"Ar."

A soft voice echoed in the distance, the sound hazy, barely a whisper that did not quite reach him. A gentle hand shook his shoulder lightly, once again feeling slightly distant, for a second not knowing whether he was dreaming or not.

"Ar, wake up." Another gentle shake to his right shoulder, the voice sounding clearer now, right next to him.

Suppressing a groan, the Crown Prince's eyes slowly fluttered open, only then realizing they had been closed in the first place. He had to blink a couple of times in order to adjust to the dim light that filtered through the still drawn curtains, his eyes surprisingly heave. Slowly a figure came into focus directly to his right, leaning over him on the bed, smiling clear blue eyes looking at him attentively, as if ready to mock him.

"Ada wants to see you in his study." Tadion's ever light voice announced, his lips curving up into one of his characteristic smiles. "He asked me to wake you, says you have ten minutes to be down there. You are late."

Ten mi…? He suddenly sat up on the soft mattress, the move so fast that Tadion had to swiftly move his head just in time for it not to collide with his. His emerald eyes quickly scanned over his bedchambers, widening instantly at the unusually bright light that filter through the curtains. It was not the faint pink light of dawn. It was too bright.

"What is the hour?" His eyes turned to face his younger brother, the later letting out a sudden roar of laughter.

"Close to noon." Tadion replied, still chuckling teasingly with a shake of his head. "Relax, Ar. I was joking. You are not late for anything. Do you not know your own schedule?"

He let out a sigh, part of him wanting to strangle Tadion while his emerald eyes narrowed at him. His younger brother was once again roaring with laughter, the merry feeling one he could not share. And this was not the first time Tadion woke him up like this. Oh, when would his brother learn that he did not find this as funny as he did?

"Ada did ask me to wake you, though." His younger brother managed to say in between chuckles, slowly rising from where he had been sitting at the bed of the mattress. "He wants to see you in his study."

The Crown Prince nodded his head in silence, taking a second to rub the sleep out of his eyes. A dull ache was already starting to make itself known on his left arm, although it was mercifully nothing compared to how much it had pained him the night before, his head pounding behind his eyes. Perhaps he should have jumped up so quickly. He should have predicted he would have a headache today.

Slowly, his eyes swept towards the long dark blue curtains covering the windows, looking at the bright midday sunrays that filtered underneath them and reflected in dim gold tones over the marble floor. It was noon, Tadion had said. So his father had allowed him to sleep through the morning.

"Are you all right?" His eyes flew once again to meet Tadion's clear blue ones, his brother's suddenly having lost all of its previous mockery. He waved off his brother's concern with an elegant movement of the hand, offering a gentle smile, the previous annoyance he had felt at the younger Prince suddenly vanishing. Tadion loved to tease him endlessly, sometimes far too much, but Tadion also worried the most whenever he was not entirely well.

"I am fine." He partially lied, but it was enough to appease the blue-eyed Prince, who merely nodded his head in return. Whether or not his brother had fully believed him he could not tell, but at least he dropped the subject. He knew Tadion had not missed the fact that he had been asleep all through the morning when he was customarily the one to rise first, always before dawn.

"I will go inform Ada that His Royal Sleepiness is finally awake." There it was once more, that endlessly teasing gleam in his brother's clear blue eyes, a wide grind crossing his face just as he made his to the door, closing it shut behind him.

He let out a silent sigh, using his fingers to carefully massage his temple for a few seconds. Slowly, he rose from the overly large bed, for the first time realizing that if was still perfectly made. He had slept over the covers, nope even pulling them down. One look down told him that he was also still wearing his robes from the day before. It took all of his concentration and willpower to keep the agonizing hollow wound in his spirit from resurfacing yet again, even though he could still feel there, painfully, more present than it usually felt most days.

Last night had been a horrible night. A cold shudder ran down his spine at the mere memory, his entire body feeling heavy, exhausted. He could not even remember when he had finally managed to fall asleep, he only knew that it had been close to dawn. Everything was a muddled haze after he had heard his father's news, the only thing constant had been the agonizing pain burning through his arm, and the torturing ripping shocks of his damaged spirit as it tried desperately to ignore that void ever present there, what was left of his unbalance energy trying forcefully to reconnect with a part of him that was long ago lost. His father had been there, though, he remembered that, for most of the night. A wave of guilt washed over him as he remembered that. His father had remained awake too, and yet he was already up and working as regularly, probably since dawn.

