:::::::

L E G O L A S

:::::::

The door to Lumornel's room was shut. She was only bathing and changing clothes, she was in the safety of her own chamber.

And yet my heart galloped wildly in my chest. Sweat broke out on my back, my neck, my forehead. The air was too thin.

I ran my hands through my hair, staring at the bronze doorknob. It gleamed and taunted me, seemed to invite me in. No, she is changing. What would she think if I barged in on her?

I turned from the door, pacing a dozen steps along the hall. The guards watched me cautiously, as they should—it was their job—but I wished nothing but to dismiss them from their station. If they were my soldiers, what would they be thinking of their prince?

That he's lost his mind.

I glanced at the door again. How long did it take to bathe and change? Surely not this long.

I came to a halt against the wall just across from her room and slid down, arms on knees, head in hands. Eyes locked on that door handle. I stood back up, began pacing again.

This is irrational, I thought as I recognized that I was breathing too quickly, felt the shaking in my arms. I couldn't keep my heart from continuing to race. I felt Lumornel's blood on my hands again, warm and sticky and terrifying. I shook them out, ran my palms down the length of my trousers. She is completely safe in there. There are no other entrances into the room except for that door.

I had explicitly checked almost a week before we had left for Erynbâr. There were no secret entryways hidden behind furniture, not even a peeping hole. No way for an intruder to harm her.

Someone could have hidden in her room, waiting for her to return. Ice dumped into my veins. A quiet assassination could be accomplished—

I strode for the door, reached for the handle—

It opened. And out came Lum. Not panicked, no blood blooming across her thin grey blouse. She raised genuinely surprised brows as she saw me, nearly running into my chest. Her hair was pulled into a wet knot at her nape. Over her shoulder, there was only her room. No ill-seeking guests.

Exhaling in a relief that was almost too strong to bear, I glanced back at Lumornel and took her hand in mine and gripped it firmly to disguise my shaking. Her face gleamed with it's most recent cleaning, little droplets of water slowly ran down her neck. Delicate waves of something flowery wafted off her and the fabric on her shoulders was still darkened and wet from her hair. She was beautiful. And it was still too surreal to see her in front of me, damp from her bath and alive. Not of the race of Man, not bleeding out gruesomely on a battlefield, the light fading from her eyes—

From the furrow in her brows, the concern in the slight purse of her petal lips, I knew that she inferred I hadn't left this hall since she entered her chamber. She could read me like no other. It was wonderful and, right now, infuriating.

I refrained from gritting my teeth and nudged her down the hall, wishing I could believe she was safe out of my sight. She was strong enough to protect herself, but I was weak enough to irrationally worry anyway. I could fight a horde of Morgoth's spiders but was reduced to panic when on the other side of a door from Lum.

"Legolas..."

"I know," I said, redirecting her thoughts. "I'm filthy."

She pulled up short, spun on her heel to face me.

I tensed and tried to avoid her vivid gaze, then began walking again, but her calloused hand stopped me. Briefly, I closed my eyes in shame. Why did she have to read me so well? For once, I wished she was like everyone else, clueless to how I operated. But then she wouldn't be my Lumornel.

Her cool hand turned me to face her and, after her green eyes flickered over my face, her fingers drifted up to my hairline. She frowned.

"That was an understatement. You are ten times the definition of filthy. You somehow even managed to get dirt in your hair!"

:::::::

Legolas visibly relaxed, and while I hated to ignore what was obviously plaguing him, I loved seeing him not worry. "Meleth, need I remind you you also had dirt in your hair."

I grinned, delighting in hearing the endearment on his lips again, and dropped my hand from his dirty face. By human standards, and compared to the state of the others we traveled with, he was almost pristine. While he did have a little bit of grime in his now greasy hair and dirt had stuck in places to the layers of old sweat covering his skin, there were no streaks of soil on his clothing. His elven lightness and awareness kept him from digging fingers or knees too deeply into the ground or a tree, his nimble dexterity kept him from falling and dirtying his clothing. But he was still gross. Smelled like a pigsty too.

"But not anymore, do I?" I tried arching an eyebrow, but I knew both rose anyway. My newfound elvenness didn't grant me eyebrow dexterity it seemed.

I scrunched my nose. "I also don't really want to be in close quarters with you smelling like that."

Was—was that hurt flashing in his eyes? I knew I should feel guilty, but I wanted to laugh.

He glanced away and I allowed him to walk me down the hall and around the corner. "You smelled the same."

"But—"

"But not anymore." He smiled softly, looking my way. I couldn't help but smile back. He led me into his dark room, where he immediately rummaged through a medium sized chest by the head of his bed. He pulled out a bundle of clothing and led me out and down the hall again.

