14 – CILIEN

Thanks to her tense encounter with Cilien, the week spent among the apprentice healers was awkward and stilted. She continued to join them for their text study in the mornings, since they did this independent of the master healer, but she could not face Cilien to request permission to join their afternoon practical teachings. Despite inwardly berating her childishness, Flynn found reasons to be elsewhere for this time of day. Had she not spoken brave words to Cilien that night at the banquet, words that made it seem as though she was up to the challenge of working with the healer? But she had backed off following sobriety's return and the harsh light of day. If Cilien had believed that Flynn had even an inch of backbone that night, surely she was laughing now. Elven wine and its false courage, be damned.

Every afternoon Flynn left the apprentice healers with the excuse of tending to her washing or tidying her talan, and instead she wandered the solemn Lórien wood for a while, thinking. How on earth was she going to confront Cilien now and ask to be allowed to practise with the others, when she had so obviously been avoiding the healer? Flynn knew if she had just turned up to the afternoon sessions immediately then Cilien would have appreciated her eagerness to learn. But now the master healer would know that Flynn was afraid of her, and that gave the Elf much power.

Flynn was beginning to wonder if there wasn't another reason to avoid Cilien, other than being intimidated by the Elf; something strong enough that she would risk effectively thwarting her chances of becoming a proper apprentice. She had felt something that night, when Cilien had cut in to her dance with Legolas and led him away. Flynn regarded the two elves dancing, their fair faces radiating in kind, and felt the most uncomfortable pang of jealousy run through her. But Legolas wasn't hers to stake a claim upon. She had no right to be anything even resembling jealous. Nonetheless the elven prince remained on her mind.

It did not help that Legolas had been turning up in locations all over Lórien just when Flynn thought she was alone. On the first day he gently reminded her that it was not safe to wander the woods alone and unprotected, which she rebuked. On the second day he offered to take her for a leisurely ride around Lórien, and they did so more or less silently on his horse, and they ate a picnic lunch by the Celebrant stream. He asked her why she was not with the apprentices, and she told him directly that she was being cowardly and deliberately avoiding Cilien. Flynn was grateful that he did not push the issue. On the third day he watched her stalk around Lórien frustratedly, and left her when she finally returned to her talan and actually did attempt some of the cleaning she had claimed to have been doing all along, sweeping away the leaves which seemed constantly to fall in Lórien wood. On the fourth day he asked her if she wanted to learn something new, and she agreed to let him drag her out to the archery practise field.

The field smelled of new grass, reminding Flynn her that high summer approached quickly, and that she did not want to spend a Middle-earth summer in the cool Lórien wood if the unpleasantness festering there was only going to add to the gloom. Legolas, in full brown and green Wood-Elf regalia arrived with two quivers and bows slung upon his back. He set off down the field.

"Can I help you carry anything?" Flynn offered, trotting after him and gathering the skirts of her periwinkle dress as she moved through the long, wild grass.

"Not at all," he answered, soldiering on though the two quivers and two bows must surely have been heavy on his back.

Flynn was beginning to feel a little patronised by the Elf who followed her around claiming to watch out for her and now seemed to think she was incapable of load bearing. She hated to feel like the little woman. Catching up to the Elf she caught him by the elbow, halting him. "Please just let me be useful, would you?" she said.

Legolas stared at her for a moment, then relented and shrugged off the bow and quiver and helped her fix the straps properly on her back for comfort. The bow itself was surprisingly heavy for its shape and flexibility, though not too heavy to carry, but the quiver itself was light. Flynn wondered from where he had purloined these items. They set off again and Flynn could see a neat row of standing targets at the far end of the field, straw-stuffed pallets with concentric circles of red and yellow painted on them.

"Why are the targets down there?" she asked.

The Elf seemed hesitant for a moment, then replied, "Well, since you are so keen not to be unequal, I am slightly afraid to say that we are approaching them this near for your benefit. Our archers can hit the targets from the other end of the field, but I do not expect a beginner to quite manage that."

"Oh."

