Dear old readers: firstly, thank you very much for sticking with Alcartur. Every read, review, follow and favorite makes me smile - I can't express how much it means that people are enjoying my work; Alcartur originally started as just something to write in my free time. I've picked it up again for you guys. Thank you for that.

You'll notice some changes in this chapter and the ones that follow; actually, it's just one change, and it's the switch from past to present tense. I apologize if you prefer my old style, but it's - and I'll be honest here - really difficult for me to keep writing like that. In order to continue Alcartur, I've switched into a style I'm more comfortable with. I've updated old chapters as well! Give them a reread if you want, or continue if you feel comfortable with the change.

Thank you all!

He isn't dead, but sometimes I think that it might have been better if he is. He isn't dead, but for all of a month, all I hear of him is that he sleeps, fitfully, and that everyone thinks he may never wake up again. And if he did, he might not be the same.

I have no medical background, but I have no reason to doubt the whispers or the people who said them. But instead of sticking around to hear the rumors of him, the rumors of him and me, I opt instead to join the hunts for Gollum. We comb the forest, north to south, east to west; over and over again. For thirty-one days all I know is stewed rabbit, thin saddles and hushed voices.

Then Legolas declares that Gollum has escaped our clutches, and he will have to notify Elrond Peredhel and Mithrandir. I tell myself that I'll be ready, but the news hits me like a bowling ball to the stomach, and when Legolas corners me in the hall to tell me to be ready to leave in two days, I stare at him with a gaping mouth. "There's. . . there's still so much to do."

"Then do it." His voice is understanding, but stressed. I knew he doesn't want to leave as well, but unlike me, he understands that it's necessary. Curse elves being all worldly and wise.

I curl my fingers into my palm until my nails dig into the skin. "We'll come back, right?"

"Of course we will." Legolas bestows me with a gentle smile. "Unless. . . " He trails off, then picks up the sentence again. "The Peredhel may be able to help you."

I jerk to attention. "What?"

He's already walking away, and I stare after him in shock. "You can't just say something like that and leave!"

Legolas calls over his shoulder, "Whatever motivates you, Leoma."

I hate it when he's right.

The walk back to my room is slow. I don't have much to pack besides a few spare tunics, since there isn't much that is that special to me. As an afterthought, I stuff the wooden hairpin into the small bag as well. How long ago has that party been? Almost a year. I haven't touched the flower comb since, but it stings to think of leaving it. Especially if I would never come back.

Sindo whines from the bed, and I scratch his head. "Don't worry, boy. I'm not leaving you." He doesn't understand me, but he likes my soft tone and pushes his snout into my hand for more scratchins. I oblige, basking in the comfort of the small room that I will leave all too soon. Maybe that's the reason I don't leave my room again that day; I want to stay one last time, sit and think and sleep, with only Sindo for company.

But I'm not good at being pensive. I'm out again early the next morning, and I have a mission.

The infirmary is the same - same smell, same sheets, same grumpy Ruith. The only thing different is Ettrian, and I wish, as I stand there staring at him, that it could be me in that bed instead of him.

"He is healing." I turn my head to Ruith, who'd spoken. She pats my arm, not comfortingly, but what passes as companionably. "He is healing. Slowly, but he will wake. Whether you are there to see it. . . "

"Will he be. . . Ettrian?" I ask, my voice quiet, as if I'm afraid the air will shatter.

Ruith only shrugs.

Slowly, I approach the bedside and bend to kiss Ettrian's forehead. His skin is clammy, and his damp hair sticks to his head. His lips are pale, but I believe that they will smile again. Maybe not at me, but I don't care. He has to. "There's so much to say," I whisper to him. "But I don't think I can."

He doesn't reply. I probably would've been more freaked out if he did. But seeing him is enough, and with another kiss, this time to his cheek, I say all I can. I'm sorry. Thank you for everything. Goodbye.

Because Elrond Peredhel is a new hope to me.

