Some time after the palace had gone to bed, a soft knock sounded on Ascafeniel's door. She rose from the downy softness of her bed, putting on a pink silk robe over her long white nightgown as she did so. Sleep had not yet reached her, so its tell-tale signs did not mar her features. She crossed the cold stone floor to the door and opened it, already knowing who would be on the other side.

Legolas stood there, wearing a loose white shirt over deep green sleep pants. His hair was left undone for the night and his eyes held a trace of shyness in them as he slowly nodded to her. She nodded in return, then stepped aside to give him room to enter. She shut the door behind them, then turned to face him.

He cleared his throat. "It's been a very long time."

"Yes, it has." Her answer was curt and cautious.

He looked down at the floor and shuffled his feet uncomfortably. After only a few moments of pregnant silence, his head snapped up and he crossed the few feet between them with quick, purposeful strides. His arms went around her back and his lips met hers in a deep, soulful kiss, making her gasp.

She froze in indecision for just a moment, then threw her arms around his neck and returned the kiss, passionately. Memories of former moments sprang to her mind as if they had happened yesterday, blocking out all vestiges of past loneliness. The warmth of his lips heated her to her toes until she finally pulled back, gasping for breath, her head on his shoulder.

One hand came up from her back and began to lightly stroke her hair as she stood there, arms around him.

"Yes," she said, "I've missed you too."

She could feel his shoulders shake in laughter at her quip and he pulled away to look her in the eyes.

"I didn't know how to ask," he began quietly, "except to discover if you still felt the same, but using..........this technique."

It was her turn to chuckle lightly, her laughter clear and ringing. "Legolas, what do so few years matter to one who has lived so many and will live many more." It was not a question, but a reflection of her immortality and the patience it brought.

He understood, and nodded solemnly, pulling her head back to his shoulder. "Still," he said, "these few years are still of interest to me. Please tell me about them. But first, who was that maiden who stood behind you and your sister when we arrived?"

Ascafeniel thought for a moment. For some odd reason, her mind had become suddenly hazy. "That was Maegquareiel. Surely you've met her. She has been a part of the family since before I came into the world, since before the first great battle for the Ring."

"Where does she come from? She has the mannerisms of a Wood Elf," he said inquisitively.

"No, surely not," she replied, "Maegquareiel has lived in Rivendell her whole life. Father raised her as his own, even though she is not. He has never once mentioned her origins, though." Her voice trailed off into silence.

She had never really contemplated the mystery that was Maegquareiel until this moment. Maegquareiel had never really mentioned any interest in her own past, so the subject had never been raised. So deep into her thoughts was she that she did not notice that Legolas had moved from her.

He was in front of the fireplace, starting a fire in it to help warm the cool space. She moved next to him and put on a hand on his shoulder, pulling him to the ground where they sat, his arms around her.

In silence, they say comfortably, listening to the occasional crackle of the wood in the fireplace, its spicy scent pervading the air. The subject of Maegquareiel was not brought up again, but its presence still lurked in Ascafeniel's mind. She shrugged deeper into Legolas arms and willed the thoughts to leave her, repeating the Elvish words Maegquareiel had used to help her relax earlier in the day. The peaceful, flowing state of mind she usually possessed gradually overcame the tumult in her mind. Her last conscious thought before sleep took her was that, now, all was well.