The Sun Sets in the West

by Modern Artifact

Of Rhun, the West knows little. Except there, Sauron rebuilt his power and waited. This pieces together the story of Rhun during the end of the Third Age into the Fourth via the Westward journey of an Easterling-Elf who served the Dark Lord. It is a story of cultural difference, of uncertain redemption, but ultimately of love. (Easterlings, Variags, Rhun).

25. Destroyer of Nations

Chapter 25 - Destroyer of Nations

That afternoon Vez returned to her guest room while Legolas would go to the Houses of Healing with Gimli, Merry, and Pippin to visit with Frodo and Sam. The two once Mordor-bound hobbits, which Vezely had yet to meet, just recently awoke from their unconscious state and were slowly being nursed back to health, much to the relief of the remaining Fellowship. They had only lost one member since setting out from Rivendell several months ago, a blessing they would all continue to remind themselves of.

During the horse ride back up to the sixth level, Vezely and Legolas remained silent, leaving discussion of that morning's events decidedly set for another time. Vez was torn between being proud of her actions and feeling ashamed due to Legolas's reaction. She believed she had assumed leadership of the men relatively smoothly, proved her strength as a commander who would safely escort them from enemy hands, and even refrained from killing two men; offering mercy which had too often been given to her. But Legolas called her a "tyrant," and noted her pleasure in inducing fear and enacting violence. Yes, her brutal manner may have been un-Elflike, but it was also consistent with the role performed by leaders of such a troop of men. Variags were as the Balchoth; a warrior culture more brutal in bearing than general Easterlings. Not to mention these men were led by Öldür, a general whose style would have been more if not less terrorizing than hers. She could not have confronted them with any softer a manner for they would not deem her fit to listen to, even less so to follow.

Before entering her quarters, the house matrons noticed the stains on her dress and offered to have it laundered and a hot bath run for her. The front of the long gown was soiled with splashes of Yaban's blood, and remnants of his now dried spit undoubtedly remained on her face and hair. The latter of which was becoming something of a concern, for it had grown out since its last cut, but not in any consistent manner. A requested pair of scissors was brought to her and she decided to bring shape back to her mane. While in the West, men and women tended to wear their hair long and unruly, often tied up or back in braids, or for women, twisted and braided into elaborate buns, in the East, men and women cut their hair shorter with more precision and design. Her front fringe had grown long enough to allow her to blunt it across her brow line. The back and sides had almost grown to a few inches from her chin, and she decided to shorten the back so that the sides were slightly longer. Having had a similar haircut several hundred years ago made looking in the mirror remind her of a time when she was in control of legions; a high point in her warrior career when the upcoming twists and turns of the past century and a half were inconceivable. Much had changed since then, though she looked the same. Pushing some of her hair behind her ears made her appreciate having her ear tip renewed, for so long it stood as reminder of her defeat and the shame brought on her by those she once trusted. With the visible scars inflected by Sauron imprisonment also gone, she suddenly felt more put together, and if not for her Western clothes and lack of weaponry, she felt back in control.

Sitting at the desk, she removed some of her rings querying her need for funds. The small amount of gold could fetch some coin in trade, enough for a decent pair of boots and a much needed new wardrobe, but what she needed more than that was a sword. She inquired the house matrons about the city's markets, getting advice on where to find the items she was looking for, but when querying about the "seedier" parts of the city, places she could gamble and turn her small amount of gold into more coin, they did not give her any solid answers. Instead, they reiterated how dangerous such areas were and the need for the new king to clean them up.

Yet one of the younger maids was more willing to discuss the "Dim Quarters," as Gondorians called its district of black markets, prostitutes, and gambling rings; for she was curious of their nature as a youth bogged down in her duties and in need of escapist thoughts. "But you mustn't think of going there as I have," the young woman said suddenly embarrassed about her openness over her inquiry, "That is no place for a lady Elf such as yourself." Having gotten the information she needed, Vez would lie slightly in her response, "Of course I wouldn't go, but thank you for giving me more knowledge of this city, for academic purposes."

