- Chapter 69 -

She licked her lips nervously and he stepped back from her a few feet. His eyes trailed up and down her body as if he were searching for something that was obviously different that he missed, but his brows only furrowed.

"That's it, isn't it?" he murmured quietly. "You were injured."

Her face reddened and that was all the confirmation he needed. She was injured, obviously severely, and he didn't know.

He didn't know.

The room filled with silence while he pondered this new information. The letter and the author of it he could handle. He could also handle the fact that it may be someone close to him, and he could possibly lose a trusted friend or well respected member of his father's Realm. He could handle the orcs and the spiders that plagued their woods and threatened their borders, and he could handle the mile high stack of reports waiting for him on his desk. What he couldn't handle, was knowing she'd been injured, severely, and there was never any indication of it through their link.

That, of all things, hit him the hardest.

It was like a dagger to the heart that took him aback and hurt the most.

She held her hands out in front of her as if she were trying to find words to explain. "I didn't think...I didn't tell you..." Her voice trailed off as she fought to recompose herself. She drew in a deep breath and snapped, "Why would I have told you?"

He blinked and his head snapped back, recoiling from the anger laced with her words.

"I got the letter two weeks before I got shot." There, it was out. The words passed between her lips, and there was no taking them back.

His eyes widened but she refused to look up at him. She didn't want to see his expression. She made a rookie mistake and it almost cost her her life. Unlike the one fallen soldier, she at least walked away from her injury. When she finally mustered up the courage to look up at him, she wished she hadn't. His eyes looked almost tortured, and they were burning into hers with such intensity that it made her swallow hard.

"You got shot." he repeated, and she nodded once.

She waited for him to lecture her on the importance of always keeping your eyes peeled, how important it was that she trusted her fellow soldiers to watch her back, and how important it was for her to watch theirs, but the lecture never came.

"Where?"

She hesitated, then gave in and pointed to the soft spot below her collarbone on her left shoulder. "It went straight through."

"I didn't know," he stated.

She huffed and crossed her arms. "Of course you didn't know," she snapped. "I just told you."

"I never felt it," he murmured, almost more to himself than to her. He turned away slowly, his gaze finally breaking with hers and he suddenly looked dejected.

"Why would you have felt it?" she frowned. "I was the one who got shot not-"

"I did not feel it through the bond!" he nearly shouted, rounding on her once more. "You kept it so well hidden that I would have never even known!"

She snapped her jaw shut, jumping slightly at the anger in his tone.

He took a few deep breaths as he glared at her. "And you were never going to tell me, were you?"

She gaped at him like a fish out of water. He let loose an angry groan from deep inside his chest and he shook his head.

"Before then, there would be flickers from you here and there, never anything that led to much, but I could sense you were there and I knew, somehow, you were alright. I asked you in my letters not to coat the link-,"

"You coat the link all the time!"

"I have every reason to coat it!" he shouted.

"Do not expect me to give you insight if you will not give me any in return!" she snapped defensively.

"You are still training! You are still learning! We saw how insight affected you after we arrived in Lothlorien while you sparred with Haldir and Sano, I was not going to let my emotions cloud your judgment and affect your training. It was too important."

She shook her head. "That's not fair on so many levels!"

"Not fair?" he stepped closer, anger radiating off of him in waves. "I saw how my simple amounts of frustration affected you. Elladan saw it, Elrohir saw it, even Haldir and Sano saw it. If I hadn't coated my end of the link you could have unknowingly suffered or hurt someone else while you were training. I did it for your own good!"

"My own good? What the hell was I supposed to do? Write to you after receiving that letter and say what, exactly? Dear Legolas, I'm sorry to bother you. I know you said you wanted to test the waters with a new relationship and that you don't give a shit about me anymore, but I just wanted to let you know I got shot and it hurt. Yours truly, Shyloh."

His eyes darkened considerably, and if he looked angry before it was nothing compared to how he looked now. He was downright furious.

