She fled straight to her chamber, barely avoiding running through folk in the way of her hasty retreat. Leaning against the door she threw shut, she closed her eyes, and no sooner did she settle on the floor than the tears came. Her chest felt as if it were about to burst open and barely did she manage to contain the wailing wracking her body. It had happened. What she dreaded the most had happened. The being she cared about most in this world despised her, and rightfully so. What else would anyone have done? Someone lesser than him might have done worse. Now it all made sense, starting with his behavior in the healing ward. She felt immensely foolish, remembering how she pretended to smile his way, and how he probably hated her all the more then.

But how? What could have happened between the recent battle and now that had made him regain his memories of her, of them? At least Ereldur has nothing to hold against me now. But that mattered little now. Should she even tell her husband of this? No, she decided it was not her place. If Legolas wanted to confront the man on his role in the deception, it would be his prerogative to do so. Besides, the ellon did not seem as if he knew the whole truth of what has passed. Further, more grave matters were in development now. They were at war. Personal woes had no place in this.

She would simply have to face the elf from now on knowing he detested her. Now that the truth of what she had done was revealed, she would have to bear his scorn, or whatever he decided to throw her way. Then, eventually he would depart her home and she would be at peace again. She grimaced through her tears. Is this the best I can look forward to now?

But he deserved more. He deserved the full truth. Though she wondered if it was her place to reveal the role the elvenking had played in all of it. Should she let it lie, supposing Legolas eventually discover it on his own, the same way he had done with the rest? Perhaps it was his own father who had told him of it? But no, that made absolutely no sense, for it was exactly opposite to what the king had wanted. Still a part of her, the part that melted in his grey stare, longed to speak with him at length. What was there to lose now? She did not expect his forgiveness. But perhaps they could both, somehow, obtain a form of closure.

No more tears she willed onto herself. Her thoughts astray, the woman washed her face in a small basin next to her chamber mirror, changed back into a working dress and with one last look at her countenance she exited the house. More tasks in the healing wards awaited her that afternoon.

The auburn haired ellon frowned, his eyes catching the bright sunrise brimming in the crisp dawn. Legolas stood next to him on the wide open balcony adjoined to the main house, observing the east, a hooded cloak drawn over his shoulders. His gaze lost somewhere.

'I still believe it is folly to go alone.'

'And had I not been in military observation countless times before, I might have agreed. Further, I have seen this evil firsthand. There may be little that I can see or feel that could be worse than facing it.'

'Do you intend to follow their retreating scouts?' Dalaron abandoned trying to convince his prince otherwise, knowing his mind was already made.

The fair haired ellon nodded. 'Aye, I am sure they will lead me in the correct direction. As brawny as they are, I could follow them with my eyes closed wearing bells around my boots and they still would fail to detect me.' Then he frowned, recalling something. 'I will need a map though. Ours do not cover the North in much detail.'

'You may as well try and search their library. I am sure they have a drawn map, within its confines, ancient though it may be.'

The prince agreed to that same course of action. He was mostly prepared for the scouting expedition he would start early that day. All he had left to do was complete the last arrangements with Dalaron. In truth, he longed for the solitude of the road, the peaceful nights under sky and forest. Away from this place. He had even written his father of his intent, though he kept any mention of his personal revelations and his questions of his father related to these out of the missive. Those were meant to be covered in person.

'Farewell my friend, until next time we meet,' he said, turning to Dalaron, his hand on the younger ellon's shoulder.

'In good health. May I say, that you seem somewhat different?'

'Different?' he frowned.

'Aye. You now bear yourself as if you came upon a great discovery, and are immensely relieved for it. A shadow lifted from your eyes, though there are others lingering.'

The prince stared at his friend, his expression schooled, though inside he was indeed intrigued. He had shared nothing with the younger ellon of his past and connection with the mortal. Though he knew of her, and had seen them together in his home. He wondered if the perceptiveness of the other gathered anything more, or if the change in him was so visible upon the retrieval of his mind. A shadow lifted indeed.

The auburn haired ellon shook his head, seeing as no words came forward. 'It matters not. I only wanted to... ah, I am here if ever you need to share something of yourself.'

