Author's Note: I'm so sorry this story is taking literally years to finish. But! I promise that I WILL complete this story if it kills me!

Super Brief Recap: Legolas and Meghan stumble around the city for a while, until they finally get to the Houses of Healing and get patched up.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX – In Which the Author Cannot Think of a Title

She dreamed about falling.

Then her dreams melted into nightmares of leering Orcs and blood and she was fighting and falling and losing and losing him and she wanted to scream but couldn't so she cried instead—

She woke up.

"You talk in your sleep," Legolas said. He was sitting on the floor next to her cot, one hand clasped around her own. He wore a loose grey-blue shirt, but she could see the white bandages peeking from his unlaced collar.

"You okay?" Meghan asked groggily. She was a little below eye-level with him, so she didn't bother to sit up.

"I am better," he said. His thumb traced circles onto her palm. "Bad dreams?"

"Ugh," Meghan mumbled, curling up a little more. She rubbed her free hand over her eyes. "Are you really alright? You looked so… You were sleeping. I thought Elves didn't sleep?"

"Sometimes, to recover from great trauma or exhaustion, we will enter a state very much like sleep. Elves often heal much more quickly than other races." He smiled a little. "Your eye is nearly mended."

She reached up in surprise, but couldn't even remember which eye had been hurt. The ache of the bruises had melted away, and she finally remembered it was the left when she discovered a slight tenderness in her brow. "Oh," she said. "I don't even have a headache anymore."

"SSHH!"

The shush was much louder than their voices had been. Both turned to see Ioreth marching toward them, wearing an imperious face.

"This is a place of rest, not a social hall," she said in something that managed to be both a whisper and a shout. "There are wounded soldiers trying to sleep in here, just as you two should be."

Meghan sat up, but didn't withdraw her hand from Legolas'. "What time is it?"

"Time for rest," Ioreth retorted, smoothing her skirts.

"Perhaps it would be beneficial to the patient if we took a turn in the open air?" Legolas suggested.

Ioreth folded her arms across her chest and fixed him with a look. "Do not venture to believe that you can fool me with your youthful face and pleasing manners, young man. I know you are a patient even more than your lady is."

He opened his mouth and then shut it.

"To sleep, both of you," Ioreth commanded, obviously satisfied that she was fully in control of the situation. "It is still hours before dawn. And do not let me catch you chattering away like children at a festival again."

Legolas meekly unfolded himself from the floor and stretched out on his cot while Meghan tried to disappear into hers. Ioreth swept a stern look across them and nodded, then strode away.

"I don't remember her being so scary last night," Meghan whispered.

"I have not felt this chastised since I was a schoolboy and my tutor caught me cheating," Legolas whispered back.

"You cheated?" Meghan choked in a loud voice.

"Hush!" Legolas hissed.

Footsteps echoed toward them. Meghan panicked and went completely limp, pretending to be asleep. Ioreth's footsteps slowed near them, paused for a moment, then receded away again. Meghan peeked one eye open, only to discover that Legolas was playing dead, too.

"Did you really cheat in school when you were little?" she murmured.

He smiled, but didn't open his eyes. Or say anything.

"Oh my god, you were a cheater."

"Shhh, I am sleeping," he said.

Meghan couldn't do anything but grin into the darkness.

When Meghan drifted awake again, it was to the quiet bustle of busyness in the room. She blinked her eyes to clear away the sticky feeling. About half of the cots were empty now, and almost all of the wounded men were awake in some measure or another. Grey-garbed woman flitted about the room, administering medicines and changing bandages and delivering meals. Pale sunlight seeped through the windows.

"Good morning."

She rolled over to see Legolas sitting cross-legged on his cot, examining the grip of one of his daggers. She could tell by the way he held his torso stiffly that he was still in pain, but despite that he had an air of… health? No, not quite healthy, she thought. He just looks ready to leave. I wonder if he feels uneasy in a sick house.

"G'morning," she slurred sleepily.