He made his way towards the long elegant desk close to one corner of his bedchambers, his thoughts unusually a confusing mess that he could not make sense of. His hand pulled open the third drawer of the desk, a little too brusquely, but he did not care. All he cared about suddenly was about finding it. It was here, he knew it. It had always been here. His fingers quickly sorted trough he high pile of parchments he kept carefully stored in that drawer, not even looking at the drawings as he flipped through them, trying to find that precise paper…There.

His fingers were slightly less steady than usual, carefully placing the aging parchment over the desk, his eyes studying the old drawing. Almarëa. His youngest sister. His emerald eyes slowly swept through every lines, studying the figure he remembered all too clearly. On the page, a smiling baby was being held by his mother, the Queen, the child grasping one of the Queen's golden locks in her tiny hand. He remembered that day, when he had drawn it, remembered it almost too well. There was no color on the drawing, but he did not need it, recalling all too plainly his sister's golden baby curls, and her eyes, her large forest green eyes.

She was alive. So many years believing her dead, and she had been alive all along. No. He had never truly believed her dead, even though he had accepted that she must have been. How would she look now? Like their mother most probably. His baby sister had always resembled her. Did she even know she had other siblings? She would not remember any of them. She had been too young. How he had missed her. Where had she been? How had she survived? The handprint on his left arm burned all the more painfully, as if reminding him once again of its presence there, and he closed his eyes for a second, struggling to push the pain of that void in his spirit back again, to remain in control. Perhaps she would not remember the accident ever happened. He clung to that though almost desperately. He hoped she did not remember. He did not want that to get in the way once again, did not ever want to see the sorrow in her large green eyes looking at him as he had seen right after the accident, when had suddenly become more distant with her than he had ever been. But she had been only a baby, and she could not control it. He had needed to be more careful, more distant. Another accident and he would not have survived. But now….would things be different?

He shook his head, forcing his wondering thoughts to the back of his mind, his head still pounding painfully. All he wanted was to return to his bed and sleep some more, every inch of his body feeling exhausted. It was always like this afterwards, whenever the wound in his spirit acted up and became too much for him to handle it. He was always drained the following day, his limbs feeling weary and heavy.

Deciding not to make his father wait too long, he made his way to the bathing chambers in long strides, not even paying attention as he picked out a set of robes to wear for the day. He wanted to wear a simple tunic and leggings, but he did not know what it was father wanted from him in his study, and if it was a meeting he needed to attend, then he better be wearing dress robes. He stopped momentarily as he gazed at his reflection on the long mirror. There were angry pink lines stretching from below his neck and disappearing underneath the collar of his robes from the day before. So he had clawed at his own skin the night before in a desperate attempt to rip that wound from inside his chest. He would need to wear robes with a high collar that day. His mind was so distracted he did not even notice bathing and changing, leaving his hair down and unbraided before walking out into the long elegant corridors of the Palace.

He knew the way to his father' study by heart, his feet walking there almost on their own, barely even registering the few greetings he received from the elves that crossed his path. He did not need to knock on the majestic pair of doors of the study once he arrived, the guards flanking the entrance immediately letting him in without question.

"You called me?" He asked as he stepped into the too familiar room, his voice holding that calmed tone it always carried.

His father looked up from the elegant large desk, looking as regal and tall as ever in his pale gold robes and crown of silver leaves. Icy blue eyes studied him carefully for a long moment, gentle, concerned, not the eyes of the King but of his Ada.

"You dressed formally?" One of his father's eyebrows rose high on his forehead, ice blue eyes following him as he approached the desk.

"I did not know what to expect." Was all he replied, watching his father nod his head in silent understanding. A pale hand motioned towards the high backed chair in front of the desk, and he did not need to be told with words, patiently lowering himself on the chair that seemed to almost unofficially belong to him. He was sure no other elf spend as much time in this study sitting here as he did.

"I should have told your brother to tell you to dress as you wished." His father spoke, although it appeared as though he was speaking more to himself than to his eldest son. Still his words did not go unnoticed, and it was his turn to raise an eyebrow, looking at his father slightly puzzled.

"I cancelled the meeting with the Captains this afternoon." His father explained shortly with an elegant wave of the hand. "And you are excused from attending the Council before that."

