What a crazy couple of weeks.

I want to thank those of you who left reviews on the last chapter, because they were more personal to my writing than usual. Querying has been such a challenging and surprisingly personal experience. The competition is intense, the anxiety even more so. In my darkest hours, sitting in front of the computer and staring at my work, those golden words of encouragement have been invaluable. Thank you.

Anyway. I'll keep it short today because I'm really tired lol, but I hope you're all doing well. Welcome back to Middle Earth, if only for an hour or so. :)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

It's All Fun and Games...

A pile of unfinished work lay on the desk before Legolas, who sat in his usual place on one of the topmost levels of the library. He set down his quill with a sigh and lifted his gaze toward the chair perched beneath the window. Estel sat there, her quill scratching away as she wrote continuously in the great big book he'd seen her write in before—it was the same one she'd had in Lothlorien.

"Estel," he said, waiting for her to look up at him. "It's Monday."

She fluttered her lashes, then smiled. "All hail your powers of observation."

Legolas grinned. "You've been coming here with me since your arrival last week."

"Hail, hail."

His smile broadened. "The Estel I knew in Caras Galadhon would have been too fearful to follow me into the treetops like a bird."

She narrowed her eyes. "The Estel you knew in Caras Galadhon had secrets to keep, which you ruptured quite poetically with your departure."

Legolas tapped his fingers on the desk. "So, there'll be no more skulking in the shadows of trees and creeksides?"

She dipped the quill into the inkwell on the windowsill and left it there, closing the book in her hands. "What makes you think I haven't been skulking around on my own time? It's not healthy, you know, spending all your time with just one person."

He glanced at the book in her lap. "We are friends, aren't we?"

"That doesn't bind us at the hip."

"No, but it does oblige one to share secrets every once in a while." Legolas sat back and crossed one leg over the other. "Can you guess where I'm going with this?" By the look on her face, Estel had no idea. "I'll tell you, then. Are you ever going to divulge the story you're writing in that book of yours? You've been nearly as busy with that as I've been with all my work."

Estel's eyes widened instantly, and she clutched it to her chest. "No."

Legolas made a show of gaping in offense. "So defensive—I simply must know, now."

"No."

"Come. What friendship is there in that?"

She waved a hand around the library. "There must be hundreds of books in this place. Entertain yourself with one of them, if your books and ledgers are boring you."

"Bold of you to assume I haven't already," he said. "I am very well read, contrary to your implications."

"Then make some new friends." Legolas rose from his chair, his smile broadening as he came around the desk. Estel hardened her expression but failed to wipe away the traces of amusement—even as she tucked her legs in at his approach. "Whatever game you're playing, your highness, I should advise you to play it cautiously." She nodded to her right. "Are you so certain I won't jump out this window to get away from you?"

Legolas stopped, glancing pointedly at the glassless arch. Knowing Estel, he really wasn't sure whether that was an idle threat…

His mind roved from the room, down the side of the library—scanning the outer wall. But no, there was absolutely no way for Estel to scale down the side of the building. There were no trees or ledges for her to climb down.

"You're bluffing."

Still smiling, Estel coiled atop the chair like a cobra waiting to strike. In the depths of her gaze, Legolas saw the calculations spinning. The moment she glanced off to the side, Legolas shot forward—while Estel shot out of the chair. Her laugh echoed down the aisle of books as she moved fast, weaving through them until she reached the railing that spanned each level of the library. They formed a hollow tube down to the bottom of the building, just like a tree.

In another life, Estel might have been a gifted military strategist, what with the way she wove through the library to evade him being so impressive. But Legolas knew these corridors better and caught up to her quickly.

Estel took one look when he popped out from the aisle and tossed the book down the chasm. "Heads up," she turned to call out over the railing, but there was no one below to hear it.

The book slammed down with a thud, and Legolas smirked. "You've just made this too easy, my friend."

Estel turned a confused look on him. "Beg pardon?"

"Did you really think you could outrun me down the library?"

