It was cooler in the morning. Summer had fallen heavily upon Doriath, the air so dense it was almost a chore to move through it. Though she was naturally more inclined towards warm weather, Lalwen preferred to move about the grounds surrounding Menegroth before noon day. Once the sun reached its zenith, she would retreat to the cool, rock halls of her host.

She had managed to create a routine for herself, walking the wild gardens of Melian soon after dawn. By mid afternoon, she retreated inside to read the extensive wealth of histories penned by the famed scribe Daeron himself. Before supper, Lalwen would spend a few hours at the loom she shared with her niece. Artanis had begun to spend more time with the Queen, learning all she could at the great ruler's feet. Lalwen was not jealous of the special attention shown to her kinswoman. Artanis was special. It was something she had always known in her heart and it created a sense of pride for her golden haired niece.

Though she was amusing and could be wise at moments, Lalwen knew her gifts were common among her people. Her youthful heart and demeanor were appealing and approachable, but she was nothing extraordinary and she liked being that way. Her beauty was unique but not particularly striking. It allowed her anonymity in her infamous family. She was loved by those whom she held dear and that was all that mattered.

The grass was wet with dew under her bare feet as she traversed the slowly wakening garden. She had worn a loose, filmy gown the color of sea foam. The diaphanous sleeves attached at the shoulders and elbows but were open otherwise to let in the light morning breeze. Lalwen had not bothered to adorn herself otherwise, leaving her heavy hair loose down her back without ornamentation except for a simple, slender braid over her shoulder.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was alone. With little decorum, she plopped herself in a bed of clover, sitting cross legged as she had as a child. Lalwen ran her fingers over the ground, looking for four leafed clovers. Propping her elbow on her knee, she rested her chin on the heel of her hand as she studied the ground. She smiled slightly as a memory skittered across her consciousness.

"What are you thinking of, child?"

Lalwen looked up, startled by the fair voice that disturbed her thoughts. The Queen stood before her. Melian almost outshone the white gold sunlight. She smiled gently. She was dressed simply in a white, summer gown, a finely woven basket filled with wild berries on her arm. Lalwen stood abruptly, her face burning at being caught in such a childish pose. She brushed off the back of her dress, folding her hands at behind her.

"My mother, your Highness." She replied, her eyes falling to the ground.

"I have heard from your nephew that your mother was not of your father's people."

"No, my lady." Lalwen let her eyes lift to the Monarch's fair countenance, "She was of the Vanyar, her brother is Ingwë."

Melian nodded, "Then your lineage is truly noble. To be kin both to the High King of the Vanyar and Noldor, it is quite an honor."

Lalwen shifted uncomfortably. Her thoughts drifted back to her older sister and brothers. They truly held themselves as descendants of royalty. Lalwen had always felt somewhat out of place. She was her parents' joy for the laughter she had brought to their house, but among her kin, she had always felt somewhat lesser. She had never wanted the fame that came with her blood; she would have much preferred to be nameless and happy among the more common folk. Perhaps that was the real reason she had followed her brother into Arda; the chance for simple happiness.

She suddenly realized her thoughts had taken over for much longer than she had meant. Glancing up in embarrassment at her silence, she found the Queen watching her with interest. The look on her ethereal countenance was knowing, as though she had seen her thoughts. Lalwen suddenly conjectured the Maiar Queen had most likely done just that. Melian smiled softly and stepped forth, laying a fair hand on Lalwen's bare forearm.

"Your humility and childlike heart in the face of all you have seen and done is a rare gift." Melian spoke gently, "Let not the burden of your birthright dictate your path. In this land, you may be just Lalwen if you wish it."

Lalwen was surprised to feel tears prick at the back of her eyes. Never before had anyone understood her heart's truest desire. The Queen smiled quietly, pressing her fingers into her arm before nodding and walking towards the entrance to the halls.

Alone again with the Queen's words resounding in her heart, Lalwen's eyes drifted over towards the vacant sparring grounds where she had seen the wild elf the afternoon before. In the days since her chance encounter, she had not thought much on him. She had merely thought him a wood elf whose passing fancy with her would fade.

"Who is that with the Lord Saeros?" Her nephew Ingoldo had asked, perching a foot on the wild root fence and leaning against his knee as he watched the match.

Mablung turned, his hands perched on his hips, "That is my comrade, Beleg Cuthalion, the strong bow. He is the Captain of the Marchwardens on the northern border."

"The archer you mentioned." Artanis replied, "We still have yet to be introduced."