"I hope the lady is not offended," he ventured with a grin.

"Well, after all, I have never done this before," she said.

"I do not expect you have," he said, halting and setting his quiver and bow down against a large stone painted with a symbolic indication that this was the halfway point down the field. "Even in the place called Stralis."

Flynn froze internally, wondering how much to read into his tone. She forced a smile and said, "No, indeed. You could say archery is not our best defence." She suspected ignoring mention of her fake homeland would only arouse more suspicion and mistrust. Marking his actions with his weapons she asked, "Shall I put these down?"

"No, keep them on. You will learn the proper way." Legolas approached her and motioned for her to hand the bow over, which she did. He produced a pair of leather wrist bracers and a pair of leather gloves and gently took her injured hand. There were still remnants of the bruises on her skin, but they were fading. He wrapped the bracer around this wrist and attached it by the hook-and-eye closures along its length. "Does this hurt?" he asked softly as he worked the closures, and she shook her head. Flynn offered her other arm to him and he affixed the other bracer. She looked down at her wrists when he was done – the bracers were a little too big for her small forearms but they seemed tight enough. Shaking her arms a little she tried to loosen up, feeling already slightly more of an archer with this special armour.

Legolas went about setting up her posture. The Elf stood behind her with his long arms around her, guiding Flynn's hands, assisting her to nock the arrow into the string, one finger above the arrow and two below. She then pulled the arrow back so the string was taut, and raised the bow, her own hand and Legolas's both brushing her face, just down by the corner of her mouth. She bit back the smile threatening at his touch.

Flynn was surprised by how difficult it was to hold the whole apparatus upright and still keep the arrow nocked, and on first raising the bow her strength failed, and the arrow fell clean off the string and hit the ground flatly. She laughed, and Legolas helped her nock the arrow again, and outlined the shape of the muscles in her back, showing her how to use the strength there to keep the bow raised instead of stressing her hand and forearm so much. For the next few tries she managed to keep the apparatus held up as Legolas made small adjustments to her stance. She drew the string as tightly as she could, then let go.

Flynn felt a tiny jolt of success when the arrow, instead of thumping to the ground a few feet in front of her, whizzed through the air, far enough to hit the targets but without any sense of aim. It flew through the space between two targets and harmlessly pierced the ground beyond. Legolas chuckled softly, a laugh he seldom made, a laugh which Flynn had come to know meant he was totally relaxed; a sweet laugh. She smiled to herself and drew an arrow from the quiver on her back.

"Your strength of shot is impressive," the Elf commented. "It is to be expected that your aim needs work, but I was not counting on you having such range."

"What can I say?" Flynn replied with a wry grin, nocking the arrow once again and lifting the bow. "Women are stronger than you think."

Legolas made his adjustments to her pose again, and this time took a hold of the bow below where her hand clutched it, and mirrored her arrow hand with his own. Flynn could feel him all around her, his chest warm against her back in the cool afternoon. Her concentration wavered. The Elf's cheek was against hers now as he aligned her sight and set her arrow on course for the target, cautioning her to keep her face out of the path of the fletching. He counted down from three ever so softly, and she loosed the arrow. It shot free with a sharp whoosh and pierced the edge of the outermost circle on the target, shuddering on impact. Flynn clapped with glee and Legolas smiled proudly.

They continued on this way, with Legolas lining her up for each shot. Flynn's arrows drew closer and closer to the centre of the target the more aligned they became with each other and with Legolas's own perfect aim influencing her. There was no sound in the still afternoon but for the intermittent whizzing of an arrow and the thwack as it hit the target, and a triumphant squeal from Flynn or a murmured instruction from Legolas. The sun drew low and midges flitted about in the shafts of sun streaming down through the trees at the edge of the field. Flynn felt a peaceful calm that was miles away from the tension knotting in her belly whenever she thought of Cilien and the possibility that every moment she spent avoiding the Elf healer was dashing her hopes of achieving something she had never been able to before.

