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CHAPTER SEVEN

A Flower Petal's Secrets

Birds chirped their final songs for the day as Legolas walked between the mallorn trees, reminiscing on his time in Lorien. It would be over soon, and in many ways, he was glad for it. These trees so reminded him of the ones in Greenwood, and he had begun to miss home—he'd grown far too idle in his time away. It was a stark contrast to the busy lifestyle home afforded, but he never liked to stay idle for too long a period of time. He was looking forward to it, truly. Home was where the heart lived, after all.

At the top of the hill he climbed, Legolas saw Haldir dart against the path. A solemn look was scrawled across the elf's face, and he walked as though he had somewhere important to be. The prince ascended in no hurry and languidly looked in the direction his friend had gone. He and two other elves stood at the base of one of the mallorn trees—all of them wearing terse expressions. Legolas trailed up the length of the monolith but found nothing amiss. His days among his friends here were numbered, and though Legolas did not know the elves Haldir was with, he recognized them among the kingdom border watch.

He approached them from the side, smiling. "Mae g'ovannen. Fine day to go about wearing dour expressions." The elves turned their attention on him, none of them smiling. Legolas frowned. "What's wrong?"

"The human," Haldir said bitterly. "She is missing."

Legolas blinked. "Missing? How?"

"She was last seen yesterday, and this morning, her maids could not find her."

Estel had maids?

"She must be around here somewhere," he said. "Where else could she be?"

"Her bed was made this morning. She did not return home last night."

Legolas's eyes widened as he looked up at the tree, finally realizing it was where she was staying—he remembered it from the first night they'd spoken. It was the night he'd escorted her home, though that had been late in the evening. Had Estel run off somewhere? No, she would not do so without leaving word. It would raise Lorien in an uproar, for Lady Arwen's sake, if nothing else.

What trouble had she gotten herself into, now?

"It never ends with that child," Haldir snapped, thoroughly exasperated. "I don't understand why she remains among us."

Legolas frowned at him. "Because she has no other family to speak of, save for the eldar," he said, and all three of the elves drew strange expressions as they looked at him. "Have you been searching for her?"

"Yes. We have searched the southern and western forests."

Legolas listened to the elf explain where else they had looked. "I shall search the eastern woods," he offered, his thoughts straying to Methelda's cottage. "I think, perhaps, I may know where she has gone."

"I will send elves to join you there."

"No," Legolas interjected, suddenly regretting having done so sharply. "No, I won't be needing it."

Haldir furrowed a brow at him. "Those woods are quite expansive."

"If I am not back by the morrow, then you may send help," he said. It was well into the afternoon already—the remaining daylight should prove more than plenty of time for him to go out to the cottage and back. "But it won't be necessary."

"How can you be so sure?" Haldir asked incredulously, just as Legolas turned away.

He froze, looking back at his friend reluctantly. "I have walked some of the paths of the eastern wood with Estel," he said. "If she is somewhere out there, for whatever reason, I will find her."

"You've gone for walks with her?"

"Something like that."

Haldir stared at him with the strangest expression, then acquiesced reluctantly. "Very well…"

Legolas crossed Anduin, following the trail he had memorized on his last trip to Methelda's cottage. It was colder this far out in the woods, the air brisker—but not yet far enough away from Caras Galadhon to be icy. Not even as the sun began to set. Legolas reached the old woman's home within the hour at his pace. All was quiet outside as he approached the door and knocked. There were some clinks and clanks before the door opened, and he looked down at the frail old woman standing beyond it.

"Hello," he said, bowing his head.

Methelda blinked up at him. "Oh, dear…" Instantly, her eyes darted over her shoulder—toward the hallway.

Legolas followed her gaze toward it and back. The doors were closed, and there was a mug in Methelda's hand. He did not recognize the herb inside it. "Forgive my intrusion, but I am looking for Estel."

"Yes," she muttered. "Yes, I figured that."

"Is she here?"

"She was sure no one would come looking for her."

Legolas followed her line of sight once morr. All the doors in the hallway were closed. "Estel is here?"

"Yes, she is here," Methelda said. "But she cannot travel back with you, dear. Leastways, not today."

"What do you mean?"

"She is not well," the old woman explained. "She came to visit me yesterday morn—poor girl was already pale. She grew feverish last night and well into today. I made up a bed and bath for her, but it was not helpful. She is very, very ill."

Legolas could hardly imagine a woman of her age and frail stature drawing a bed and bath for herself, much less anyone else.