"Ioreth is not on duty this morning," he said without looking up from the dagger. There was something cryptic and mischievous about the way he said it.

What is it about getting injured that turned him into a ten year old boy?

"Are you suggesting that we make a run for it before she gets back?" she asked, sitting up.

He shot her a scandalized look. "I am suggesting that we repair to the courtyard for some fresh air."

Is he flirting? Oh my god I can't tell anymore. The one thing Meghan was sure of was that she felt… relaxed. Comfortable. Natural. I don't know if Elves drink coffee but this somehow reminds me of a coffee date. Thinking about coffee made her realize how hungry she was.

"I am achin' for some bacon," she admitted with a casual shrug. "Do you think we could find food somewhere?"

"I cannot promise that there will be bacon," Legolas said.

She grabbed her sword and buckled the belt around her waist. "I could settle for toast and jam. And some fresh air."

He eased off his cot, not actually wincing but keeping such a straight face that she knew he was hiding it. But he smiled at her as he tucked the dagger into its sheath and then maneuvered his quiver over his shoulder. "Shall we?"

"Let's go." Am I supposed to take his arm or...? Before she could decide, his hand was in hers and they were walking and it almost felt like everything was coming up roses.

As it turned out, there was a small commissary in the Houses of Healing, where Meghan had to make good on her promise to be satisfied with jam and toasted bread. They ate the simple meal in relative silence.

"Now what?" Meghan said when they finished up.

"Perhaps it is time to find the others," Legolas said.

She wasn't sure if she was quite ready to let him back into the swing of things, judging by how voraciously he had eaten their meager breakfast and the way he kept one arm casually folded over his torso. She wondered if he even realized that he was doing it. Still, she didn't know how to change his mind without directly challenging him, and she was enjoying their newfound easiness too much to risk it with an argument.

Besides, Aragorn won't ask much from him, she consoled herself. And my eyebrow did heal so quickly. He may still be feeling rough, but he'll probably be back to normal in a few days.

"That sounds good," she said. "Where do you think they are?"

"Aragorn visited this morning while you were still sleeping," Legolas said. "He mentioned that they would gather for a war council at midday. I believe they will be in the throne room."

"I've never been to a war council before." Meghan grinned, trying to look demure. "What should I wear?"

Legolas flashed a wry smile. "You will do very well as you are."

It took them a little while to navigate through the ruined streets to the uppermost level of the city, but the guards outside the throne room seemed to be expecting them and let them in without question. It was a long hall, echoing with Gimli's voice as he boomed,

"Let him stay there, let him rot! Why should we care?"

Aragorn, Gandalf, Gimli, and Éomer were scattered at the steps up to the throne. Aragorn acknowledged Legolas and Meghan's approach with a nod, but Gimli glowered at them as if to say, What have the pair of you been up to all morning?

"Because ten thousand Orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," Gandalf was saying. "I've sent him to his death."

"No," Aragorn said firmly. "There is still hope for Frodo. He needs time and safe passage across the Plains of Gorgoroth. We can give him that."

"How?" Gimli sounded dubious.

"Draw out Sauron's armies. Empty his lands. Then we gather our full strength and march on the Black Gate."

What? "That sounds like a suicide mission," Meghan said. She knew that her fingers were curling around Legolas' hand more tightly than before but she couldn't bear to loosen them.

"We cannot achieve victory through strength of arms," Éomer agreed, giving her a sideways glance. She couldn't tell if it was distain or respect.

Aragorn looked tired, but determined. "Not for ourselves. But we can give Frodo his chance if we keep Sauron's Eye fixed upon us. Keep him blind to all else that moves."

A suicide mission, she thought with a sinking heart.

"A diversion," Legolas said.

Gimli grunted. "Certainty of death. Small chance of success. What are we waiting for?"

"It will take some time to gather the men and horses," Éomer said.

"We do not have the luxury of time. We will leave in the morning." Aragorn nodded curtly, and that seemed to dismiss the meeting.