Legolas gradually moved away from Flynn as she practised, allowing her to find her own style. He fetched her arrows from the target when she had used them all up and she enjoyed having him as a retriever, and watching his amusingly prance-like, noiseless trot back and forth across the field. She started to become comfortable with the bow and was pleased to find that her weaker arm did not hurt at all as long as she kept the bow in that hand. It was her arrow hand that really took a beating, though she thanked the tough gloves, making it easier to keep nocking the arrows without rubbing the skin raw. Flynn's concentration grew more intense the better she got at hitting the target, aiming for the smudged, ochre-coloured circle that marked the dead centre of the target.

Legolas, noting her stiff concentration, decided she could be left to her own devices, and took up his own bow, leaving the quiver leaning, and nonchalantly went about practising his own shot on the next target in the row. For a moment this put Flynn off, as every arrow he shot hit dead centre, though he seemed to line himself up with the weapon with such ease, appearing so casual that it seemed impossible he should hit any part of the target. But there he was, knocking even his own arrows out of the target as each shot failed to miss. More determined to hit the centre, she set herself a challenge to achieve at least one bull's eye with the final three arrows remaining in her quiver.

Flynn carefully nocked the first and raised the bow, pouring all her concentration into her sight, her pose and the line she held from the arrow all the way down to the target. The noise of Legolas's arrows singing faded away as she grimaced with focus. Tension built up within her, readying her, and at the last moment she let the arrow fly. It landed with a satisfying thud inside the outermost circle. Not terrible, but not good enough. She tried again with the penultimate arrow, but this time her focus failed momentarily and the arrow shot wide, zinging into the next to outermost circle of the target. Flynn cursed softly to herself. Legolas had by now ceased practising, his curiosity piqued by the intensity pouring off her, but Flynn did not notice him watching her as she nocked the final arrow. Legolas's earlier instructions danced in her ears and she breathed deeply, trying to find the focus to get this last shot just perfect.

- - - - -

Legolas watched, partly amused, and partly willing Flynn to hit the mark right where she wanted to. Feeling the urge to do something the elves rarely did in the presence of mortals, he called up his fëa, his life-energy as described by the elves, and felt it in a ball of positive energy at the base of his spine. It began to pulse through him, looking for a release, and he crossed, very quickly and entirely silently, behind her, to within touching distance though she did not notice. Flynn had pulled the bowstring as tightly as it would draw, and she was about to loose it when he touched the fabric of her dress, very lightly, sending his energy to her, willing it through her. A split second later there was an almighty crack as the arrow hit the straw target with full force, piercing straight through it to the wooden backing. Flynn narrowed her eyes, checking its position. It had hit dead centre.

- - - - -

Flynn threw the bow down and whooped with glee, jumping up and down and looking around for Legolas, who was then strangely right behind her, and she clapped excitedly as a wide grin overtook his face. Triumphantly she chanted, "I hit the bull's eye! I hit the bull's eye!" Flynn took his hands and danced a merry jumping jig, and he laughed and set one hand on his hip as he raised his other arm with her hand in his, prompting her to twirl, and she did. As he reined her back in she caught the gap in his elbow with her own, and pulled him around in a two-person strip-the-willow, until she was breathless from laughing, and lost her footing, and unwittingly dragged him down into the long grass with her.

When she had recovered from the short shock of falling, her face cracked into a grin again and she burst into giggles and grabbed the Elf laying on top of her and rolled him, pinning him to his back as she tried to get back up to her feet. But the Elf had other ideas. He buzzed still with the adrenaline of gathering up his fëa, and he caught her as she began to lift herself, rolled her in turn, and was back on top of her in an instant. Flynn stopped laughing. There was a darkness in his eyes, an intensity of focus that was almost intimidating. But more than that, it was truly something else, something remarkable, something... arousing?

