Disclaimer: Nothing is or ever will be mine…

Warning: brief erotic references

'I just keep practicing

Saying goodbye to you'

~Tite Kubo

Rem groaned tiredly, brushing out her hair with the necessary instrument that had been on the vanity. As far as she could tell, the meeting had been most assuredly beyond any influence she could muster. Like everything else in this world.

She continued combing out her brown locks with more force than was necessary, a little peeved about being left in the dark. Not to mention kind of exhausted for the lack of uninterrupted sleep. Rem was tired, but there was too much running through her mind to satiate the need. The nuances of their words continued to writhe in her ears; a fog of useless information.

Before Théoden had even given voice to his next predictable order, Rem had arisen wordlessly, breaking eye contact with Legolas, and left for her room with alacrity. There had been a slight pause in the conversation as she did this, as though her behavior had been unexpected…maybe even rude. But she hadn't turned around, perhaps afraid of what she might see. In any case, she was positive Legolas hadn't ceased looking at her.

She shivered suddenly, wanting to crumple up like some sort of pretzel and regain some semblance of warmth like she did on another chair, months ago, before she arrived in this world. She knew it wasn't because of the chill air felt in this stone chamber…It was more so that she wanted to retain some inkling of comfort. But she abstained from the childish urge of folding into such a catlike position. Besides, the skirts of her borrowed chemise wouldn't allow it.

"…You're hiding something. You've been hiding something…"

A pair of blue, stormy eyes, piercing straight through her…

With an annoyed thud, she let her head rest on the table, her thoughts chasing themselves inside of a tangled mess. Almost like her hair. Or perhaps a rat in a tumble dryer. Just because she resolved to stop running…didn't mean she could. Quite immediately or easily at least. She was in way over her head, here. This sort of decision would take time in order to be seen through to the end. She got up, leaving the chair and crossing the small room to squirm into the scratchy sheets of the immense bed, her cheeks aflame.

Rem hadn't realized she'd been quite so…obvious, in her attraction toward the Prince of Mirkwood. She thought she'd been such a super sleuth, too: a real cool cucumber who imparted no preference of company to anyone around her…except maybe when he dragged her beneath those dry bushes to hide from Saruman's crows that one time…or had she slipped up before that?

That's when it struck her. The dead giveaway in her behavior likely revolved around how much she argued with him…how she continually refused his help, how she deliberately provoked him at the slightest…

Hell, if they were both six years old and at a playground she might have attempted to push him down into the sandbox. Or possibly yank his beautiful, golden hair…

"You're a boob," Rem announced softly, trying to drown out her own thoughts with the aloud sentiment. Obviously, he'd seen straight through that guise of 'dislike,' forcing her to recognize something she herself had tried not to see from nearly the very beginning. "This isn't fair," she gripped, "…he wasn't supposed to…"

Well, he fucking did.

her face hardened, "What's it to him, anyway? I'm just some dumb kid compared to him…"

Oh, yeah right. Her subconscious taunted. Some 'kid.' He kissed you, remember? Not to mention the way he keeps looking at you…reaching for you…

She looked at her hand, making it into a fist as she thought it over for the hundredth time. It was true. Something had changed between them since he had found her on the edge of the forest floor, near death. Although exactly 'what' had changed, she couldn't quite put her finger on.

And those eyes…those fierce, hawk-like twin sentinels. They had often stared at her…but when had they changed from the mere habit of observance…to something else entirely? She clenched both her hands into fists, rolling onto her side as she attempted to catch elusive, taunting tendrils of sleep.

…let's not forget he's seen you naked, too…Rem felt her face burn at that last mortifying thought, wondering if maybe she would have the luck of suffocating herself within the sea of blankets to save herself from having to face Legolas in the morning.

It's…give and take, Legolas…I'm tired of fighting all the time. I'm sick of being the outsider looking in. I know I don't really belong here…but…if I'm going to live here, I want to at least not feel alone…

Rem started mashing her face into one of the pillows, smacking the fabric repeatedly in pained annoyance. Why the hell was she remembering all of this shit so acutely, anyway? She had said those words to him, once…beneath the leaves of Lothlórien. Besides, they still knew next to nothing about each other. She'd said as much then, too. What kind of foundation for a relationship was that, anyway? Not that they had a relationship…thing.