And maybe. . . if I don't come back, if I find my way home. . . this is the last I'd see of him, of everyone, and I hope that he can hear all I've said. Even if he isn't conscious, even if his mind is far away from me.

I leave the infirmary all too quickly; I can't stand Ruith's gaze on me as I try to hide my tears.

Despite my haze of confusion and sadness and guilt, the Greenwood doesn't look any different. Nobody pays me a second glance; nobody says much beyond hello. It's like nothing has changed, but far too much has for me to recognize it.

After Ettrian, everything is silent. I sit in the stables for what I think to myself is the last time and say goodbye to the horses that had once been my first comfort here. They don't react; they don't understand. I still murmur my thanks to each one.

"Leoma, are you hiding here again?"

That voice is Curunir's. My hand leaves Edgar's muzzle and I realize that Curunir is holding something. "I've been looking all over for you," he says. "We are not friends, but. . . I will miss training with you."

"You don't have to lie to me," I joke, crossing the hay-covered floor to him.

"I'm not." He smiles, hard to see in the shade but visible. "You were my easiest student."

"I would say toughest. You were always yelling at me." That's definitely one thing I won't miss. Pointing to the sheath in his hands, I ask stupidly, since it's really very obvious what he's carrying, "What's that?"

He glances at it, and then at me. "Ah. . . it is a sword. For you. Do you need your eyes checked, Leoma?"

"All sense has abandoned me." I murmur dryly, and Curunir doesn't laugh at the joke. He places the sheath in my hands. The sword is light - short, and light, with a curved handle and a strap to fit over my back. "This sword is yours. You haven't practiced much with a real blade, but should you not return, I wanted you to have this."

"Oh." I run my hand along the engravings in the sheath. "You heard, then?"

"That our human may find her way back home." Curunir smiles at me and claps me on the back. "Come, now. The others are waiting."

"I can't believe they sent you on Find the Leoma duty." My heart tingles when he says the others. God, I will miss them. So much. My head thrums, screaming at me not to leave. I ignore it. Home is distant to me, but far more important.

"It is because I'm not as soft." Curunir puffs out his chest and I laugh, knowing very well that compared to his sister, he is definitely the softest of the bunch. "You're nuts. Let's go."

And we do.

It's small, but it's light - and it's family. Lariel, Galadhon, Daerdes, Curunir. Drinking, laughing, throwing food at each other when one makes a bad joke. Knowing that this could be the last time all of us are together. I keep my tears in. But Daerdes pulls me aside at the end of the night, telling me everything she thinks I need to hear. Be safe. Live long. See your home again. Guard your left. That's when my tears spill over. I can't bring myself to say my goodbyes, but we all feel them.

And I'm gone by the time the sun rises the next morning.

"I've never been this far before."

I don't mean for Legolas to hear, but his elfy ears pick it up anyway. He pulls his horse, Galroch, alongside Daelorgaer. "You have never seen the mountains?"

We're traveling along the edge of the forest and have been for a few hours, making our way towards what Legolas says was a pass in the north. I shale my head. "I have, but only through the trees."

Despite it only being late summer, snow blankets the rocky peaks, and I feel a chill in the warm breeze. Lifting one hand to rub my bicep, I glance around for Sindo. He's stayed by my side for most of the ride, his long legs able to keep up with a slow trot - now that we are traveling through long grass, I see his waving tail several feet away, and whistle for him to come back.

We are silent again. It's painful. Sindo tries to chase a rabbit, which leads in me having to venture off the trail to round him back up again; Legolas warns me not to leave his side. Things are dangerous out here. That doesn't make me focus any more than before. But the trees slowly disappear behind us and we turn towards the mountains, picking up a swift pace.

Imladris. I wonder what it looks like. Nobody really ever talked about it; I wonder if it's a city in the forest like the Greenwood, on the ground or built up through the trees like I've heard another Elven haven, Lothlorien, looks like. In my mind it's like a crystal palace, or maybe marble; something beautiful and breathtaking but warm.

"Have you been there before?"