Flynn's chest rose but did not fall; her breath caught. A zephyr ruffled the grass gently, and Legolas ran one slender hand softly over the side of her face, catching his fingers up in her hair and twisting loose strands through them. Flynn bit her lip, the softness of his touch turning her muscles to liquid, and she let her breath back out. His hand trailed down to her jaw line and across her collarbone. She looked in his eyes and saw need the colour of a stormy sea, and felt his breath now upon her face, sweet and warm, and smelled him, all woods and musk. Flynn's breath deepened and her heart pounded in her throat. For a moment time stopped and she knew that she could not have resisted even if she wanted to, and then the Elf brought his mouth down, just barely grazing her lips with his own. Then he kissed her.

Legolas's kiss was soft and purposeful, and Flynn took but a moment to catch her bearings before she could kiss him back. He tasted sweet, and as the feelings rushing from him like vapour overtook her she found her hands gripping his sides, then running through his long hair and messing with the braids she found. He smiled at her for a moment, before descending on her with another kiss, which she returned fiercely, and then rolled him on to his back once again – and this time he let her stay there. As she bent to kiss him again, now sweetly, from his noble forehead to the tip of his nose and finally to his beautiful lips, he reached up and ran his hands down the sides of her body, before his hands moved to her throat and then slid outwards, where he gently slipped her dress off her shoulders, exposing her collarbones. Flynn's breath caught in her throat, momentarily surprised by his forwardness, but then she found herself tugging at the laces that closed the sides of his tunic.

Legolas sat up then, Flynn straddling his lap, and brought his face up to kiss her, taking her hands in his and bringing them in front of him. He looked down and carefully worked on the bracers, undoing the closures and gently removing them from her arms. She rubbed her forearms in turn, not realising how tight the bracers had been. Legolas caught the back of her hands in his palms, his fingers interlocking with hers, and kissed each palm, then the inside of each wrist. His breath slowed a little as he did this, and her own heartbeat receded a little too, as he slowly kissed little sparks down the pale undersides of her arms. He drew her close, nibbling a trail along her collarbone and bare shoulder. With Legolas's face slightly apart from Flynn's, she had just a moment's pause to think, and it suddenly occurred to her that this was something she had been telling herself for a long time to resist with all of her will. This was something she had been reminding herself could never work. Unwittingly, she sighed, and the Elf stopped dead in his tracks.

"What is it?" Legolas asked softly. Flynn said nothing, only drawing in a deep breath and sighing out quietly again. "You are afraid that we cannot do this," the Elf ventured, now searching her eyes.

Flynn shook her head softly in reply, and then, "For so many reasons," she murmured, more to herself than to Legolas.

The Elf nodded gently. "You would be right."

Flynn removed herself from his lap and sat cross-legged beside him. There was a long silence, and then she said, "I do not think you should follow me anymore, even to protect me. Perhaps it is not a good idea. I will make sure I am escorted if I feel unsafe."

Legolas nodded tersely. In a moment he drew himself up to standing and for the first time Flynn felt as if he towered over her. He crossed to where they had left the weapons and beckoned for her to come, and she slowly approached him. The Elf presented to her the quiver and bow she had been using. "I want you to have these," he said. A gift? Flynn didn't know if now was a good time to be accepting a gift from this Elf. But before she could say anything Legolas added, "Do not think of it as a lover's gift. I only want for you to be able to protect yourself in these woods. If I am not to protect you, then I trust no-one else to. Give yourself a chance."

Flynn relented and accepted and, shouldering the quiver, said, "Thank you. I had best go." Legolas was looking clear into her eyes now, silent, and she could not stand it for another moment, so she spun and left, her legs making soft swishing sounds through the long grass as she went.

Legolas watched her leave, and he remained on the practise field until the sun was gone, shooting arrows aggressively into the target, never missing a shot until at last he split one of his arrows with another, and, wrenching the rest of them from the target frustratedly, he stalked off into the woods.

- - - - -

That night Flynn decided she had to bite the bullet with Cilien. Without Legolas to distract her she had no excuse for shifting her focus from healing. The next day she attended morning text studies with the apprentices, and decided to simply show up at the afternoon practical lesson and see what Cilien said, if anything. The elves seemed to sense that something had shifted in her energy, and they made allusions to their afternoon work, which was to involve studying the structure of a peacock's feathers and how a bird of its size managed to fly – albeit weakly – and they mentioned that she would certainly enjoy it. Brennewyn was not as subtle as most elves, and Flynn took this to mean that Brennewyn expected her to attend in the afternoon.