While not on the agenda that evening, she planned to take a trip or two there in order to raise her own money for clothing and to have a decent weapon either bought or forged before the trip. She had already lived off the good graces of many in the West, from King Theodon in Edoras to now being housed under the Steward's roof, who may not even deem her worthy of being there after this morning. Just thinking of Faramir and his accusations caused anger to rile in her; he probably took her as nothing more than a barbaric leader of a horde who would rape and pillage without purpose. She was raised an Easterling of the late Third Age. Their armies were hierarchically structured and well-disciplined, trained to engage in honorable battle against their enemies. They did not rain destruction for sport, such as the Corsairs of Umbar who proffered off of pillaging coastline residents, or mindless Orcs who slaughtered people in the night. And while her legions wiped villages off the map during their campaigns across the East, it was due to their inhabitants defiance and refusal to ally with Sauron, or their engagement in hostilities; she could argue they brought such destruction on themselves. Men in the West seemed to know little if anything about Easterling culture aside from a few products of trade that came from their lands, such as Dorwinion wine or rare spices such as cinnamon and cloves. It bothered her if they deemed them as uncivilized as Faramir obviously did, and perhaps as Legolas did.

After her bath, she returned to her quarters in a light blue silk robe, since her dress was yet to dry. The lack of a proper outfit made her forgo joining her companions for dinner, though she admitted she would have hesitated going anyways. She still did not know how to gauge Legolas's reaction to her methods, even though she expected one before accepting the request to aid in negotiations with the prisoners. Was it simply a cultural misunderstanding that she could explain away? She took to the comfort of her bed, trying to rest her mind of these thoughts along with her body; suddenly reminding herself that in the near future such luxuries as a stuffed mattress and clean cotton sheets would be far from her reality trekking through Rhun. While she despaired leaving the West, today she had grown optimistic in completing her task of redemption, even if others were less convinced of her methods.

---

"Easterlings are not a cordial culture, but they are steadfast in honoring trade agreements," Gimli said recalling long past relayed information on trade between dwarves and men of the East.

Aragorn and Legolas had told Gimli of the event that morning, sparking a conversation on Rhun and a realization of the paucity of knowledge all of them held on the land and its cultures.

Gimli, not seeing Vez's rough character as anything to be faulted, told them assuredly, "You shouldn't uphold her to Elvish standards laddy, she is no Elf maiden of Lothlorien."

Legolas knew it was wrong of him to compare Vez to the female elves he held in high regard, such as Lady Galadriel or Lady Arwen. Even though she now held the memories of the six years being raised in Mirkwood as a Woodland Elf, she stood culturally conditioned by hundreds of years amongst Easterlings, and not to be easily forgotten, one in charge of legions of men under Sauron. Before this morning he had not seen her take a leadership role, for she followed and accepted the orders of others. Her willingness to submit to King Theodon's will at Helm's Deep was a moment which helped reaffirm to him that she had changed and was no longer under Sauron's shadow; it proved to Legolas that Gandalf spoke the truth. But witnessing her exercise such brutality of force this morning, to seek fear as a means of power, and to show pleasure in doing it, reminded him blatantly of her past misdeeds which he admittedly knew little of. He realized he had never pushed her to discuss her past in detail, for he cared not for who she was and wanted to live with her in the present. But he could not help but wonder whether this morning, he witnessed her as she once was and that perhaps, the evil in her yet remained and could break free again.

He queried whether their argument prompted her absence at dinner, for they had remained uncomfortably silent on the horse ride up to the sixth level and parted sans affection. Though considering Faramir had joined them, it may have been for the best. While Legolas wanted to trust in Vezely's ability to escort the prisoners back to their homeland, he admitted he felt Faramir's concern was equally valid. The Steward and her confrontation was also the first time he saw Vezely exert power over those above her; and her manner, the dagger clutched at her side, only heightened his apprehension over her path. He went to her room afterwards, hesitating to knock on her door at first. He did not desire to be confrontational, but he also wanted to be honest with her about his concern so they could work through it, as he felt was necessary in a committed relationship.

The knock startled Vez from her rest, but somehow she knew it was him for the timing was right. She did not open the door all the way, but enough for her head to peer out.

He looked upon her face anew, noticing her sudden change in hairstyle, "You cut your hair," he said slightly surprised to see it angled so distinctly.

"I have," she replied, unsure whether his reaction was favorable.

"I had not thought you would," he sincerely remarked, for Elves admired long hair and he had secretly desired to see hers long, for its dark tone and straight texture would be beautiful he thought.

"Why? Because I seem unconcerned about appearance?" She questioned with slight irritation, believing now his reaction was not favorable; though she did not know it was due to his desire to see it grown to longer length.