Legolas jumped over the railing, making his way down from level to level like a leaf fluttering to the ground. He would never forget the look on Estel's face when she realized she'd miscalculated. Nor would he forget her look of panic as she sped down the stairs of each level, coming out at the bottom floor.

But it was too late. Legolas picked up the book, making a show of brushing it off, then held it up with one hand. "I think I'll check this one out."

"Legolas," she admonished—this time, her tone was serious. If nothing else, then by the finger she jabbed at him. "If you're serious… please don't be."

He reigned in his amusement. "Calm yourself. I fully intend to return this to you in good faith. I only ask that you do me a favor in turn, and join me this afternoon in a friendly game of the Archer's Hunt."

She blinked. "The what?"

"The Archer's Hunt."

"Repeating the name doesn't grant me knowledge of what that is, your highness."

Legolas smiled. "A staple game of Eryn Lasgalen," he said. "You'll see."

Despite Estel's successful induction into Eryn Lasgalen, she still looked singularly uncomfortable in the company of Legolas's friends. It was reminiscent of their time in Lorien, even with Galion's presence. After a quick wardrobe change, they had joined the group on the border of the Halls of Thranduil. There were seven of them total, and seven bows and quivers lying on the ground.

"Right, so for those of us who don't know," Galion addressed the circle of elves that had formed between the trees, eyeing Estel particularly. "Archer's Hunt is a game of strikes. Whoever comes out with the fewest marks is the winner. There are no teams, so show no mercy." Galion bent down and picked one of the quivers up, holding it out to Estel. "Would you draw the first arrow?"

She glanced around the company then reached out, pulling an arrow from the quiver. Estel furrowed a brow at the pouch at the end. "What on earth is this?" she asked, poking it.

"Powder," Galion said as a bit of it came off on her fingers. "See how your finger is colored red? That's how you know you've been struck. The only real rule is that you cannot strike someone twice in a row—you must strike someone else in between. And take caution not to shoot someone too far away—the draws won't require much weight if you tag someone nearby. It'll be nearly painless for them if you follow that rule."

That was the first time Galion had even mentioned it—it had to have been for Estel's sake, to ensure no one would strike her with the weight of a fully drawn arrow.

"So we're running around shooting each other?" Estel said with an arched brow.

Legolas smirked. "What was the phrase? 'All hail your powers of observation?'" He said, and Estel gave him a cutting look—then whacked him in the stomach with the arrow. It left a bright red spot where the paint came off on his shirt. All the other elves chuckled under their breaths while Legolas stared at the spot demonstrably—then her. "You're going to regret that."

"You've got it backwards, your highness," she said, a hint of humor in her otherwise reserved tone.

"I'd be careful challenging him, Estel," Galion cut in. "Our prince is a master archer. Quite the champion among us."

"I do love a challenge," Estel answered with a soft shrug. She had braided her hair back but left half of it down. It cascaded over her shoulder beautifully, and Legolas was sure the others had noticed as well. It didn't take extensive powers of observation to recognize the faint admiration in some of his companions' eyes. Of course, they still looked upon her like a human, but she was a human that challenged their prince—they found her amusing, at the very least.

"Alright, if that's settled—are we ready to begin?" Galion said, and there was a succession of murmured agreements. "Everyone in places, then."

Legolas passed Estel a final look as everyone took their bows and arrows, then dispersed among the trees, bushes, and rocks. When Galion gave the mark to begin from afar, Legolas floated across the terrain like a current of air, listening for the sounds of footsteps—the inconsistent cadence of someone rustling through the bushes or padding across the grass.

Several times, other elves shot out from the bushes to shoot him—each and every time, Legolas evaded it and paid the favor back.

When one particularly misaimed arrow hit the ground in front of him, Legolas turned and saw Estel's embarrassed expression shrinking back into the bushes she'd been hiding in.

Legolas had been momentarily distracted by an elf that had now gone, and he couldn't help but laugh—evidently, Estel was a terrible shot. Yet, she had agreed to play this game—what a little warrior.

Legolas followed after her into the bushes but found she was gone. They were near the creek now, and the sound of her footsteps was aptly covered.

