[Author's Note: I try to write and it came out really angsty and dark. Sorry! There will be a continuation chapter to this. Please read at your own discretion because this chapter is like very angsty.  I was listening to Ghosts by James Vincent McMorrow, hence inspired the chapter. Feel free to play the song on loop! ]

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[LEANE'S POV]

These past two weeks, I felt so unstable.

Not unstable in a good way like the way my husband always managed to make me feel this past century.

Three things I learned as I lived long enough with the elves: One, gracefulness and elegance in one's conduct can be learned. Two, a hundred years for human was but a year for elves. Three, humans die eventually, and life goes on. We are but a flower in the fields; here today and gone tomorrow.

We?

Whose side was I on? Was I an elf? No, but I live just as long as they.

Was I a human? Yes, but I did not grow old; not a single grey hair could be found on my head, nor a wrinkle on my skin in my one hundred and thirty five years walking this world.

Yet despite how youthful I was on the outside, I felt sort of thin and stretched on the inside.

Having Aragorn and his family around in this realm used to be a great joy for me. But not anymore. 

Aragorn and Arwen did nothing wrong. Never. They were as lovely as they ever. Gracious. Just. Wise. Benevolent. Loyal. They were never a problem–I was.

A century. I learned to walk like an elf, spoke like an elf, acted like an elf; yet I failed to muster their inner coolness. That damn particular elvish perk must be reserved for elves only.Just like their superior hearing and sight.

"Damn elvish perks," I mumbled under my breath.

Arwen, still beautiful as ever, looked at me with such amusement in her eyes.

"What? I said nothing," I feigned innocence.

The queen of Gondor raised her delicate eyebrow. "Good to know that some of your personality haven't changed with time," she chuckled, "You still talk to yourself. What's on your mind?"

I don't know, Arwen. How do you keep looking so happy and bright knowing that your mortal husband doesn't have long and might be taken from you any time soon?

I sighed. "No. I just remembered something with Legolas earlier. One hundred years trying to learn shooting double arrows from the best archer Arda could offer, and I still can't figure out how I managed to almost kill my own husband in every. Single. Lesson," I lied expertly, my voice marred with frustration that came genuinely but not because of the lessons. Arwen let out a carefree, merry yet beautiful laughter at my complaint.

"Does it have to do with the fact that after a century married to each other, you and Legolas still can't keep your hands off of each other?" giggled Arwen. "I would assume that archery lessons with your husband would be too distracting."

I rolled my eyes. "Like you and Aragorn is any better than us," I shot back, smirking at her.

"I do not deny it, but don't say that out loud!" she replied in a hushed voice, giggling, her cheek heated up in embarrassment.

"Oh gosh. How I've missed your company Arwen," I sighed, smiling at our lovely, girly banter. 

"The feeling is mutual, my friend," beamed Arwen, squeezing my hand in her delicate one, "Promise me you will come visit Gondor next Spring."

"Next Spring? Don't you have another schedule to visit here at that time? Or has the schedule being moved?"

"Aragorn has been complaining about his back lately. Poor man cannot stand long journey as much as he used to. He is not getting any younger. I'm afraid that his healer had advised him to refrain from long journeys like the trip we make here. I guess it's time for you to visit us."

Not getting any younger.

I remembered how Aragorn's hair had turned mostly grey, though the light in his eyes still burn bright as day behind the lines of aging marking his benevolent face.

I nodded. "Definitely. If this deal about Ithillien does work, then you can count on me on bothering you and Aragorn often," I declared with a grin, to which Arwen replied with a bright smile. 

"There you are, meleth nin."

The familiar deep voice that belonged to Aragorn was gentle and affectionate, and when I turn back towards the sound of his voice, I found myself smiling, seeing Arwen already been pulled into his embrace. My eyes caught briefly on how wrinkly and veiny was Aragorn's hands were, despite its kingliness…

"...my seamstress is waiting for me. So I will see you tonight, mellon," said Arwen excitedly. I straightened myself and offered her an easy smile as I waved her goodbye.

How could Arwen managed to look so happy, so strong, knowing that her time together with her mate was numbered and the evidence was as clear as day and as sure as the sun that would rise tomorrow? 

Aragorn's voice pulled me from my thoughts. "Since I stole my wife's attention away from you, may I accompany you instead on this walk?" asked Aragorn.

I shot him a mischievous grin. "Do you even have to ask?"

We both chuckled, and I walked side by side with him, smiling at each other as the conversation between us flowing effortlessly.

It felt just like the other day when he was still a young ranger, pushing me to run in order to prepare me physically for the journey with the fellowship. Yet now, here we were, a century later: a crown on his head, a tiara on mine.