"You are letting me off for the day?" He pointed out, his eyes narrowing slightly in confusion. It was what his father had said. He was free for the day. That was unusual. Even though he sporadically allowed him a free afternoon, his father only excused him for the day whenever he was injured. And still he did not miss the way in which his father's silent powerful eyes were studying him carefully, looking at him with concern. "What did you summon me for?"

His father's eyes were soft, still looking at him carefully for a few long seconds. "I wished to know how you fared today. And if I let you sleep any longer then you would not sleep tonight."

"I am fine." He said, even though he knew his father did not believe him. And there it was again, that worried glean in the depths of the King's ice blue eyes. Once again he was very much aware of the tiredness assaulting him, and of the painful pounding behind his eyes, but he did not show it. And yet, there was no point in hiding it either. Of course his father knew. His father always knew.

Still the King only nodded his head once, not pressing the matter. His father also knew him all too well to know that pressing the subject would not make him open up in the slightest.

"Would you like me to call for Melnor?" His father offered, seeming to be able to read through him all too easily.

"No." He said stubbornly, even though for a second summoning the healer did not seem as such a bad idea. He would be able to get him something for the merciless headache.

Once again his father nodded, not pushing the subject any more than necessary. A harsh wind pushed against the crystals of the long windows, making them rattle violently for a few seconds. Outside, the bright golden sunlight washed over the labyrinthine gardens and forest beyond, still ever green, even though the winter temperatures were below freezing point at the time. The only indication of the cold outside was the fain layer of frost growing over the window crystals and the violent wind that always seemed to picked up close to Winter's Solstice.

"Was that all?" He asked, his emerald eyes looking at his father in slight puzzlement. He knew there was more to it. His father would not call him privately to his study to ask how he was feeling. If that had been the only thing then his father would have walked himself to his chambers and ask him there.

"I was hoping we could talk." His father finally got to the point, his voice always so calmed, soft, yet powerful. "We did not get a chance last night. How are you, my son?"

So that was it. Of course. Part of him had already known it. Almarëa. That was what his father wanted to talk about.

"I am fine." He lied again, those uncontrollable feelings once again taking over him, joy, pain, fear. And anger. Anger at his father's careful eyes studying him so meticulously, anger at himself for having reacted the night before just as his father had anticipated he would. But he had not been able to control it. He could still feel it, once again taking all of his concentration to push it back once more, that pain ripping through his injured spirit, that void all too present.

"It will not happen again, Arahaelon." His father's soft voice spoke lowly, gentle eyes still watching him carefully, almost comfortingly. "There will not be a second accident. I will not let it happen."

It was a lie. He knew his father wanted to be comforting to reassure him, but they both knew there was no way of controlling it. There had been no way in controlling when it happened the first. That was what it had been, an accident.

"I said I am fine." He repeated, his calmed voice betraying a little of his short temper, slightly colder than usual. But his father did not seem surprised at all, as if he had also been expecting that exact reaction. But they both knew that getting him to talk and open up when angered would lead nowhere. Tadion and Lossenel would rage in fury, and Legolas would be an open book carefully explaining anything that was bothering and why, but he, he was just silent.

Another nod, his father once again not pressing the matter, even though he did not entirely let it go. Long seconds of silence stretched through the ample elegant room, the only sound being the occasional shudder of the crystals as the freezing wind abused them. He started to lift a hand to his aching forehead, but stopped midway, placing it back down on his lap, but his father that already noticed.

He watched the King sigh silently, calling out a name that had one of the guards at the doors immediately stepping into the room.

"You called, my Lord?" The tall guard asked the second he stepped inside, bowing his head once respectfully.

"Fetch Melnor, please." His father instructed, but he knew there was no point in protesting. The healer would be summoned whether he wanted it or not. The guard wasted no time in following his new orders, quickly nodding his head and exiting the room once more, closing the door behind him, once again leaving the two royals in complete silence.

"I am-

"You are fine." His father finished for him, in a tone that told him his father had not believed his words even for a second. "You have already said so, my son."

He took a deep breath, his eyes drifting to look out at the freezing gardens. There was not a single elf out there, the trees swaying forcefully against the cold bitter wind. His head pounded all the more painfully, and he was silently grateful that the healer had been called, even though he would not admit it. All he wanted to do was to lie down and return to sleep.