Smart—Estel may have been a terrible shot, but she was a clever huntress.

When Legolas moved forward to pass through the bush, something small plopped down onto his head, followed by a small puff of red powder. A red arrow fell to the ground, off the small nook in the branches where Estel had planted it. Clearly, she knew he would follow. A small part of Legolas was annoyed, but a larger part of him marveled—and the largest was even more determined to pay back the favor.

"Come now, Legolas!" Galion's voice appeared behind him, just before his arrow hit him in the shoulder, leaving a small puff of blue. "Can't be getting caught off guard!"

"Who's off guard?" Legolas drew his green arrow with lightning speed, narrowly missing Galion before he took off back into the trees. A worthy diversion, Legolas parted from his hunt to chase down his friend—repaying him with a glorious strike in the leg, at full draw.

"You broke the rule!" Galion was nearly as quick as Legolas, and his immediate protests and accusations were amusing. "Cheater!"

"There's no cheating in this game," the prince said with a laugh. "Don't be a sore loser."

"You're one to talk," Galion said, drawing an arrow from his quiver and smacking Legolas where Estel had done the same. Then, he pointed to Legolas's head. "Looks like Estel's got you already—aiming for a reddish hair tone for the autumn, my friend?"

"Well, I do aim to set an example for the kingdom." The prince looked around. "Make yourself useful—did you see where Estel went?"

Galion narrowed his eyes. "Now, that would be cheating, wouldn't it?"

"Fine, then." Legolas returned to the spot where he'd last seen Estel with a humorous scowl and resumed following her tracks. He'd never tracked anyone before in this game, but the two of them had a score to settle. If Estel were really smart, she'd have stayed especially close to the creek, which was at the base of a ditch. Indeed, it was there that Legolas found her tracks again along the shore. He followed the bank until the tracks veered left into the water.

He smiled.

You clever girl—

Legolas didn't finish the thought before something smacked him in the back. He whirled to find Estel wielding the arrow with two hands, having abandoned her useless bow. Taking advantage of his surprise, Estel quickly struck again to knock Legolas's bow out of his hands.

And then again, and again, and again—marking him with red spots all over.

"You can't strike me more than once!" He said with a laugh, trying to block the strikes.

"I'm not playing to win, your highness—" Estel hit him again in the arm.

He brushed the dust off pointedly and gaped at her. "You're a cheat!"

Estel pointed to his forehead. "And you've got a little something on your face!'

When Legolas drew a violet arrow from his own quiver. Estel yelped as he darted toward her this time, chasing her down the bank. As always, she ran considerably fast for a human—owing to her extensive practice, no doubt—but as the creek's bank began to steepen, the mud grew slippery. Legolas caught up to her more quickly than he otherwise would have. What he thought was a gentle pat to her leg startled Estel more than he expected—she must not have picked up that he was right behind her—and she nearly slipped.

Legolas reached out to steady her, still slowing from his running momentum. Still, Estel smacked him again with her arrow—then grabbed his hand as they both slipped and fell into the shallow creek.

For a moment, Legolas was afraid he had hurt her, landing how he did atop her in the creek. But Estel laughed like he had never heard her laugh, relieving that worry immediately. She made a show of trying to crawl out of the wedge he'd trapped her in, reaching for the arrow that had fallen just out of reach.

"Now you're really going to pay!" she said.

"I think not." Legolas took her free wrist and pinned it against the muddy bottom of the creek. Smiling, he lurched forward to grab the other hand that was reaching for the arrow—though it surely would have been useless by now, the paint washed out by the river.

But she was a fighter—dear Estel was a fighting spirit.

Legolas closed nearly all of the distance between them just to reach her hand, the two of them tussling about in the water. The moment his fingers closed over her wrist, trapping her, Estel's eyes snapped back to his with fiery amusement. Droplets of water splashed over his skin with the abruptness, but it was his heart that had jumped—startled by their proximity in the most pleasant way.