My voice surprises me; I don't mean to speak, don't mean to say it out loud. It's hoarse, quiet, but earnest; I do want something to fill the silence, and this is as hard as I can try.

Legolas glances at me; he slows his horse until I'm beside him. I don't like the way he looks, but eventually his expression shifts into a neutral tone and he answers. Equally quiet. I don't want him to sound so somber, but it's not like I can tell him to shut up.

"Yes. Many times."

I wait for him to elaborate as I stare at the mountains. We're getting close, so close that I can pick out ridges and cliffs etched into the rock face. It's almost more interesting than listening to Legolas.

"It's hidden," he continues; his voice is like he's telling a story. I try to imagine myself there. It's better than nothing. "In a valley, surrounded by the greenest trees. Every day you wake and are lulled to sleep by the thunder of waterfalls near your ear. White stone gleams in the sunlight when you walk; the people there are silent and kind. It's a different world." I realize he's looking at me again, and I don't meet his eyes. "From Eryn Lasgalen. Are you scared of it?"

I lick my lips as I try to think of something to say. Not scared; I've known fear and it doesn't feel like the feeling at the pit of my stomach, as if I haven't eaten anything in so long that I've transcended hunger and just exist with my body cavity filled with stomach acid. What is that - anxiety? Nerves? Or maybe a different kind of fear, a slow fear, not the adrenaline rush that overtakes you when you're staring an orc in the face.

"Can't tell," I say finally. "Will they. . . be nice to me? Or should I expect a city full of Daelens?"

Legolas suppresses laughter. He doesn't make a sound, but I can see his lips twitching. Daelen is his right-hand man. He knows that we despise each other. For some reason, it cracks him up; I let it. I've long since stopped hating Daelen because he's an asswipe - now I hate him just to hate him.

"Noldor and Sindar elves are more mild-mannered than their Silvan cousins." I don't know what he's talking about, but I nod as if I do. "And you know Peredhel means half-elven. They will not hate you, Leoma."

I hope that he's right. I don't want to experience Eryn Lasgalen again.

He keeps talking, and I think it's because he hates the silence as much as I do; he's filling the gap. I listen; he's telling me of people there, of his friends, of Elladan and Elrohir - who I'm none too glad to see - and of how happy he thinks I'll be when I'm among them. He forgets that that's not why I'm going. I don't want to stay. I just want to see if Elrond can help me.

But I can't tell him that. He knows, but I've seen it, heard it in every goodbye. More people than I want to realize don't want me to leave.

It makes it harder, so I try not to think about it.

Unfortunately, it sticks with me. As I curl around Sindo that night when we camp, I try and define home. It hurts when I realize that it has two meanings. Earth, and the Greenwood.

When dawn breaks the next morning, I think about what I miss. Mom. Wyatt. The twins. Pizza. Wheel of Fortune. Lariel. Daerdes and Curunir. Galadhon. Ettrian.

What does it mean? I ask myself, and I know the answer long before we ride into Imladris.

"Wow, the trees are really green." I squint at the forest around us as our horses pick our way into the valley. Legolas, ahead of me, chuckles to himself. "Do you not believe me, Leoma? You'd think you would learn."

Sindo runs through the brush. I call him back and say, "Okay, but it's Narbeleth. Let me guess - magic?" I translate Narbeleth as the Sindarin month for the sun-fading; in other words, October.

"Elves," is his answer, and I hate remembering that Elves are hailed as children of gods. Or something. It's really unfair.

"Nice," I mutter to myself and duck my head as we pass under a low-hanging limb. As we continue deeper into the valley, I get the feeling that we're being watched, and I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders. Elves don't have X-ray vision, but they might as well.

It turns out I'm right when a blonde steps in front of Legolas's horse. He barks in Sindarin, and I'm surprised that I understand it. Something about the place makes me feel foreign - or maybe it's just because this is the first Elven haven I've stepped foot in outside of the Greenwood.