"Will you tell her?" His eyes did not return to look at his father as he spoke the question that had been nagging his mind for hours now. Btu he did not need to look at his father to know the older elf had perfectly understood precisely what he meant. He hoped she did not remember. And if she did not, then he did not want her knowing, not yet. He did not want that getting in the way of finally knowing her. He would be careful, but she did not need to know just yet, she did not need to feel she had done anything wrong. It had been an accident.

"Not if you do not wish me to." His father's gentle voice replied, but that was all he needed to hear. "She will need to know eventually, though."

"Not yet." Was all he said. He did not hear a reply from his father, so he guessed the King must have simply nodded his head in silence.

The short silence was broken by a soft knock on the pair of large wooden doors, the head healer entering the piece at the King's command.

"You asked for me, Your Majesty?" The dark haired healer inclined his head, taking a few steps closer to the desk. And still, much to his annoyance, his father's slender fingers elegantly motioned in his direction, letting the healer know that he was the intended patient.

"How may I help, My Lord?" The healer's eyes turned in his direction, and he understood that he was expected to specify what he needed. For a second he was about to stress that he was fine once again, but the merciless hammering inside his head made him think otherwise.

"Headache." He admitted at last, his voice that perfectly calmed sound he had mastered so long ago, his expression entirely serene. If he had not spoken it the healer he knew the healer would have never guessed there was anything ailing him. He was exhausted, every single inch of his body feeling utterly and completely drained, but he knew there was nothing the healer could do about that.

"I will bring something immediately, Your Highness." The healer bowed once before leaving the room, a long second of silence stretching once more through the room.

"How long have you known?" He finally asked, not able to contain that question any longer, and even though his voice remained calmed and quiet, he was not able to hide a slightly accusing tone from showing in it. How long had his father known and never told them? Would he have ever told them had the circumstances been different? If Almarëa were not currently on her way to the Palace, would he have ever found out his younger sister was alive?

"Some years now." His father admitted, gentle eyes looking directly at him, stained with sorrow. Some years. So his father had kept it quiet all these years. "She was an elfling when I found out she had lived, but no longer an infant."

So many questions rushed through his mind, but he kept them quiet, anger and pain rushing through his body furiously. His sister had been alive all this time. And he had never gotten to know her. His other siblings did not even know she was alive yet.

"And you did not bring her back home?" The accusation in his voice nearly made him flinch, but his father did not falter, as if he had once again expected his anger. Still he did not lose his temper, his voice always calmed, soft, yet cold. She should have been brought back to her home! With the rest of her family! "You…left her?"

For the first time his father flinched, almost imperceptibly, and he momentarily regretted his accusing cold tone. He had touched on a painful spot, he could tell. But still he could not understand how his father had left his baby sister and not brought her back to her home? In a second, his previous anger vanished, replaced instead by a pain that wracked so deep that it was almost torture. His father would never have left Almarëa without it being one of the most painful things he could do in his long life. It could not have been easy. He knew. And yet another feeling pooled inside his stomach. Guilt. A guilt so deep that it felt almost consuming.

"It was safe that way." His father's voice was a perfect mask of serenity, and he knew that whatever the King was feeling he was not letting it through. "It was the best."

"Safe…" He started, his voice for the first time shaking, all previous anger lost from it. No, he could not finish that question. If it was by any chance what he feared, he would never be able to bear the guilt. But he needed to know. He needed to know that he had not been by any chance the cause of his sister needing to stay away from the Palace. He knew there had been other reasons. Valar, he still remembered that horrible night when everything had changed. He knew that must be the main reason, only thinking about it made him shudder. But he could not bear the thought that perhaps he had been a slight reason why. "Safe for her…..or safe for me?...was it because of me? Because of what happened?"

"No." His father added quickly, that previous composed mask immediately vanishing, ice blue eyes looking directly at him, forcing him to look in his direction. "It was not because of you, my son. The blame is not on you. It was safest for her. I would do anything to protect you, just as I would do anything to protect her, and all of your siblings. Do not think for once that you were one of the reasons I kept her hidden, that blame is not on you."

"Promise me that." He said, his emerald eyes fixed on his father, serious. "Promise me that neither you, nor anyone, will ever make her feel as though she is a danger to me. Do not ever let her feel that my safety will ever go before her. Never. She never did anything wrong, no matter what many in this realm may think. She does not need that weight on her shoulders, she does not need to blame herself for anything.

