Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, and all its characters, races, and creatures, as well as our beloved Middle Earth, belongs to JRR Tolkien.

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to mothers everywhere, whether they be on Middle Earth, on Earth, or somewhere between.

Gimli and I ate our small meal in companionable ease. Now that it was getting dark, we decided that it was time to get Legolas up on his one good foot and get him closer to the fire. We discussed how to arrange the bedrolls so that we would all have places to sleep, and still keep Legolas comfortable. Gimli insisted that all he needed was a blanket. He could sleep on ground made of solid rock and sleep like one as well. I believed him without any doubt.

As soon as we had the pitiful Elf upright, Gimli took him to heed nature's call. I could not resist one small sarcastic remark.

"Try not to step on an adder, Legolas," I said innocently. He had recently used such a phrase on me when I had fallen into a stream.

He said nothing, nor did he hardly spare me a glance. He obviously felt too miserable to even care if I existed, much less teased him. The tall and the short limped away, making quite a sight together as the Dwarf helped the Elf try to walk with his injured leg. While they were gone, I moved the pallet Legolas had been laying on all day closer to the fire, first shaking both bedrolls vigorously, trying to fluff them as much as I could. I placed them down—one atop the other, just as they had been—nearer to the fire, so that the Elf would be warm, in case his fever rose. I prepared him a cup of herbal tea—with some fever reducing agent and a bit more Valerian added as well. It wasn't long before the mismatched pair came hobbling back toward the campsite.

"Legolas, would you care to sit up for awhile?" I asked. "I've made you some tea—with lots of honey!" There was my 'sing-song' mother voice again.

He raised his fevered liquid-blue eyes to mine, and I again saw the Elfling he once was. That made twice today I had seen the Elf-child Legolas had been. First I had seen the defiant, angry Elfling who wanted his own way, and now I was observing the hurt, injured Elfling who only wanted to feel like himself again. My healer's heart went out to him.

"I would sit with you both for a few minutes, while I drink whatever foul potion you have brewed for me," he said quietly. I smiled and helped Gimli ease Legolas down to a sitting position upon the pallet I had moved beside the fire. As soon as he was sitting, although it was somewhat a lopsided seat, with his injured leg sprawled out and propped up straight before him, I began fussing over him. I ran my hand over his brow, checking his temperature, and it was still quite warm. I took the blanket I had left folded at one end of the pallet and draped it around his shoulders, making sure it was snug. I then took the cup I had left sitting beside the fire to cool, and I cradled it in a pad we usually used for handling hot items at the fire, and handed it to Legolas. He accepted it with thanks, and, after testing it for coolness, began sipping at the tea slowly.

He looked up over the rim of his drink, his eyes not accusing for once.

"The tea tastes good," he said weakly. "Thank you."

"Foul potions are a specialty of mine," I replied with a smile, "one of the few things I can cook, truth be known. My husband used to get sick just so that he wouldn't starve!"

The Elf came as close to giggling, as I will probably ever see him do again. I became aware that I had spoken of Dustin out loud to someone, without either weeping or relating a tragic story for the first time since he had died. That had to be progress of some sort; I was just not sure of what type.

Gimli had chuckled at my silly comment as well. His eyes met mine and he winked at me.

"Somehow, I have a feeling that you are better in the kitchen than you are letting on, lass," he declared.

"Perhaps a by a bit, Gimli," I admitted, "though not by much. My mother tried her best as I grew up, but I was much more interested in living, breathing things—not things dead, beheaded and skinned and ready for the cooking pot. After she died when I was thirteen, I was forced to cook for my father and brothers. Needless to say, my brothers took wives as quick as they might. My father, poor soul, never complained, though he had every right to. Tis a wonder I did not have to dose him with stomach elixirs night after night. And then there was poor Dustin. Sent me to his own mother, he did. She tried teaching me as well. Had a modicum of success, I suppose, though I am still far from a master cook. I have faced it, Gimli. The kitchen is not my domain, as a rule. Give me the Houses of Healing—that is where my heart lies."

