I walked towards the deserted library of Rivendell and deliberately lost myself in the narrow aisles of the high book shelves. I went on and on until I reached the section of the ancient books, all written in Quenya.

Everything in this world was so much different than my previous life–all except a few little details, like the smell of the old, musty books. I guess, that one thing never changed, no matter which world one found themselves in. I breathed in the smell, willing it to ease the raging in my heart. But what it did was remind me of my previous home and of what I used to be.

I brought my hand to my lips as tears began to blur my sight. I cried silently as the face of what used to be a young, playful hobbit came into mind, and I was unable to correlate my memory to the aging image of the same hobbit that I met just seconds ago.

I had been living so long amongst the immortal elves that I failed to notice how time had passed by before my eyes. My life had been sheltered, preserved from the withering of time. Not a single strand of my hair turned grey; not a single wrinkle appeared on my skin–yet the ones I loved were withering away with time.

The mischief and goofiness in Pippin's smile and eyes was still there. But the rest of him…

I cried soundlessly, a trait I have developed since I started living in Mirkwood as an unconscious caution from elven superior hearing. Not that I wasn’t happy–I was. Truly. Being married to Legolas was the greatest joy that I would forever cherish.

Yet a happy, forever life I had with Legolas came with a price–one by one, I must watch my loved ones being taken into the arms of old age while I remain young and unchanging.

Frozen.

Was this always what the elves had to endure? How did they survive?

My arm pressed against a dark wooden shelf as I slid down to sit on the floor of the library; my delicate blue sky dress pooled around me like melted glacier, and I only felt slightly guilty for possibly ruining Thranduil's seamstress’ creation. I laid my head on the books, wondering how I would be able to face Pippin again tonight at dinner and kept a straight face…

From my peripheral vision I caught a glimpse of a white, silky fabric being waved gently at my face. I quickly straightened, and wiped my tears, before turning to see the kind soul who offered me their handkerchief.

My eyes met a pair of eyes so blue as they regarding me with both sympathy and a familiar pain that I couldn’t decipher at first. The tall elf with the broad shoulders smiled comfortingly as he insisted on giving away his handkerchief. Embarrassed that the elf had to see me cry, I forced myself to return his smile and took the soft fabric out of his hand with a thank you.

I thought I was getting really good at not putting my heart on my sleeves, yet his unexpected words broke me.

“The crown of mortals are the greying of their hairs.”

Another sob wracked my shoulders, and no matter how much I tried to not feel and not let it show in front of this beautiful stranger, my heart and my body did the exact opposite.

The handsome elf with the dazzling, glorious golden hair just sat there across from me, watching with sympathy as I ruined his handkerchief with my snot.

“Goheno nin (I’m sorry),” I croaked lamely at him, apologizing for his handkerchief and for crying. Oh god I hope he didn’t know Legolas and told him what happened here. It would make him feel bad for leaving me behind in Imladris as he went to Lorien with the twins.

“Don’t be. You do not have to act tough all the time just because you bore the title of the princess of Mirkwood.”

I felt slightly annoyed by his comment–what do you know anyway?

That slight annoyance somehow helped distracting me from the grieve. Surprisingly the elf before me let out an amused chuckle. Then I realized that I had said those words out loud. I felt heat that wasn’t from crying raised up to my cheek and I sent him an apologetic look for my thoughts remark.

“I know because you and I have been through the same. You know you can feel it deep down in your heart,” said the handsome elf in front of me. I tilted my head, searching the depth of his azure eyes for answer.

“We both have been through the emptiness of death and back again.”

I blinked at his words. His dazzling, molten gold hair; the foreign insignia that he wore on the hilt of his dagger that was securely tucked on his waist–

“Laurefindel,” I nodded, wiping the moisture that was left at the edge of my eye.

A flash of surprise and a certain melancholy was there in his eyes. I watched as his face fell a bit, yet soon his brilliant smile etched across his face at me.

“They call me Glorfindel now; and I prefer that name over the one I grew up with. Perhaps you could understand, for you seem to let people mispronounce your name for years now, Princess Leane.”

I let out a sigh at the realization. A ghost smile of understanding was shared between us as I gazed into his eyes.

“How do you deal with all that?” I wondered, “Waking up to the world unknown to you, with everyone you know being gone. And then having to go through another life repeating the same process and watching people dying around you?” I questioned bitterly.

“Well,” he sighed softly then offer me a rather easy smile, one that reminded me of the twins of Rivendell, “It helps getting attached only to my kin. Their mortal rate is low on average.”

I frowned. Whether the Balrog Slayer meant for that to be a pun and a joke, I don’t see the amusement in it. Seeing my disapproval, the golden elf let out an airy chuckle and a smile so bright it was almost blinding.

“My bad. T’was not funny,” he said apologetically.