"You know I have never blamed any of you for what happened." His father's voice was soft as he spoke yet he did not miss the faint pain that crossed his eyes, as if his words had hurt him more than he would admit. "I will never place any of you before another."

"I know that." He said, and it was truth, there was nothing he was surer of than about that. And he let his father see the honesty in his eyes. "But make sure everyone knows that….make sure she knows that. And if…..if it happens again, do not let her blame herself for that either. Do not let her fear her own powers."

His father nodded his head, a gentle hand falling softly over his shoulder. However, blessedly, the head healer chose that moment to return to the room, quickly walking in and handing him a hot steaming cup before retiring with a last respectful bow. He held the cup in his hands for a while, the heat seeping through his cold fingers comfortingly. He could already pick up the smell of the pain relieving herbs in the tea, the pounding in his head once again reminding him that he needed it.

"Will they be here tomorrow?" He phrased it as a question but he already knew the answer. His father had mentioned it they night before.

"Yes." His father added curtly, his soft eyes still studying him carefully, concerned. "They have already crossed the borders."

"I will lead the patrol that will receive them." He left no space for argument in his request. He never did that, never decided on which patrols he would go, always obediently following whichever decision his father made. But he could not contain his request. He needed to see her. Needed to at least through a glance in her direction, to look at her face, her large green eyes. Would she even remember him at all? He needed to at least see her safely into the Palace.

"Very well." His father agreed without any quarrel, nodding his head curtly once more, silence settling heavily once again in the room.

"Is there anything else you need me for, Ada?" He broke the silence, suddenly no longer wishing to stay in this room, too many thoughts and questions plaguing his mind.

"No, my son." His father sigh, leaning back on the tall elegant chair in a way he only ever did when in the presence of his family. "You may go."

It was his turn to nod his head, not adding anything, silently rising to his feet. His father's gentle blue eyes threw one last glance at him, still eyeing him partially concerned, lingering slightly on the untouched cup still on his hands.

"Drink that." His father commanded with a pointed look. "It will help."

He nodded in understanding, even though the slight movement made a new jolt of pain smash through his already hurting head. Standing up had not been such a great idea, his body once again reminding him how utterly tired and weary he felt, wanting to simply drop back down on the chair. But he did not show it. He turned around to leave the room, but suddenly stopped, remembering another thing he had needed to do that day.

"Do you need the reports for-

"Not today." His father interrupted him with a small smile, lifting an elegant hand to halt his speaking. "You will not get any calculations straight right now. Rest and drink that tea. Call Melnor if you need anything else….or I will."

"Of course." He replied, even though they both knew he would not be calling the healer no matter how bad his headache worsened.

Turning around on exhausted legs, he quickly left the room in elegant strides, his long deep violet robes trailing behind him. Suddenly the garments felt too heavy, and he wanted nothing more than to reach his chambers and change into lighter clothes.

But he did not go there, suddenly climbing up all the set of marble stairs seeming like a too grand task to accomplish at the moment. Instead, he slowly made his way through the corridors he knew like the pal of his hand, heading towards the ample private terraces. Just as he had anticipated, they were empty. It was too cold to be outside in the gardens, and the terraces, being so open, were not precisely the most comfortable place to be during this bisque winter day. But they were quiet. And that was what he had been looking for.

Silently, he lowered himself on one of the long chaises, his preferred one, leaning back against the soft cushions. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting for the worse of the hammering in his head to lessen at little at the movement. Slowly, he sipped from the cup, his nose wrinkling slightly at the bitter taste. No matter how many teas Melnor had given him in his life, he would never get used to the taste. He only drank close to half before he set it down, the taste and his headache combined making him nauseous. Instead, he lay down on the chaise, on his back, closing his eyes for a moment. Nobody would come looking for him here.

The freezing wind made the braches sway loudly, the leaves rustling against one another with a lulling sound. The melody reached his ears, softly, calming, the soft chant that was ever so familiar filing his ears with its tune. The trees were singing. A feeble smile grew on his face, so faint he did not even know if it was there for sure. He could almost feel it, as if it was real, even though he knew it was a distant memory, never to happen to again. But still he could feel it in his mind, recalling exactly that warmth that spread through all of his body, that power so grand yet so gently with him coursing through his veins and latching to his spirit, how it had allowed him to wield it, the trees stretching and twisting at his will, the forest speaking to him, letting him in. It would never happen again. But at least he could still hear them.