"Seriously," I continued. "You really are gross. Either I need to splash some water on you or you need to stuff your clothing with flowers... where are we going anyway?"

"As much as I would love for you to stuff flowers down my shirt and trousers—" Valar I have missed that smirk "—I have to say that I am unfortunately heading to the bath room. The flowers wouldn't stay with me for long." He held up the folded clothing as proof.

I almost stumbled. "Bath room?" I squeaked. I wouldn't—I couldn't—

Before I could stop it, my mind conjured up the image of Legolas stripping off his shirt, then him waist high in the cave's dark waters, his clothing a messy heap on the smooth, glossy rock floor.

I blushed a deep red and—he was grinning, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

"I'm not going in there with you," I blurted.

"Of course not, did you think I was inviting you?"

"You know," I grumbled, "I might just go with you to spite you."

He fumbled for words, obviously having expected me to fluster and blush more. But then he regarded me, his lips slightly pursued as if considering it—

"Legolas! I am not following you into the bathing room, I do not want to catch a glimpse at any other naked males—"

"Any other?"

I blushed and refused to look at him, barrelling on. "—and I want to know where I am going because—"

You can't let me out of your sight without panicking.

"—I-I just want to know."

Legolas gave me a sidelong look. I couldn't tell if he had noticed my word stumble and what had caused it or if he was contemplating not answering me. I raised my brows at him, meeting his gaze. Challenging.

He chuckled and reached for my hand again. If we continued holding hands like this, our limbs might just meld together. People will start thinking we accidentally glued ourselves together in some unfortunate accident. Or gossip and say we did it on purpose. I didn't mind one bit.

After a moment of silence, I narrowed my eyes. "Legolas?"

"I'm deciding if I'm to let this be an adventure for you or not."

"Can't it still be an adventure if you tell me?"

"It wouldn't be a surprise."

I did my best impression of doe eyes.

He shook his head slightly in amusement. "I'm taking you to Gimli while I bathe."

"Oh, well that's—" I cut off in an abrupt gasp.

Everything that had transpired in the last two years involving Gimli sprung to the forefront of my mind. His horribly scarred face. Scarred because I had set the uur rauko on him—

I didn't want to face him. I couldn't see the physical carnage I let loose on him. All the pain I had caused him.

Legolas stood before me and gently removed my hand that had come up to cover my horrified gasp. I hadn't realized I had stopped walking.

"He doesn't blame you," he said softly, "because he knows you were not aware of your own actions."

"But I was. I remember it. I had wanted to hurt people."

He shook his head. "No, Lum, that was not you. Sauron had been influencing your emotions and manipulating your actions through his ring, just as he did to me. He warped the minds of those who had held his precious ring until they did things they would have never done otherwise. He changed us for a time, Lum, but we have to remember that our actions then weren't truly ours to command."

I bit my cheek and saw past his eyes, examining the truth of his words. I understood them, saw the perfect reasoning in them. But I still couldn't see past my own hand slaying innocents, the dark and malicious thoughts that had run through my head. All born of greed, gluttony, and wrath.

Though the ring was no longer on my finger, I still felt the enmity of it as if I was living that moment again. It was as strong as smelling perfume from the bottle's neck. And so, his words were only like a few drops of water into that bottle.

The ring was simply too strong.

And I hadn't even worn the true, most powerful one.

"Do you truly believe that yourself?" I asked. But I already knew.

Legolas hesitated, then averted his eyes. "No. But I know the words to be true. It's only a matter of actively believing them."

A few beats of our hearts passed.

"And how do we do that?"

He looked at me again. "We have to live as if we believe it; through our actions and thoughts. Simply knowing it to be true is not enough. Morgoth and all his demons believed in Illuvatar, but they did not worship Him. He did not show his faith through actions, because he had none. If we can act as if we believe the words and show that we really do, then eventually we will. It'll be what separates us from simply believing the words to be true and actively living out the words."

"You were told that, weren't you?" Not just the believing thing, but the thing about the ring too.

Legolas nodded and his eyes seemed to move far away. "Yes. Aragorn explained it to me."

I nodded, and tucked away Aragorn's wise words to think through later.

"So," I said, my palms again beginning to tingle. "Gimli?"

Legolas nodded towards a dark door not too far ahead in the same cool hall as his. "He may be sleeping."

"And... you want to wake him up."

"It's either that or you come bathe wi—"

"What about Aragorn?"

Legolas shrugged. "He'll still be speaking with Command and then he'll want to reunite with Arwen. I also thought you would like to see Gimli. I know he would not mind being woken to see you alive and well."