"If she is ill, she must return with me to Caras Galadhon. I will personally see to it that she is cared for." Methelda looked at him warily, as though she didn't quite believe it herself. The elves never cared much for Estel, and Legolas wondered if that looked meant Methelda had heard all about it. "May I see her?"

The old woman nodded reluctantly. "If she permits it," she said, then led him inside.

The cottage floor creaked with her steps, but not with Legolas's. The last time he was here, they all sat at the table in the corner. All the shelves were stocked in the same way Estel had arranged them the first time they visited. A quick knock at the bedroom door confirmed that Estel was awake—her voice was raspy but present on the other side. There was no fire in the room to keep her warm, and Estel was bundled up in the blankets. Her eyes were closed.

"Methelda, do not… come in here," she rasped. "Leave the tea by the door."

"Someone has come to see you, dear," Methelda said. At that, Estel's eyes slid open as Legolas entered the room, dimly lit by a single candle. Hairs were curled against her forehead on the sides of her face, beads of sweat building along it. She shivered a bit but did not move from where she lay on her side. Her eyes never left him once.

Legolas looked toward Methelda. "May I have a word with her?"

Methelda blinked. Naturally, humans had their reservations about men and women being alone in one another's quarters. "Very well," she said, patting the cup in her hand. "I shall return."

Legolas nodded as the woman departed the room. Estel peered up at him from the bed, looking weak and exhausted. He approached her and sat at the edge of the bed, reaching out to place his hand against her forehead. She was very warm. "Methelda said you were pale by the time you arrived here," he said. "Why did you leave Caras Galadhon if you were unwell?"

"I had to," Estel said, swallowing thickly. She made a face as though it were painful.

"Well, you must return," he said. "Being nearer to the power of Lady Galadriel will aid in your recovery."

"I can't," she said. "Can't—cross the river."

"If you cannot walk, then I will carry you." Estel's eyes were closed. She merely shook her head in protest. "If you stay here, you may cause Methelda to fall ill, as well."

"Exactly," she breathed out. "If she gets sick, then I must be here to help her."

"I will come and check on her in the next few days. You don't have to worry yourself over her."

Estel's eyes opened slowly. "Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you do that? She is no one to you."

"You are not no one," Legolas said, suddenly realizing the sentiment that escaped him so quickly.

"I should be," Estel answered almost instantly—not bothering to ask why or what he meant by it.

"Why?"

Some deeply rooted pain darted across her eyes, gone as quickly as it came. Something unspoken passed between them then, though Legolas could not make it out. If not for that dash of pain, he might have taken more offense to Estel's words. By now, he'd come to understand her disdain for the eldar, though she craved their approval as well. Because of those like Haldir and those at the dinner they'd both attended, he could not blame her for it. For her own sake, vulnerability must have been terrifying. And so she kept him—and everyone else—at arm's length.

It was reason to pity her, really. It was a lonely life to choose. But perhaps he could help her to see the value of friendship, even with the risk of harm.

Methelda stepped into the room at that moment, dispelling his train of thought. The woman moved slowly, meaning to offer Estel the mug. Legolas took it from her instead to keep her from trailing too far into the room. He then sat back down and helped Estel rise from the bed to drink it—and grimace. "This is very strong, Methelda."

Methelda looked between them from the doorway. "I made it so on purpose, since you are leaving."

She laid back down and closed her eyes. "I did not agree to leave…"

"You should, child, if you are able," the old woman said. "The elves will doubtless care better for you than I can."

"The elves would sooner let me die," she murmured feverishly. "As well they should."

"No, they shouldn't," Legolas said. "And I would not let you die."

"I'm to believe you'd sooner volunteer to be my nursemaid?" Estel peeked up at him.

"Yes. I'd sooner do that."

Did she forget she had maids of her own?

"It doesn't matter. If Methelda falls ill, I… need to be here."

Legolas turned to the old woman. "Would you mind if I came to check on you these next few days? I shall bring remedies for inner strength, so you may evade sickness."

Methelda merely nodded. In the growing dark, he saw her kindly smile—an endeared look in her eye as she observed them both.

"You see?" he turned back to Estel as she finished off the tea. "You needn't worry."

Estel moved slowly and laboriously to set the mug down onto the nightstand beside her. The candle cast harsh shadows across her terse features. "I don't want to be carried. I've been sweating for hours. I don't want you holding me like this."