Could they fell Almarëa? She had already crossed the borders, which meant she was already inside the realm. Could the trees sense her power? Were they talking to her? Could she hear them sing? Would he be able feel her presence if he tried to reach out? Perhaps. But he could not do that, a new wave of fear coursing through him at the through, the void in his spirit suddenly becoming to present again, making concentrate for a few seconds in order to push it back and ignore it once more.

"Ar?"

The soft voice took him by surprise, his eyes blinking open a couple of times at that sound he would recognize anywhere. His emerald eyes quickly landed on her, standing close to where he lay yet not too close, and it was impossible for his lips not to curve up slightly. He would never get used to her calling him by that shortened name, finding out that he liked how it sounded in her melodic voice. He had not even heard her approach.

Her large hazel eyes were looking at him tenderly, patiently, and he did not miss the faint worry so evidently visible there. She was always an open book, never shying away for showing her emotions, a thing that he partially did not understand. "You did not hear me arriving. What troubles you?"

Of course. She was always so attentive, perhaps one of the very few elves in the Palace would could read through him at all. He sat up on the chaise, his eyes never able to leave her figure.

"Just…things…" He replied vaguely, not knowing how to answer that question and at the same time not wanting to answer it. But she did not push it. She never pushed it, as if she could perfectly understand when to give him time in order to collect his thoughts and answer her.

His forest green eye motioned towards the space on the chaise next to him, and she understood his silent invitation, slowly waltzing in his direction and lowering herself next to him. She was so tiny. Tall, yet incredibly tiny. His fingers could wrap twice around her bony little wrists. And yet he could feel it again, her spirit so close to his, that weak starting bond making itself known once more. Her spirit reached for his, but he pulled away almost immediately, the angry wound making itself too known once more. She pulled away the second he had done it, her hazel looking through his for a short moment in silence, once again not pushing it.

"Not today." Was all he said, offering her an apologetic smile, but she merely nodded her head, not asking for more details. Her spirit reaching his had been bliss the day before, it had been the relief he had believed he would never get. But it had been difficult enough afterwards, once the presence of the wound returned. And today, he would not be able to handle that, not after the news he had received last night and the way in which the wound had acted up again. It was too tender. But of course she would know. If she could feel his spirit the same way he felt hers, then she would instantly know the wound was bothering him. It was impossible to miss it.

"Lay back down." She spoke softly, motioning for him to lay his head on her lap, and for a second he did not move. Her soft hazel eyes continued to look at him patiently, ever understanding, and yet he obeyed. He did not know why it was so easy when only weeks ago he would have tensed at the suggestion of losing his precious physical distance.

Slowly he lay back down on the chaise, silently grateful to rest his head again, now softly cradled on her lap. One of his hands lifted over his forehead, shielding his closed eyes from the bright light. Pretenses be dammed around her. He did not mind if she knew he had a headache, he would not hide anything from her.

"I still have your outer robe." Her gentle musical voice spoke, and he could almost hear the sheepish smile on her face. "From yesterday. I forgot to return it."

He knew that. He remembered it perfectly. He had placed the garment over her shoulders at the little shop back in town, but had never asked for it back. And he did not intend to do let out a single chuckle, even though he did not open his eyes.

"Do you intend to return it?" He questioned her, although he knew he would not wear the garment again. Not after she had worn it so beautifully.

"Do you need it?"

He let out another quiet laugh at her words, although he did not lift his hand from his eyes.

"You may keep it." He said, feeling the closeness of her spirit like a lulling calming aura.

"I cannot keep it!" She whispered almost exasperatedly, letting out one of her free rounds of giggles that floated in the air like a gentle morning dew.

"Why not?" He asked, slightly confused at her words.

"Are you aware that your robes have the royal emblem embroidered on the inside? On the back? Just below the neckline?" She detailed, her words making his hand lift from eyes in order to look at her face. "I cannot keep royal robes! What if anyone found them?"

"You inspected them?" He raised an eyebrow at her, knowing that she must have scrutinized the garment meticulously to find the embroidery on the inside. The embroidery was there for the servants, for them to know who the pieces belonged to and return them to the correct chambers after being washed.

"The pockets were empty." She added with a shrug, as if that had been the most disappointing part, making him chuckle amusedly again.