It must have been written across his face. The mirth dissipated, and Estel's eyes widened as she peered up at him. Rays of the golden afternoon sun glistened in the wrinkles of the water streaming over her neck, bits of her wet hair clinging to the sides of her face. Her hair flowed into the mud. Legolas had never seen an elf in such a disheveled manner, but Estel was mortal. She had always been the picture of mortality—the picture of life and living things that held meaning because they were finite. Because there was only so much of it that he could ever expect to have.

His heart tightened when the amusement fell from her face. "No," he said with surprising breathlessness. "Please—smile again."

Emotions whirled through her eyes, tinged with various beats of anxiety and confusion. But there was a moment where she had clearly decided to herself that this was harmless, that she could trust him. Estel relaxed beneath him, the weight clearing from her eyes, and she smiled. "I'm told it's my best feature."

Legolas didn't think about it. He didn't have to. Their faces were so close already.

So finite, so beautiful—

A commemoration of that smile—a celebration of it. Estel's lips were so soft as he leaned forward and closed what little space remained between them. Once, then twice, his kiss was a gentle caress before he pulled away again with a sharp inhale.

Legolas's heart had never felt so warm, so joyful—and so full of confusion and surprise.

Estel must have seen the shock in his eyes, for she donned it too—though there was no fear. No anxiety. No trace of any dark feeling that would mar….whatever this moment was.

Neither of them spoke, nor did they move for a time. Some semblance of action trickled back to the foreground of his thoughts, but neither of them spoke a single word as he released her wrists. And then they slowly disentangled. The prince held out a hand to help her out of the water, then up the side of the bank. Once at the top, it took a minute for Legolas to let go of her—perhaps he wouldn't have if Estel hadn't pulled away first.

"Legolas! Estel!" Galion's voice came from a distance—he was covered in spots, and he furrowed his brows at the sight of them. "What on earth happened to you two?" Again, neither Legolas nor Estel had the words to explain what just took place. "Did you… follow into the creek?"

Legolas nodded once.

Galion gave him an odd look. "Are… you two alright?"

"I… should go," Estel's voice came softly. Legolas looked at her immediately, his heart sinking in a manner he hadn't expected—cutting deeper than it should have. "I have to… change. It's cold."

"Oh." Poor Galion—the harder he looked between them, the less he seemed to understand. "Should we expect your return?"

"Ah… I think I should probably rest," Estel muttered, then started to turn away. "I think… I might have hit my head."

When Estel turned away, Legolas spoke, "I'll come to check on you?"

She spared him a glance but neither agreed nor declined. Estel merely turned and left the grounds.

"Legolas… is everything alright?" Galion said, stepping forward once she was a distance away. "What just happened?"

The prince turned to his friend, debating a moment whether to tell him the truth. "Nothing," he settled. "Nothing to worry about."

When Legolas stepped past him, Galion donned a look of dissatisfaction and annoyance. "You've been giving me that answer a lot lately, my friend," he said, stopping the prince in his tracks. "I'm starting to think I'm not the one you're trying to convince."

Legolas stared at him a moment—he had nothing to refute that with.

And he did not try.

Hours later, cloaked and hooded, Legolas came to Estel's door and knocked. And then knocked again. The cool evening wind billowed through the treetops above, the leaves' dancing shadows lending an ominous hand to the atmosphere.

It took a moment, but Estel finally appeared, opening the door slowly like she knew who was on the other side. Her features grew steadier and cooler with each passing moment she looked at him. She was rigid and unyielding, just as she had been in Lorien.

For a moment, Legolas was at a loss for words. His stomach was in knots. "I… came to check on you, like I promised," he said. "You said you hit your head. And then you weren't at dinner."

"I wasn't hungry," she murmured. It was immediately relieving that Estel had spoken to him at all—given her past behavior, Legolas wasn't sure he'd get that much from her. Even if the tone was the same she'd taken with him in the past—so purposefully distant. "So, you see that I'm fine. Perfectly in order. Is there something else you wanted, your highness?"

"I wanted…" he paused. What, exactly, did he want?