“…You’re almost as annoyingly tolerable as Elladan and Elrohir,” I mumbled as wiped my nose, causing the elf before me to let out a fun yet still graceful laugh.

“Why, I helped raise them,” he muttered with laughter still in his bright azure eyes.

No wonder. Despite the dark story that I read about him, the Balrog Slayer surprisingly maintained such a child-like, happy personality. Maybe his personality rubbed off of the twins; or was it the other way around?

“Why didn’t I see you here when I was in Rivendell ten years ago?”

“Our paths had not been destined to cross at that moment. I was on a quest of my own while you meant to go with the Fellowship of the Ring.”

I nodded slowly in understanding. “Fate… How strange and mysterious…” I murmured as I twirled the Infinity Ring on my finger absently. My mind reveled on how a simple human like me get to have a second chance; an immortality and a life with someone like Legolas.

Deep down I reached for the soul bond I shared with Legolas. With how far he was from me, I could no longer feel him much, yet he was still there. Alive and breathing, and it was all I needed to know. I sent a loving caress down our bond, wondering if he could feel me–

“Come on now, princess,” the elf before me stood up gracefully and offered his hand towards me, “Between an undead to another undead, I know just the way to cheer you up.”

I snorted a chuckle at us being the undead to him. The kindness and the sincerity in his eyes immediately drew me in to him–I felt safe. Just the way I always felt safe around any of Elrond's family member and close friends.

“Is that what we are now? Zombies?”

“…”

“What is a zombie?”

Fate is indeed strange and mysterious, for those four simple words marked the beginning of friendship between me and the Balrog Slayer.

***

[Third Person’s POV]

The Summer Solstice in Rivendell was nothing short but festive and lively. A merry tune was playing at the background as elves, both young and old–for their standard– formed a huge circle at the center of the great dining hall as they danced with each other, swapping partners every time the music hit another note. Laughter and smiles filled the atmosphere; not just from the ones dancing merrily to the tune, but also from those watching from the sidelines as they enjoyed their friends and families' company with an overwhelming amount of food and drink being served one after another.

Summer Solstice were always marked with the ellith wearing dresses of the myriad color of the blooming flowers of Spring. Among the ones who danced, a figure stood out the most.

Princess Leane, human yet immortal, had a carefree smile spread across the soft, feminine plane of her beautiful face. She wore a golden circlet upon her head, a small yet elegant emerald rested beautifully on her forehead. Her unusual raven hair were worn loosely, curling softly at its end. Her crimson, silky dress hugged her curves all in the correct places. Her arms and hands swayed in sync with the tune, feminine fingers curling beautifully as she danced. Her charming smile contagious, eyes sparkled like a bright star in the midst of a dark night.

Glorfindel's eyes sparkled with mirth and reference as he mirrored her movements. The duo danced to the music, and while the human princess thoroughly enjoyed his presence, her eyes would never sparkled the way when she lay eyes on her own husband.

The Balrog Slayer was left high and dry the moment Prince Legolas stole her from his arms. The golden haired elf warrior felt a sense of loss that couldn’t be replaced, even by the elleth that had stepped in to fill in Leane's place.

What was it that made his heart yearn for her so? It was wrong, so wrong. She belonged to another; claimed by someone that was not only a prince, but also his friend.

As if to condemn him, Legolas wrapped his arms around her small form and pulled her into a possessive kiss.

Glorfindel could no longer watch. He left his dancing partner with a bow of his head and left the hall. With him, he brought a bottle of wine and a cup–hoping to drown his sorrow in the fine drink.

***

“May I join you?”

The familiar voice that belonged to Prince Legolas was immediately responded with a small smile.

“Of course you may, mellon. ‘Tis not a private table.”

Legolas smiled and gracefully seated himself in front of the golden elf. “Isn’t it too early for wine?”

A tip of Glorfindel's lips turned up in slight amusement at that remark. “Having Thranduil as your ada, surely you’d know there is no such thing as too early for wine.”

“Point taken,” Legolas said as he served himself a cup of red wine, the same that Glorfindel had. Once he took a sip of it, Legolas raised an eyebrow in approval. “Dorwinion,” he mused.

“I’m sure King Thranduil would approve,” chirped the Balrog Slayer.

“Aye,” Legolas smiled, though a certain iciness lurked in the way the prince looked at the warrior, “Though he wouldn’t approve of how you look at my wife.”

A thick, tangible ice settled in the atmosphere around the two warriors. After a moment silence, Glorfindel lifted his chin slightly. “I am not sure where you are getting at.”

“Do not think so lowly of me.” A threat. “Leane is mine, always have been, in every sense of the word.”

“Everyone knows that.”

“Good. Then I want you to stay away from her.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

Prince Legolas' eyes were a pair of piercing, icy daggers, a contrast to the boiling anger running through his veins. “Do not test My patience, Glorfindel.”

