valinor," Here he winced, and Blaise reached out a comforting hand to him, 
which he took, giving a light squeeze of thanks before continuing. "In any 
case, she drew me 'out of my shell,' so to speak, and we got to talking 
about life, and the things people take for granted. Eventually, we got far 
too drunk for our own good, which rather surprised me that she lasted as 
long as she did, being of such slight build, but I had been drinking for 
several hours long ere she introduced herself."

Legolas looked away, staring blankly out the window. "Needless to say, it's 
rather obvious what happened after that. The next morning she was gone, 
with not even so much as a note.

"That was over a century ago."

Blaise looked confused. "But, Granda...I mean, Father, I mean, Atar, I mean...
Oh, heck with it; Da, if that happened over a century ago, how could I have been 
born when I was? At least, and be the product of...THAT..."

Legolas sighed, then turned to her, his blue eyes locking onto her dark brown, 
almost black, ones. "You aren't human, Blaise. Not one drop of human blood 
flows in your veins."

Now Blaise was just plain confused. "So my mother was an Elf? Wouldn't you have 
been able to tell?"

Her father shook his head, then explained, "No, she wasn't an Elf. And, though 
she had a mortal form that night, and the day you were born as well, for that 
matter, your mother wasn't mortal. I would go so far as to say she can't even 
be classified as *immortal*. Her kind, her /family/, really, are known as the 
Endless. 

"Your mother is Death, Blaise.

"Apparently, once each century Death takes on mortal form for a single day, 
in order to better understand those who pass into her care."

The Prince of Mirkwood and Lord of Ithilien gave his youngest child a few moments 
to recover before continuing his narrative. "As far as either of us could divine, 
with your sister's help, you were conceived that night all those years ago, and 
born as soon as Death again had a mortal form to use to give you life, for Death 
cannot create, only offer rest before renewal and rebirth.

"Essentially, your gestation period, in chronological terms, was a century, 
though in mortal terms it was but a day."

Blaise's eyebrow was twitching furiously at this point as her mind tried to 
reconcile this information. Finally she got it toned down, took a deep breath, 
and asked, "So, how did I end up being known as Blaise Zabini, instead of 
something more Elven?"

Legolas nodded and said, "Blaise Zabini did exist. If you were to go to the 
burial ground in the forest, you would find her grave among your sister's other 
deceased children.

"Death brought you to me a few hours after your birth and begged me to take 
care of you. Her time in mortal form was almost spent, and she couldn't well 
take care of you in her normal form. So I accepted you, and promised to keep 
you safe.

"Unfortunately, as things happen, my disguise was, at that time, far too old 
to be considered your father- not without far too many difficult questions 
-and far too young to fake my death, set upp a new identity, and not be recognized 
by those of my associates not 'in the loop,' so to speak. 

"And then, Blaise died being born, strangled by the umbilical chord. 

"This provided a perfect opportunity, for all we had to do was keep the death 
of your sister's daughter, your niece, quiet, as well as handle legal issues 
with some trustworthy associates, and you smoothly took her place, with Lorenzo," 
Here he gained a look of disgust at the thought of his ex-son-in-law, "None 
the wiser, for you /do/ look a great deal like Dallandra. And, of course, 
what grandfather wouldn't be protective of his only granddaughter?"

Blaise slowly nodded, her logic centers now having the information needed to 
make sense of the situation. She then raised her hand, as if in school. 

"Question? What's my real name, then?"

Legolas smiled, and answered, "Elessario, after a brave Elven healer who fought 
bravely at the battle of Helm's Deep." He then frowned. "I never spoke with her 
myself, but Galadriel told me a great deal about her, once the War of the Ring 
was over and done with."

"What happened to her?"

Her father shrugged elegantly, "I do not know. Galadriel merely said that she 
returned to her home, and that Middle Earth never saw her again. 

"She was an Elf of Mirkwood, I've been told as much, but I never met her in 
my youth, so she might have been a reclusive wanderer. It is most likely that 
she went on to Valinor after the battle."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He'd gone on to tell her that her mother was planning on stopping by to meet 
her within the next week or so, and that she would eventually meet the rest 
of her mother's family, the Endless. 

Draco and his mother had shown up at the funeral. Narcissa Malfoy had given a 
rather touching speech about Dalla, and Draco had just held her as she cried, 
mourning the passing of the only mother she had ever known, as well as the 
sister she'd never have a chance to meet. 

Lorenzo Zabini was a dead man once she caught up to him! 

Hate him, hate him, hate him...! *mutinous grumbling...*

She was drawn away from her plotting of the death of her erstwhile ex-brother-
in-law (much better than if he was her father; this way she could disown him!) 
when she felt a familiar otherworldly presence. She opened one tear-reddened 
eye, then waved half-heartedly at the ghostly figure. 

"Hallo, Haldir. Sorry if I don't get up, but I've had a really lousy week."

*************************

Author's Notes: Yes, I have developed a taste for the dreaded Cliffhanger of 
*DOOM*!!! 

=^^;=

If you want to know what the heck Haldir of Lothlorien is doing in our beloved 
half-elf's room (No, they're not going to do anything inappropriate! GET YOUR 
MINDS OUTTA THE GUTTER!!!), you're going to have to stick with this story for 
a little while longer. 

Acknowledgments: Hi everybody!

All I really have to say is that I'd like to thank the people who've taken the 
time to review this story so far. Unfortunately, as I write this, the first two 
chapters haven't gone up on Fiction Alley, so these are just for the people 
who've reviewed on FF. net and MediaMiner.org. Hopefully I'll have reviews from 
Fiction Alley, and maybe some other places, too, before I post the next chapter. 

Anyway, here it goes: 

Dingzhe no Megami- Dingzhe-san, there's one thing you should know about me: I 
don't fear your wrath. I only fear dying, heights, and my mother, and not 
necessarily in that order. But thanks for reviewing anyway!

Dhiana- I'm glad you find my story fascinating, and I'm doing my best to get it 
written as quickly and as well as I can. I don't want to cut corners with this 
one, since this is my current baby among my projects. Even though I'm also 
working on my other stories in progress. 

TASAKAPEOTKAUU- My one and only Media Miner reviewer! You currently hold the 
record for the longest review! And, yes, quite frankly, I can't picture Legolas 
as an old man either. That's what Elven Glamourie magic is for! =~_^= Sorry, as 
mentioned in chapter one, Blaise is out for kicking Voldemort's "arse" (can I 
just say I absolutely /adore/ some British pronunciations? Makes it sound 
silly and not-curse-wordy) in and of itself. She thinks he's a murdering butt-
head with an over-inflated ego, and let's not forget that she thinks Harry's 
got far too much fame as it is. She's out to do what's right, and she'd probably 
sooner "kiss a Wookie" than be famous. Remember, the thing that's kept her family 
alive for ten thousand years is keeping themselves as far out of the spotlight as 
they can, and she really doesn't want to have wizards poking, prodding and 
dissecting her to find out how the heck an immortal Elf works. Dumbledore has a 
lot of clout, but, as all of us sci-fi fans know, when a government is convinced 
that something is threatening it, nothing's going to stop them from keeping it 
away. 

Anyway, thanks again for sticking with this, and please tell me what you think 
of all this. My e-mail is rosythecat@socal.rr.com

-- Rosy the Cat
1-17-03

Revision Notes: Revised for future content and terminology. 

5-5-04