"Halt!" He says, and Legolas, very smoothly, replies, "We have halted, Arandur."

Arandur, who is dressed in a very smart and very shiny suit of armor, grins - from what I can see. I have to peer over Legolas's shoulder, three feet away. Anyway, I think he's grinning, and he says, "Not many come this path. Do you wish for me to bore myself to tears sitting alone in a tree?"

Legolas shakes his head. I can definitely see that, since his golden braids dance and catch the sunlight. I hate it when he's ethereal.

The guard looks past the prince to me, who is doing a very good job at blending into the forest with my uniform and skinny dark features, and says, "Your guard?"

"Yes. And her dog." Sindo, sitting patiently beside Daelorgaer, barks. He likes the word dog.

Arandur points down the path with a closed fist. "Very well. Welcome to Imladris, my friend. Elrond Peredhel awaits you."

He doesn't say anything about my being human, or me in general. That makes me smile at him as I ride past, and he even ducks his head. In respect. Respect. I wedge Daelorgaer in between Legolas's mount and the edge of the trees to hiss, "He was so polite!"

"Sindar elves generally tend to be." There's a smile playing on his lips, but he keeps his eyes on the path ahead. "Look now, Leoma - we are here."

Any thought of Arandur leaves my mind as the trees break and we ride across a white stone bridge into the Last Homely House. Legolas isn't wrong; there are a lot of waterfalls, coming down from all sides of the valley and flowing through the city that's built up against a cliff. It's reminiscent of Eryn Lasgalen in its twisting towers and arches with intertwining branches, but it's bright and reflects the sunlight, more welcoming than Eryn Lasgalen could ever be. It's not meant to intimidate, but beckon.

And damn, it works.

We dismount in a courtyard beyond the bridge and I grip Daelorgaer's reins tight as Elves flood towards us to great Legolas. A few take our horses, leaving me to stand awkwardly in the background, one hand on Sindo's head to keep him from going nuts around all the new people.

"Leoma!"

There's a shout and I cringe. I'd been hoping the twin sons of Elrond would forget me, but as they come bounding in my direction, I realize that there's no such luck.

Elrohir - or maybe Elladan - grips my forearm in a handshake. The bro kind. We're not friends, but I go along with it anyway. "We were not expecting you," he says in a hushed voice, but his eyes twinkle. That probably means he's brewing an evil plan. "But we are glad to see you in the company of the illustrious prince, aren't we? It seems like decades since we have last seen each other."

Rather, it's been almost exactly a year - and I could've gone with it being longer.

Elladan - it's probably Elrohir - pushes his brother out of the way. "Tell us the news, Leoma. Is this your dog? How did you convince Lasgalen to let you visit us? How is our Ettrian?"

I choke on air. Legolas comes to my rescue too late, clapping Elladan ( Elrohir? ) on the shoulder. "Let her alone, my friend. She doesn't want to be bombarded with you two this early in the day."

This early? It's two in the afternoon, but I send Legolas a grateful smile anyway. Elrohir - Elladan - no, it's definitely Elrohir; he has two marks on his right eyelid - reads my expression. Immediately his voice drops two tones and he looks towards Legolas. "Be honest with us. What happened?"

Legolas opens his mouth. I break through the circle of elves; I can't hear what he's going to say. Or, more accurately, I don't want to. Sindo follows, and when I find my way to a garden and sit down - hard - on the nearest bench, he pushes his nose into my hand.

I scratch him idly. "It's okay, boy. I'm okay."

Either he doesn't believe me, or he just wants more scratchins, because he jumps into my lap - this enormous attack dog who thinks he's still a puppy - and covers my cheek with a kiss. I wrap my arms around him. He's more reliable than any elf can ever be.

But thinking about that doesn't help matters. I bury my face in his fur and listen to his loud heartbeat. He doesn't wriggle, and instead rests his furry chin on my shoulder. Only a few whines and then silence. Have I mentioned I love my dog?

