Hey everybody!! First, major kudos to Jazz for the chapter title clue. (Remembrance of Things Past) and to Elise.....dammit. Don't you know we Americans are completely incompetent when it comes to geography? :) I checked the map in my world atlas and you are, indeed, correct. The somewhat tiny letters are counties. It's the REALLY tiny letters that are villages/towns/hamlets. My apologies. But we'll just have to use our imaginations and pretend it's a city, gel? Or that she meant county. Please don't think less of me!!

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Chapter 14



The sun had set and risen once since they had begun their journey. Miranda did not speak, but merely nodded or shook her head. Legolas thought it best to allow her time to mourn. To say good-bye to friends was something he had not yet done, something about which he did not understand. He did, however, recognize her need to be left alone, and so he quietly lit a fire, hunted and watched over her as she slept. By the time the sun was again waning the next day, he was uncomfortable with silence. In a very short time she would be leaving this place for good and this made him unhappy. He looked over to her and saw her shoulders still slumped and her head bowed. He reined in.

"We shall stop for the night here." He dismounted and began removing items from his saddle bags. He had learned that Miranda was quite an accomplished horsewoman and needed no help with her mount. He fetched water and crouched near the fire, one hand always near his bow. Miranda declined food, and crawled into the sleep sack she'd laid out, but her eyes remained open, staring at the quarter moon high above.

"Legolas?" He turned to her. "Why don't you have a sleep sack?" She had been too exhausted the previous night to notice, but now she saw that he merely sat, or rather crouched, near the fire.

"I must keep watch. Though the Dark Lord was defeated, there are still Orcs and goblins about, and lesser dangers such as wolves and wild animals."

"But you didn't sleep last night, either." She struggled to sit up in her sack, intending to offer to watch, but he shook his head, face grave.

"We can go many days of hard travel without rest. And we do not sleep, not as your kind does. Sometimes when we rest, we may walk within our hidden thoughts." He stopped suddenly, surprised at how easily he explained Elven habits. His normal response to human questions would be haughty and refutive, but he found himself wanting to tell her.

"You don't sleep? Ever?" He was perplexed by her tone of pity and incredulity.

"I presume as a child, I slept, but upon reaching adulthood....no. You say that as though it were a terrible thing, Lady. Would you not find it pleasant not to waste so much of your very short life in slumber?" His tone was cooler than it had been.

"Waste? You call sleep waste? I love sleeping. There are few things better than waking slowly on a Sunday morning and snoozing in and out of sleep, or after a long, horrible day to fall into bed and just....let go."

"Let go?" He looked more curious than offended now.

"That's what it feels like, sometimes. You just sort of let go and drift. Your body is so relaxed and you feel warm and safe." He felt drawn in by her voice, which had become lower and even-toned. She had a dreamy look upon her face and her eyes were closed. "You aren't that old anyway. Don't you remember?" Lazily, she opened her eyes and looked at him. His face was blank.

"Not that old?" he said.

"Well, I would guess. How old are you? Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?" She guessed slightly higher than she believed. She hoped he was that old. But then again, she would make exceptions for youth. He hadn't answered and she wondered if she had somehow offended him. He looked slightly 'not there,' and then she realized why. He was figuring out his age.

"I believe I am about twenty-one yén." Miranda's eyes widened, she hadn't thought him that young.

"Yén?" she said.

"That would translate to roughly 3,000 of your human years." Dead silence greeted this and then she laughed.

"Right, then. I'm sorry. I won't tease you about your age. Now seriously, how old are you?" He was not smiling.

"I am serious, Miranda. I had not realized you were unfamiliar with the life spans of Elves." He wasn't joking, she realized.

**But how can that be?**

"But how can that be?" He raised an eyebrow.

"We are immortal on this earth."



********

**Immortal? . . . Huh.** This thought had been circulating through Miranda's mind for the past few hours. She couldn't quite move on. After dropping that bombshell, Legolas had grown quiet and Miranda had drifted off, stunned. That morning, he had set a hard pace, and she had little breath, had she even wanted to talk.

**Immortal. . . Huh. What must that be like? How-** Her brain refused to wrap itself around the concept. As the sun reached overhead and started its journey down the other side, Miranda finally came out of her daze. She realized they were riding at a much slower pace and she looked over to find Legolas watching her with an odd look on his face.

**That's not amusement... Is it?**

"I thought perhaps you might be hungry," he said, reaching into a sack and pulling out dried meat and some sort of fruit that resembled carrots. Then came the biscuits. The same thing they had eaten yesterday. And the day before.

"Mm-mmm. Jerky," she said, wrinkling her nose.

"Jer-kee?"

"Jerky. Cowboys eat it. Foul stuff." He looked confused, then affronted, and then a sly smile spread across his face.

"Of course, if you are not hungry, I can put it awa-"

"No!" She glared and held out her hand. "I love jerky. And ...a biscuit." Trying unsuccessfully to hide his smile, he silently handed her the food and took a small bite of biscuit. They chewed in silence for a while. Eventually he cocked his head to the side and looked at her.