So Flynn did. She took lunch in the glade with the apprentices, and noticed how with spring ending there were peacocks and peahens wandering around the glade in Lórien, the male's long tails hindering their walk and setting them waddling awkwardly around in pursuit of the peahens. Flynn couldn't help but feel they were mocking her and her confused love life.

Helmir said that the mating season had begun recently, and the birds were appearing out of the blue from wherever they had spent the colder months. So this healing stuff was to be a biology lesson, too? It was a wonder they had not separated the sciences out. It seemed logical that the elves did not have enough to do with healing disease and injury to warrant a full apprenticeship, but surely mortal medicine was more advanced? At that moment it occurred to Flynn that humans were only just now becoming the dominant race; the time of highly sophisticated medicine was yet to come – and she could be a part of it. The prospect excited her.

The healer had managed to capture a brilliantly plumed peacock, and it sat sedately on her lap calmly gazing about. Cilien stared at Flynn as soon as Flynn reached her talan, and said abruptly, "I thought you had given up on the notion that you could be a healer."

The apprentices sat down quietly.

Flynn replied, "Not at all. I have just been... detained for a few days." Then she lied: "I had insisted that Legolas teach me some defence and weaponry." Did Cilien's eyes narrow just then? "I apologise that I have not been able to come sooner. I hope you will still let me stay."

Cilien took a long moment, in which she glanced at the apprentices, who Flynn could swear made pleading eyes at the healer. "Very well, then," she finally said.

Flynn stemmed an exhalation of relief, and sat by Brennewyn. The lesson was long and strangely interesting, the most remarkable peculiarity being how the peacock allowed Cilien to handle it so freely, lifting a wing here, opening its mouth there, turning it this way and that to display its anatomical features. She wanted to ask if Cilien had sedated it or if elves were just naturally this harmonious in their relationships with animals, but she feared Cilien would regard the question with disdain. Fortunately, the only other Mortal on the talan piped up with the very same question, and Helmir did indeed receive the trademark look given by all teachers to nuisance students, as Cilien explained that she had slipped sedative into the bird's food. Later after the lesson, Brennewyn told Flynn that elves should normally have such an easy commune with animals that no sedative should be needed, but that Cilien had always been far too tightly strung for animals to be at ease with her. Flynn and Brennewyn both giggled at this.

So Cilien allowed Flynn to attend the afternoon sessions that she took, though Flynn was rarely drawn into the conversation and Cilien never called on her for answers, despite the fact that Flynn knew the vast bulk of Cilien's teachings already. Flynn found it difficult to hide just how much she knew, wanting desperately to prove to this healer that she was more than capable of becoming an official apprentice, yet fearing that Cilien, more than most people, would despise a young upstart.

So Flynn kept quiet, and nodded often and tried to look interested. In fact Cilien ignored her most of the time; that is, except for the day, a fortnight after her first attendance at the afternoon sessions, when Flynn was the last person at Cilien's talan. She was in the midst of trying in vain to stuff all her notes into her trusty backpack, which was looking much worse for wear and didn't fit as much in it as Flynn would have liked anymore. When the apprentices had reached the forest floor and were out of hearing range, Cilien, draped elegantly over a divan and dressed in pale lavender, remarked slowly in her deep velvet voice, "I see Legolas has ceased his foolish pursuit."

Flynn stood bolt upright, her back to Cilien, and turned tentatively. "Excuse me?" she questioned slowly.

"You know of what I speak," the healer replied, her tone somewhere between purring and accusing. "I feared for the poor Elf for a moment there, thinking he was under some foolish enchantment, following you around, his attention always yours... that sickening look in his eyes." Cilien almost spat the word 'sickening'. "But I am gladdened to see you have both come to your senses." She smiled a horribly saccharine smile that Flynn wanted to slap right off her face.