"Weeell, technically, he already has."

He leveled me a blue-eyed gaze. "Not as you are now."

"Okay, fine, I guess that's true." I bit my lip. "Is he really not angry with me? Won't... won't he be afraid?"

If Saruman showed up, the giver of my scars, I wouldn't be able to stand in my fright.

Legolas squeezed my hand almost too tight. "He is not any of those things, and if he were, I'd talk some sense into him. You do not deserve to be feared, Lumornel."

But I kind of do.

We stopped before the bedchamber and Legolas knocked politely. No one answered. Legolas pounded on the door.

"Aye I'm coming, I'm coming!" Gimli grumbled from within. "Cease your knocking or I'll knock your head in for waking me—"

Gimli opened the door, his hair unbound and his beard free and bushy. He stood several heads lower than us in a gray nightie, half of his face horribly scarred. His sleepy eyes saw Legolas, then me, and widened dramatically. "Oh!"

He slammed the door.

"Forgive my state, lass!" Gimli yelled, then yelped as he ran into something. Something thudded. "Lad, you could have given me some sense of warning!"

"And wait for you to fully wake up and dress yourself? No, Gimli," Legolas was smiling. "That would take far too long."

Gimli grumbled something back, but it was too muffled to hear. A second later, the door swung open again, revealing Gimli to be wearing brown trousers mostly obscured by some strange burgundy tunic that went to his knees, open just enough to see some of his chest, over which he wore a plain, unadorned dull purple robe. Complete with a brown, wide fabric belt around the waist, hanging down to almost his knees.

I blinked. I had never seen him in normal dwarven attire before.

Legolas strode in and, after a moment's hesitation, I followed suit.

"So what do I owe this pleasure? Has something happened?" As he said it, he took a candle and lit it on the already glowing one by his bedside.

"No," Legolas said, not missing a beat. His eyes slid to me and, for some reason, he smiled. "Her memories have returned and I thought you would like to visit with her."

A grin slowly began to illuminate Gimli's face as he processed the news. Soon, his whole face was alight with happiness. He had glanced at me, but it seemed the smile was mostly reserved for Legolas.

Legolas fidgeted under Gimli's gaze, then finally stood and made his way to the door. "I will return shortly."

He paused with one foot out in the hall, a hand on the door frame. His blue eyes focused on me intently and, with that one look, I could easily see panic and hesitation warring within. From knowing him I could see it, but it was something that I also recognized in myself.

The muscles in his jaw twinged as he briefly glanced at Gimli. His fingers digging deeper into the door frame, as if he was forcibly trying to keep himself from doing something.

"Keep her safe," he forced, the words seeming to come out on their own accord, pushing themselves out his lips. Quickly, Legolas walked away.

I turned back to Gimli and his eyes, lingering on the spot Legolas had just stood in, were sad again.

"Gimli," I said. He turned to me. "You're getting a hug."

He barely got out a muffled exclamation before I had my arms around him, his bushy beard mingling with my hair.

The words were out of my mouth before I realized I spoke them.

"I'm really, really sorry about the scars." To my complete horror, warmth welled in my eyes. I tried to blink it away, but more came. "I wouldn't have—" My voice broke. I clung to him, hoping that the strength with which I hugged him would somehow hold back the tears.

"Aye, lass. I should be thanking you! Battle scars always charm the ladies."

I pulled back, inspecting him.

Valar, he's serious.

How... how could he not be ashamed of the scar? How could he not want to hide from it?

The right side of his face, near his eye, stretching past his ear and nipping down into his beard, were all warped by burns. He still had his beard for the most part, but it was slightly uneven, his eye was unaffected, but if the burns had stretched the width of two fingers over, he'd be blind. Lucky for him, he wore his hair long, so he could simply part his hair a little further over to hide the partial hair loss. The marks of brutality—the marks made because of me—were horrendous but at least they weren't more widespread.

Just thinking about his scars... I tugged at my sleeves.

Gimli must have seen on my face what I was thinking. I needed to get better at masking my thoughts. "Lass, your scars do not make you tainted. You should wear them proudly as a show of your defiance and bravery."

But if I had been more brave I wouldn't have endured them.

And it was hard to wear the scars proudly when they covered almost every inch of my body, when every time I saw them I wanted to escape from my own thoughts. But... they didn't make me tainted? Didn't they, though? Seeing Gimli and his attitude towards his own mutilation, I wasn't completely sure now. But still, I wondered just how much he knew about my scars. Did he know the extent of them? I could only think of two people, one being Saruman, that knew the damage reached all the way from my collar, down all the way to my toes.

