((Author's note: so sorry this is late but real life managed to get extremely in the way.))

Disclaimer: I own nothing (period)

Dedicated to David for…you know…

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                                                                                                     Breathe

                                                                                                      By Eck

Step.  Step. Step. Step. Step. 

As he grew closer to the door the steps became slower and farther apart.  The door itself looked innocent enough, but Legolas could almost feel the pain that opening the door would cause his susceptible heart.

He paused a moment and gulped in a few deep gasps of air, trying to still his pounding heart.

Step. Step. Step. Step.

Panic swelled through his heart for a moment and he almost turned to flee from the hallway, but pride held him there. 

Drawing his pale hand over his forehead, he straightened his shoulders and covered the last few steps to the door in two long strides.  His hand went to the knob and before he could think of his actions, he opened the door and allowed himself to fall inside.

The smell of warm food and perfume assaulted his nose.  Light shone in from the glass windows and reflected off the crystal chandelier dangling over the room.  In the middle of the room, a table laden with many elaborate dishes was set up.  Around it sat Aragorn, Arwen, Faramir and Éowyn, as well as a few others Legolas could not recognize.

All consuming panic began to take over his brain as his gaze rested on all the faces looking back at him.  Faces that would want to know all of his stories, faces that would pity him for giving his heart to a mortal woman.

The door is only a few steps behind, you can still escape…still get free and run away…run far, far away, where no one can hurt you.  You can do it! You can still not face this tragedy before you.

Aragorn stood from the head of the head of the table and began walking towards him.  "Legolas, it is good to see that you have risen!" his voice was soft in Legolas' ear, as if coming across a great distance.

Shaking himself loose from his thoughts, Legolas allowed his face to break into a genuine smile at the sight of his friend.  "And you, Aragorn."  He forced his eyes away from Faramir and Éowyn.

Aragorn draped an arm across his shoulders and guided him towards the table. "Sit, sit! And eat anything you like. I am afraid the cook thinks that an army dines with us at every meal."  The jolly laughter that followed sounded forced and strained.

Legolas again smiled but took a close look at his friend's eyes.

Remorse and sorrow were written inside the murky depths and the lips were slightly pursed in worry.

"Aragorn…" he whispered.

Turning his head, Aragorn cocked his head in a silent question.

"I know."

A sigh of relief escaped Aragorn's lips and was quickly replaced by a sympathetic frown. "I am so sorry, mellonamin.  I wanted to tell you, but I did not want to ruin my reunion with you."  He shrugged helplessly.  "I am sorry."

Legolas nodded tightly. "It is not your fault."

One of the serving maids gestured for him to sit on the left hand of the king.  "This place has been prepared for you," she informed in a low, husky voice.  "Your food will arrive in a moment."

Legolas nodded his thanks as he sat.

True to her word, a steaming plate arrived a few seconds later. It was laden with a rich variety of breads, fruits, and meats.

As he looked at it, Legolas felt him stomach turn slightly at the rich smells.  It seemed unnatural to eat something so fine after so many weeks of eating nothing at all.  It was different. Slowly, he picked up the utensils and began to pick at the food. Aragorn would not give him a moment of peace if he did not at least eat something.

Conversation passed over his head and he was content to not become involved in it.

Feeling eyes on his head, he glanced upward momentarily and locked gazes with Éowyn.  He almost choked on his food at the pain he saw in those eyes but managed to recover. Offering a small smile, he turned back his food and pretended to be interested in it.

Faramir watched as Legolas ate his meal quietly, keeping his eyes fixed on his plate and his comments to himself.

He felt sorry for the slim elf.  There was an aura of sadness that seemed to hang around the blonde head and the blue eyes were filled with an unexplainable sorrow.  Faramir knew that elves were supposed to be thin, but this one took the word to whole new terms.

Subtly, he waved the cook to put more of the sumptuous food in front of the elf. It was a wasted effort, however.  Legolas had barely eaten the food that was already on his plate.

Faramir paid little heed to the conversation around him.  His mind was on the elf.  When he had first heard the elf's name, he had felt his stomach lurch within him.

He had heard the name before.  It was the name that Éowyn called out in her nightmares; it was the name she whispered when they made love; it was the name she asked for when she was delirious with fever. 

It was the name of the one that Faramir constantly felt hanging over their marriage like a ghost from the past. This ghost had been Éowyn's first love, and if he was honest with himself, her only love.

Faramir had never known who the name belonged to, but he had always felt that he would hate him.  But now as the elf sat a few feet away, Faramir felt no malice in his heart towards him. Only a deep sadness that Legolas had been ripped from everyone he loved and thrust into an obviously cruel world.

