I unsteadily stepped towards him. He said nothing, but turned and walked down the path. The vines of honeysuckle on the white stone seemed to be deciding if they were to open or not--their pale green buds were barely straining to open, tiny white petals almost peeking through their tips. A small, crystal brook trickled over grey rocks alongside us.

"Le sulion, Legolas," I said cordially. "Is everything well?"

"Do I need an excuse to ask you the same?" he asked gently, turning towards me.

"Ask me what?"

"I never found the time to ask how you were doing ," he stated, staring ahead unwaveringly.

He finally turned to look at me, his blue, blue eyes reflecting the pale dusk light.

I laughed lightly, trying not to sound nervous but surely failing. It was no less difficult to be around Legolas when I knew that Falcon's curse would never let us touch. It changed nothing about how I felt about him.

"You did not need to worry, Legolas," I said. "I am, so far, doing well."

"But are you really?" he pressed. "Gianna, I do not know what Falcon said to you, but I saw you bruised and  beaten, huddled in the snow. That is proof enough of what you endured."

"I am fortunate to have found the scroll when I did, not only for the reason of our need," I replied hesitantly. "He was very clear that his oath did not bind him if I did not.
"I was afraid, Legolas, I will not deny that. But it was not to be, for the Valar watched over me in that hour. It is clearer now than ever that I will be able to overcome this. We have the means to end this."

"I know," he said softly. "But I am still afraid. I fear for you, I cannot shake the feeling that I will not be there if you need me."

"Legolas, you have always been there for me," I said, astounded. "How can you think that?"

"The curse, oath, whatever it is that Falcon inflicted. I cannot catch you if you fall, or go to you if you are injured. I am powerless."

I was surprised at his words.

"Never," I said to him, "You are never powerless, you can fight Falcon and his men better than anyone can, and that is essential. I will be fine, I promise you."

"Do not promise," he said roughly, turning away, "There is only one way to break a promise when you keep your word."

Dying. He meant dying.

"That will not happen," I insisted. "Legolas, I will do all in my power to prevent such things."

"But I cannot," he said, his tone low and dark. "And that is why I fear. There will come a day when I will never see you again, but it will not be because of death. Never because of that."

I wanted to reach for him, to be lost in his warm embrace underneath the stars that had begun to appear above the trees. But I could not, and my chest tightened uncomfortably when I stepped back.

"The rocks must bear the tide when it rises, and so must we," I said.

"This is true," he sighed. "Then let us be joyful until the tide comes."

"By all means," I said, "No power in the world can stop us."

"Then first," he said, "You must see the libraries while you are here."

"Lead on," I said, immediately intrigued.

*****

I was, to be frank, awestruck. The sheer amount of books, scrolls and tapestries that covered the walls was immense. The air smelled like old paper, a velvety musk that imparted me with a deep sense of calm.

"How many volumes are kept here?" I asked curiously.

Legolas took a breath and paused before answering. "Six hundred thousand," he answered. "Many of which are worth tenfold in their content."

"Which is your favourite?"

Legolas smiled, lost in thought. Before long, he strode to a tall shelf in the corner that was decorated with motifs of leaves and flowers. He trailed his fingers along the spines of the books standing there, and then eased our a leather bound volume.

"'The Lay of Lethian'," he said, flipping though the pages. "It tells of the good in the world, all the powers that seem weak, but combined are a mighty foe against the darkness. Do you know it?"

"I know the story," I said, "but have never read the Lay."

"You should," he proclaimed, "It is inspiring."

"It is sad, though the ending is not," I said reflectively.

"Sad? In which way?"

"Beren thought he would never survive to see Lúthien again, and she thought the same for him. And Finrod, loyal Finrod--he gave his last breath to save his best friend, mortal or not."

"But he would not have done it any other way," Legolas pointed out. "The beauty of it is in the sacrifice he made."

I thought on that. "Yes, I suppose you are right," I acknowledged. "I am always moved by those stories."

"That is why they are immortalized through the ages," he sighed wistfully. He made to put the book back on the shelf.

I stepped closer. "And this one?" I asked, indicating to a gold and leather bound volume at the end of the row.

He deftly pulled it out. "'The Reign of Tar-Palantir, Twenty-Fourth King of Númenor,'" he read out loud. "It is written in Westron."

He handed me the book and I delicately traced the raised embossing on the cover.

"His name is in Quenya," I commented. "I thought that by the years of his ascent to the throne Númenor had become estranged from the elves?"

"They would have, were it not for his mother, who taught him the ways of the world in a way that the greed and lust for power did not reach him. He tried to reinstate the old ways, but it fell on deaf ears. Númenor would not be saved."

"And yet, it was good that he would bring back the days of light while he lived," I mused. I opened the book and read the first few lines.

"There was much unrest in those days, the Valar were scorned by men. Yet among them all was born one who would not disdain the great powers but rather revere them, as in the days of old..."

I gently closed the front cover and reached to place the book back the ornate bookshelf, walking slowly around the many similar shelves of volumes.

"What are in the scrolls?" I asked curiously, coming upon the opposite wall. Underneath wide tapestries of forests and stars were scrolls in great number, tucked into deep alcoves.

"Many things," he said, unhelpfully. He saw my raised eyebrow and quickly added, "I would assume--I actually do not know."

"It appears you have some reading to do then," I teased.

"Not so, the King's library has plenty to learn of," he said indignantly.

I laughed, looking over my shoulder at him. He was casually standing next to the wall, a tiny smile on his face.