She couldn't stand there anymore. Turning on her heel, she marched right out of his room and straight to her own, past a surprised looking Arrosel who bowed her head and attempted to look invisible.

She sat on the floor against the frame of her bed, facing away from the door. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Lady Galadriel was right when she said they would have their fair share of problems.

Well, she thought bitterly, I would certainly call this a problem.

How was she supposed to go to the feast tonight and pretend everything was okay? It most certainly was not and she was a pretty poor actress. The soft knock on her door earlier followed by his voice went unanswered and she was left alone to sulk. She let her tears flow until she couldn't cry anymore. Maybe she could have handled telling him about her injury better, or maybe she could have chosen her words a bit more carefully. If she'd been smart she would have chosen the later and not mentioned quitting border patrol at all.

Her injury was severe enough that Haldir was forced to select new guards to replace her, and since she was planning on leaving in the summer, he found a permanent replacement instead of temporary. It was understandable.

A clean cut, that's what she figured.

Her fellow guards gave her a nice farewell and were really understanding of the entire situation. It took her weeks to get back into top notch form, and she resumed training even though she was no longer serving.

Arwen she missed the most, and Shyloh would have given her right hand to have her sister here with her right now. She could have really used her advice. As it stood, the only one she figured she could confide in was Legolas, or perhaps Arossel. But, finding out the maid was part of Thranduil's spy ring made Shyloh turn that idea down quickly.

Wiping her tears, she heard a faint knock on the door once more but ignored it. Whomever it was didn't wait for an answer though, because the door slowly creaked open and then closed softly. She buried her face in her knees but didn't make an effort to get up from her spot. She knew it was him.

Soft footsteps came in her direction until they came to a halt next to her. There was a rustling of fabric and she felt him sit down next to her on the floor.

"Nimbrethil," he said so softly she almost missed it. "I am sorry. I did not mean to get mad or raise my voice."

She sniffed but still didn't look up. She wasn't trying to be difficult, and she had no intention of hurting him like that, but seeing the hurt and anger melting together in his eyes was too much.

He placed his hand on the top of her head and stroked her hair soothingly. He murmured her name again and that same hand slid down to her opposite side and he pulled her shoulders into his arms, cradling her to his chest.

"I thought I lost you," she sobbed, squeezing her eyes shut. He held her tightly and his lips brushed the top of her head. "Thinking you were gone hurt so much more than getting shot through the chest. I couldn't reach out to you. If I was going to die, I didn't want my fear to be the last thing you felt from me. Even if you didn't want me anymore."

She wasn't sure if her words were undersandable through her sobs or not, but she hoped he understood enough to realize why she did what she did.

He squeezed his eyes closed tightly, burying his nose into her hair. Her cheek was pressed against his chest and he ran a hand soothingly up and down her side. When she told him she got shot, he thought at first the contents of the letter had come into play, that whomever was behind this was already suceeding in separating them in every way possible, that their emotional link was failing.

Turns out, she was simply trying to spare him from that agonizing feeling of being consumed by pain and her own possible death. It was clear now that he was mistaken, and he regretted losing his temper even more. He never wanted to upset her, but here she was, crying on the floor of her room. His misery only intensified when he took his first glimps of her sitting there, alone and upset.

She might have believed the letter instead of the words he'd previously spoken to her, but part of her clearly still cared deeply about him.

"I did not realize," he began to say, then paused, unable to continue. He felt so ashamed. Had he listned to her fully, she would not be so upset right now. He sighed quietly. "Please forgive me."

She sniffed. "I'm sorry too. I should have explained it better."

He shushed her gently and together they sat just as they were for a long while until her tears dried. He ran a hand through her loose, curly hair, marveling at the soft texture of it. Curly hair was not normal amongst the eldar. Sure, wavy hair was common, but the spirals her hair made were truly unique. They sprang back up after his fingers gently straightened them.

"My hair is a mess," she murmured against his chest.

"I like your hair," he said. "I have never seen anything quite like it amonst the Eldar."