Sensing my need to change the topic, or maybe Gimli just felt awkward himself, he stood and stuffed a few discarded articles of clothing into the chest sitting along a wall. He did so without any meticulous sorting or folding. Judging by their wrinkled mess, they looked dirty.

"So tell me about your journey, lass. How did you come by your memories?"

I jumped on the question, grateful for the change of discussion.

:::::::

Legolas bounded into Gimli's room, opening the door without so much as a knock. Wide, almost frantic eyes, immediately sought me out. To anyone else, he would have appeared only slightly harried, but to me, those eyes that were only a little wide spoke volumes.

He had been panicked again. Or at least anxious.

I offered him a small smile as his shoulders instantly relaxed. He nodded towards Gimli.

"Many thanks, lad, for the unexpected visit. And I'll be glad to let you know that she did not obtain a single scratch."

"Ha ha," Legolas monotone, striding for me and taking my hand once more. A cloak strangely sat on his noticeably clean shoulders, wet hair already darkening the fabric. Underneath he wore loose clothing; nightwear. "Thank you."

"The pleasure was all mine. Now scurry along and let me sleep. I don't want to see your dovey affection out in the open."

I almost choked. Dovey affection?

Legolas rose his brows, then, without barely a moment's warning, he turned and planted a tender kiss to my cheek, just above my jawline, nearly touching my lips.

I almost giggled, I couldn't contain my smile, though I did send an apologetic—kind of—look Gimli's way. The dwarf, though eyebrows high in slight surprise, merely smiled and shook his head.

"Good night," he said pointedly, snuffing out one of the candles. "And enjoy yourselves with a room."

I stilled and bit my cheek. Legolas laughed.

"Good night, Gimli. And thank you again."

Gimli merely grunted and waved a dismissal while I allowed—more like I forced—Legolas to pull me out of the room. The hall was desolate, not a soul in sight. It was late enough that nearly everyone was asleep. Someone had, at some point, snuffed out the lantern light along the walls. Legolas and I walked through dark patches of shadows as we... walked right past his bedroom. And then right past mine.

"Where are we going?" My stomach chose that moment to grumble loudly. I admonished it by placing a hand over my abdomen, as if that would somehow quiet it.

Legolas quirked a smile. "To feed that."

We hadn't eaten since yesterday night—well past a full day ago... I needed food but... I remembered the way my light had reacted on my isolated journey here. Exploded outward like animal fat poured on a fire. Uncontrollable. Sweat tingled in my palms as I thought of eating.

'You can think of your experience with your abilities as training wheels,' Irmo had said. Just how small were those training wheels? Before, my light had never been so strong. It had been like a flickering candle compared to now, occasionally able to grow brighter. Now, as I looked within and sensed the roiling coil of illumination deep in me, it was a raging fire.

Letting it loose in blasts like I had done then seemed silly, trivial. I'd have to be more careful now. Refine it somehow.

"You're not as excited as I thought you would be."

I glanced at him, biting my lip. Shook my head.

"I'm nervous," I said. "My abilities are different now. I'm now in the body they were meant to be in so they are stronger, not tainted by my weaker human frailty. Because they're stronger, they... it demands more of me, like it feeds off of me, sort of. It's kind of like when you're exercising a muscle you haven't used in a while, or had never used properly in the first place, you get more worn out because it takes more of you to use it. I need fuel to power my light.

"But when I eat after having not eaten for awhile, it's like adding oil to a fire. The light explodes uncontrollably. Or like exercising a muscle without warming up, and too quickly and vigorously."

"So you are worried about aggravating it."

It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway. "Yes."

"What if you 'warmed up' beforehand? Similar to doing light exercise before a grueling task; eat in small increments growing steadily larger rather than a full meal at once."

"That... actually makes sense. You're a genius, you know."

"I know."

I laughed and bumped my shoulder into him. "You could at least pretend to have some humility."

He chuckled as he led me around a corner, then pushed open a deep brown door. It felt strange to see wooden structures embedded into natural rock. It seemed unnatural yet... not.

Legolas placed a finger on his lips, eyes alive with mischief, and ducked into the dark room. I followed suit.

It was the side entrance to the kitchens and by the looks of it, it was mostly unused. Wooden crates were piled about, making a walled in obstacle course. Legolas weaved seamlessly between the precariously balanced boxes whereas I eyed the enemy warily. An elven body made me no less clumsy—

Well, that's not true. My balance was now perfect, my movement more graceful but that's not the point. Those boxes stared back at me like they were threatening to fall and blame the cause and clatter on me.

"Are you coming?" Legolas whispered.