Flynn cleared her throat, her hackles already raised. "I do not see how it is any of your business."

Cilien's sweet smile turned to a self-satisfied one as she said, "Elf kind must protect Elf kind."

Flynn's eyes flashed, fire sparking up behind them. "Legolas is a fully grown Man. I mean Elf. I doubt very much that he needs protection – by you or anybody."

The Elf sat up a little straighter. "Yet it seems he needs protection from somebody. Somebody who threatens to upturn his entire standing among us elves. We do not look well upon one of our own... mingling, shall we say, with one of yours. You should know that well."

This was not news to Flynn and, growing hot with anger at the healer's blatant intrusion on her private life, she said, "I am well aware of the general opinion on the matter, Cilien," then, playing coy, added, "but I do not know why you tell me this."

The inflamed healer stood, lightning fast and with frightening fluidity, and stopped inches from Flynn's face in a second. "You know precisely why I tell you this," she hissed. "Legolas could never really love you. Not the way he could love an Elf."

Flynn gritted her teeth, willing her hands to stay by her sides though she wanted for all the world to throttle Cilien right then and there. How dare she tell Flynn how to live? She briefly considered playing her trump card: that Legolas had actively pursued her, not the other way around. But did she risk inflaming Cilien further and totally obliterating her chances to become a healer? Flynn couldn't do that, as much as it pained her not to teach Cilien a thing or two and set the record straight. Instead she said, "It is a little hasty to talk of love, do you not think?"

"So you presume to know his heart?"

"His heart?" Did Cilien imply that Legolas's feelings were stronger than Flynn imagined?

Cilien laughed haughtily. "Well. It is lucky for him, then, that you are so acutely dim to it."

Flynn's adrenaline was rising, and she said, "Unlike some, I do not presume to know the true feelings of others. I prefer to let them speak for themselves."

"Then you will remain truly ignorant," Cilien remarked, her voice lowering. "So be it. But know, Flynn, if you do ever wizen and open your eyes, that some unions are – and rightly should be – doomed. If you care one tiny jot for Legolas, you will banish any thought of ever being anything but his friend. His lowly, servile, mortal friend." She drew this last sentence out, punctuating each adjective so that Flynn's heart lurched, pierced by each word in turn.

Flynn quickly bent and grabbed her pack with rough haste, finding that this sudden attack on the wondrous Elf – the one she had grown such affection for, but cast away when the feeling grew too strong – made her determined as steel to fight for him. He had avoided her as she wished, and she already keenly felt the lack of his presence. It seemed one's need and longing only grew fiercer when one's treasures were threatened, and Legolas seemed, somehow and inexplicably, to be one of her treasures. She stopped on the first stair and turned back to Cilien, who seethed visibly. "If he does not love any Mortal," Flynn said before pausing, staring down the sharp-faced Elf; "then he certainly does not love any Elf."

Flynn trotted down the stairs quickly, fearing that last comment would send Cilien down after her blood. But the Elf remained, still as glass, clutching her seat's wooden edge, her knuckles turning white.

- - - - -

Flynn strode angrily through the wood in a beeline for her talan, feeling tears stinging hotly at the back of her eyes, assailed not by anger at Cilien, but at herself. After all, what did it matter to her that Cilien disapproved of her growing close to Legolas? Had Flynn not, after all, decided herself that it was best to stay away from him?

And yet she knew in her heart that this was not what she wanted. It hurt that the stunning she-Elf had laid it all out so blatantly. Flynn could see clearly now that being told she could not have this pretty gem of a prince only made her want him more – or more truthfully, it made her want him as much as she always had, but had been too afraid to admit.

Hurrying along with her head down, she did not see a golden-haired Elf drop catlike down from a tree and land in front of her, and she ran headlong into him. He stumbled back but caught his balance, steadying her by the arms, and she apologised quickly before looking up. Legolas. Legolas with the incredible face and shining hair. Why did he always do that? He saw the redness of her eyes and his brow creased into a worried frown. "What is the matter, my lady?" he asked, cocking his head to one side.