"And what were you expecting to find there?" He asked incredulously, placed his hand over his eyes again, the bright light of the day making his headache worsen. But he was surprisingly comfortable there, feeling the warmth of her body so close to his, his aching head mercifully cradled calmly on her lap.

"I do not know." He felt her shrug once more, feeling the slight shift in her delicate body, and he resisted the urge to shake his head at her. It ached too much for that. "Something important…official. Something Princely."

"Something Princely?" He knew could see his arched eyebrow underneath his hand, the words sounding too ridiculously amusing to him. "Please do tell me, what is something Princely?"

"I do not know." She shrugged again. "I am not a Prince so you tell me?"

He let out a light laugh in return, starting to shake his head almost involuntarily, but stopping almost immediately when the ache returned.

"Do you need the robes back then?" She repeated her first question, the smile never leaving his face at her ever light and warm tone. He did not even know how to answer that question, for he had already answered her that exact same question.

"You may keep them. They are yours." He repeated the same thing he had previously said, listening to the soft cold breeze that once again made the leaves outside ruffle.

"I told you I cannot keep them!" She added with a light round of giggles, feigning being scandalized at the notion. Why was she being so confusing?

"Very well…then I need them back?" He changed his answer, trying to see if this was perhaps the answer he had been supposed to give in the first place?

"You really do?" She asked him, her voice sounding a little disillusioned at the prospect of departing from the robes. But he had already told her she could keep them!

"No, I do not need them." He told her with a light chuckle, fighting hard once again to not shake his head.

"Can I burrow them?"

Burr…borrow? He dropped the hand covering his eyes in order to look at her, his eyes narrowed in her direction. What? He could not contain his laugh once again, trying to understand how her mind worked yet failing completely. "You wish to burrow something you have already burrowed? You already have them."

"I am merely asking if I may burrow them for a little longer." She specified, that smile so soft, so warm, adorning her perfectly angled face.

"How much longer?" He teased her, not really caring what happened to the garment in the first place. In his head, it was already hers.

"An indefinite amount of time."

"So, you wish to keep them." He concluded, smiling at the way in which her exasperated eyes narrowed in his direction. She opened her mouth to protest again but he stopped her, unable to contain his smile at her confusing conversation.

"You would like to burrow the robes you already have for an indefinite amount of time, but you do not wish to keep them?" He asked her again, raising an eyebrow at how ridiculous his own words sounded. That beautiful smile never left her face, reaching her large honey colored eyes which were fixed on him.

"Yes." She laughed, nodding her head once. Her long ashen hair brushed her shoulder as she moved, the plain single silver pin holding it away from her face catching the bright golden sunlight and exploding it in thousand sparkles. "May I?"

"All right." He agreed, once gain shaking his head lightly and immediately regretting it. He could not have cared less about the robes, but if she wanted to believe she was merely burrowing them, then he would let her believe that.

"What do you intend to do with them?" He asked curiously, not understanding why she would like to keep the garment. If was not as if she would be wearing it. His right hand returned to rest over his eyes, trying to ease the pain that had intensified at the few seconds in the bright light.

"I have no idea." She laughed lightly, even though he noticed her voice has dropped to only a faint whisper, as if not to aggravate his headache. Sher had not been speaking loudly in the first place, her voice always so soft. "Perhaps I will practice my sewing there."

"Your sewing?" It was impossible not to laugh at the thought, the image of that horrid disfigure bluebird that he had caught her embroidering some weeks ago once again popping into his head. He still had it, carefully saved in his chambers. "You cannot sew."

Her beautiful laughter filled the terraces, floating like soft rose petals on the cold breeze, momentarily making all pain and exhaustion vanish from his body at the mere joyful sound.

"No." Indilene giggled, and he could feel the slight shift in her body as she most probably shook her head. "I cannot sew."

She had not even like doing it. He remembered her annoyed expressions at completing the task that her aunt had asked her to practice. He felt delicate gentle fingers slide once through his hair, the gesture more comforting and helping than the healer's bitter tea had been. He almost instantly reached for the hand with his left one, his right still safely placed over his eyes. Although blindly, his fingers found hers with surprising ease, intertwining with them as if they belonged there. Unable to contain himself, he reached her hand to his mouth, placing a small kiss on the soft skin of her palm before lowering both of their hands to rest on his chest, his fingers no letting go of hers.