Aside from annoying each other: her scratching and fighting all the way, he calculatingly observing her every move…there had been nothing there at the beginning. Maybe a mutual appreciation of…flesh or something… Rem felt her mind turn on her again, reliving her first experience in catching sight of the Elf with his shirt invitingly open in Lothlórien

Glimpses of that beautiful skin, stretched taught over the rippling muscles of his rock-hard abs…There had been a luminescent sheen in the moonlight, caressing over him just as she—

I just want to fucking sleep!

Dawn couldn't come soon enough.

Heat, permeating her pores…a honeyed warmth coating every inch of her skin. It might have felt nice. But as wave after wave of the dizzying temperature continued to assault her, like steaming waters in a boiling ocean, she felt unpleasant sweat sheath her body in sticky moisture.

Darkness all around her convinced her that her eyes were not open, save until a beckoning light began to melt the surrounding blackness into liquid shades of gray. Dully, she noted that she was barely clothed, but Rem hardly registered that as she began to take in her surroundings.

She was not alone.

What should have been cool fingers touched her wrist; the feel of them growing hot like her own. Hazy eyes, striving to clear fast, took in the sight of her companion.

"Lórien…" her voiced sounded embarrassingly hollow. But she couldn't bring herself to care all that much…Not while she was half naked at least. That particular humiliation took more of a priority here. She tried to shield herself, but he gave no sign of notice. Those ancient eyes of his did not stray from her inexperienced chocolate ones.

"It is important that you understand…things have already been set into motion." She stared at him, wanting to say something…anything. But her mouth felt thick, as if stuffed with peanut butter. He continued, that caramel hair of his glinting oddly in the twilight of tinged gray and its growing, simmering scarlet of black heat suffusing around them.

"Vairë grows impatient…" She could have rolled her eyes at this, but abstained. It was just too damn hot. The stress of having these dreams involving the Valar wasn't nearly as worse as their sudden absence. The tension of waiting and not knowing had been quietly eating her from somewhere deep inside. She kept her mouth shut, willing him to elaborate.

"Your hand is needed, if you as a nine are willing to…"

"To what?!" It came out as more of a gasp, unfurling fatigue and stress provoking her ire. "All this time…you knew…Don't say you didn't!" She continued, ignoring his glittering eyes, afraid he might interrupt, "I was…connected to this world. To Arda…and after extending all of these stupid riddles while I'm asleep, you have the gall to reappear all of the sudden…as if you…"

"Your injuries…were unprecedented," She managed to glare at him. "No Shit, there was a freaking arrow in my back!"

"We had no way of knowing…that there would be no way of reaching you as a consequence." He continued, concerned that she wasn't convinced by this sentiment. "You were gravely hurt…and whether through reflex or will, your preoccupations would not allow my entry as you slept…as you healed."

"Bullshi—I mean, bull! I've been…healed…for a while now," awkward choice of words, but she plowed on, "…for the most part. I've been nowhere near death since Legolas found—I mean, since he, Gimli, and Aragorn found me…" Her voice trailed off into a whisper at the look Lórien was giving her.

"That…is not altogether your sole fixation. As such, there was no singular barrier to our reaching you," Rem was baffled. For all of two seconds. Beautiful, Elvish eyes passed through her mind, making her heart leap into her mouth. My stupid CRUSH has been interfering with—how much does he—do they know?! She leapt into the defense of denial.

"What?! You mean—no! No way, not true! Just because I've been feeling—thinking…about…" You're digging yourself into a hole. Be honest, dipwad. She tried again, grasping at straws, "what about now? I'm no less confused than before. How could that have been a barrier…?"

"That is of no concern," he soothed, smoothing brown hair away from her visage, "regardless of your private ruminations, and how they prevented conception of meeting once again, that is in the past." His eyes looked hollow suddenly, and it was then Rem became aware of the rapidly dropping temperature. A chill coated her skin, prickling down her back.

"We have been patient, up until now. But the grains of time are against us, as they trickle past the hour glass." He placed his palm, still hot, against the freezing skin of her forehead, "remember your number…its vices and virtues…" A flash of blue, color sheathed in epiphany, erupted within her skull as the cold air ate at her from all sides.

She slowly crept out of sleep, cracking open an eyelid to testify that it was indeed morning. Disoriented, she wondered whether or not she had slept at all. She was willing to bet that she hadn't. She felt unrested, and it seemed she awakened from dreams only to fall into nightmares these days. The fact that she had a splitting headache gave her a bit of clue. She'd done her fair share of cramming for a test, and it was her experience that pulling all-nighters—if done too frequently, could have that effect. But…there was something there…hovering just beyond her conscious thoughts…she knew…what did she know? Something about…blue…she saw a veil being lifted. Ink…parchment…nine…

Pounding on the door made her fall off the mattress. OW! As well as lose her trail of thought. It also contributed to the rhythmic pounding inside her head. Joy. It was then, amidst the tangle of sheets, that Rem made the belated discovery of having shucked her chemise in the night. She let out a small sound of panic as she dove further under the blankets, having no time to climb back atop the bed. The chamber door swung open, and her stomach felt like it had been thoroughly coated in lead as she caught sight of who had come to awaken her.