Again, my eyes were caught by the sight of Aragorn's kingly yet aging hand as he run it against the top of the white water lily that I grew in the pond at the royal garden of Mirkwood.

The white of the flower reminded me of the color of the White Tree of Gondor, that day during his coronation a hundred years ago. It felt just like yesterday to me, but seeing those old hands… 

Where did time go?

"You did a marvelous job with the garden. It's outstanding. Beautiful," he praised.

"Thanks. I didn't do much actually. Just sort of making a path for them and letting them grow their way," I said as I looked at the petal of a lily that Aragorn cupped gently in his hand.

"They would not thrive without your intervention. I dare say that this realm shall be called by its former name soon enough. The Greenwood."

I smiled contentedly at that notion of Greenwood. "I hope so. We have less and less spider infestation. Once we get rid of them all, the woods will surely thrive again."

He nodded, eyes studying me attentively. "So tell me more about this flower, for I have never laid my eyes on one before."

"Well, this the hardy water lily, the jewel of the pond," I told him with a fondness in my heart as I looked at my daughter's favorite flower since she was a baby, "They bloom in the morning, and close at sunset. A summer flower."

"Ah," Aragorn raised his brows in interest. "Bloom in the morning and close at sunset," he sighed, smiling, "Much like the human race."

"How so?"

Aragorn tore his eyes away from the pond and towards me, his intelligent, silver eyes regarding me with both kindness and wisdom. "What creature walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?" he riddled me with an excitement in his eyes. 

The old sphinx riddle uttered with much playfulness managed to break my heart.

I didn't reply right away. Assuming I had never heard the riddle before, he gave me a needless hint, "It's not a magical creature." 

I feigned a thinking look as I wistfully studied his face. Suddenly I could see every lines on his face, differentiate how each of them differed in depth and length. I saw how they shaped and gave character to his noble, silver eyes, how each wrinkle highlighted the way he smile or formed the v on his forehead each time he frowned.

Suddenly I thought about Lady Galadriel, remembering her words: Those that are marked by death can't be saved.

I thought that in joining the Fellowship a century ago, I was saving him from certain death. But no. I was merely denying it. There is no stopping death. Here it was, the mark of death, concealed behind the graceful mark of age, written all over his face.

And I feared losing him.

If I didn't pull the reign on my emotion, I would break. So with much effort, whilst keeping my expression neutral, I shrugged. "Spiders?" I chuckled halfheartedly, "Assuming they lost two legs and only managed to grow a leg in a day?" 

Aragorn let out a deep, amused chuckle. "At least there is some logic in your answer than the one from Legolas. Your husband said orcs."

Each chuckle I faked as I humor Aragorn was pain. He had always been someone I looked up to; the older brother I had never had; the one who took me in; the one who I could always confide in. But how could I ever confide to him that I fear losing him to old age while even his wife didn't even sweat it. While no one sweat it. He didn't even flinch and probably laugh at the face of death.

A small voice in my heart chanted inwardly to myself.

Weak.

Weak.

Weak.

No.

I forced a laugh when he told me the answer I already knew. I laughed with him, much so to convince myself until I believed that I was amused by the answer of his playful riddle.

The human race. Here today, gone tomorrow. Did we even have control over anything?

***

"Aww… does our little Asher fall in love?" mocked Elrohir.

Elladan added, "What's her name again? Lilian, like the flower?" 

My son, Asher, rolled his eyes. "No," he snorted.

"You're not a very good liar, you know?" chirped Caladwen, my daughter, as she grinned at her twin uncles, joining forces to tease her brother. Caladwen ate a honey cake daintily as she shrugged. "I saw Asher and Lilian kissing at the stables this morning."

The table erupted with laughter and whistles.

Asher looked absolutely stupefied. "Betrayal, sister! How are you agreeing with our childish uncles? You should be siding with me!"

"Like you sided with me when ada prevented me from going on the trip to the festival in Dale this Spring?" she shot her brother with a cruel smile, clearly still sore about Asher siding with Legolas for not letting her go.

Asher rolled his icy blue eyes. "There were rumors about a band of bandits running around the borders of Dale. You're a girl."

"Hey!" protested the ladies on the table collectively, consisting of Caladwen, Arwen, Sylvanna and me. Immediately Asher lifted his hands in surrender, much to the twins amusement.

"That came out wrong. That was not what I was implying," Asher explained himself, then gave me his puppy eyes, "I meant, we were trying to protect you. Ada would agree with me." 

I rolled my eyes. "You and your father are just paranoid. And apparently a bit discriminative as well."

"No! Oh, come on, nan!" whined Asher to me. That boy could never stand me being mad at him.

My amused smile slipped through my lips, and Asher lifted his brows in realization of my teasing. 

"Why are you all decided to come at me all at once this night? What is this?? A conspiracy!" complained Asher dramatically.