"Legolas," I said, motioning to the low bench under the window. "Sit with me."

For a moment it seemed he would, but he abruptly looked away and then said, "I do not think that would be wise."

"Very well, but at the very least come and see the moon. You can see it above the trees."

He relented, striding hesitantly forward and leaning against the white stone to catch a glimpse of the waning half moon in the sky.

"Tilion and Arien, the lights of this world," he commented quietly.

"Indeed they are," I agreed. "Legolas...may I look at the necklace?"

He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and reached under his tunic to pull out the necklace. He unclasped it and held it out to me, the stone swinging lightly as he did.

I took it, marveling at the beautiful brightness that seemed everywhere when I beheld it.

"It is strange that such a small thing can change the fate of the world," I commented.

"That has been said before, about something quite opposite," Legolas replied, looking at me curiously. "This time it can only change for the better."

I felt the smallest tug towards it from my own pendant, so rather than further complicate matters I motioned for him to take it.

As he did so, my grip slackened on the cord of the necklace before he had taken it; I nearly dropped it.

I inhaled sharply and reached with my other hand to catch it, just as he did so.

For a moment, our fingers met.

His eyes widened briefly before his hand closed around the necklace and he put it around his neck once again.

"What?" I asked, unsure of his reaction.

"Nothing," he said nonchalantly, returning his gaze to beyond the window. He seemed to be holding something back by the way he stood, rigid and tense.

"Do you know why your stone gravitates towards this one?" he asked after a moment.

"You mentioned it," I acknowledged. "The sun and moon exist in harmony, one with the other."

"Yes," he nodded, "But how, then, would the tides he explained, and the closeness of the moon on certain days?"

"The moon is more closely drawn to the sun at some points, perhaps?" I offered.

"That is true. This is because--," he hesitated briefly. "Tilion was in love with Arien, stunned by her beauty and wishing only to be close to her. Arien was rather indifferent to the matter, whereas Tilion would gravitate towards her without any prompting."

His voice was hushed, like the moonlight.

"Originally they existed in the same plane of sky at certain points--at dawn, and at dusk. But Tilion strayed so far that his light was inconsistent. So the Valar separated them, and only rarely are they allowed to come together." His last words were terse.

He was overcoming me again, the rhythm of his words washing over me like rain. I tried to focus, to stay away from the part of me that screamed to touch him, even just a second.

"Give me your hand," he said, without preamble.

You read my mind.

"No," I said forcefully, more to myself than to anyone. "Legolas, I cannot touch you."

"Just--" he hesitated, thinking. "Put your hand on this stone." He indicated the stone in question, one of the swan-white bricks in the wall.

"For which reason?" I asked warily, although I did it.

He didn't answer. Slowly, as slowly as someone who might reach out to a frightened animal, he trailed his fingers against mine.

I almost shuddered at the shivers that went down my spine.

I pulled my hand back violently. "Legolas, stop, you mustn't."

"I do not feel it," he said softly, looking at me intently. "The pain, the instant clenching in my chest."

"What?" I asked disbelievingly, surely mishearing.

"Even the smallest touch hurts me," he said, more quickly. "That much was true from earlier, but in the treasury when I handed you the sword, I touched you then, and felt nothing."

Looking at me unwaveringly, he held out his hand. I slowly placed mine on his, trembling ever so slightly.

He did not wince as he did before, he did not cry out. His face revealed nothing; only his eyes, dark and disbelieving, betrayed any reaction.

I dared not move.

"How can this be?" I asked, "Falcon forced me to say the words, I am bound by them."

"It is the sunstone, and your moonstone, that make that evil void,"
Legolas murmured. He looked at me directly, his eyes fierce.

"When we hold them, no darkness can hold us," I realised. It made sense, it could really be. "Legolas...are you sure?"

"There is no doubt in me," he replied. He clasped my hand tighter, drawing me closer.

I took a deep breath.

Valar, if this is real...

Legolas pulled me up from the bench and caught me against him, a warm embrace I had desperately imagined for weeks.

I pressed my face against his chest, inhaling deeply. It smelled like him still, the bright scent of honeysuckle and dark pine.

"Every day, I have missed this, missed you," he said, his murmur warm against my ear.

My only response was to pull him closer, as if he was soon to be gone.

But he would, eventually. All of this would be gone.

"I cannot stop this, this doom," I told him, briefly looking up. "I am not of this world, Legolas."

"There are many things that may happen between then," he said assuredly. "Not yet." His tone was pleading.

"I do not wish you to be hurt by me, my Prince," I said gently.

He put his forehead against mine. "It will hurt no less to have you here and yet never with me, not like this."

In this moment, I could not form any more coherent thoughts. I was worn, I was tired of pretending and excuses.

In this moment, I loved him.

There was a fraction of space between us, a centimetre, then a millimetre.

I was acutely aware of how it felt to feel him press against me once more, strong and comforting, every bit a Prince but also the friend I knew him to be.

He inhaled shakily, his breathing ragged and shallow as the gap between us vanished.

My eyes fluttered shut of their own accord and all I knew was him, and the taste of his lips against mine and a feeling of falling, drowning feverishly in great sadness but also triumph.

I was finally free of the waiting, the stern reprimands I had accumulated within myself--to ignore my feelings and repress my thoughts.

The fight against my own heart was finished. It was done, and nobody could reach us here, in this place all our own with his hands tangled in my hair and my arms around his neck and no darkness to be found except for the comforting shade of nighttime that blanketed the world.