"Yes, yes." Quickly—cautiously—I slipped up to him. Without so much as brushing a box. Aha! Take that crates!

He looked left. He looked right. Then he darted across the open space, passing in front of a large table. A woman stood at it, pounding and kneading dough into submission. She worked by candle light. It's flickering flame barely illuminated us, but my heart pounded nonetheless as I followed Legolas into another room. It was filled with a few more tables laden with jars, separated only by a single wall. Not even a door.

If that woman stood up and walked a few paces... we'd be caught.

A pulse of excitement flooded through me.

Within seconds, Legolas creeped open a narrow door and slipped inside. And it was completely dark. The door softly clicked shut behind us.

"What do we do know?" I whispered into the darkness.

"I'm lighting a candle," he said, messing around with some sort of fabric. A second later, after some scratching sounds, a yellow flame illuminated the plains of his face and his dark, wet hair. I glanced towards the door and—the cloak he had been wearing was stuffed against the crack near the floor to prevent any light from leaking out.

Around us was an enormous pantry. You could fit twenty broad-shouldered men in here and they'd still have room to walk around a bit. Jars upon jars and baskets upon baskets of food lined the shelves. Dried meats, dried fruits, nuts, honey, whole barrels of grain and salt. Near the back sat three crates of dorwinion wine.

"From your father?" I asked, motioning to the potent drink.

He nodded. "Yes. Every few months he sends more. It's his way of approving of our mission and probably his way of taking pity on us."

"If all else fails," I said grimly, "we can drink ourselves to death."

Legolas said nothing, instead he somehow acquired a thin blanket and spread it out on the lone table in the center of the storage pantry. He probably had it hidden in his cloak.

"What looks good?" As he said it, he pulled down a small jar of jerky.

I walked to the shelves hiding what suspiciously looked like cakes—no, those are biscuits. "All of it."

My stomach growled in agreement.

"We'll have to make more than one trip."

"Okay," I nodded with a smile. "Perfectly fine with me."

:::::::

"This is so good," I moaned, taking another nibble at the cured and flavored meat. I flopped back on Legolas's bed, staring at the strip of jerky in adoration and longing. This single piece is the only thing I would eat for thirty minutes, then, after that, I'd be able to eat a little more. I was starving, but I wasn't going to risk turning Legolas's room into a giant lantern. Somehow, I needed to control that. This was step number one.

"Somehow I'm getting the notion that you love food more than you love me."

"Mm hm." I rolled my head over towards my favorite elf, who was stretched out a couple handspans away, his head propped up in this hand. Really, the bed was too small for two people. The whole room in general was too small. But that just meant I had to lay close enough to see each individual lash, smell the scent of cave water still damp in his hair, the scent of the ration soap he had used.

We had successfully snuck past the kitchen lady, then down the halls without passing a single person. Now, Legolas popped a few walnuts into his mouth, then plopped himself down next to me. Or well... closer to me.

I finished off the salty meat. Water. But it was on the ground, on the other side of Legolas. Where he lay, perfectly unsuspecting. I tried to hide the mischievous grin that was threatening to show—it didn't work. He quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

I sat up, then placed a hand on his thigh to brace myself and plopped myself onto his torso—

Legolas groaned loudly and bolted upright, face ashen.

I quickly scrambled off him. "What? What did I do?"

He bent over and clutched tightly at his thigh, teeth gritted so tight I thought maybe they would shatter.

"Legolas?"

"I'm... fine," he grunted.

"Well," I said, looking for a way off the bed, but with the wall behind me and Legolas in front of me, I was trapped. Instead, I touched his shoulder, then withdrew. I settled on placing my hands in my lap. "Obviously you aren't."

And he hadn't told me he was injured.

Taking deep breaths through his nose, he carefully straightened, though he winced. "I can walk on it. It is healing fine."

"B-but you didn't tell me! I—" I broke off and gripped my hands tight. "Legolas, how am I supposed to help you if you don't tell me things."

I shook my head, then eyed his leg. I couldn't look at it unless I wanted to either rip open the fabric or relieve him of his trousers. None of which I wanted to do. And I wouldn't know what to do if I could get to the injury anyway.

"How did you get it?"

"Erynbâr." His teeth were still clenched, though he now rested back on the bed. He kept his blue eyes intently focused on the ceiling. "Fighting an orc before rushing to you."

I felt my eyes widen. Many orc scimitars were known to be laced with toxins nowadays. "Poison?"

"No, thank Elbereth. Aragorn assessed it while you were unconscious."

I pressed my lips into a thin line. A month of travel and he hadn't told me. I guess it wasn't too serious since there was no obvious limp. But after that long it still hurt when pressure is applied? It wasn't a minor scratch then.