"Ar?" Her soft musical voice had lost all trace of the previous light mirth that had accompanying it, and he did not need to see to know that endless honey eyes would be looking at him intently. "Why do you not go lie down and rest properly?"

"No." Was all he said, but she did not insist. He did not wish to move. All of his limbs already felt too heady and drained, and he was so comfortable there, more than she could even begin to imagine. Not even his bed and all of the soft feather pillows could ever compare to how her simple presence there felt.

"At least let us go somewhere darker?" She suggested as his thumb gently danced over the back of her hand. Of course she could tell the light was not helping.

"No." He said gently once more, and cone again she did not insist, merely letting out a soft sight that he almost wondered if it was directed at him and his stubbornness.

"Here." She added faintly, and next thing he knew he was feeling her shift slightly, her free hand slowly lowering the hand that had been covering his eyes, and letting it rest once again of the cushions. And then she placed something else over his eyes, a cloth? No, a handkerchief? TI most be the later, he could feel the intricate embroidery in the delicate linen cloth which now lay neatly folded over his eyes. It smelled like her. "Rest your arm for a while."

"Where did you get that?" He asked, even his voice was so low he barely heard it. Had she been carrying it the whole time and he had missed it?

"I do carry things in my pockets." She added, and he did not need to look to hear the smile on her face, or the gleam in her honey colored eyes.

He let out a single quiet chuckle, somehow feeling more exhausted than before now that he did not need to hold up his hand to his eyes. The song of the forest filled the air once more with its lulling soft tune, and for a second he wished Indilene could hear how it sounded.

And yet, his mind was once again drifting towards the forest, towards Almarëa. Where were she and Legolas now? Were they close? Or still somewhat far? Had they run into eventualities out in the forest? What would it be like once she arrived? They did not know her. She was their sister and yet they did not know her at all. And Lossenel…Lossenel would not take the news easily.

"Ar?" Indilene's quiet whisper made suddenly realize that a long second of silence had stretched through them, his mind starting to drift off, even though his thoughts were too rumbled to allow him to sleep. And still he did not miss the faint worry edged in the musical sound. He was being more distracted than usual, than he ever really was.

"My sister is alive…. Almarëa is alive." He heard himself saying, the voice sounding strange, barely even audible. He did not know why he had spoken the words, but they tasted strange on his tongue. And it was then he realized that he had needed to hear them out loud, to hear them coming from himself to make them feel finally completely real. He did not know why he was confiding in her, he, the one distant one, the one who liked his privacy. And yet, there was nobody else he wished to tell more at the moment.

For a long second Indilene remained silent, and he was silently grateful for that, patiently waiting for him to elaborate or to add anything else, or to even let her know he was expecting some kind of answer. Btu the soft silence was comforting enough. He did not wish to talk about it. He did not wish to be asked thousands of questions that he could not answer. And she seemed to understand that perfectly, not adding anything in return. He had just needed to say it, needed to hear it, to let her know. He was not even sure if Indilene knew much about Almarëa, she had been only an elfling when his sister had been pronounced dead. But it was common knowledge in the Kingdom.

And yet, she did not comment, she did not ask, did not even say anything in return. All he received was a slight comforting squeeze of his fingers, and he gripped hers tighter in return. and that was all he needed, better than any words, than any endless questions. He would talk properly to her later, by now, now he could not even gather his thoughts enough to make sense of them.

The soft lulling tune of the trees continued to dance over the ample terraces, making his exhausted mid drift once more. Perhaps he could manage to sleep if he tried? It was tempting, all his body feeling heavy, tired, already drifting off to oblivion. He could barely recall the following minutes. Or was it hours? And yet, all he knew was that he was so comfortable there, his body and mind suddenly letting down any guard, completely relaxing there, with her presence so close to his, and for a second everything was haze, the soft warm sounds and gentle breeze slowly cradling him away into restful sleep, the last thing he was aware of was of her hand still in his, her spirit always so close….

Hi there! I know it has been like forever since last chapter, but here is the next one! I hope it makes up for the long wait! It's a little tense, but discovering that your long dead powerful sister is suddenly alive and returning home is not a thing you hear everyday haha anyway I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it! Let me know what you think!

Also thank you so so very much to all of you who left comments on the previous chapter! I loved reading through your thoughts and interpretations of the chapter! Thranduil's fan, artvandelay5001, Mystifying Roses, Saum the Smol Teddy, Amsim, and helenaxo.

Love,

Elena