"Is there another way to hold you?" he said. There was the faintest furrow of her brow, and he recoiled at the accidental meaning of his words. Instead, Legolas looked toward Methelda. "Do you have a spare pair of greaves? A shirt?"

"I believe so."

"Could you spare them for Estel?"

"No," Estel muttered. "That's the last of each—I've worn all the rest."

True enough, Estel's signature woodland clothes were lying in a pile on a chair nearby.

"I will have them washed and bring them back myself."

The old woman smiled as she turned to walk away, but it was Estel's voice that came a bit harshly, "Why are you doing this?"

Legolas gave her an annoyed look. "Can you not simply accept the help and be grateful for it?"

He stood from the bed before she could answer, meaning to retrieve the clothes. In truth, he did not have much of an explanation, not even for himself. It was in the nature of the elves to care for living things. The elves of Lorien hadn't been terribly demonstrative of that, but he did not need to follow suit. He would be king someday, tasked with caring for all living things in Greenwood.

Legolas intercepted the woman in the hallway and took the clothes from her, offering to bring them back into the room. He left Estel to change as he waited outside the door, standing with Methelda as she spoke, "The tea I gave her may cause strange effects," the old woman said. "It is the leaves of Kelthres. Very potent, very good for ailments such as hers."

Legolas was unfamiliar with it. Either elves did not use it, or the name was a variation he had never heard before. "So long as it helps her recover," he said. "There are few in Lorien who could handle Estel, if they knew the truth about her character. You needn't worry—I surely outrank them."

Methelda didn't look so sure. "You must care for her very deeply, to come all this way."

Legolas shifted uncomfortably. "Elves care for all living things."

The old woman nodded thoughtfully, then held up a finely embroidered pouch. "I have packed these for her. Deliver them to her once you have returned—have her bring back the pouch, or bring it yourself."

"It's beautiful. Where is it from?"

"Gondor. My husband and I exchanged such tokens when he was alive—one for every year we were married before he passed away. Our oldest was five, concieved the year we were married."

Legolas frowned. To spend a mere five years with one another… "I'm very sorry."

"It's alright," Methelda said. "Just be sure to bring it back."

He fully intended to do just that.

Once Estel had finished changing, it was time for them to go. Wrapped in an additional cloak she'd wisely brought with her, Legolas knew she would be warm for the journey home. Outside the cottage, he peered out into the dark forest before them. He knew he would navigate it quite easily under the sparse moonlight. Estel, being mortal, would have had a harder time on her own—regardless of how well she knew these paths or how brightly the moon shone between the branches. He kneeled before her outside the door, indicating for her to climb atop his back.

Estel shifted uncomfortably, a little unsteady on her feet behind him. "Ah—are you sure about this?" the edge had gone from her voice. Legolas wondered if that was the tea at work, one of the 'strange' effects Methelda had mentioned. If so, it was very mild.

"Positive."

Estel gathered her hair to her left side and stepped toward him. Her hands slid onto his shoulders on either side, and seconds later she eased onto his back—molding perfectly against him. Her hair fell forward over his shoulder, her face just beside his. Legolas lifted her slowly, not how light she was—even as she sagged tiredly atop him.

Legolas turned briefly to bid Methelda goodbye, and then it was Estel's turn. She lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers. "Goodbye, Methelda," she rasped. "I love you very much."

The old woman smiled, slightly in amusement. "I love you too, dear."

Legolas's brows arched as he turned onward into the woods. The moonlight, crickets, and wind were their only company for a time. Leaves bristled overhead and fluttered beneath them as he walked. Every few minutes, Estel shifted to press into him more tightly.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"As cold as Haldir's heart," she answered, and then giggled.

The corners of Legolas's lips quirked upward. "Your voice is sounding better already."

As he spoke, Estel reached up and took a strand of his hair between her fingers. "Your hair is so pretty."

"I gathered that was your opinion the day you brushed it for me."

"I've brushed your hair?"

"Yes," he said, restraining his amusement. "Right after you had a nice, long drink of your mother's wine. But you were only a few years old at the time, I shouldn't expect you to remember."

"You let a baby brush your hair?"

"I couldn't very well toss you off the couch, could I?" Legolas looked ahead, hearing the sound of the Anduin. Its waters would be extra cold this time of year. "Estel, we will need to cross the river soon."

Her entire body moved aimlessly as she made a show of wrapping herself more firmly around him. The river itself came into view beyond the line of trees. "Do not drop me like some old donkey," she muttered indignantly.