Why are we all agreeing to this so quickly? Aren't there other options here? Her heartbeat was scrabbling wildly in her chest. It was too soon. They couldn't throw their lives away like this. She knew Legolas would go, injured or not.

"I'm coming with you," she announced.

Éomer rounded on her, suddenly angry. "The battlefield is no place for a woman," he snarled.

Her eyes started to sting as she searched for an advocate. Gandalf looked completely noncommittal, while Aragorn seemed to be struggling with what to say. Gimli, for once, was at a loss for words.

"Meghan, it is noble of you to offer," Aragorn said. Now he just looked sad. "But I cannot with clear conscience allow you to join our company."

"I'm coming," she said, dashing away the tears.

"She should be allowed to go," Legolas said. Meghan thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head.

"Really?" she asked.

Aragorn opened his mouth to say something, but Legolas shot him a look that changed his mind. "Very well," he said, inclining his head. "Be ready at first light."

Thank you, Meghan thought. Thank you for finally letting me make my own decisions about this.

"Legolas, perhaps you would accompany me to the Houses of Healing so that I may change your bandages," Aragorn continued.

"I'll come too," Meghan volunteered quickly. "I left my pack and cloak where we slept, I need to get them."

Legolas put a hand on her shoulder and looked very earnestly into her eyes. "The wound is still ugly. I will gather your things and bring them to you. Meanwhile, I think the Halflings would enjoy a visit."

"Merry and Pippin," Meghan said, remembering them for the first time since she stepped foot in the city.

"I will show you the way, lassie," Gimli grumbled. "Master Meriadoc is still in the western wing of the Houses, if I am not mistaken."

"I will meet you there," Legolas said.

"Okay," she relented. It felt wrong to let Legolas out of her sight, but she didn't have a much choice. He had stood up for her, insisting that she could join them in the morning. She couldn't very well repay him with a hissy fit.

She followed Gimli through the halls of the city. The dwarf didn't say anything, and she didn't either. Her mind was churning with thoughts about the next day. How can they even consider such a desperate plan? Even I know that nobody will survive a battle like this. But, if it's the only chance they have… if it means that everyone else lives… Meghan felt sick.

After a short while, Gimli led her into a large chamber much like the one she and Legolas had been in the night before. This one seemed to have several levels, with arches and tall plants to divide them. It was in one of these antechambers that they found Merry and Pippin, who seemed none the worse for the wear despite the bandages around Merry's forearm.

Even though the Hobbits chattered gaily about their turn as soldiers of Gondor and Rohan, Meghan couldn't shake the feeling of unease. She wanted to walk, to run, to do something other than sit still.

"Are you alright, Meghan?" Pippin sounded concerned.

She realized she'd been staring into space, and hastily refocused her attention. "I just need a little fresh air, is all. I think I'll go for a walk…?"

"Of course," Merry said. "Maybe we will see you at supper later. Have a pleasant walk."

"Thanks," she said, rising from her seat on the floor.

She barely got a few steps into the larger hall when she saw Legolas wending through the rows of cots. The sight of him sent fresh surges of dread over her. It's not fair, she cried to herself. He was almost mine, and tomorrow we're going to march to our own graveyard.

He did not seem to share her fears as he came up. "This is for you," he said, holding out a tin cup. "Ioreth sent it. She claims it is an elixir to cure the last of your dehydration from yesterday."

Meghan took it and peered into it dubiously. The liquid inside was a muddy grey color, and she could tell by the temperature of the cup that it was cold. "Do you think it will taste gross?"

"She made me take a draught before I left. It was only a little oversweet."

"Oh. Okay." Meghan took a deep breath and knocked back the entire cup in one go. "That wasn't so bad."

A huge, crushing, inexorable wave of sleepiness flooded over her, followed immediately by realization. "You… bastard!" she hissed around a yawn that almost split her head open. She was dimly aware of Legolas catching her before she hit the floor.

Darkness rolled in.

06.12.12