"And it is where it belongs, if my opinion counts in such matters," Gimli averred. "You have heeded your calling, lass, and you do it well. I hope I am not being rude in the asking, but how did it happen? Lady healers are rarely found."

"You are not being rude, Gimli," I replied. "I will probably tell you much more than you want to know, so stop me when you have heard enough. I nagged the poor Warden in Edoras until he could do nothing but agree to train me. It could have been at considerable risk to his reputation, him doing such an unheard of thing, but we agreed to keep it somewhat between the two of us. To the outside world it appeared as if I was simply his first assistant, when in reality, I stayed long hours and learned whatever he would teach me. Oh but he did not make it easy at all! No indeed! He tried to discourage me constantly, giving me the most putrid of tasks, which I will not go into right now, I am sure you will be thankful for. But when I refused to give up, he began to take me seriously, and he seriously began teaching me everything he knew—which was a considerable amount. Lord Keodwyn is an innovative healer. He keeps his eyes and ears open at all times. If visitors from other realms come through, and healers are among their numbers, he seeks them out and they exchange information. He has learned so many things that way; things he never would have dreamed of doing himself, he has told me so often." I laughed, for I had indeed run on and on.

"Lass, I had no idea you have led such an interesting life," Gimli stated sincerely, "though I should have suspected, knowing you as I have come to."

"I only thought you spoke unceasingly before," Legolas said, a small smile gracing his lips. "I knew not you were capable of carrying on so, for such a long while."

"You know not the half of it," I replied with my eyes narrowed. "I could talk your ears off, if I had a mind to; but I do not, and you should be abed. Finish up that tea so we may settle you in for the night."

"Yes, Naneth," he replied innocently. At my frown of confusion, he explained. "Naneth means mother in my language."

I smiled and retorted, "And do not forget it, Elfling! Now do as I say and drink up."

He finished his tea, like a good Elfling should, and let Gimli and I ease him down onto the pallet once more. He looked so miserable, I searched about for anything I might do to ease him somewhat.

"Legolas," I said tentatively, "I realize I am pushing my luck with you, but my intentions are good. I have—whether you believe me capable of such wit or not—been observing throughout our journey, certain things about you and Gimli as we travel, and I notice that you are always clean. Well, I can tell you that right now, you are not. Your face is smudged with dirt, as are your hands, and that leg that invited itself into the adder's jaws this morning could use a bit of attention as well. It is part of my job as a healer to keep my patients neat; I would do it for you, if you would allow me to. Or if you would prefer, I could get Gimli to do it."

Legolas laughed a short laugh, and I was afraid he was going to say something mean, but he merely smiled.

"I would rather eat your cooking than let Gimli bathe me," he replied weakly. "And I am not very keen on the idea of you doing so, either. But I do like to be neat, so I would be grateful if you would help me with this—only those places you mentioned, if you do not mind."

I almost laughed at his qualification of which body parts he would allow me to wash. I had absolutely no intention of bathing anything on this Elf that I could not already see. No intention at all. I rose and got enough water put over the fire to heat for the cleaning of an Elf. I gathered a cloth, and the towel I had used earlier on his leg, and the little bit of soap I had left with me. As soon as the water was warm, I brought it over with the rest of the things and sat beside Legolas. I dipped the cloth in the water, wrung it out and ran it over his face.

If Elves could purr, I believe this one probably would have. Such was his expression as I ran the warm, soothing cloth over the skin of his face and throat. When I got to his ears, he closed his eyes, and his lips parted in the smallest of smiles, his teeth showing slightly between them. I did not use soap on his face. I knew it would be drying, and I know how I hate it when I have no cream or lotion mixed up to ease the tautness it leaves. I dipped the cloth once again into the water, rinsing it and repeated the procedure, to his repeated delight. I couldn't help but smile. It warms your heart when you can bring such pleasure to someone by doing such a simple thing.

I ran the towel over his face after I was finished, and he seemed to like this as well. I could not keep a silly smile from my face. I was almost able to forget it was Legolas I was attending. He seemed so different right now. Gone was the frowning, mean Elf with never a nice thing to say to me. I knew not how long this truce of ours would continue, but it certainly was nice while it was lasting.