"That is not what I meant," he now queried her annoyance, but remained unsure whether to relay to her his other thoughts.

"You do not like it," she remarked being blunt.

"I did not say that either," he replied, now confused at her accusation.

"It is obvious," she added smiling slightly in order to appear that it didn't bother her, "I have become aware that short hair is not the norm for any in the West."

"It is uncommon. I apologize if my reaction appeared negative, for it is not," he added softly, "But you do look different."

"That is often the point of cutting ones hair," she stated with one eyebrow raised, "And it was getting unnecessarily long for soon it will be continually hidden under a headscarf."

"Is that the norm in Rhun?" he asked curiously.

"In certain environments having your head covered is preferable, especially to shield oneself from the sun and harsher climates, but more than often it allows me to blend in when I need to," she explained.

"I see," he replied, noting in his mind that Vezely was slightly displaced everywhere she found herself. Then shifting queries, he asked, "You were not at dinner, and I wondered if..."

She didn't let him finish his question and instead opened the door more fully to reveal her attire, "I am not dressed for it. My gown is being laundered and I am without anything else to wear."

He was slightly relieved to hear a practical reason for her absence, "We should remedy that," he told her with a small smile.

"I have already inquired on where I can trade gold for coin," she added assuredly, "And markets to try for the items I need."

"If you can wait for my father's envoy to arrive, you will not need to trade your gold," he offered to spare some of his own coin pleasantly. He was also awaiting this envoy for his own garments, and one he could wear for the coronation.

Realizing he was offering to provide her funds, she declined, "I would prefer not to accept more charity."

"I do not offer it as such," he rejoined carefully, hoping he did not offend her, "I simply would not have you in need."

"And I appreciate the sentiment, but with this I can manage," she told him, though softening her tone.

The conversation between them momentarily stopped, finding again the awkwardness that undoubtedly lingered because of the incident that morning. Shifting gears slightly, Vez added, "I would like to spend the evening conversing with you, but seeing as I'm poorly dressed to leave my room, and you will not come inside."

"Perhaps," he politely interrupted placing his hand on the door, though uncertain whether it was a good idea, "Tonight we can make an exception." He knew they should discuss matters of concern and not let disagreements linger longer than they needed to.

Vez smiled appreciatively as she willingly opened the door to him, finding it an odd relief that he would be willing to break what seemed to her like somewhat impractical rules; but then realizing that he must feel engaging in a conversation necessary, made her slightly concerned. After adjusting the intensity of an oil lamp and lighting a few more candles, thinking more light would ease his feelings of impropriety, she led him by hand from the doorway where he had lingered observing her. The light color of her robe and newly cut hair provided a different vision of her than he was accustomed. She was also barefoot and appeared to step lightly, as if trying not to alert anyone of them breaking the rules. It was perhaps the most Elflike Legolas had seen her move. Vez noted what she deduced as hesitation as she led him to the room's reading chairs before sitting herself down in one, folding her legs up on the seat and adjusting her robe as she did.

Wondering if he needed leave to join her, she said to him with a small smile, "You can sit."

He sat in more proper fashion and with good posture. Unexpectedly he found himself looking at her admiringly, "Your eyes," he remarked after he realized, "They stand out with your hair this way."

Surprised to be suddenly told this, she queried, "I will take that as a compliment from one who no doubt prefers long hair."

He corrected her, "I do not have a preference."

She smiled at his politeness, "It is alright if you do. We all have elements that attract us to others. I happen to like the color of your hair, for it is all but uncommon in the East and reminds me of the sun."

He smiled through his slight embarrassment at her compliment, which she seemed unabashed to give. It reminded him that she was of a less reserved nature than himself when discussing matters of physical attraction. "It is not only physicality that forms the basis of attraction," he added, bravely divulging his own attraction to her, "It was your differences and un-Elflike qualities that prompted curiosity; that initially broke me from the barrier of distrust to engage in conversation."

"Differences which now cause concern," she noted with raised eyebrows, then saying softly, "I know why you would break custom and enter my bedchambers at night. We need to discuss what happened this morning," he nodded to her assertion and then she added encouragingly, "I would have you speak freely about the thoughts that ran through your head, for I desire to see through your eyes."

He looked at her wearily before replying, worried that his words on this would cause her discomfort. "I will do so, but please know my heart cannot turn from stated promise."

"Nor can mine," she added assuredly with a small smile.