Estel arched a brow. "Yes?"

"I wanted to say that what happened earlier—it was untoward of me, so I came to apologize… and to beg you not to be so distant with me again." He paused, a touch of sadness gracing his voice. "Like you are right now."

She stared at him a moment. There was a flicker of familiar relief in her eyes, a yielding softness, and Legolas realized it'd been so long since he'd seen this anxiety written in her face. One by one, he trailed through the memories of each and every instance that he had seen her make that particular expression. Had there been other instances like this one where she had purposefully pushed him away for like reasons? Had he given her cause to feel such anxiety over their closeness, even before he realized his own impulses and desires?

Had he really been so blind all this time?

She can be no one. She will be no one. There is no plea, no prayer, no argument to be made that will change that unyielding fact. Do you understand?

Blind he may have been, but his father certainly was not.

When Estel didn't answer, Legolas spoke again, "Can you come out with me? I want to talk to you."

"Talk about what?"

"No matter what, Estel, we will always be friends. And friends talk when something happens." Legolas pressed his lips tighter, then added, "Come out with me. I don't want to speak through your door like this."

Estel hesitated, then disappeared inside to fetch a cloak. Then, throwing a hood over herself, she joined Legolas in climbing down the hill to the waterfall where they'd first met in Eryn Lasgalen. Where the moon shined sparsely between the cascading trees.

Legolas guided them further into the trees, ensuring no one would see the pair of them talking behind a particularly large one. "I didn't—I don't know how to address this," Legolas said, turning back to face her.

"Then why did you call me out here?" Estel's voice was listless and exhausted as she leaned against the tree.

"I thought you might take the lead." It was a joke, but there was little intention behind it, and Estel did not seem amused.

She closed her eyes, sighing deeply as the moments passed in silence. When she opened them again, the Mask was in place across her features. "What happened earlier was nothing," she said. "And there's no need to make things awkward like this. You had a momentary lapse of judgment owing to my great beauty, and that was all."

That was also a joke, but standing against the tree the way she was, looking how she did the moonlight, Estel really was beautiful. "Right," Legolas murmured. "A lapse of judgment—that's all it was. We're very close, it's only natural we might have moments where that goes too far."

Estel arched a brow slowly. "Ah… I have to wonder about your relationship with Galion, then."

That elicited a tiny grin. "As always, you surprise me with your composure."

"No more than you surprised me," her voice was taut. Restrained. "What on earth were you thinking?"

"I don't know," he said, looking away. Even now, a million thoughts were spinning through his head. But only one question prevailed among the rest. Legolas roved his eyes slowly back to Estel. "What were you thinking when it happened?"

Her expression betrayed nothing. "I thought I hit my head and was hallucinating."

The slightest twinge of his lips. Again, a question rose—pushing through the rest as though it meant to burst if he didn't say it. "A…pleasant hallucination, I hope?"

Estel blinked, and then she chose her words carefully, "In another life, maybe…"

Legolas trailed his eyes down to her lips, remembering the feeling of them against his. The memory was so vivid in his mind, he wondered whether he would truly ever forget it.

"Legolas," Estel said.

He blinked up at her. "What?"

"You had that same look on your face earlier," she said grimly. "Just before you… kissed me."

Kissed her.

Legolas had kissed her.

The very thought of it made his heart pound—when was the last time he had even kissed a maiden? How ridiculous that the notion alone should elicit such a reaction. "It was an enjoyable feeling," he said. "I suspect I may relish it a bit—you'll have to forgive me if it reflects on my face."

"I'll sooner forgive you for losing your mind," she answered without hesitation.

"Losing my mind?" Legolas said with some disdain. "Must there be some deeper meaning that I enjoy our closeness?"

Surprise and confusion flickered in her features. Again, the calculations began in Estel's eyes. "Of course there must," she said. "You're the elven Prince of this kingdom, and I'm a mortal."