She blinked up at him with wide, tear filled doe like eyes. His breathing caught in his chest when he met her gaze, and he thought perhaps he could get lost in the blue orbs for the rest of eternity and not mind it one bit.

"You're beautiful," he said so quietly she almost missed it. He reached up to brush the hair from her cheek and tucked it behind her pointed ear.

"Are you just saying that to get on my good side?"

She really wasn't trying to joke, but she couldn't help the smirk that teased the edges of her mouth.

"Is it working?" he asked, amused.

She tucked herself deeper into his arms, unable to help the warm sensation tingling through her by his simple touch alone. Strange, how quickly they were able to work through that issue. She didn't mean to turn into a blubbering idiot on the floor of her room, but she did and he bore witness to it. It was a little humiliating if she was going to be honest, as she wasn't normally one to break down, but maybe a good cry was just the cure she needed.

They sat there a while longer, simply enjoying the quietness the space around them offered. They both seemed to know that their peacefulness would end soon as the day drew on. After tonight, it would be right back to normal and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that just yet.

Despite their argument, he wasn't ready to leave the confines of the royal wing. He wasn't ready to face the outside world just yet and he knew she wasn't either. So many worries plagued him while she seemed to doze in his arms, her gown spread out all around her in layers of soft fabric. Her white hair ran through his fingers like fine silk as he rested his cheek upon her head.

He let her rest as long as possible, before Arossel's knock woke her up and they were forced to separate so his mother's former maid could get the Princess ready for the feast. He hated to part from her, but instead took his leave from the royal wing to seek out his father for some much needed council.

As luck would have it, Farril came barging into her rooms looking rather frazzled.

"Well?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, though she did not turn to greet her maid. Instead, she focused her gaze on the reflection of herself in the grand mirror. She ran a soft bristled brush through the locks of rich brown hair that flowed so elegantly around her shoulders. There was no need to continue brushing her hair, it was already perfect; she merely did it for something to do. In a sense, the repetetive motion calmed her anxiety. The last day and a half was tense, to say the least, and whispers and rumors were spreading around the Realm like wildfire.

Farril bowed deeply, muttering an apology for her abrupt entrance to Lastril's chambers.

"Nothing, my Lady, not even a whisper," Farril said, her chin bowed to her chest.

Lastril spun around, anger flashing in her eyes. "That is not possible." Her hiss made the maid flinch but Lastril paid it no mind as she rose from her seat; hairbrush still in hand.

The Prince's arrival back to the Halls of Thranduil was indeed cause for celebration, but the well sought after Prince seemed to simply vanish upon his return home, hidden away behind the elegantly carved doors of the royal wing. Though of royal blood herself, the wing was barred off to all except the King and his family, much like it had been during its creation so long ago. To this day, very few have seen the insides of the grand dwelling, and only rumor and speculation regarding its construction and elegance flowed throughout those that dwelled within the kingdom itself.

Though in the days of the Queen, her closest friends would be entertained behind the doors with fancy drinks and the like. Lastril's mother was oftentimes invited, and as a young elf child, Lastril would cling to her mothers skirts and race through the finely furnished rooms with the Prince and those of their age.

Since the Queen's passing, no more festivities were held behind the doors, no more music poured out into the halls, no more sweet and melodious voices singing songs of old were heard within. It was a constant quiet that seemed to always be drowned in sadness. Those that were lucky enough to serve the King and Prince themselves behind those doors and tend to the royal needs, were ever faithful to their Lords and uttered very little to their friends about the happenings. Lastril was sure they were sworn to secrecy, as it should be, but now the rumors were flowing again.

A mysterious rider arrived the morning of yesterday but not a soul seemed to know anything about them. Feren himself led the stranger into an antichamber, which was promptly sealed off from prying eyes. The King himself saw to the strangers arrival and then they simply vanished. Since then, all activity within the walls of the royal chamber came to a complete halt. Servants were temporarily dismissed and extra guards were posted by the only entrance in or out.