Grateful for the affirmation, Legolas spoke with true care in his voice, "Through our time together, who you were under Sauron, the general, remained hidden but for brief moments of assertion. Only acknowledged through tales you relayed of your past or ones that placed your future in doubt. But today, I felt as if I may have looked upon Vezely as she once was; an Elf who I could no longer gauge the emotions that guided her actions." Vez looked down momentarily notably upset, but she reminded herself not to react negatively, and she returned her eyes to his in contemplation as he continued, "These differences did not spark my curiosity but provided me with repulsion, and fear."

"Fear?" she repeated, unsure why this was.

"Fear for your redemption," he told her steadily, his eyes engaged on hers. "Soon you will leave my presence and I will be without knowledge on your endeavor. If I cannot see through your eyes, as all Elves can do with their kin, then are you not lost to us?"

She again looked away momentarily, thinking through his words and the realization they brought to her, "I have filled you with doubt. You fear the evil in me yet draws breath."

"Then tell me it is not how it appears, teach me to see through your eyes," he stated with hopeful desire, needing to be told he was wrong.

Vezely wondered how to do so, for he was not convinced that her actions reflected militia culture as she stated that morning. Describing it as such was not enough, she thought, perhaps she needed to provide specifics. "You have often disallowed me to speak specifically of my past deeds, saying you cared not for who I was but who I am today."

"I still stand by that conviction," he stated assuredly.

She relayed her gratitude for this with a brief smile before inquiring, "Would it comfort you to know that what you witnessed this morning pales in comparison to me in the past?" His eyes showed curiosity over her angle. "Meager are the stories the West knows of me after I slayed Eorl the Young at the Battle of the Wold. Here I am nothing more than a defeated heathen driven back into the darkness from which I came. Your people perhaps remember the lives my men and I took upon our incursion into Mirkwood, your father's seemingly misplaced mercy, and the ill-conceived title Nwalmaer, which seems to remove me from real blame. But to Sauron, I was one of his bringers of darkness. General of the Easterling Coalition. The Destroyer of Nations," holding her head slightly higher made her seem almost proud of these titles, adding, "You learned of this title today, perhaps I should tell you how I acquired it."

Legolas was uncertain why this would help his cause, "Do you seek to damage opinion?"

"No, I would seek to elevate it," she smiled with slight hope of her tactic, "And to substantiate that I have changed and that my methods and cause are not what they were."

Legolas looked away from her gaze to consider whether having such information would quell his worries or reversely repulse him further. "Alright," he conceded, though uncertain, "Tell me of this title."

"I spoke once of my army's victory at Ester Ridge," she replied, remembering her conversation in Edoras with Merry and Gimli over the possibility of winning a battle against terrible odds.

"Your numbers game?" he replied bluntly, having remembered her maps and his displeasure of her easy ability to reduce men's lives to statistics.

She nodded, continuing her story steadily, "Three hundred of my elite warriors defeating two-thousand Dusterns, one of the many tribes who populated the region we were marching through, as we were tasked with garnering their allegiance to Sauron. A similar number of men that Gondor now holds as prisoners from this war, surrendered to my forces, desiring mercy. I did not flinch when I sent them to their deaths. I had them crucified. Have you witnessed crucifixion?" She was unaware if he knew of the practice and after he shook his head, she explained in detail, "Not yet robbed of life, their hands and feet are nailed to wooden boards that are then lifted from the ground. It is a slow and painful death, as their bodies quiver and shake from the stress of gravity weighing down on them. That evening, after hearing every hammer-induced scream, I walked through their yet dead forms caring not for their prolonged suffering. Instead, I was considering whether their cross's position was too far from the mountain's edge for proper viewing of others in the region who might seek to defy us. I would then order my army to march on their homeland, killing all women and children that they found and then burning their villages to the ground. I stamped them out so that others in the region would fear defying Sauron's army. I dealt death to avoid more death. And I made those decisions daily, as a general is expected."

"And did you avoid more death?" he asked a moment later with slight anger in his voice coming from what he heard.

"Yes," she replied softly, noting his antipathy, "The region fell easily under our control, but the Dusterns were no more. Destroyer of Nations. Its meaning is twofold, for I simultaneously erased peoples from the map while uniting all Easterlings under a single banner. That is who I was. Despite my imprisonment and the fact that many would brand me a traitor for fighting for the resistance, my deeds still hold me in high regard to men of like kind."