He still didn't look at me. With his eyes on the ceiling, he had moved his hands to be folded over his lower chest. I wasn't sure if I was imagining it or if it was a trick of the lighting, but sweat seemed to have beaded up on his still ashen forehead.

Did he not trust me enough to tell me?

No, I knew that to be wrong. I bit my cheek at the embarrassment of just thinking it.

But he hadn't informed me of his wound, he still tried to hide his insidious panic over my safety, he wouldn't tell me of the time following my death.

I could understand his refusal, more so than most. But still. It was almost as if he wanted to pretend all that didn't exist. He had to at least acknowledge it to me. He had to. I had when the roles had been reversed and—thinking back—it helped me feel less alone.

Even knowing all that, an insidious worry crept into the dark crevices of my mind as I settled down next to him on his warm, cotton-clad bed.

What was he hiding from me?

His hand enclosed around mine, fingers threading through my own. "Stop worrying over me. It will do you no good."

I turned onto my side and regarded the strong features of his face, almost silhouetted against the lone candle in the room.

"How can I?" I fiddled with his fingers, tracing the lines of his fingernails and the hard-earned callouses. "You won't tell me what's wrong, you won't even tell me when you're injured. How am I supposed to not worry when you won't confide in me about these things? You and me are supposed to be a team, Legolas. We can't team when you won't actively team."

"Team isn't a verb."

I scowled. "Vocabulary isn't my strong suit."

"You read books."

"And you're avoiding the topic."

His lips tightened. He glanced my way then fixated on the ceiling again.

The image of him panicked, with me completely safe but out of his sight kept resurfacing in my mind. Then him in a melancholy, refusing to lean on me. I trusted him to tell me in his own time, but that would take too long. He needed to open up, even if it was just a sentence or a single word. He couldn't keep this weight in. It would destroy him, rust up his insides until he became a hollow version of himself. More so than he already is.

And we were alone now, no one but the walls to hear his broken words.

I moved my attention to the hard hills of his knuckles, roving my fingers around and over them, then glanced again at his face—he looked near sick with dread, as if he already knew what I intended to ask.

I kept my eyes on our hands, too afraid to look at his face again. "I know it's hard, I know you may not want to, but you need to talk about it. At least a little, it doesn't have to be all. Not right now. But letting loose some of it will help. Maybe not in the moment, but you'll feel better having spoken it."

He was silent. So quiet that his silence was deafening. I could feel it like a heavy cloth laid over me, much like the heavy dark green blanket we both laid on now.

"I know it's hard," I repeated. "But at least letting me know how you are feeling will help me better understand. I hate feeling useless. I can't stand seeing you like this."

"That is why I won't tell you."

I stared at his face, flabbergasted. I gripped his hand. "Legolas. I've seen you broken before. Remember in Rohan when I got you to turn the ring to me? Remember what I saw that night? I have seen you broken. So why care now? I let you in after Saruman's torture. Maybe not completely but I did let myself lean on you. You helped me. Now, please, let me help you. I don't care if I have to see you cry again if it means you're on the road to healing. I won't let you stagnant in this pain. Not any longer."

He remained silent, but he still allowed me to hold his hand.

I tossed onto my back, turning my glare at the ceiling. I hurriedly wiped the traitorous tears from my eyes. Stared at the chiseled ceiling for a while.

"I'm worried," I confided, hoping that if I opened up to him he would do likewise. "Middle-earth is in trouble and the people are getting hurt and it's all up to me to stop it. And I don't even know how."

Again, nothing—

"Did the Valar not advise you?"

"They thought they did. But they told me nothing of the enemy. They only told me that I have to fight and guide and help but I don't know where to begin with all that. I mean, we only just figured out who the real enemy is! But we don't even know why she's doing this!"

I groaned and rolled to face him. "I'm frustrated and scared and confused. I know I am the prophecy-written, I may not like it but I came to terms with it that day I saved Aragorn. But I don't know how to be everyone's hero when I don't even know what to do or where to begin. And everyone is either too scared or too angry at me to let me be their hero.

"Not only do I have to somehow defeat Talaedra, but I have to convince the entire population of Middle-earth—at least the Western Hope—that I am on their side and that I will suffer the fight so they won't have to."

"You could simply walk away from it all," Legolas said, finally turning to look at me. "We could return home and forget it all. Aragorn is both wise and strong enough to defeat the enemy."

I paused. To run away with Legolas... hadn't I thought about just that during our travelings here?

"I can't do that," I said reluctantly. "I wouldn't be able to live with the guilt of abandoning them. And I wouldn't be able to hide from it either, not with you being the crown prince of an entire realm and all."