Shit.

"Your presence in requested in the throne room," Ansel stiffly announced. His dark eyes flickered to where he expected her to be, but grew puzzled in failing to catch sight of her.

"Right…okay…thanks." He did see her then, arching an eyebrow at the scene she presented. Somehow, Rem felt like he was being unnecessarily condescending with the gesture. She felt her face flush, but decided to pretend that she wasn't nearly naked with gnarled hair and lying on the floor with nothing but blankets to retain her modesty.

"I'll…bring your wife's dress, too…to the throne room, I mean…" he eyed her coolly.

"Leave it here. I'll return to collect it shortly."

He closed the door abruptly, leaving Rem to half-heartedly chuck a pillow at its aged wood. She felt only a spike of anger at his attitude. No reason to be a jerk…even if we did argue yesterday… Mostly, she was annoyed with everything else, which took precedence. Didn't mean she'd couldn't share the blame, though. She got up, tripping as she sought to get herself ready and decent as much as she was able.

The cool wind whipped through her hair as she stood, albeit numbly, looking about her. There was a general hustle and bustle about the village. While it had been no less crowded yesterday evening, there was a great deal more of chaos and movement than despondency. It wasn't so much as a tangible excitement; more like a nervous energy permeating the chilly air.

She hadn't managed much of a breakfast in that she'd taken longer to get ready than she had initially intended. Just a biscuit, really… It had taken her a while to scrounge about the room to come up with clothes that had a likelihood of actually fitting. She mainly accomplished this by investigating the trunk at the foot of the bed.

No one in the meantime had appeared to help her with procuring, let alone applying, another corset. So she'd had to be inventive. She found strips of linen, and set about wrapping up her chest as tightly and comfortably as she was able. Her shoulder didn't twinge all too badly, so she'd sucked it up and did what she could. Rem wasn't quite confident that such a makeshift job would really help keep…certain things in place. Still, it was better than nothing. She'd just cross her arms if she had to run or something.

Rem had then, out of guilt, tried to neatly make the bed. The servants had enough on their plate already. They had to pack up their king's house as well as their own homes in the village. Unfortunately, she failed miserably. So she left it alone and set about putting the black dress and corset of her sister-in-law atop the vanity. She had to fight the urge to stuff it under the bed…to make Ansel really hunt for it. But figured there was enough bad blood between them without her provoking further ire. Especially with a war—no—a battle looming in promise at Helm's Deep.

She had arrived in the throne room, only to be informed that members of her company—with whom she had arrived—were already outside and expected her arrival. So here she was…aimlessly trying to catch sight of Aragorn, Legolas, Gandalf, or Gimli. Granted, the latter would probably prove to be the hardest to find with this crowd.

And if it all came down to a choice, she'd prefer the ranger or wizard at the moment. She felt…off balance, with Legolas, to say the least. So she'd rather avoid him…for just a little bit. Unconvincingly, she tried to tell herself that such a thing didn't fall under the category of 'running away.' Preoccupied, she was quite caught off guard when someone thrust an infant in her face.

Swallowing a gasp, which left her choking in a bit of surprise, she recovered enough to perceive just what the hell was going on around her.

"Rembrance…you are Rembrance, are you not?" Looking blandly at the petite, dirty blond-haired woman before her, she felt her stomach twist. The infant in the woman's arms shrieked, making Rem wince. Without warning, the baby was thrust into her arms, leaving her little choice but to grab the child or risk it falling.

"You are, I can see that." The woman muttered primly, squeezing her arm almost absently in place of a hug.

"Excuse me, are you—" Rem cut off, intending to say 'bonkers' or 'mad,' until something obvious struck her, "you're Ansel's wife…aren't you?"

"No," the woman answered simply, exasperatingly going back to packing things into a bag. Rem continued holding the squirming infant, who picked that moment to start crying and grabbing at her hair. Bewildered, and feeling at a loss, she tried again.

"Uh…who are you? How do you know me?" And WHY am I holding your baby?!