Silence followed as Legolas processed the information, for she was responsible for the death of women and children, a truism she had hinted at but he never wanted to fully accept. He asked wondering how, "You were able to command men to do such things, to go against their better nature and kill women and children?"

"I would never command a soldier to do something I would not do myself," she replied bluntly, implying far fouler deeds by her own hand.

He brought his hand to his forehead as if nursing a headache that has formed, "And if they refused?" He asked, not sure if he wanted to hear the answer.

She looked at him, saying without hesitation, "I have nailed my own men to crosses."

"And placed heads on pikes," he stated, recalling her threat to the men that morning.

She nodded affirmatively, "Taken by my own sword. But I was methodical in my violence. I did not rain destruction or place fear in the hearts of men purely for pleasure, but for purpose."

"Purpose?" Part of him thought she was joking, to even provide justification for such deeds seemed far removed from one who contained the light of his people. "You cannot justify killing women and children, Vezely, you cannot."

"As a servant of the Dark Lord, charged with building a strong, fearless army, and one that would make all of Rhun fall beneath his feet, my means justified those ends and allowed me to do what I did without question," she said strongly, hoping that he could distinguish who she was today and the purpose she now held. Pain then marked her face and her eyes wavered on his as she tried to speak her current position. "I do not justify those means against the purpose I have now. And I never asked for forgiveness of them or deemed myself worthy of redemption. Perhaps now you understand why I could not easily accept your kind words for they were spoken without knowledge of what I have done. The Blue Wizards knew exactly who I was and they put it to me bluntly, that I would not pass into Valinor if I did not work towards a greater good. A cause I did not truly understand or take up until recently."

These words made him look her cold in the eyes, he asked about something else that made him curious, "Would you have betrayed the resistance if presented the opportunity?"

Vezely's face drained of all emotion, for he spoke what Remi said of her equal desire of betrayal. "You ask me this after I have fought and almost died for the West?"

"I want to understand your more recent past, and those involved in it," he told her boldly.

Vez realized that perhaps he was interested in one man in particular, she hesitated, saying bluntly, "Perhaps we can discuss that another night," for she was unsure how to approach the subject.

"We are on the subject of your past now, one you invited," he noted her discomfort, but was not backing down, "What makes you hesitate?"

She looked away from him, hoping to not give leave to his suspicion, "I do not hesitate," she scoffed, "But what exactly do you want to know?"

"You have explained to me what is meant by the title, Destroyer of Nations, what is the meaning behind Evil Beauty?" He asked carefully.

"Is it the title that you are interested in, or the man that wielded it?" she asked bluntly.

"Both," he stated firmly, for he admittedly disliked her engagement with the man. There was something about his eyes on Vez that troubled him.

She wondered if her demeanor could show the uneasiness that now engulfed her, for speaking of such with newly bonded partner would truly test the resolve of their commitment. She said with dripping contempt, "The Evil Beauty, one would not have been so bold to call me this to my face for I would have had their life. It is a demeaning title, spoken by chauvinistic men who believed a woman could not possibly lead legions without bewitching those close to her. Foul rumors spoke of me as an Elvish witch who bedded her second in commands so they would follow her every whim."

Legolas found it odd that her Elvish blood would be connected to such rumors, as Elves, despite their admired beauty, were not known for using the trickery of the flesh to seduce others, making him re-acknowledge just as Vezely knew little of Elves, the men of Rhun probably knew even less.

Vezely remained uncomfortable, but added in further explanation, "Sex is power. And I am not averse to using my femininity if the situation calls for it. I have done so for the resistance if you recall, posing as an Umbarian Dancing Girl to hijack Corsairs ships," thinking he would remember the tale she told one evening in Edoras, "But if you can gauge by my other tactics, I did not need to share my bed for purposes of control."

"But did you, share your bed?" he queried the unimaginable, surprised at his sudden ability to breach such boundaries with her.

Vezely's mouth gapped open slightly appalled that he would direct the conversation this way, seeming far removed from the usual reserved politeness he usually upheld. Knowing she could not lie, she replied apprehensively, "Legolas, I was raised by men, as a warrior never to be married off."

He somehow knew she was not without experience, but the affirmation still unsettled him and he could not look her in the eyes. "Such an act is equivalent to marriage in Elvish custom," he stated fact, unsure if she was aware.

"I did not know," she replied suddenly feeling awful, trying to explain, "It never meant anything to me, for I was not..."