"Once they are done, I shall do so." Mablung replied, glancing over briefly at Lalwen who smiled at him genuinely. She enjoyed seeing the Captain.

Lalwen was surprised to feel a fluttering of anticipation in her stomach as Beleg looked towards them. She met his gaze. He had been intent on his combat but soon he recognized her. She felt frozen, unsure of how to react. Her mouth dropped slightly. She saw him mouth her name, a bubble of surprise laughter fighting to come from her mouth. She couldn't believe he remembered her.

That was when the self-important Saeros had sent Beleg to the ground in an illegal move on the sparring field. Mablung bounded over to his friend as Saeros brushed past them without a word. Artanis stiffened as the dark elf wordlessly headed towards the forest. Lalwen watched Mablung help his friend up from the sandy ground.

"Let us go, we shall meet him when he is more apt to it." Ingoldo reasoned, his mood soured by the sight of Saeros.

Artanis looked back at Lalwen who had yet to move from where she watched the two elves. She grinned as Lalwen began to move towards her again.

"Found something worth keeping you here as we said last night?" Artanis said discretely under her breath as she grasped Lalwen's arm in her own.

Lalwen laughed lightly in return, trying to seem casual, "Niece, you must keep your imaginations to yourself."

"The Captain Mablung is an honorable man." Artanis replied, "If you were interested in such an elf, I could not see our family objecting to it, even if he is not of noble lineage."

Lalwen patted Artanis on the hand, relieved as Ingoldo turned towards his kin to make a comment on the heat. Her thoughts drifted towards the sight of the two elves. She had pushed away the thought that both intrigued her equally. Such a thing would be complicated indeed.

There was a sudden warmth of strong arms around her waist where she stood watching a dramatic sunset from a high hidden balcony. She laid her hands on his quietly but there was an unrest in her heart that she could not describe. The warmth of breath came at her ear.

"You have made me happier than I could ever imagine, my lady." Came a strong masculine voice, the figure taking a deep breath before burying his face in her hair.

But something was not right.

Jessica jolted as a sharp crack of thunder came over head. She had not even realized that she had fallen asleep. Turning on the living room couch, she realized she was alone. A fire had been built up in the hearth. Beleg had been happy to find it was an old fashioned fire place without any "mischief" attached to it as he had put it. She wrapped the dark red throw around her shoulders and stood wearily. The candles she had lit on the sills were burning low. Without a working clock, she could only guess the time.

"Beleg?" She croaked still half asleep.

In bare feet, she made her way to the French doors. Laying a hand on the chilled pane, she was startled by a flash of lightening revealing a dark figure standing on the lawn. The fear was stilled when she realized it was Beleg, out in the rain once again. His arms were stretched towards the sky. She tore the door open.

"Beleg, you are going to get struck by lightning!" She yelled above the din of the storm, "Get in here before you get killed!"

He turned toward her and laughed genuinely, "There is no such danger. Don't be afraid!"

To her surprise he lifted a hand expectantly.

"Oh no, I'm not coming out there in this."

"Come now, my lady," He approached her, soaked to the bone, "It'll do you good."

Jessica was surprised to feel the impulse to join him. She hesitated, distracted briefly by another crack of thunder. Beleg came closer and wrapped her hands in his own.

"Trust me." He breathed, looking down into her face.

Jessica sighed. She pushed back the thought that she was too old to be running out in the rain with a boy. Beleg was no boy and this was not a drunken impulse to dance in a storm like she had seen girls do in college. Leaving behind the throw, she allowed Beleg to lead her out into the driving rain.

She suddenly realized why he had done so. As the rain hit her face, a memory began to bloom.

The leaves were dripping as a midsummer storm passed over the forest. Despite the warning that a storm was on the horizon, Lalwen had insisted on going to swim in the stream beyond Menegroth. It was much too hot otherwise. After cooing down in the temperate current, she had dressed and began to trek back through the wood. The storm had come upon her quickly.

"I promised I would seek you out."

A voice came from behind her. Lalwen turned to see the famed archer, the Strong Bow, standing quietly on the damp path with his hands at his back. She blushed to be found in such a disheveled state. He limped slightly as he approached her.

"I see your reputation as a hunter is not mere flattery." She answered with slightly nod, "Captain Beleg, I presume?"

Jessica's eyes shot open. She looked up into Beleg's expectant face, her mouth ajar.

"You remembered." He stated simply with a smile.

"I don't think I will ever get used to that." She answered breathlessly.