Thranduil and Aragorn were conversing, looking at the younglings with both fondness and a hint of annoyance from Thranduil's side. The Elven King rolled his eyes.

"At my expense???" demanded Asher in disbelieve.

The royal table erupted in merry laughter at his dramatic response. As always, the table would come alive when we have the banter between Asher, Caladwen and their twin uncles.

"On a serious note, despite everything," Thranduil spoke up, his voice immediately calmed the whining and laughing, "Speaking from a father's point of view, my dear grandson, I suggest you do not go around kissing an elleth in secret, for any sneaky ellon who do so– his days are numbered in the eyes of the elleth's father."

His days are numbered.

The table erupted in dramatic responses again, theorizing how Lilian's ada might come to murder Asher in his sleep or even challenge him for a duel when he found out that Asher had stolen a kiss or two from his daughter.

My daughter, Caladwen, leaned to me, whispering, "If that is how every normal father thinks about her daughter, then with a father like ada, I would forever remain a virgin who's never been kissed,"  she said in a hushed voice, before returning her focus towards the animated conversation at the table.

My chest felt constricted, for all I could think about was that: his days are numbered.

It was as if that simple sentence opened a floodgate to a multitude thoughts at once. Thoughts that reminded me that I was frozen. Unchanging throughout the years. I and Legolas would never know how it feels to grow old together. Then I looked at Aragorn, how he, the bridge to my old life, the one who found me first in Middle Earth, would be taken away from us soon. My son and daughter, how they were now had come of age; half elven, half human. How they would fall in love and marry soon and leave me and Legolas. What if they fall in love with a human and chose mortality for love? How long would I have with them? How would I cope when they fade just the way that Arwen will?

The sound of the laughter rang at the table, ringing in my ears, and I was overwhelmed. I was good at controlling my conduct in front of these royal guests, but I was not that good. What if they know what I was thinking? That I was freaking out over something that might or might not happen? What if I slipped and embarrass Thranduil and Legolas?

The walls were closing in. Voices and laughter now mingled in the background as one. I didn't know how long I could keep my cool. Oh god, if I fail to keep myself in check, Legolas would be able to sense me through our bond all the way from his meeting with the council.

"…Nan?"

Suddenly it felt very hot and stuffy in the hall, especially on that royal table, being paraded for everyone that was anyone in the kingdom to see. My fitted silver dress had become very restrictive and I found myself struggling to breathe properly.

Before I realized it, I already got up from my chair, thinking about going to my chamber to change into a different dress. I mean, goddamit what did I eat that the dress shrunk like this at such a short time?!

All eyes were on me, some confused, some still have smiles written on their faces as if waiting for me to deliver a clever punchline that I did not have. I felt beads of sweat forming on my forehead as I put a conscious effort for a smile. 

"Excuse–"

I didn't have enough air in my lungs to even finish the two words sentence. Before I made the worst fool of myself, or even let a verbal diarrhea slip out of my mouth, I turned away without saying more.

As I walked through the hall towards the door–my salvation that would free me from all these walls and these eyes– I felt as if the door was moving further away from me, and it took me forever to catch up. The moment I did feel that door and pushed it open, I was hoping to meet the crisp night air of Mirkwood, but instead, all I felt was how thin and stuffy the air was. How my dress was too tight and was now practically suffocating me to death.

Air. I needed air. So tight.

The dress was choking me and I had to get it off of me. Free from the eyes of Thranduil's guests and everyone else, I began the jog to get to my chamber sooner. I was out of breath, desperately needing air, but there was little to none. In panic, I began clawing at my chest and neck, trying to find the edge of my dress to peel off of me but I couldn't see well.

My legs were lead, and soon I was defeated by gravity. My body hit the ground, god forbid anyone saw me trip on my own two left feet and I didn't care, because all I cared about was the fact that I needed air like my life depended on it. 

And I still couldn't fill my lungs.

Instinctively I clawed at my neck, to get off whatever fabric of this damned dress that somehow had found its way up and cut my airway. A pair of frantic, icy blue eyes came into my view. Aside from that, I saw nothing else.

I tried telling Legolas that I couldn't breathe, that the dress was choking me. I cried to him for help, but all that came out was a dragging, choking sounds. 

He couldn't hear me, and I wanted to cry, knowing that that was it. I was going to die.

No. Not like this, I begged to no one in particular.

On a last attempt to breathe, I tried to rip my dress off of me, blindly, not being able to see anything else.

"...not the dress…look…to me… stay..." 

I was drowning.

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[Author's Note: When I was listening to Ghosts by James Vincent McMorrow at night (i cri), I suddenly felt how fleeting life is and how insignificant humans are. So yeah... Review?]