Legolas sighed and ran his thumb over the back of my hand. "I understand. I'm not sure if I could happily abandon this mess either, but I could. If you change your mind, we can be gone before anyone would know."

I nodded, though he couldn't see it. "Okay." I wouldn't take him up on the offer, though. Not only because I had a duty to fulfill, but also because running away from his problems would only cause Legolas more suffering.

Such a hypocrite, I thought to myself. I push away all my Saruman problems too.

I glanced towards where our stolen food items sat on the floor. I had been so grateful for the food, not only because I had been starving, but because eating here with just Legolas meant not eating with others. Where there will be knives.

I squeezed my eyes shut. I had backslid while in Valinor. I'm going to have to somehow fix that.

The thought sent sweat prickling to life from my head all the way down to my toes.

Legolas squeezed my hand, almost imperceptibly. "I'm..."

He took in a breath, angling his face away. "I'm terrified of losing you again. And I'm embarrassed that I can't control that terror."

I squeezed his hand back and, relieved, turned on my side to better face him. "You shouldn't be embarrassed. It's a reasonable fear."

"I can't leave you out of my sight without worrying. How are we to function when I'm consumed with fear every time I can't see you?"

"We'll work around it. Or I'll just have to beat you up enough so you know I can take care of myself." I smiled, but he wouldn't look my way to see.

"I know you can take care of yourself. That's what's so humiliating about this. Despite logical reasoning, I can't help but worry."

"That's how it's supposed to be if you love someone," I teased.

"No—"

"I understand," I interrupted. "I have the same problem with knives. I know they're just knives, but seeing one makes me panic. Fear doesn't seem to follow logic, does it?"

He was silent and still. Staring at his candle-illuminated face, seeing how his emotions were now on the surface and not buried behind a mask, I felt my love for him stronger than ever. I would protect him with my life. I would ensure that he was put back together before I took care of my own needs. Always him before me. Always.

Finally, after a few candle-lit moments, he turned to me, fully rolling onto his side. "When you died, I knew it was my fault—"

"It wasn't your fault!"

"It was. I had lost you on the battlefield. If I had stayed with you—" He took a breath. "I did a lot of things to make up for my mistake, though I knew that whatever I did would never be able to erase my guilt and bring you back. After several months, I resolved that if you were not here to carry out the duty that I stopped you from completing, I would have to carry it out for you. I began working with Aragorn and the others. It was my idea to have Dever collect information."

He stopped and studied our intertwined hands. I used my free one to push some stray hair behind his ear as he continued speaking.

"I can't seem to rest easy when you're not next to me. I think it's because I'm terrified I'm going to repeat my mistake from the battle of Morannon. I'll wander too far away from you and you'll become hurt. And," he paused and swallowed, "I can't live with myself knowing that you could become hurt because I wasn't there."

There wasn't anything I could say to that, nothing that would be true and wouldn't hurt him.

"Thank you for telling me," I whispered, meeting his eyes.

"Thank you for listening."

"Always." I kissed his fingers lightly for emphasis.

The light momentarily flickered dangerously, casting his wall of drawings in a breath's moment of shadows. In the single dancing glow, the sketches of swords and bows and arrows looked eerie. And yet, seeing part of Legolas in them, they were comforting. Like an old ragged quilt, but warm and familiar enough to gladly snuggle up to.

The candle itself was dangerously low. Though he had a plentiful supply of them in a drawer in his desk, I was alarmed to see it so short. It had been tall when we lit it. How late was it?

I inhaled sharply. What would my guards think?

More than them, if anyone saw me walking the halls this late, they'd either think I was up to no good or getting a little too close with Legolas. And if someone came to check on me in my room and I wasn't there...

Legolas was already sitting up. Though he tried to hide it, his eyes were a little wide, as if he knew that it was time for me to leave. But after what he just told me...

"Get under the covers," I admonished, pulling back the blankets and sliding underneath them. "I'm staying here tonight."

Legolas breathed out and when he didn't immediately follow my actions, I peaked over my shoulder. His brows were pinched together, his gaze cast downward. Ashamed.

"Legolas?"

He glanced up.

"I love you."

My prince nodded softly, his brow smoothing itself out. He didn't need to be embarrassed in front of me, and my statement had reminded him that. Swiftly, he hopped out of bed and extinguished the candle between his fingers, plunging us into a smooth darkness. Before I could worry, he slipped into bed and had me snug within his arms.

"Thank you," he whispered.

I nuzzled my head into his warm chest, breathing him in deeply. I couldn't regret my choice even if I wanted to.