Who this stranger was completely baffled those in the Realm. Even the guards were quieter than usual, despite their unbreakable oaths of silence, and tension was rising.

The grand feast would be starting within the hour and then they would know. The fact that Lastril was unable to acquire any information was stunning. No one seemed to know anything at all. The horse the stranger rode in on was also a mystery, for his confirmation and disposition was unmatched within the normal selection of horses used by the elves. A proudly arched neck and stocky build, the horse had long, lean legs and his stride was more closely related to horses she'd heard of in Rohan. The guards admired the horse but once again, no one knew anything about him.

Perhaps this stranger was a delegate from the south, or perhaps from Gondor itself. If so, that would easily erase her anxiety and she would be able to enjoy tonight's feast. As it stood, she knew she would get no proper rest until she discovered the secret.

She slapped the back of the hairbrush into her palm with frustration. Whoever this stranger was, completely stole the Prince's attention. It was rude and unacceptable, and she knew for a fact she wasn't the only one that thought that way. Typically the Prince would make his appearance known within the Realm, but according to onlookers, he temporarily passed his normal tasks on to Sidhel, who she knew would accept them without complaint. Despite her dislike for her cousin, she couldn't deny he was a good soldier and his faithfulness toward the future King of the Woodland Realm was solid as always. Of course Sidhel would accept the added responsibility of the Prince's duties to his own shoulders without questioning his commanding officer, but it was still troubling nonetheless.

Why would the Prince need to pawn his tasks and responsibilities off onto another? Rumor had it he returned to his father's halls with blood upon his person, but according to those that worked within the healing wards, Galdiron was not called away to tend to any wounds.

Again, another mystery.

So she came to the conclusion the Prince was not injured. Alright, but then who would be so important that they would be given hospitality within the royal wing? Such a thing was unheard of. Rumor had it Feren rode off to Lothlorien weeks ago; did he perhaps have to travel elsewhere? Or did this stranger meet him within the vast forest of their southern kin?

She'd never been to Lothlorien, but the stories of the silver barked trees undoubtedly reached her ears over the years. Her jealousy sparked when the Prince and his ever faithful shadows disappeared under their boughs neigh on almost four years ago to rescue that Princess.

Lastril stilled her pacing. Thoughts of the white haired Princess haven't entered her mind as of late, but the irony she still felt toward that she-elf was always there in the back of her mind.

She knew in her heart it wasn't the Princess who arrived. Lastril almost snorted out loud as she pictured the handful of dwarves that accompanied the Princess during her unscheduled visit to the King's halls the last time. No, no dwarves had arrived and no hobbits either. Plus, the horse was not of elvish breeding.

"Who is it?" she muttered out loud and resumed her pacing.

Farril watched silently, her head bowed. The other maid made quick work cleaning up the Lady's room and then excused herself. Farril would tend to Lastril's needs from here on out for the remainder of the evening.

"Perhaps it is the Princess," Farril said timidly.

Lastril spun around, the anger in her eyes returning in full force. She contemplated her maid's words only briefly, then the anger dissipated. She'd been trying to get a handle on her anger issues over the course of the weeks that passed since her return from Erebor. She was still determined to work her way up to the King's council or at least, within his good graces. She would show everyone how valued she was.

"It is not the Princess," Lastril said calmly. "Else why would they hide her so?"

Farril tucked her lips inward and then shrugged a shoulder. "I do not know, my Lady."

"Perhaps this stranger is a Man of the south," Lastril said, returning the brush to the bureau before she tossed it across the room like countless times before. She would admit, throwing the hairbrush was a bad habit and her poor aim would oftentimes break something or hit someone.

"I do not think so, my Lady," Farril said, sounding more sure of herself. "Those that saw Feren's arrival said the stranger was shorter and of female build."

"I care not. Perhaps the man is young yet. The horse is not of elvish kind either," Lastril said confidently. "Come Farril, and help me get dressed."

Farril obliged her Lady and did so without another word the remainder of the evening, keeping her own troubled thoughts to herself.