"It is nothing; a trifle," Flynn lied, looking to the side to avoid his probing gaze. "I am just... I have been rushing around too quickly, that is all." She adjusted her bag on her back. It was heavy with leather-bound volumes and her mess of hand-scribbled lesson notes.

The Elf stared at her a moment longer, clearly not believing her. "Then will you rest a moment; catch your breath with me? I have been enjoying this sunny patch while it lasts." He gestured to a bench set into the side of the path, half overgrown by ivy and wild grasses around its base, and bathed in sunlight that streamed down through gaps in the canopy.

Flynn looked at him for a brief moment and replied, "I do not think that is a good idea." But he had already sat, and was patting the space next to him. She sighed and told him what only her brain wanted to say but which her heart riled against: "I do not think I should talk with you, Legolas."

He stared at her, trying to read her face, but she looked at anything but his eyes. Legolas said, "It is true, you did ask me to leave you be, and I have honoured your wishes – but I do not think that that is the problem this present moment. Something displeases you, and I wish to know what."

"Why must you know?" she asked softly.

Legolas didn't answer right away. The Elf sat up a little straighter, seemingly formulating a response. "Flynn," he began, but the words seemed to elude him. "Please sit," he finally said, casting his hand to her. Flynn did not take it but she did sit down, careful not to be too near to him. If she touched him, she knew, she would only dissolve. "Flynn... To keep my distance from you this past little while has been something of a challenge. And now, to see you so clearly discomforted... it does not bear witnessing. I must know what ails you so I may remedy it. It is what I am compelled to do."

"Legolas, stop," she pleaded. "You cannot talk like that. Especially today, especially now..."

"What is different about right now?" he asked, a tone of suspicion rising in his voice.

"Nothing, it is not worth talking about. I have to go," she dismissed, standing and moving to leave. Legolas caught her by the wrist, just gently, but she halted. Flynn looked back at him and his eyes had a bulb lit behind them, his thoughts training on the answer. His hand's grip softened and he slid down from her wrist to her palm, clasping it there.

"It is somebody, I see now. Somebody has crossed you today." Legolas narrowed his eyes and looked to the side as though conjuring an image in his mind's eye, and his hand on her skin tingled strangely as if she had slept on it; it reminded her of something, something that had been niggling in the back of her mind. When had she felt this before? It was recently, she knew, and what was significant about it? But the Elf's continued musing interrupted her train of thought. "Your heart, it is as if dampened," he went on. "There is something it greatly desires but it is as if bound..."

Flynn bit her lip as the tears from before threatened at the back of her eyes and then spilled as the emotion from Cilien's reprimand pulled her asunder again.

Legolas's eyes snapped back to her suddenly. "Cilien!" he hissed. He stood quickly and took in the angry despair in her eyes, and the fierce indignance on his face was suddenly washed away by sympathy and sorrow. He held her face in his hands. "I can fix this for you," he offered, his eyes boring deeply into hers. "If you ask it of me, I will do it."

Flynn drew a deep breath; she wasn't ready for him to know about this, but there it was. "But what could you do, Legolas? There is not anything worth doing that would make a difference. If you spoke to her about it, it would only make it worse. And we knew she would be like this."

"But you do not have to accept her behaviour."

"What else can I do?"

"Allow me to help. Please."

"Legolas, you cannot fight my battles for me. I am a grown Woman and I must work this out for myself. I simply need time to think about it. I will probably decide to just do nothing, and that will be no bad thing. Sometimes the best course of action is just to let things go." Legolas smiled then, strangely amused. "What is it?" Flynn probed, not entirely comfortable with his facial expression.

"Such wise words," he answered. "In your count of years, an Elf would still be but a child, and yet as a Mortal you have the wisdom of an Edhel long past his entry into adulthood."

"Her entry into adulthood, thank you. And what is so surprising about that? We mere mortals only have limited time – we must grow up quickly."

Legolas cocked his head to the side. "Yes, I suppose that you do."