'I thank you my friend,' the prince could not help but smile kindly either way, and leaving his commander he turned away, heading into the direction of the library.

Dust rose from the ancient scrolls, caught within the rays of early sunlight now streaming through the wide glass stained windows.

Nienor had arisen early as per usual, today even more so. Presently she was busying herself arranging the different manuscripts, in an effort to restore somewhat of an order to the high number of books splayed across the reading tables. As many other things in Garolin, the library was in her care. She could scarcely sleep the previous night, her unwilling confrontation with the ellon having left her mind scattered and ruminating. And with red rimmed eyes she now sifted through titles and dust, going back and forth between the tables and the different wooden shelves that stacked high to the roof of the library. At least it was quiet. She needed the silence. At times she had to use a wooden stair, so high above was the destination of some works.

She was just descending from said stair, having returned a bulk of geography scrolls to their rightful place. She turned around and-

-saw the elf right as he was shutting the main door behind him, having entered the room. Their eyes met. With his gaze on her the temperature in the room dropped to an eerie cold. He looked her way but for a moment before turning on his heel-

'Wait!' She did no know why she uttered the word, but it did something.

The ellon stopped his actions, seemingly hesitant, his hand on the door handle.

'What-,' the woman tried, 'What is it that you seek?' she followed as evenly as she could. She could at least offer her help, if he should accept it.

With each agonizing second the silence stretched, so did her composure.

'A map,' he finally said, facing her now. 'Of the North.' He looked as if every word he spoke to her was painful in his mouth.

'O-of the North?' What does he need such a document for - strategy, of course, it dawned on her.

He stood expectantly, seemingly at a loss for what to do, or simply unwilling to offer her any more of his words. His gaze shifted to somewhere beyond her. She recovered just as she realized no further detail would come.

'Yes, I believe, there is a number of them,' she turned from the elf, studying the high shelves, pondering. Now that she was released from his gaze, she felt steadier on her feet.

After a few moments which seemed like an eternity to him, her dress swirled around her as the woman headed into a known direction. The ellon did not know if he were expected to follow, but seeing her again now before his departure was the very last thing he had wanted. Seeing her long, dark hair caressing her waist was the last thing he wanted. But he was soon taken out of his thoughts by her approach. Nienor was holding two long rolled scrolls in her arms.

'This is what we presently have,' she followed, nearing the closest reading table.

He approached warily, his eyes on the maps, on her small hands splaying each one open. The prince leaned in to the opposite side of where she stood, studying each document. As he did so, she stole one quick glance at him. Her traitorous heart beat just a little faster. Her eyes trailed over his scarred brow, his shadowed eyes. His long fair hair, presently unbraided, catching a beam of light. She had always liked it that way. He was beautiful. She loved him. She loved him more than anything. He was the kindest, bravest being she had ever known. She had ruined everything. Even the friendship they once had was lost. Then and there the woman once more felt she had to at least offer a better, a kinder explanation. She direly needed to know what he knew, and how he came to know it. Even if he would despise her all the more for it. But his willingness to listen to her, that was another matter.

'This one,' the ellon said motioning to the map which seemed of a later make. Despite himself he took note of how weary she looked.

The woman nodded, unsure of what to say as he rolled the item tightly and placed it under his arm.

'It shall be returned,' he followed, surprised at how rough his own voice sounded.

She inclined her head, her eyes lowered. It was all still too much. The guilt was too much. His gaze was too much. He was too much.

With one last blank look her way the ellon turned to depart. But as he neared the door he stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at her.

'Thank you,' she heard, and her confusion must have been visible for he added, 'for tending to me after the battle. Late though it is.' Her words stubbornly came to the forefront of his mind. It does not matter now. What else was there to say? He needed the distance. He needed her as well, but he would bury that need deep, deep beneath the folds of the hate her actions brought, until it smothered the very bond which stubbornly lingered in his soul. 'Farewell,' he added as he turned away from her once more.

Farewell? Why farewell? the words finally registered in her mind. He is surely not leaving? He cannot leave! 'Legolas!' she called after him, wanting to stop him, wanting something more of him, anything more. But if he heard her he did not let it show, for he never looked back. The door to the library rang shut.