"You ride very well for a woman," he said. She debated taking offense, then decided her rear hurt too much to expend the effort.

"Oh. Erm, thanks. I lived with my grandparents for a bit. They raised Thoroughbreds. Taught me to ride before I could walk." She smiled nostalgically, and he was suddenly plagued with a desire to know everything about her. He was disturbed by these feelings, having usually little interest in humans' lives.

"Would you-" He paused. "Would you tell me of your life?" She stared at him in surprise. After finally accepting that she had, indeed, come from another place, everyone had seemingly forgotten about it. They had asked no questions, other than devising a plan to get her back.

"Errrm... ." She hadn't the slightest clue where to begin.

"Do you live in holes, like the Halflings?" He prodded her along. She gave a shout of startled laughter.

"No! No, we live in houses or flats similar to Master Elrond's home. But smaller. More.....closed. Not so many windows and all. Unless you live in a flat. Then the buildings are sometimes very tall. Two or three times taller than that tree there." She pointed, and he nodded thoughtfully.

"Do you have a family?" He voice sounded more animated than it's usual earnest, but somber tone.

"What is this, 'Twenty Questions?'" she said. He blinked and said,

"I did not mean to offend, Lady, if I-"

"No, no, I didn't mean that. I was . . jesting. Keep forgetting that whole elves and no sense of humor thing. No, I don't mind answering questions. . . if you do the same." He looked at her quizzically.

"I answer a question, you answer a question." He thought about it, (rather longer than necessary, she thought) and finally nodded.

"Right. Uh, family. A father, a sister and a brother. My mother was killed in a automobile accident when I was a baby. I went to live with her parents for almost ten years before my father decided he missed me and wanted me with him. More like he needed an extra secretary." Her tone had become very bitter and she stared into the fire. He didn't understand some of her words, but the tone indicated an unhappiness which saddened him. She looked up suddenly, shaking her head as though to dislodge the thoughts.

"Sorry," she said, brightly. "MY turn. What is your home like?" His face lit up and he spoke lovingly of Mirkwood. She noticed, however, that though he spoke at length of trees, grasses and rivers, he mentioned no names.

"What about your family?" His expression did not change, but she sensed a slight mood shift.

"I believe it is my turn to ask. What is an auto-mo-mo-mo-"

"Automobile? A sort of horseless cart that is very heavy and goes very fast. Now. Your family?" He again hedged, but eventually have a brief explanation of a father, King Thranduil, a mother and several siblings.

"King? Your father is a king?" At his nod, she smiled to herself.

**Move over, Prince William!**

"So you're a prince?" He shrugged slightly.

"Yes, I suppose, by your definition. Our ways are somewhat different."

"Well, if your father dies, do you get to be king?" Her tone was joking, but she was confused why an heir-apparent was so alone. Though she had only been in his presence for about four weeks, she had seen him only with Gimli or Aragorn. Shouldn't he have body guards or whatever their equivalent here are?

"My father won't die," he said shortly. "Were he to be killed in battle, there are a number of sons who would inherit, more...suited to the throne." Miranda blinked at the coldness in his voice.

**Lots of issues there.**

"You don't like your father very much, do you?" He looked at her in surprise, then smiled strangely.

"You are indeed an odd woman. Do you always say whatever comes to mind?" She shrugged, then nodded sheepishly.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"No. Do not apologize. You are, in fact, rather perceptive. I do not...understand my father. Nor, I fear, does he understand me. He is happy in his world, one he created. Nothing is born, nothing dies. Everything is preserved, perfectly, forever. Frozen. Unchanging." Now it was he who stared into the fire. "I would welcome change, Miranda. Since the destruction of the Rings of Power, I have felt restless. . . as though I had been asleep a very long time and am now awake. I am changed, somehow, and can no longer return to my former life. Since the Fellowship, I have no purpose." He stopped abruptly. Miranda was stunned. She had never seen him talk at length, unless he recited poetry or story.

"You want excitement and adventure. You want to live and experience life, not just let it happen to you." He looked at her sharply, then nodded, a faint look of wonder on his face.

"Do you read my thoughts, then, that you know so much of me?" She smiled.

"No, nothing quite so dramatic. I just- I feel the same way. I feel as though I'm floating in time, always waiting for something. I just don't know what. For the past year, I had no past and no future, because I didn't know who I was. Now I know, and it still offers no comfort." She looked down, suddenly embarrassed by how much she revealed. He was silent a long time.

"Curious that I could have so much in common with a human woman."