I moved to his hands then, and since I was on his right, away from the fire, I began with that hand. I shoved his sleeve up his arm somewhat and then placed his hand on my knee. I dipped my cloth back into the pot of water, rinsing it again. I smeared it with a small bit of soap and picked up his hand and began to wash it. Since the first time I had seen an Elf, I had marveled at their hands. Especially at the hands of the males. I suppose I could admit this now, for it is no secret, I suppose. I hold some sort of 'fascination' for men's hands. For the length of their fingers; for the way their knuckles bend; whether their fingers are long and slender—which I prefer—or short and stubby—which I prefer less so; for whether they are virile and have calluses or scars; for whether they are effeminate and are clammy and soft; I suppose the list could go on, but I stray from my task.

I used not much soap to preserve my water from getting too soapy. I may be a good healer, but a glutton for punishment I am not, and I did not want to make more than one trip for water to heat for the bathing of one Elf's face, hands and leg. I rinsed that fine Elven hand, patted it dry, returned his sleeve down his arm and moved to his leg.

It was also time to check on the swelling in this leg one last time for the night. I almost dreaded pulling the blanket away from Legolas' body, for fear that the swelling in his leg might be worse. However, stalling for time seldom changes the outcome of an event, so I pulled the blanket aside, lifted his leg and put his foot flat on the bedroll. I closed my eyes and said a silent prayer to Eru, opened my eyes and put my fingers to the knot of the bandage. My heart fell. The bandage was tight.

I looked up Legolas' body, seeking his eyes. He was looking back down at me.

I was filled with indecision. If this were a man, there would be no doubt in my mind. I would have a scalpel in hand and would be draining this leg before five minutes had passed. But this was not a man—this was an Elf. Did I truly need to be doing this? I hated to neglect him, but if I did it and it need not be done—how then would I feel?

Then I began to think rationally. I thought about what had just gone through my mind: I hated to neglect him. If I even thought there was a chance I would be neglecting him, then I would not! Who else was there to deem whether the procedure was warranted or not? There was a decision to be made by a Human pertaining to an Elf. If I didn't know the answer, Legolas and Gimli surely wouldn't know. Elrond wasn't in Imladris, and we were still a week away from there anyway. By the time we got to Imladris, this injury, with Legolas' healing power, would be nothing more than a bad memory and a story to tell. That settled it. The leg would be drained. Now.

I looked back at my patient, and he looked back at me again, wariness creeping into his expression.

"You are thinking of draining the injury, are you not?" Legolas asked.

"I am more than thinking about it, Legolas," I replied directly, "I am going to do it. The swelling is too great. This afternoon I debated with myself, but decided to allow your body the time to attempt to make it right. But it has not done so. I deliberately left the bandage very loose then, and tonight it is again very tight. It must be drained. There is no other option."

"If you say it must be, then it must be," he said.

I wasted no time being shocked with his attitude; I simply took it as it was offered before he changed his mind.

"Gimli," I called across the fire, "would you fashion a torch for me? I will need more light."

"Immediately, lass," was his reply. He set about in good order making a torch. I know a bit about putting a torch together, but it is something I usually wasn't 'allowed' to do when menfolk were around, so therefore, I wasn't very proficient at it. I found the scalpel I had in my bag of healing supplies and put it aside. I got a pot of clean water put over the fire, and as soon as it was boiling, I added my scalpel, cleaning it as thoroughly as I could. I found the herbs for the poultice I would use and got the bandages ready while the instrument boiled, so it wasn't long before all was ready.

I knelt beside Legolas and explained what I was going to do. I found out early on as a healer that patients—especially male ones—were a lot more cooperative, if they were informed somewhat about what was going to happen to them.

"Legolas," I began, "you have seen this done before, have you not?"

"No," he admitted, "I have not. I have seen the injury before it was done, and what it looked like after it was performed, but I have not seen it done before. I know not exactly what you will do."