"You looked as if you needed something to do," she said demurely, answering Rem's unasked question, "and I am Ansel's neighbor. Word gets around fast…especially in these dark times. Grapevine of gossip flourishes despite anything." She looked up finally, seeming amused at Rem's facial expression.

Trying hard not to be rude, but feeling annoyed, she tried to offer back the child. For a moment, the woman didn't look like she would. But after a few tense seconds, she relented, coddling the crying babe as though she hadn't just handed him over to a stranger.

"Not a mother yet, I take it?" Rem bit her lip, wondering whether or not she ought to take offense to that. It sounded like it could be an insult…but…

"No. And not for a while, I think." She said bluntly. The woman ignored her, cooing to her child as if she hadn't heard Rem at all. She turned to leave, hell-bent on escaping. She'd rather brave Legolas than deal with this obnoxious woman. She'd taken only a few steps when it occurred to her that she hadn't learned the woman's name.

She hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at the pair of them. However, they had been joined by a third…a man, dressed as a soldier, who was speaking with her heatedly. He then purloined the child from the woman's arms, a light entering his eye and a smile growing on his face as he lifted him.

Rem stared, feeling oddly disruptive for watching a somewhat private moment. Something curled inside of her, milling around the woman's earlier comment about not being a mother. It was stupid…she was—felt too young…but still…Eyeing the squirming bundle of joy in the company of his parents, or who she supposed were his parents—was having a strange effect on her.

What if Legolas and I…had a baby?…Images of them wrapped about another; the hard planes of his chest pressing against her breasts, as he grasped her hips and then her…Her face twisted wryly, thoughts immediately returning to reality, attempting to banish the erotic thoughts.

Okay, let's squash that train of thought RIGHT now. One, you barely know the guy…let alone acknowledging…aloud…how much you want him. Secondly, you remember Galadriel's little GIFT? You're being stupid…you're homesick and longing for family or something to relate to and misinterpreting your emotions as a result… She rattled on mentally, upbraiding herself for feeling the slightest bit maternal or whatever it was that derailed her emotions into momentary mush.

Sighing, she started to focus on where it was her feet were leading her, and met with familiar azure eyes as she averted her gaze from the ground.

"Oh…uh, hi. Ready to leave, yet?" She idly chatted, wishing her headache would go away. And that he'd stop looking at her like that. He stared at her, yet not unpleasantly so. Unbeknown to her, he had watched the entire exchange. Had seen her face as she observed the mussing family from afar…he nodded, noncommittally. An answer just short of satisfaction as he stared just a moment longer. Stormy blue melting agitated chocolate before turning, gesturing that she should follow. Scrambling after him, she tried to ignore her racing heart. What was that all about?

A small somersault in her belly gave her an inkling…and those deliciously dirty images came back to her mind's eye before she stamped most of them down. Whatever she...they felt…had to wait. At least for now. And that didn't qualify as running! Or so she told herself…Procrastination, maybe. She was drawn from her thoughts by a familiar, gruff baritone.

"…They flee to the mountains when they should stand and fight. Who will defend them if not their king?" Somewhere, at the back of her mind, Rem reminded herself that she no longer had a reason to be peeved at the Dwarf. He had only been looking out for her best interest...in a skewed sort of way.

" He's only doing what he thinks is best for his people," Aragorn gently admonished him, "Helm's Deep has saved them in the past." She trailed after Legolas, who was following the other three into the stables.

" There is no way out of that ravine," Gandalf muttered, "Théoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he's leading them to safety. What they will get is a massacre. Théoden has a strong will but I fear for him." His gaze inexplicably trailed to Rem. Though she had no real way of knowing, she imagined that for a second or two he felt tempted to ask her of what was to come. He looked away, " I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses HAVE to hold."

" They will hold," Aragorn swore, strength in his quiet tone.

Gandalf turned, stroking the coat of Shadowfax, who impatiently stood within his stall before them. " The Grey Pilgrim... that's what they used to call me," he murmured, almost as though he had forgotten the scattered few of the Fellowship were present, "Three hundred lives of men I've walked this earth and now I have no time. With luck, my search will not be in vain." He shook himself from whatever reverie he had fallen into, and earnestly spoke to them all. "Look to my coming at first light on the fifth day. At dawn, look to the East."

Hurriedly, Aragorn opened the stall gates, almost at the same time Gandalf had mounted Shadowfax, "Go."

They jumped back out of the way as both wizard and horse charged past. Hope and duty surging them forward…and despite knowing the outcome of everything that was to come…Rem felt her mouth run dry.