I wake up to Sindo's cold, wet nose against my ear. He's still spoiled enough to sleep in my bed, despite having tripled in size since the winter. "Mmph," I groan, pushing his snout away and trying to roll over. It doesn't work, since he has me squished against the wall. Blinking open my crusted eyes, I realize that the sky is just barely lit enough to silhouette the trees, and my room is empty.

It still troubles me to wake up alone, but I've recently moved into a smaller room, one that I no longer share with Lariel. We only shared so that she could ensure that I assimilate properly, and also because I'd been scared out of my wits the first few months.

At least my room has a nice breeze, which helps during the hot early summer months, and definitely helps with the furnace next to me doesn't feel like moving in the morning.

I sit up, scratching Sindo's butt and laughing as he wiggles until he nearly falls off the bed. "You ready to go, buddy? You ready? Want to run today?" He doesn't recognize much, but Curunir insists on teaching him commands and getting him used to language, and run is one of his favorite words. By the time I've tugged on my tunic, pants and boots, he's been clawing at the door for several minutes.

"Let's go." I open the door, whistling to call him back when he bounds into the hall. He isn't full grown yet, Curunir says - just a large puppy - and even if he is progressing in training well, he still gets a little overexcited. And I can't afford him running over some poor elf on his way to get morning tea.

I don't need to leash Sindo anymore, because once I get him focused, he stays at my heel, keeping his pace even with mine. I can tell that he wanted to stretch his legs and shake loose the previous night's aches and pains, so I quicken my step, but halt altogether too soon when I reach the training field and see Ettrian.

Trust me, I haven't been avoiding him. ( That's a lie. ) We don't speak whenever we are on sentinel duty or caring for Gollum; that's his fault for not trying to address the tension between us. ( That is also a lie. ) It hasn't really been a sudden thing - but since winter, since the one time he'd grazed my hand when talking to me, I've started to drift away, confused by my own feelings towards him and thinking it's easier to just not talk to him instead of bringing up why I feel the way I do.

Man, and I thought my crush on Hot Steve is crazy. Trying to come to terms with the way my heart hammers in my chest whenever I look at Ettrian. . . who is a thousand shades of unattainable. . . wow, yeah, it's a lot easier just ignoring him.

Sindo doesn't feel the same way. He sees Ettrian at the same time I do, and bounds towards him, balancing on his hind legs to place his paws on Ettrian's muscled chest and lick his chiseled face. "Sindo!" I call, desperate to leave as quickly as possible. "Down, boy! Down! What did we say about manners?"

Sindo doesn't listen, probably because Ettrian is scratching him behind the ears and saying something in Sindarin baby-talk. So much for being a cat person.

By the time he looks past Sindo's furry head to me, I've already attempted to hide my face, but I don't miss the expression that crossed Ettrian's, something indeterminable that makes me feel all tingly and. . . guilty.

He lowers Sindo to the ground and crosses to me, leaving my dog to peruse the training field for sniffs, and I silently beg for someone to help. No one does. Ettrian walks towards me, and says, for the first time in weeks, something more than a hello.

"You look scared."

"Do I?" Who allows him to look like that? I miss the days where I hated his face and every stupid thing that came out of his mouth.

"You do." He smiles at me, but it's a forced smile. "Let me guess. . . is it, perhaps, because you keep failing to ignore my presence?"

His use of formal speech sounds condescending to the outside listener, but it reminds me of the days when we could tease each other without one of us collapsing in a pile of sappy, lovey-dovey mess.

I brush my hair out of my eyes. "Hooray, you caught me. You don't win any prizes today, though."

"I don't?" He feigns disappointment. "Ah, well. Your company will have to do."

"No," I say all too quickly, and it's like every emotion drops from Ettrian's face at once. Squeezing my fingers in a weak attempt to bring some feeling back into my limbs, I try to correct myself. "Not. . . now. I have to. . . train with Sindo."

Ettrian glances behind him to the gray dog, who has completely forgotten about me and is now terrorizing the elves clustered near the water well. . . actually, it looks a lot more like fetch rather than terrorizing. "And I suppose I have to believe that?"

When did things get so awkward?

I can't answer that, since I can't even remember. How long has it been since I've even looked him in the eyes?

He's staring at me, and I realized I haven't even answered him yet. ". . . Yeah. No. I mean, yes. I'm busy." Very busy, trying desperately to look for some form of escape. Then a forest-green clad guard passes by, the angry marks on his shoulder a testament to his duty: dealing with Gollum. ( Surprise! He doesn't bite if you're halfway decent to him. I've made it a month without him trying to eat my fingers. )

And I quickly rectify my statement. "But. . . maybe later? I hear the woods are nice this time of year."

Ettrian's eyes glitter in amusement. I wonder how stupid I sound to him. Come on, isolating yourself in a forest with your love interest? In every novel I've ever read, it either ends up with no clothes, a couple's fight, or an ambush. Or all three.

"Later it is, then. Come find me, alright?" He reaches out, his slim fingers squeezing my clammy hand, and leaves. My hand trembles even as he disappears from sight, and quickly - and shakily - I whistle for Sindo.