Beleg wrapped an arm around her shoulders and led her back into the warmth of the house. She stood dripping on the threshold as he closed the doors behind them. He leaned to the ground where she had left the blanket and draped it around her trembling shoulders.

"You knew that was going to happen," She answered with a shaky chuckle, "You know what I saw."

"Yes, I do." Beleg replied evenly, "Come, we both need a change of clothes."

"You are going to ruin all of my brother's clothing," She mumbled as they headed towards the stairs.

A few moments later, after changing into a clean pair of jeans and a crew necked navy sweatshirt, Jessica came downstairs with her hair wrapped in a towel. Beleg glanced up at her where he stood by the fire and grinned quietly. Jessica self-consciously touched the towel on her head.

"It'll dry faster," She explained hastily.

Beleg shook his head, his expression feigning innocence, "I wasn't going to say anything."

Jessica walked over to the fire side, sitting down in front of the warmth. Beleg had built it up. She felt the remaining dampness on her face dry, her skin tightening with the heat. Beleg sat next to her, the both of them watching the fire.

"How did you get your limp?" Jessica suddenly asked, recalling how Beleg had walked in her memory.

"A devious sparring partner." Beleg grumbled, "How do you say it here? I ran my mouth?"

"Ah, you got cocky and he kicked your butt."

"Well, I wouldn't put it that bluntly." Beleg shifted, his pride obviously smarting, "But yes, he defeated me. Only because I was distracted."

Jessica glanced over, "Distracted by what?"

Beleg kept his eyes on the fire, a smile spreading over his mouth, "A lady. Namely you."

"Namely her." Jessica corrected, "I wasn't born yet."

"You are more like her than I think you realize." He turned his gaze on Jessica sharply, "I see the same humility, the same questioning of self-worth."

Now it was Jessica's turn to shift uncomfortably, "But she was tall, beautiful and otherworldly. Little birds and woodland animals probably helped her get dressed in the morning. What did she have to be self-conscious about?"

"What do you have to question about your own value?" Beleg leaned forward, "I asked her that very same question."

Jessica sighed as she unwrapped her hair from the towel. She gathered the damp strands over her shoulder.

"And what was her reply?"

"She didn't answer me." Beleg reached out, tucking a loose strand of her hair behind her shoulder.

Jessica found she didn't know how to answer such a question either.

"I suppose because I am acutely aware of how ordinary I am." Jessica answered, "I am not as successful as my other friends nor as beautiful. My brother is in medical school and getting grades I could have only dreamed of in my regular undergrad courses. I am what I am and it isn't anything special."

She was surprised by Beleg as he reached out, turning her face towards him gently by her chin. He studied her face with what could only be described as quiet adoration. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned forward and rested his forehead against her own. She closed her eyes.

"All that you are is more special to me than I could say," He breathed, "Those things you speak of; success, beauty, who your family is. They are temporal, no matter what world you dwell in. Who you are, your joyful spirit and humble heart, they are what endears you to me. That is what is important; both here and in our old world."

They did not speak again.

Soon the fire lulled Jessica to sleep. Beleg had moved to prop his back against the couch, Jessica curled at his chest. His hand wove through the slowly drying strands of hair over her shoulders. It was the first time since arriving in the strange world where his love abode that he felt at peace.

The storm had subsided to a steady rain outside. He could hear the sighing of the sea. He hadn't told her yet that this was the first time he had seen the ocean. There was so much he had yet to tell her. The words were gnawing at his throat but he knew much of it she was going to have to find out about herself. Still, sitting there in the warmth of the waning fire, he could almost imagine that she was truly his again. However, she had yet to look at him the way she had as Lalwen. Until then, he would restrain himself the best he could. His heart could wait.

Author's Note:

Lalaith, I am SO flattered that you like the story! It means a lot, I really really respect you as a writer. Your stories on here, especially "The Choice of Elros", are some of my favorites. Like seriously, I'm so flattered!

And also on a side note, the choice to have Melian ask Lalwen about her lineage is just creative liscense. Of course, the Queen would know of her guests heritage but it was my way of developing the relationship between her and Lalwen. I saw Melian acting as the adult to Lalwen as a child, asking her questions she already knew the answer to in order to help Lalwen reach a conclusion on her own identity. Thank you Maiar Psych 101 (; Sorry if it threw anyone as being non-canonical with Melian's character.

And I'm kind of falling in love with Mablung...not going to lie...he's totally my Sindarin Captain America (;