We stay there until darkness falls. I'm aware of other people in the garden, but either they don't notice me or graciously avoid me. When someone does finally approach me, I wish I could say I'm rudely interrupted - but someone's feet crunches against gravel and I look up as a woman asks, "Are you well?"

She's silhouetted against the pale moonlight and I'm half convinced that she's not real. But she sits beside me and sends me a sympathetic smile. "Not many choose to miss the evening meal unless there's something on their mind." Sindo sniffs at her; she rubs his chin. I'm still staring. If she notices, she doesn't let on.

"My name is Arwen," she introduces. "Which delegation are you with?"

It takes me a minute to close my gaping mouth and then open it again when I speak. "I, um - it's, uh, the Greenwood. I came with L - Prince Legolas."

The lady - Arwen - studies me. Despite the darkness, her blue eyes gleam with kindness and some otherworldly aspect that I can't put my finger on. "A human in the company of Legolas?" She laughs lightly. I'm not jealous of how extraordinarily beautiful she is and how it seems to grow with each passing moment; all I'm feeling is a little bit gay for her. "I'll have to tease him for that. He once swore that such a thing would never happen in his lifetime."

"Yeah, uh, he's changed." I brush back my hair. She's not referring to my human-ness (?) with disgust or even apprehension; she makes me feel like we're on the same level of existence, even if she's an elf. That's a new feeling - a really nice one. "He's the one that forced me to come along."

Arwen laughs again, a tinkling sound that reminds me of Lariel - it's the same warm and friendly tone, even if Lariel's is deeper and richer. Arwen laughs delicately, but still like she's known me for a thousand years. "You use Sindarin in a strange way." She touches my hand, but doesn't correct my grammar. "How long have you learned it?"

"A - a year." I'm rather in shock that she deigned to touch me. Sindo immediately licks the feeling away, and I have to scrub through his fur to distract myself. "Maybe a little more."

"Fluent for a new speaker." Arwen eyes me with praise. I start to get the feeling that she's acting so kind because I'm an outsider; because I'm a strange person in a strange place. Not that she's charming me, but that she's doing all she can to make me feel more comfortable. What a stellar lady. I'd nominate for her for Time Magazine's Person of the Century.

Arwen speaks again, and this time she changes the subject. "If you came from Eryn Lasgalen, you must be tired from the long ride. It hurts me to see you sitting alone in the cold." She stands, extending her hand. "Please, come with me - we can't have a friend of Prince Legolas freezing." I don't mean to accept her invitation, but Sindo slides off my lap and I stand.

She's convincing, but it probably helps that I'm also beginning to get cold and hungry. There's only so long I can cry into Sindo's shoulder, and I've told myself time and time again that Ettrian is behind me.

I know that's wrong, but I still follow her along the halls gleaming in the moonlight and pick up on her light attempts at conversation. I don't say much, but Arwen makes up for that; she stops speaking idly when she stops beside a door and opens it for me. "A room for you. Rest now." She looks from the room to me and smiles. "The journey is hard, but you cannot finish it if you do not take care of yourself."

I get the feeling she's not talking about the trip from the Greenwood to Imladris. It's all I can do to bow and thank her. When I close the door behind me, I sink to the ground and rub my eyes.

"I hate it when Elves are right."

Sindo licks my hand. He has no opinion on the matter.

It takes a lot of willpower to kick off my boots and shed my clothes before collapsing on the bed instead of just falling asleep where I sit. Sindo - he's never been trained to keep off of furniture, and I hope Arwen doesn't mind dog hair on the bed - stretches out next to me; his breathing makes me feel like I'm at home.

Legolas is right - the sound of the waterfalls thundering to the river below does lull me to sleep, and I forget about everything else for a precious few hours.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter in the new format! Imladris is a new chance for Leo - the Greenwood arc is over. For now.

As always, thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited! I updated as quickly as I could with rewriting the previous chapters and all ( please comment if you notice any mistakes, like, seriously - my brain is fried ). Your reviews fuel me with the fire of a thousand Leomas. Thank you!