"Legolas Greenleaf, where are you taking me?" Elora had assumed they would go to his spot along the river, but once they left the confines of the palace she realized they were heading in the opposite direction. They were now somewhere deep in the woods, and Elora truly had no idea where they were.

"You'll see."

"I'm serious now. I think you've gotten us lost. At night. In the woods. At night."

He chuckled. "Still scared of the dark little child?"

"No," came the defensive response. "Just of the things that come out at night."

"I promise, nothing will hurt you as long as I'm with you." The words came lightly, but Elora couldn't help but wonder, and wish, that they held a double meaning. Suddenly he stopped. "We're here."

They were standing on top of a hill; while worrying about the darkness Elora had failed to notice the gentle upward slope of their path. The trees ended abruptly and the peak to the hill opened to a small glade. Below them she could see the soft lights of Mirkwood. The moon shone down on the river, making it appear to be a river of silver.

"It's…..wow," were the only words she could form as she stepped into the glade.

Legolas came too stand close behind her. "That's how I felt the first time I came here." He sat down and then reached up to gently pull her down. "Sit," he said softly. She complied with his request, watching his face as it turned it toward the heavens, as if searching for something.

"Look," he said after a few moments. "My mother is with us tonight." He pointed to the sky.

Elora looked up at the maze of stars. "Where?"

He moved his head closer to hers, so that his chin almost rested on her shoulder. "There." He pointed again. Elora shivered as his breath came out onto her neck. "Are you cold?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

"I'm fine," she answered, just as he put his arms around hers, pulling her down til her head rested on his chest. She was laying almost perpendicular to him. His arms lay across hers, their fingers intertwined.

"I still miss her," he whispered. "Fralir found a small portrait of her a few weeks ago. It was painted when my parents were still courting. Fralir didn't even know who she was."

Legolas' mother had died shortly after Fralir's birth. It had been a horrendous labor; what few outside the immediate family knew was that the queen had been pregnant with twins. One had been stillborn, and Fralir was just barely hanging onto life. Even after delivery, she wouldn't stop bleeding. For three days she drifted in and out of consciousness, three long, terrible days before she finally slipped into everlasting peace.

"I know you do," said Elora. "And Fralir is still young. When he's older, you and your father can tell him all about her; then he, too, will love her."

"Sometimes I feel like I'm starting to lose her, forget things about her."

Elora shifted slightly so that she could see his face. She looked at him for a moment. "You have her eyes," she said. "Fralir too. But more than that, you have her spirit, I think. You won't lose her, because in a way she still very much lives on in you."

Legolas exhaled loudly. "Well, things have certainly taken a turn for the depressing," he joked. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You know I'm always here if you need to talk about her."

"I know." He slightly tightened his hold on her. "But I brought you up here to talk about you. You've been back for two weeks and I still know next to nothing about your time in Lothlorien. What was it like there?"

Elora remained motionless for a few moments. She suddenly stood and walked a few steps away from him, staring out over Mirkwood. "Lothlorien was…it is beautiful. Golden all year long." He heard her voice catch and saw her head bow slightly before she fell silent. After a handful of seconds her heard her soft weeping. Legolas stood and quickly crossed over to her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Elora, what's wrong?" She shook her head and tried to walk away but he only strengthened his hold on her. "Please, Elora," he begged. "Tell me what's wrong. What happened in Lothlorien?"

"I can't," she whispered. She turned to face him. "Maybe someday, I will….but until then you must never ask me again."

Legolas looked down at her, wondering what could have happened to her that would cause such a reaction. "Alright. I promise, I won't ask you again until you are ready to tell me. But Elora, I can't stand to see you like this. What can I do?"

She buried her face in the crook of his neck. "Just hold me," she whispered.

And so he did. He held her close to his heart, gently stroking her hair, until she had had all her tears and the sun began to pinken the horizon.