Legolas's brows shot up as he slowed at the bank, looking back at her over his shoulder. He could barely see her face from this angle, but from what he could make out, she was staring most intently down at the water. She had the look of elves when they'd been drinking for an entire night. "Estel, is there a Sindarin name for the herb Methelda gave you?"

"Yavanas," she answered with slurred pronunciation.

His eyes widened. Yavanna's flower was used to create Miruvor, the elven drink whose purpose was to revive the body with energy and bring vitality—apart from its intoxicating effect. When brewed, the leaves of Yavanna's flower had a lesser impact than the drink itself. Since Estel was human, her composition rendered her far more susceptible to its 'strange effects.' She may as well have drunk wine.

"Methelda is most generous," she added, then giggled in his ear.

"I can see that…" Legolas muttered as he climbed the rocks. "Hold onto me."

She couldn't have held on tighter than the weak hold she had on him already. Legolas moved slowly from rock to rock, opting for the longer and safer path that required smaller steps. When they reached the other side, Estel seemed to relax a little. Even in her intoxication, he was glad to see that she had a semblance of survival instincts.

From there, they walked in silence for some time. Estel had taken to fiddling with his hair, which mingled beside hers. Her head rested against his with her arms around his neck.

"We'll be nearing Caras Galadhon soon," Legolas said. "I will take a smaller path. I know you do not wish to be seen with me."

She shifted, lifting her head a little. At first, he thought she might speak, but she merely raised a hand. Her finger touched the edge of his pointed ear, then tapped it. "If I had these, no one would notice…"

"It is more than appearance that sets apart elves from men."

Estel tapped his ear some more. "I am not a man… I am a lady."

His lips quirked upward. "I'm well aware."

Legolas turned his head slightly toward her but couldn't see her face. It was resting against the side of his head, just behind his ear. Estel gently bent the pointed end, again and again, letting it flop back up. Her touch was light as a feather, and Legolas found he didn't mind it all that much.

"I don't like being a lady, sometimes." Flick.

"No?"

Flick. "There's no point," she said. "Your hair is still prettier than mine."

Did one have something to do with the other?

Her hand finally fell from his ear. Both swept across his chest and continued fiddling with his hair once again. "You needn't worry. Yours is exceptionally lovely," Legolas said.

A pause of silence. "Am I exceptionally lovely?"

The smile faded from his face. An answer rose to be given, but—

"Look, there," he said instead, nodding to the lights bleeding over the next hill. "We're almost home."

Estel fell quiet as they ascended. Evidently, all the elves hadn't retired home for the night when they entered the city. Though there were very few traversing the paths—maybe one or two that he had seen—they were rather far off. That did not stop Estel from turning and burying her face in his neck when one came dangerously within sight.

As they neared her tree, however, Legolas could see from a distance that a pair of guards had met to talk before the entrance to the stairs. Remnants of a search party? Indeed, they'd be off to bed soon. Legolas had told them to wait until morning to search the eastern woods. He veered off the path when they didn't immediately move, planning to stop beside the creek until the entrance had cleared. The water trickled as he found a good spot beneath a mallorn tree to hide them both.

"We must wait here a while," he said as he turned and set her down atop a root. "As you do not wish to be seen with me, I will let you know when—"

As he tried to turn back around and straighten, Legolas was jerked back down by his hair. He looked down and found that, in her idleness, Estel had managed to braid a strand of her hair together with his. As his gaze swung toward the culprit, Estel grinned obliviously at her good work, admiring it as she swayed in place. It was far from a perfect braid and looked like it'd be difficult to take apart, but he couldn't admonish her for this—not in her state. In fact, it was rather impressive that she'd managed it like this.

Legolas sighed as he kneeled before her and began undoing it. After a few moments, he realized she was staring. And when he looked up, Estel's mouth was parted in an expression he couldn't read. Her eyes trailed over the outline of his face, his hair…

"Is something amiss on my face?" he asked. From where he was in proximity, Legolas could hear that she was breathing more clearly. Had the powers of Galadriel worked so quickly to heal her, or was it the horrendous dose of Yavanna's leaves?

Estel swayed a little, then giggled as she reached out for the hair on his other side. He blinked down at her hands as they worked—adding another braid to the one beneath his ear. "Estel…"

"Legolas," she murmured wryly. It was the first time she'd said his name so freely. She then pulled in her cloak when she was finished—or, rather, given up. "It's so cold…"

"That is the least of your concerns," Legolas said, still unwinding their mess of hair. "You worried a lot of people when you disappeared, Estel. You must be more careful in the future."