“She needs a friend.”

“And you think you are fit to fill that role for her?” Legolas scoffed.

“She’s lonely.”

“She’s not–“

“Yes? Do you know how lonely your human wife is? Do you know how this immortal life has been treating her?”

Legolas was both stunned and angered at those questions uttered in such neutrality. But he kept his composure. “My wife's wellbeing is none of your business.”

“So you’re going to just own her, keep her as a trophy for yourself like your father do his precious white gems of Lasgalen?” The Balrog Slayer let out a bitter chuckle. “At least my affection for her was something warmer than the frequent absence of her own husband, who was too busy chasing after the fulfillment of his ada's dreams.”

Glorfindel took the bottle of his wine and moved to pour himself another cup, but Legolas intercepted, and now none of the two grown ellon were willing to let go of the bottle–as if to prove a point.

Before harsh words could escape Legolas' lips, the true object of their affection appeared, her neat dark brows furrowed as she watched the two of them seemingly fighting for the ownership of some wine.

“What’s going on here?” Leane asked confusedly.

Legolas and Glorfindel shared a look, before the Mirkwood prince turned to his wife and smiled at her. “Glorfindel has one too many drinks already.”

Sighing, the golden one let go of the bottle, an easy smile etched across his expression as he looked at the female warmly. “Seems that I have,” he gave in and let Legolas have the bottle of the fine Dorwinion wine.

Legolas put the dark tinted bottle aside, purposely putting it away from Glorfindel for a show. Then the elf prince wrapped an arm around his wife's waist and pulled her against his side, making her blush a bit. He looked up to her, smiling lovingly at her. “Do you enjoy the party, melleth nin?”

Leane nodded excitedly. “Immensely,” she replied.

“Are you happy?”

“Yeah. Of course I am,” she replied matter of factly, absently caressing the side of Legolas arm that was holding her form close.

Legolas secretly sent a look at Glorfindel, who had a perfectly flat expression about his face. This didn’t escape Leane, though immediately forgot that the moment Legolas took her hand that was on his arm and kissed it.

Her cheek grew a slight rosy shade that was Legolas' absolute favorite. Pride, love and a sense of possessiveness filled his chest. “What about another dance? Would you do me the honor, my wife?”

For now, Legolas was content of having his beautiful wife in his arms, teasing his wife by whispering the sweet nothings and the promises of what he had in store for her at the end of the day. His heart sore hearing the giggle that came out of her sweet lips, his eyes blown with adoration at how she blushed so easily at his words. The elf prince felt a bit of satisfaction the moment he caught a glance of Glorfindel walking away from the festivities.

Legolas made true to his promises to her at the dance, yet there was a certain possessiveness in the ways Legolas touched her that night. She remained oblivious about it, even as she laid there in their bed, surrounded by her husband’s arms.

“Are you happy with me?”

“All of you is making me happy,” Leane smirked as she trailed her fingers down the elf's naked chest, but before she could distract him, Legolas caught her hand in his and chuckled.

“I am serious, melleth nin,” he insisted though a remaining of lust and amusement still swirled in the icy blue of his eyes. “Am I making you happy?”

His expression soon turned expectant, anxious even. Leane frowned. “What kind of question is that?” she asked, confused. “You know you are.”

Legolas brushed her dark, silky hair back. “A little bird told me that you’ve been lonely.”

“That isn’t true.”

“What about when I’m not around?”

The female hesitated, then moved to lay her chin on top of her hand that she put on top of his chest. “Only sometimes. It’s not bad.”

Legolas could detect her lie down the bond that they shared. He felt her loneliness, the melancholy that was piqued by his questions; the fraction of how she felt when he was not around. When he was too busy running his royal duties.

“Who is this little bird anyway?” Leane suddenly asked in curiosity.

“That doesn’t matter. Forget about him. Tonight is about you,” he kissed her red lips and gently rolled them both so that he was now hovering above her.

The smile that was on his handsome face was wistful that Leane frowned in concern at the way his eyes remorsefully gazed at her face. A soft sigh left her lips when he brushed her hair back and planted a sweet kiss on her temple. “I am sorry that I leave you too much for my royal duties,” another kiss on her brow, “Goheno nin, melleth nin.”

Leane shook her head. “It’s nothing. You shouldn’t have to be concerned about everything.”

“Nay it is not nothing. I should have known. I’m your husband,” he sighed lowly, his archer hands brushed against her bare arm as he placed a long, feverish kiss on her lips. “I promise to be better. I will make it up to you.”

Another kiss on her mouth, then on the delicate skin of her neck, and so his lips and tongue mapped her form, leaving trails of heat down her skin.

***

[Author's Note: I just need floofy chapter and a jelly Legolas is always a good thing. Review plz???]