He risked a glance at his wife and found her eyes fixed on the bowed golden head before her.  Quickly, he turned away. It was none of his business.

Bitter tears rose in his throat.  He loved Éowyn so much.  But he loved her so much that he would let her go.

Legolas kept his head down.  Their eyes were on him again, piercing, penetrating eyes that seemed to sear through muscle and bone.  His brain screamed that he was overacting. These people were friendly; they would not hurt him like the others did.

The sounds around him seemed impossible blurred and loud, swimming around him in a mass of hysteria.

His eyes came up to look at Aragorn, the man's breath hot on his face.

Heat. Oppressive heat that was seeping through his skin.  The light streaming through the windows suddenly seemed tight and unyielding.  Walls, coming closer to his body.

Breathe, he encouraged himself.  Breathe.  Just breathe.

Heat, loud, walls.  Just like…

He needed to get out.

Pushing back from the table, he wavered to his feet, one hand flying to his pounding head.

Aragorn looked up when Legolas suddenly stood.  His brow furrowed for a moment.  "Legolas?" he asked, his mouth still full of food.  "Are you alright?"  He began to stand himself, reaching for his friend. "Legolas?"

Legolas looked with cloudy vision at the hand reaching towards him.  Hurting hands.  "No," he murmured.  "No."   His feet tripped backwards.  "No."

Dark hair wobbled and smeared in his line of vision.

He needed to get out.

Spinning from the calling voices, he started to run.  Door appeared before him so he shoved them open. Nothing mattered except escaping this place.

Éowyn felt herself moving after Legolas before she was fully conscious of her own movements.  Three years of soft living had not dimmed her athletic skills in the least; holding her skirts with one hand, she ran after the elf, down the hallways and then out of the doors.

Legolas stopped as soon as he reached the main streets.  Leaning heavily against a pole, he took deep breaths of the city air.  A gentle breeze waved through his hair and cooled his hot neck.

He was safe. No one could hurt him.  No fire could reach him.

The child's dying screams echoed in his ears.  "Legolas! Legolas! Help me!"

His own weakness seemed to come at him from all sides and the pain jumped into his nerves.  He could not get out.  He was trapped.  He could not save anyone.   And the child would die for his folly.  He was helpless.

Giving a frustrated shout, he slammed his hand into the burning wood, not caring that the burn spread over his head.

"Legolas! Legolas!"

"Legolas?"  The voice was accompanied by a hand touching the small of his back gently.

His tensed muscles exploded with the intrusion.  Twisting around, he grabbed the wrist and flipped the light body over his head.  While still keeping a grip on the wrist, he cushioned the fall with his other arm as he followed it down.

They landed in the grass, Legolas on top of the body. 

Long blonde hair covered his vision for a moment and when it cleared he saw startled doe blue eyes before him. "Éowyn!" he choked. "What are you doing here?"

Moving just as fast, she used her legs to leverage him over her head and followed with a back roll so she was sitting facing him.  "I followed you out here because it looked like you needed a friend.  I did not expect to get attacked."

Legolas pushed himself from the sprawled position he had landed in.  "I could have killed you."

Éowyn shrugged.  "Perhaps I am stronger than you can imagine."  She took her first good look at him.  His eyes were red, his cheeks white, and his lips slightly bloody from where he had bit them.  "Legolas…"

He held a hand up. "Do not say it. Please.  Just give me a moment."

Respectfully, she waited as he collected himself.  Then spoke again in a softer tone.  "I am so sorry."

A bitter chuckle came from the elf before her.  "I lived for you."

"As I did you."

He blinked at her.

"When you first left, I thought my life was over.  I confessed my love for someone and then he leaves a few moments later.  That is not easily to deal with. I almost died a few weeks later fighting the Witch King.  That is when I met Faramir."

"Love at first sight?" Legolas' voice was tinged with sarcasm.

"No, actually.  He provided a much needed companionship during the weeks I was recovering.  Faramir became a friend, a confidant. Then he began to court me.  For two years he sought my hand in marriage. I agreed last year. Eomer encouraged me because it would strengthen relationships with Gondor…"  Her voice trailed slowly off. "I never wanted it.  I wanted you. But you were not there…"

Legolas held up his hands.  "Stop. Please stop. I do not want to hear it." Staggering to his feet, he stared down her.  "I need to go away."

She felt the tears prick at her eyes.  "Where will you go?"

"I do not know."  He swallowed hard. "Tell Aragorn I will return."  He turned and stumbled down the crowded street.

"Legolas," she called after him but he did not turn around to look back.  Remaining where she was, Éowyn watched him until his slim form disappeared around the corner. 

And then, she cried.

((well…um…don't kill me?))