She grinned. "No, I musn't."

"Yes, you must."

"No."

"Yes."

Estel smiled broadly. "No one really cares about me."

He frowned, not understanding the smile paired with the sentiment. "Methelda does. As does Lady Arwen."

"Mothers do not count. I live a lonely life without friends. Woe is me, and—I am woe?" Once more, she giggled viciously.

"Fine thing to say to someone who just carried you some miles on his back."

Estel's eyes widened with the brightest smile he'd seen on her tonight. Her warm hands reached out and took his face, clumsily pushing back strands of hair that hadn't fallen. "Because your heart is kind, your highness. So sweet and gentle, like starlight when you aren't annoying." Legolas's mouth fell open—as though he meant to speak but found himself stifled by amusement. Estel leaned forward at that moment and drew him to her in an embrace. "So sweet and gentle—you must be protected at all costs."

He found himself in the grips of a strange sensation. Not entirely unpleasant—he did not dislike it. Having no place to set his hands where he was sure Estel would be comfortable, Legolas laid them on the root on either side of her and muttered, "You are making me want some of that tea…"

When she laughed this time, he heard the sound clearly. He felt it beat through her chest. "You carried me some miles on your back," Estel said, repeating his earlier words. She pulled back, though she kept her hands on his face. Estel leaned to his left cheek and then his right, planting quick, chaste kisses. Once, twice, and then a final one on his lips, as quick and feather-light as the others. When she pulled back, Estel looked endeared. "I will protect it at all costs."

Legolas could not stop looking at her. "Protect what?"

"Shhh." Estel held a finger to his lips, closing her eyes pointedly. After a moment, she shook her head. "We cannot tell Legolas."

His brows shot up. "Most certainly not."

"I see the light of Valinor about him, sometimes," she leaned in and whispered. "He is always glowing when I dream. It's so beautiful."

Legolas stared at her. "You dream of him?"

Again, she shook her head. "Shhh…."

"Shhh," he repeated it. They drew closer together, like conspirators exchanging secrets.

"Only when I have nightmares," Estel said. At that, he almost pulled back in offense. "They scatter when he appears."

A pause of silence. That same strange sensation welled inside him. "You should tell him that," Legolas murmured softly. "It would bring him joy to hear he is of such service to you."

"No…."

"Why not?"

"Because that is what friends do," she said. "And I do not want to be his friend."

"What do you want from him, then? What would you have him do?"

Her smile slowly faded as her eyes opened, peering off to the side. There was a weight—a deadness—to them that he hadn't seen all night. "I would have him go back to where he came from."

Legolas frowned. "Why?"

Estel reached up with one hand and began strumming the empty air. Was that supposed to mean something? After a few moments, her hand dropped, and she sagged forward—slowly falling asleep, he realized, as he caught her. Laying her gently against the root, Legolas went to check if the road was clear. It was.

He went to retrieve her, lifting her up into his arms. Once he was sure the road was clear, Legolas carried her to the tree and ascended the steps. The white lamplight fell upon them both, though the branches obscured them a bit from outside view. There was no door to Estel's room at the top—only an open platform enclosed by ornate spires on all sides. Books and bookshelves were strewn across the place, along with a table and a small couch with a blanket.

It was warm up here, but she had expressed some feeling of coldness down below. Legolas carried her to the bed in the corner and laid her down to rest, retrieving the additional blanket to bundle her properly.

"Losto vae, hiril vuin," he murmured quietly, pushing a strand of hair from her face. Sleep well, beloved lady. "Gellon ned i galar i chent gin ned i glahdog." I delight when your eyes shine with your laugh.

Perhaps he would ask about her earlier sentiments tomorrow, if she remembered them at all.

I would have him go back to where he came from.

That would happen soon enough, anyway. But when elves drank enough Miruvor to become this inebriated, they seldom remembered a thing from the night before. Legolas would wait and see if she brought anything up—if not, it was not worth burdening her with any possible embarrassment.

After all, who's to say she'd meant any of she'd said or done tonight?

Every time I write (or read) chapters like this, I feel wiped out at the end. When I'm not in a very emotionally intense moment, I stop to laugh a little sometimes because it makes me want to delete all my dating apps and go run away into the forest and just hope for the best.

Thank you followers, thank you favoriters, thank you reviewers!!

Take care, until next time!