"You're very welcome."

Soon the only sound was our breathing. Calm and deep. Still and gentle.

The lulling waves of elven sleep began to creep upon me when he spoke, voice low and quiet.

"I love you too."

I smiled softly, tranquil and happy as his fingers ran gently through the ends of my hair, grazing the small of my back. I fell asleep with his arm around me, tucked into the comfort of his chest. In the arms of warmth and of home.

:::::::

A wooden knock wound its way through the layers of my elven sleep.

Groggily, I moaned and rolled deeper into something warm and hard while reaching for a pillow to bury my head in—

My hand collided with a face.

... huh?

Blearily, I opened my eyes to find a brown-clad chest right in front of my nose. I leaned away and peered up—Legolas was already blinking the sleep from his dark morning eyes. He scrunched his brows, running a slow hand over his just-slapped face.

"Legolas! I need to speak with you," Aragorn called, the words coming quick, voice a little breathless.

At the tone, Legolas sat up, all traces of sleep gone with the exception of his tangled hair. I wanted to either pull him back down to continue being my heater or just push him off the bed. Go back to sleep. I rolled over and threw a blanket over my head.

... Aragorn.

Aragorn!

I bolted upright.

Legolas and I looked at eachother, wide-eyed. What do I do?!

The room was too small. No closet. The chest—with all the clothes in it I'd never be able to fit. Under the bed—? No, not enough room.

I turned to Legolas, pleading with wide eyes for him to do something—!

The door knob turned—

I clutched the green blanket to me.

—and Aragorn walked in, tense with carefully hidden worry. Then his gray eyes landed on us. In bed. Together. Who knows how early in the morning. Oh Valar, take me now!

Aragorn's eyes flicked to me and his tense shoulders released their tension, the hard planes of his face melting. He released a breath.

I cringed away from his gaze, trying to hide behind Legolas but the big oaf still sat frozen, not even offering me any coverage and—

I was still holding the blanket to me, as if I didn't have any clothing on.

I dropped the blanket, exposing my blouse and loose trousers. No impropriety happening here!

As my heart pounded, Aragorn's relief faded as he fully saw the situation before him and a slow smile began creeping upon his face. His eyes seemed to smirk as they moved from the unmade bed, to my flustered state, and finally to Legolas's uncombed hair. That smile turned into a full fledged grin.

Legolas still didn't move.

"Aragorn," I said, nearly a whisper. "If you please, don't tell anyone."

"I would never." He turned his mischievous eyes to Legolas. "But I may tell Gimli."

Legolas groaned, his statuesque state fading as he ran a hand over his face and stood, stretched. I held my breath, hoping it wasn't obvious that I was staring, sneaking little peaks at the band of skin exposed at his waistline, all the way to his navel. I thought I caught the edge of something white peeking out from under his shirt.

"If you tell him, he'll never shut up about it."

Aragorn was still smiling. "Imagine the improper suggestions."

Legolas scowled. "And his tales of dwarven women."

Aragorn laughed, then shook his head, allowing his gaze to settle on me once again. "I came asking if you had seen Lumornel, as she was not in her chamber..."

At the obvious glee that shone in his eyes when they roved over to me, my cheeks blushed scarlet. "What am I needed for?"

His elation faded, replaced by a startling amount of austerity. "We have an unexpected visitor who is asking for you."

"How did they find us?" Legolas said quickly.

Aragorn's eyes grew grim. "I do not know."

"Who is it?" I asked. "Who's asking for me?"

He met my gaze, piercing and significant. I found myself glancing towards Legolas, but his attention was on his friend, hanging onto the moment, waiting for his words.

"Our visitor is mysterious and strange," he said, almost musing. "And she calls herself Kaylessa."

:::::::

Early Friday update! I signed up to do "door duty" here at the nursing home for 5am - 1pm so... got an early start of editing 😅 wooooo

Sorry for the more-than-usual grammar mistakes, if there were any. Grammarly decided it doesn't want to work today. About to drop quite a bit of money for a new computer so hopefully Grammarly likes the new laptop better.

Anyways! I really liked this chapter! Yay, finally! Also, you the readers, do you need more of a break from the heavy/gloominess? For example, was the cuteness within this chapter enough? Or do you need more of a break? (I don't want to make the story unenjoyable by making it only doom-and-gloom).

Was the chapter worth the wait...? And sorry to those who didn't see my announcement last week saying that I was unable to update! I understand that not all of follow me but I didn't want to make a special post within this story explain the delay. This chapter ended up running longer than usual... and last week I happened to listen to Hamilton for the first time and began watching Naruto... they demanded my attention lol