But given what the forest has in store for us, I would have taken being estranged from my best friend for the rest of my life than taking him into those woods.

"Are you preening?" Lariel asks from where she crouches on the ground, playing tug-of-war with Sindo and a rag that was probably once a part of some poor elf's uniform. My hand drops from my hair, where it's been attempting to re-braid locks of curly hair away from my face. "Why would you think that? Can't I try and look nice every now and then?"

Lariel sends me a look. "I'd say so, but there's a certain ellon approaching that I would say you might want to impress."

My stomach drops, and I turn.

At first, I only see Legolas, and, um, ew - but Ettrian is beside him. I bow first to our prince and then, confused and hazy, again to Ettrian - who stares at me with one eyebrow arched close to his hairline when I stand.

Legolas ignores me in favor of Lariel. "You were going out with the trainees this afternoon, were you not?" I eavesdrop in favor of noticing Ettrian. "Yes, we were practicing archery with - " She is drowned out by Ettrian taking my hand and running, fully running, towards the edge of the training field. I stumble, trying to regain my footing, trying to keep in pace with him.

"Wh - what about Sindo?"

"What about him?" We crash through the underbrush, but Ettrian doesn't stop until all the noise of voices and laughter and swords clanging against swords fades from our ears.

"What if something happens?" I dig my heels into the earth, and Ettrian halts, panting. I try not to focus on his lips as they quirk into a smile. "Nothing will, Leoma. Do you not trust the sentinels?"

Of course I do, but. . . it's not that. Some weird feeling is rising in my chest, and I can't tell if it's because of Ettrian's close proximity, or fear.

He lets go of my hand in favor of turning to a crooked tree and hauling himself up on one of the low branches, swinging his legs. "So. Are we going to talk, or will you just stare at me with those eyes and try and escape again?"

"Talk about what?" My voice is definitely several pitches higher. Ettrian shakes his head, a scoff passing his lips. "You're always like this. You can face orcs, but not me?"

Steel your nerves, Leo. He's right. It's just him.

"I like you."

His head snaps to me and I'm half afraid he'll break his neck with the sharp movement. "Are you - ?"

"Yes, I'm serious!" I inhale, exhale, and attempt - in vain - to calm down. "Maybe too serious. I don't know why, I know it's stupid, you're - you're - a thousand years older than I am, but you always make me smile with your dumb jokes and every time you look at me I get this feeling in my stomach and - "

He drops to the ground, his feet barely making a sound despite the fallen leaves covering the forest floor. "As. . . as a lover. You like me?"

"Are you still confused on that?" He's in front of me now, and I wish I had taken a step back, but I can't force myself to.

"Well, I can't say your grammar is completely accurate." He brushes a lock of hair away from my face, one I've failed to pin back. "But I'd like to hear it from your lips one more time. Please?"

"I - " I stop as something moves in the corner of my vision. "What the fuck was that?"

"Did you have to ruin it with a joke?" Ettrian's eyes narrow, and his lips slant downwards. "This is rather a serious moment."

"No, seriously." I duck under his arm. "Something. . . something moved."

As any white girl in a horror movie would do, I move towards the underbrush.

Hack. Hack. Hack.

Something coughs from within, then grumbles, and finally slides into the sunlight, pale eyes blinking up at me. I crouch, taking in Gollum and the torn rope around his throat. "Oh, buddy. What happened to you?" Ignoring the possibility of rabies, I held out my hand. "How did you get away? Come on, let's take you back."

Ettrian drops to his knees next to me. "You talk to it as if it's a friend."

"He's not that bad." I wiggle my fingers, wishing I'd had fish, but that isn't really a great first-date accessory. "Come on, Gollum. Come here."

"Nasty, nasty." His chant rises in volume until the demented creature is screaming at me, masking his attempt to inch back towards the underbrush. "Filthy orcses come to save Gollum! Come to bleed the nasty elves and the ugly girl. Come to feast, feast while Gollum escapes!"

Creepy.

I stand at the same time Ettrian does, but I don't draw my weapon, unlike the dark-haired elf beside me. "He's not that bad?" Ettrian tries to joke, but I can tell he is still hung up on the whole orc thing. Has something really made it past the sentinels? What happened to the guards caring for Gollum?

Are we alone in these woods with a crazy goblinoid in front of us and orcs closing in?

It's just like old times, then.

"So what do we do?" I watch Gollum dance around the tree and, when he came face to face with us again, bare his teeth. "Filthy. . . elveses." He mutters to himself. "Filthy elf. . . knife. . . nasty, nasty."

"Let's run," I suggested, and Ettrian glances at me, a smile on his lips. "Count of three? I'll hold him - "

His expression goes slack. It takes me a moment to realize that in the split second he'd looked at me, Gollum has leaped onto his chest and sunk his teeth into his neck.

Ettrian falls backwards, and I, shrieking breathlessly in horror, football kick Gollum into the tree and collapse on my knees next to the bloody elf. "Don't talk," I command as his hand reaches for me and then falls to the ground.