"Hmph. More strange that I would have so much in common with a haughty, pompous Elf." He started to frown, then saw her teasing smile as she wriggled down into her sleep sack. He could not help smiling, but said sternly,

"Sleep now, Miranda. We have many miles yet to go." She smiled dreamily and whispered,

"And miles to go before I sleep."*



The next ten days were much like the previous day. They rode hard and long, stopping only briefly to relieve themselves, or refill water skins, until long after the sun had set. By day, Legolas was quiet and alert, ever watchful for danger. By night, he lost none of the alertness, but become almost sociable. In the short time before she slept, he listened to her tales of automobiles and planes, movies and photos. He was enraptured by her story of space and of man's walk on the moon. He was persuaded to speak of his own home, of the history of his people, of the great war. Miranda told him of saying good-bye to the Hobbits, of the way Sam wouldn't look at her, how she felt she had betrayed him somehow. Legolas offered no advice, no comfort, but just listened and somehow she felt he understood.

The morning of the fifteenth was hot and bright. At the base of the mountain, they had but a few miles to go. Legolas assured her they would arrive by noon.

The climb up was not particularly steep, but nerves and muddled thought kept Miranda silent. She began to fear that it wouldn't work, that she wouldn't be able to go home. She thought of the fact she'd been gone for a year and how she could she explain that? She thought of hot showers and normal clothing and music. She thought of her friends and her flat and Maggie.

`Oh Christ.`



************



Turning back to check on Miranda, Legolas heard her say something, but she did not speak in the Common Tongue. He looked down to see her paused, one dirty hand against her face, leaning against a boulder.

"Miranda?" he said, alarmed. Jumping lightly down to her, he tugged gently on her hand, afraid something had hurt her. Underneath, tears coursed down her cheeks.

"Miranda, what is it?"

"Ma-Maggie!" She choked on her tears. "I forgot Maggie!!" He looked at her, stricken. It was too late. He helped her sit on the rock and knelt by her side as she sobbed. Consternation bit into him. How had he forgotten? The dog had been banished to a room, he remembered, and he had not seen it before they left.

"Miranda," he said gently. "Though it will grieve you to leave her, remember that she will be well taken care of." She still covered her face with her hands, and he reached out tentatively, touching her knee. She looked at him.

"Sam loves the dog. I have seen that myself. He will care for her well." She nodded miserably, but didn't stop crying.

"She was my friend. I adopted her from a shelter, no one else wanted her- she was too big. They would have put her down, but... She always knew when I was sad or depressed. She'd come and put her head in my lap. She loved me. And I forgot her. I forgot her, Legolas." Legolas was taken aback, and did not know what to do. He had never seen humans love an animal with such passion. Cautiously, he reached out, grasping her shoulder as he would a warrior. It was all the comfort he knew how to give. He was startled when she leaned into him, pressing her face against his neck. Of their own volition, his arms closed around her and he knelt, murmuring Elvish words into her hair.

Clutching him, Miranda let out the grief and guilt she felt. At long last, her tears subsided and she sniffed wetly. She pulled back, mortified, and realized there was a wet patch on his shoulder where she'd cried. But when she saw him watching her, she lost herself.

**Such beautiful eyes.** After a long moment, she looked away and noticed that the sun was over head. Legolas too, looked up at the sun and stood, drawing her to her feet.

They climbed up the rest of the hill in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As they broke through the line of trees, Legolas stopped abruptly. Miranda, whose thoughts were jumping rapidly from Maggie to his eyes and back, stumbled into him.

"Wha-?" she said, peering around him. The area in front of them was gone. Where there once had been a wide cliff, clear of everything but a circle of standing stones was air. The cliff had been broken off, the stones tumbled down hundreds of feet into the forest below.

"It's gone!" She felt dizzy for a moment. The stone circle was destroyed. Dumbly, she stared into empty space. As Miranda stared, paralyzed with shock, Legolas veered to the right, snatching something from a lone rock.

At first, Miranda thought is was a giant black spider and she reared back in fright, until she realized it was a head. Covered in greasy black hair, with greenish skin and white eyes, it gaped at her. She felt sick for a moment at the smell.

"What is that?" Legolas looked around grimly, noting the broken tree limbs and uprooted trunks. As he looked more closely, he saw several bodies, lying in various stages of decay.

"Orcs."

*******



In the furthest eastern and southern part of Middle Earth, the mountain shook briefly, then subsided. At its base, villagers from miles around left offerings and sacrifices. They prayed for their fields to begin producing and for rain. It had been nearly 6 months since they had received rain. People were going hungry.

To the north, in Gondor, the Steward looked out his window, unease resting heavily upon him. He had sent word to the King three times, the last nearly 3 months ago, yet he still had no answer. The city was growing restless; he had heard reports of strangers stirring up trouble. There was little food, but no one knew why. The fields would not produce, their crop was shriveled and blackened. No rain fell and the sun was merciless. Talk of rogue bands of Orcs traveling south had spread.

The people wanted their long-awaited king to return with his queen. Some said, though, that he cared not for the people of Gondor, and would let the Elves take over. Short were these people's memory and they forgot Aragorn's fight to save Middle-Earth. They saw only that their children went hungry.







*Miranda is quoting Robert Frost's u Stopping By the Woods u