"And Remi?" He interrupted, not appearing interested in her attempt to explain.

"What about Remi?" she asked annoyed, wanting him to fully acknowledge what he was rudely asking.

"What is your relationship with this man?" he asked, his eyes narrowed on hers.

"He is an acquaintance who I would share drink and gamble with, as I did with many other members of the resistance. And if you must know, I never shared his bed," she stated firmly but with more anger, knowing it was a concern of his from the start, "I have not willingly done so for a very long time."

"Willingly?" he repeated, wondering why it was added.

She looked away in contempt, "I have said too much."

"It was your idea to divulge your past," he reminded her.

"It was, and obviously it did not have intended effect," she added harshly, before reasoning out loud to herself in slightly softened tone, "I suppose I should not have expected it to, for such dark tales must be sharp to your ears," she paused, further realizing how far apart their worlds were. Then reengaging his cold demeanor with her eyes, "I will tell you what I meant by 'willingly' and then leave you to your opinion. If such has changed, so be it." Legolas remained silent as she stood from her chair and walked towards the desk, placing her hand on top of it, considering how to tell someone pure of heart further of her corruption. How to break more pages from her history and then assure him she is writing the future anew. She turned toward him trying to diminish emotion from her face, for she was not ashamed, "Öldür, he had his way with me before I was taken to Dol Guldur. It was not something of surprise after he took control of my army, for he had desired it for some time and I continually denied his advances. Rape is said to strip a woman of her dignity, to forever taint her in the eyes of others. Öldür believed this. Afterwards, when he cut my ear off, he told me that I would forever be his; that no one would again look upon me as beautiful." She held her head higher, finding his act folly for she had repaid him in kind, "He was wrong. Yes, he robbed me of my power and made me wake to a world that held no meaning, but it is my actions that will forever taint me in the eyes of your people. I accept why I am not allowed to leave for the shores of Valinor beside you. And I once cared not for this fate and used the resistance as a means for revenge, a goal I achieved when taking Öldür's life. But I have changed. Coming West changed me, you changed me. I want to believe my purpose is true and honorable, that I can help again unite Rhun, not under Sauron's banner, but one of peace and prosperity. For a greater good, that lies beyond my own desires."

Feeling softer emotions overtake her, she stopped her speech, looking away from his form. Legolas had fallen silent, and his eyes had remained looking blankly ahead, processing the information he had been told. It was true; he was not accustomed to hearing such base tales. All seemed far removed from his world under the leaves of Mirkwood. While Elvish history was thick in deceit, kinslayings, and treachery, none were done at the hands of those close to him. His mastery and that of his kin was in killing murderous Orcs, not innocent men. His emotions wavered from disgust, to anger, to immense sadness. He closed his eyes, trying to settle his mind, for he knew not how to respond.

Vezely grew unnerved by the silence and she left the candle lit space, heading to the open window where it was dimly illuminated by starlight. She could not bring herself to look upon the stars, for she felt they were shunning her as he was now.

Legolas could now sense her emotions of dejection, ones he then added to, "I have been naive," he spoke quietly, "To think I could see through your eyes which have looked upon worlds I know not. If I would have known..." He paused thinking back to when he first overcame his hesitation and engaged in conversation with her, freely offering her comfort and reassurance of her Elvish ancestry, of her being accepted as a child of the stars. It made him feel foolish for assuming her past was anything less despicable. If he would have known perhaps he would not have fallen in love with her. And yet, he did love her, and his heart cried to go embrace her, to tell her he believed she has changed, but he couldn't move.

Vezely pondered over what he meant. If he would have known, would he not have allowed himself to break the barrier of distrust? Would he not have grown to care for her as he did? She could not help but think of all the times she tried to tell him that she was unworthy; all the warnings she gave him about her past and uncertain future, but he would not hear it. He would not let her divulge the truth. "We were both foolish," she spoke with her back yet facing him, "For thinking our worlds could ever be reconciled."

Finally standing from his chair, he knew not whether to go to her or leave through the door. "I need some time to think this through," he finally said quietly, which prompted her to glance at him from the corner of her eye. She nodded once, accepting he would leave her, before removing her eyes from him. After exiting, Legolas stood momentarily in front of the other side of the closed door, his hand still on the knob, feeling lost; as Vez slumped to the floor in front of the window, running her fingers through her hair and clutching her head after, hating the feelings of sorrow now overtaking her.