He's so pale. The wound doesn't look deep - shallow teeth marks at the junction of his neck and shoulder - but blood is seeping out, slowly and steadily. And if orcs had passed the sentinels. . . I had to get him out of here. There was literally one chance that I could take.

Ripping my sleeve, I try to soak up the blood. "You're going to be alright, Ettrian. Okay? I have to tell you one more time. When you're conscious. And alive. And breathing. And all the good stuff. Don't. . . don't fall asleep." Maybe I neede reassurance to breathe, since my own inhales are shallow and barely make it to my lungs.

One - two - roll him onto his stomach. One - two - haul him onto my back. A step, then another. I glance behind me to make sure nobody is there. Gollum has long since disappeared, hopefully with a broken rib or two.

But as scared as I am, I find myself focusing less on the possibility of threats and more on the elf that is very likely bleeding out on my back. We can't be too far from the keep. . . how far did we run? I recognized that tree. How long have I been walking? It feels like hours. Don't trip on that vine. Did I see a flash of green? Voices. . . those are definitely voices.

Sindo howls, and then keeps barking before he even comes into vision. Daerdes is behind him, shouting in rapid Sindarin. I can't understand it, partly because of the speed of the words and partly because of the blood thrumming in my ears.

I barely register Daerdes speaking to me, helping me forward, or the guards that rush past us into the trees. Sindo whines, sniffing my legs, but I can't look at him; my eyes, focused, too focused, not focused at all, on the ground in front of me. Where were we? This was the infirmary. God, how far had we walked?

Ruith eases Ettrian off of my back and everything falls into place. I try to get enough air in my lungs. "Please, no, I have to - will he be alright?"

The door shuts in my face. I collapse on the ground and cried, leaning into Daerdes's side as she rubs my back in an attempt to comfort me, an attempt that doesn't work.

I force myself to listen to Legolas as the guards are gathered in the hall. A brief on the situation, one that I've pieced together and don't want to hear about again. Orcs made it past the sentinels in a rescue mission, Legolas explains, trying to gain Gollum's intelligence for their master. Gollum escaped in the confusion. The orcs were killed, but Gollum remains missing; there are no fatal wounds except one, he says, and though he doesn't elaborate, I feel too many eyes on me.

It's not my fault, I didn't hurt him, I want to tell those harsh eyes. But what could have happened if I'd just stayed put? If I didn't go with him into the woods? He wouldn't be dying under Ruith's hands. Dying.

Afterwards, the guards disperse, and I collapse in a pile of hay in the stables. It's a long time before anyone finds me, though I wish it'd been longer, and I wish it'd been anyone except Legolas.

He crouches in front of me, not saying anything until I manage a throaty, wet, "What?"

"I do not blame you for this." His voice is soft. "Nobody does, Leoma."

"Tell that to his friends." My shoulders shake as I try to force down a sob. "I saw how they looked at me. He wouldn't be hurt if I was just. . . "

"You did what you could." Legolas's voice becomes stern, and he lifts my chin, forcing my tear-filled and angry eyes to look into his own. "The fault is not your own. He will heal. And you. . . "

He pauses for too long. I sigh, ducking my chin again. "And I what?"

Legolas also exhales, one so soft he probably thinks I don't hear. "Gollum remains missing. We will hunt for him as long as we can, but if too long passes, I must bring this to the attention of Elrond Peredhel."

I vaguely recognize the name, but don't question it. I'm not in the mood to be curious. "Okay. What does that have to do with me?"

"My father thinks it. . ." Legolas pauses. "In our best interest that, if it comes to that, you should join me."

"What, so we can get attacked and I get you hurt too?" I turn away, and Legolas throws a piece of hay at me. It lands in my hair, just above my eyes, and it's a blatant attempt to make me smile.

It doesn't work. I only stare at him balefully. "Are you serious?"

"When I said that nobody blames you. . . " Legolas sits back, folding his legs under him and meeting my cold gaze. "I may have lied. It is rare that elves get hurt in such an attack. . . many think that had you not been there, he might have. . . "

"I know!" The tears are streaming again. "I know. You don't have to - shut up. Just shut up."

I forget, in the moment, that he is my prince, but remember it two seconds later, and try to dry my tears. "I'm. . . I'm sorry, Legolas."

"Do not apologize. That's a command." He lifts himself into the hay next to me, and I'm reminded of my mom, and though Legolas is a two-thousand-year-old elf, not an ethnically ambiguous ex-military captain, he has the same comforting feeling. Like he expects nothing in return. He's just here.

"When that time comes. . . " I touch the knot in my throat. "I'll go with you."

Legolas glances at me, and I just barely see the smile touching his lips in the corner of my eye. "Good. . . because that's a command, too."

What? I updated two days in a row? This is madness. This chapter is also a little bit longer. . . like three hundred words longer, I know, so impressive.

Let me know in the comments if you cried, because I did. I could have made it more dramatic, but honestly, like I said in the last chapter, I just want to finish the pre-War of the Ring exposition and get into the juicy stuff. Is that a valid reason to kill off Ettrian? Why, sure!

As always, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited! Your reviews always make me smile, like, seriously. I woke up this morning and saw two new reviews and, wow, my heart. Thank you!