"You're also my friend—am I not free to kiss my friends?" As the words left his mouth, Legolas realized how ridiculous they sounded—and how he must have looked each time he'd made such sentiments to others. Finally, everything was beginning to make sense, and everything about this whole exchange was strange, ridiculous, inexplicable…

"Go fetch Galion, then," Estel said with no small amount of sarcasm. "He's your friend, too, isn't he?"

"I don't want to kiss him, I want to kiss you."

At that, her mouth fell open. "You're—speaking in the present tense."

"I am." No use in denying it, now. By this point, Legolas had stumbled and fallen straight down the rabbit hole. "Would you revile me for it?"

"Yes. Because it can't happen," Estel said. "You're playing a dangerous game, your highness."

Legolas stepped toward her with careful slowness—Estel made no sign of moving away.

"If this had happened in Lorien... if I had kissed you then, would you have come out to speak to me like this?" He shook his head. "No. You would have run in the opposite direction. You would have bolted the door after slamming it shut in my face…" Legolas raised a hand to her face. "Something has changed in you, too."

"Stop." Estel laid her own hand on top of his, squeezing it, but she did not move it away. Legolas made no advance.

"Alright," he breathed out. "Would you have us stow this in the past without sharing it one last time?"

As readily as the alarm bells rang between his ears, blaring with every word, Legolas silenced them one by one.

"This is dangerous, Legolas."

"It's only dangerous if we allow it to be," he said. "What harm is there in one last kiss?"

Estel needed a moment. Her breathing had slowed, her eyes softening, filling with emotion as she gazed upon him. "One…last kiss." She nodded once. "Fine."

Legolas moved slowly—just slowly enough for her to stop him again if she still wanted to, but she did not.

It was soft at first, the barest touch of his lips against hers. Only when Estel sighed deeply did she finally move, her hands trailing until her arms went around his neck. In the shadows of their hoods, Legolas slanted his lips over hers, inching closer until their bodies melded together. His hands went around Estel's waist, embracing her tightly. And as the passion deepened, their mouths slanting without difficulty, Legolas relished the fierce pounding of his heart.

Nothing else felt real—not the hissing of wind around them nor the coldness of the night, not even the whispers of warning drowning in the back of his mind.

"Estel," Legolas breathed out. She pulled back briefly, her eyes heavy with emotion, and then pulled back in to kiss him again. This was his new favorite place, undoubtedly. Legolas's arms grew tighter around her waist, and it took a moment before he had the chance to whisper again. Then, with more emotion than he anticipated, he muttered, "This cannot be the last time."

So much had begun to make sense. Each inexplicable moment, each thought, emotion, and action—it all meant something. It all had led to this sensual caress between two—

Two what, exactly?

Estel was the first to end the kiss, their damp lips separating with a soft smack. Immediately, the slice of air felt all too cold between them. Too void. Yet, Legolas smiled sadly in the shadows of his hood, "I can scarcely think of anything else that feels as good as this." Then, he paused at the feeling of wetness on the tip of his nose. At that, Legolas pulled back entirely—and in the light of the moon, he saw a pair of tears streaming down her cheeks.

Stifling the tears, Estel looked away from him. Her sharp gasp cut straight through the air, straight through his heart.

"Estel," he said with a terrible softness. Legolas raised both hands to her face, brushing them away. "Why are you crying?"

She took in a deep breath and dared to look in his eyes. "I'm fine," Estel whispered shakily.

"You're clearly not."

"I am," she said, then covered his hands with her own. "And everything you just said—that's why this has to be the last time, do you understand?"

Legolas hesitated. "There's no shame… in caring for one another," he said. "I'd be the first to defend you against—"

"It's not about me, Legolas," she interrupted, the tears pooling. "It was never about me, and what happens to me—it was always about you."

"Estel—"

"And that's why I'm going to pretend this never happened," she cut him off. "As far as I'm concerned, it didn't. If you want this friendship to survive, you will honor that. This is what I need from you, because I can't handle the alternative, and everything that comes with it—please don't try and make me."

There were so many things to piece together, so many questions to ask. But Estel tore away from Legolas before he could ask them, disappearing back into the trees.

Thank you for reading. :)