"It is odd that you are so surprised by this. After all, are you elves not always reminding yourselves how different and superior you are to mortals?"

Legolas sighed softly and gently ran a hand across her temple, pushing hair behind her ears. "Are you certain you will not let me speak to her about this?"

Flynn nodded. "Yes."

"Very well. Please tell me if you have a change of heart, but I shall let you continue on your way. For someone who agreed to leave you be, I have spent far too long in your presence." Before Flynn could reply he had squeezed her hand, spun, and paced off down the forest path.

Flynn stood for a moment, not considering his words so much as running the feeling of his touch through her mind. Why was that strange tingle so familiar? And how had he perceived so accurately what had taken place between she and Cilien? She knew of the natural keen perception elves had, but this was shared only from Elf to Elf, not Elf to Mortal. But the touch of his hand – it was not just sweet and warm this time, there was something dynamic about it, something... active? And then she remembered.

That day at the archery field, when Flynn had hit her first and only bull's eye, she recalled an odd feeling of strength and confidence just at the moment she took that final shot. And then Legolas had been behind her unexpectedly when she turned around. Had he touched her? It was certainly possible he had done so without her noticing, considering how hard she was concentrating. Did Legolas have the power to connect to her own energy simply by touch? Flynn shivered, and set off for her talan.

- - - - -

Despite Flynn's wishes Legolas went straight to the healer's home. Without announcing he was ascending, he climbed her stairs three at a time and jumped up to the main flet, knowing she would hear his approach. Cilien was sitting at her mixing table with her back to him, and she continued pulverising something with a mortar and pestle, not greeting his arrival.

"How dare you interfere in matters which are not your own?" Legolas challenged.

Cilien turned slowly, her face unreadable. Though they had spent a long time together so long ago, Legolas found he could still not interpret her emotions the way a true lover should. It was a sad fact that had been integral to the demise of their relationship, whatever that had been. These two were just not meant to be – could she not see that?

"This is a matter far beyond just you or the Mortal," she replied. "You know how the Eldar disdain desires of your kind. You would be fated to tragedy if you followed your foolish heart, and all of your kin would deny you."

Legolas advanced on her, his tall form towering above the healer, who sat demurely. "My kin are those who would support the decisions that are mine only. My kin are those who respect the sway of my heart. All others deserve not the title of friend." His eyes narrowed.

Cilien stood and took his hands, her face softening, though even a scowl became her. Somehow she was beautiful like that. But Legolas could see past her shimmering beauty. He wrenched his hands from her and stalked over to the far side of the talan, not facing her.

"I only interfere because I care, Legolas," she said softly. There was a constructed fragility in her voice that he did not trust.

Legolas wanted sorely to draw attention to her insincerity and shoot down her power play and posturing now. But he knew that if inflamed the healer could make life much worse for Flynn, and ultimately, for him. "I do not ask you to care, Cilien," he replied gently, now turning to face her, carefully fixing his most sincere face, knowing she had always been too selfish to interpret his deeper motives.

"And yet I continue to care nonetheless. I do not want to see you hurt and shamed. Is that so strange?"

Legolas could hear the fawning in her voice like a cat mewling sweetly for its breakfast before clawing its owner's eyes out. He approached her again and set his hands gently upon her upper arms, looking down into her face. "I appreciate your concern, Cilien, but you must trust that I can protect myself," he assured her. "I will not forget all those who mean something to me." Legolas set his eyes to glinting kindly, a move carefully honed over centuries to give the impression of weakness and trustworthiness which had proved so valuable when facing enemies. He hoped she would have faith in that look.

A smile tugged weakly at the corner of her lips. "Please, just be cautious – if not for you, then for me."

Legolas nodded, but he knew that if it came down to making his choices with Flynn in mind or with Cilien, the latter would lose out. At the very least, the Mortal was uncompromisingly genuine and unsullied by the foolish jealousy that so obviously darkened this Elf's heart. Legolas decided then that he would disobey just one more of Flynn's wishes. For the challenge Cilien posed forced him to admit that he could not stay away from her for another moment. And he would not.