"All right, then," I said plainly. "Let me explain. I am going to unwrap your injury and wash all the poultice away. Then I will make a small cut—probably directly atop one of the fang marks again. Then comes the painful part."

Legolas chuckled nervously. "That was not the painful part?"

"Unfortunately, no," I admitted. "I must go a bit deeper with my knife. There is a layer of muscle acting as a barrier, which is keeping the fluid trapped on one side of it, and I must break through that. As soon as I do, the improvement will be immediate." I chanced a glance at Gimli, and wasn't sure in this dim light, but I thought I might have detected a slight greenish tinge to the skin of his face.

"Gimli?" I queried. "Are you still with me?"

Gimli cleared his throat and said, "To be sure, lass; to be sure."

"Good," I said encouragingly, "I was simply checking."

I nodded, indicating that I was ready for him to hold the torch over Legolas for me.

"Just do not set me afire, Gimli," Legolas said with a frown.

"Worry about something worthy of it," Gimli said gruffly. It seemed as if he was feeling a bit sympathetic for his Elven friend, poised, as he was about to go under my surgeon's knife.

"Legolas," I said quietly, "I need you to turn over onto your stomach, please."

He complied without question, propping himself up on his elbows, hands clasped out in front of him on the bedroll. I helped him turn over, because it was apparent with the first movement he made, that any motion of that injured leg was extremely painful. Reducing this swelling would help a great deal with the pain. I knew without any doubt that I was doing exactly the right thing.

Gimli held the torch precisely where I needed it to be. I had a feeling that working in mines and being used to handling torches frequently made Gimli very adept in their use.

I used my dagger to cut the bandage off, not seeing the point of wasting the time or effort in untying the thing. It didn't take long to clean the poultice away from the wound, and I was soon ready to take up my scalpel and make my first cut. Before I did, I wanted to check on my patient.

"Are you doing all right?" I asked the Elf.

"Yes," he said. "Are you finished yet?"

"I am good, sir," I said, "but not that good."

Getting serious again, I said, "Here goes."

I could feel his muscles tense in anticipation, but I didn't let that distract me. I made my first cut along one of the original fang marks from this morning. It was such a shame; the original injuries were already healed! Why had his body's healing elements not taken the swelling down as well? I would have to remember to ask Elrond about this when I had the opportunity. Legolas did not utter a sound—just as he had not earlier today—but I knew that he was not immune to the pain, for as soon as a few moments had passed, I could feel the tension in his leg ease somewhat as he relaxed. I had stopped for a moment to blot away the blood that had collected, so that I would be able to see where I needed to further my cutting. I warned him that I was taking my scalpel to him again. And again he tensed. This time, I must have hit a nerve—literally.

"Ai!" he said quietly. "What are you—doing?" It was paining him, and he was complaining somewhat, but it was the most uncomplaining sort of complaining I had ever had directed at me before. I wondered if he would become more insistent.

"I told you what I was doing," I reminded him facetiously, "I'm almost—finished—" I was still trying to reach that muscle. This Elf was too well built for his own good. Or perhaps it had to do with his age. I wondered at that. No. It couldn't be that.

He was starting to squirm reflexively with the pain, and I could not have that. He was making me lose ground in my quest for the elusive piece of tissue I sought.

"Legolas," I quietly scolded, "you must stay still. You are making it harder on both of us. I do not like hurting you any more than you like me doing it, I can promise you. Please, this is very difficult."

He didn't say anything, but he became very still, thank Eru. I again began probing with my knife, and I again felt him tensing even more.

"How much longer—Maeren?" he forced out of clenched teeth.

There! I found it!

"No longer, Legolas," I said relieved, "it is done. It probably still pains you because of the pressure I am applying, but the cutting is done. The knife is gone." Had Legolas really just used my given name?

"Thank Eru," he said quietly, letting out a huge sigh.

Gimli chuckled quietly. I kept up the pressure I had been applying to the wound. I felt sure this would do the trick, and if his body healed as quickly this time as it had earlier today, I would not be at all surprised to see him up and about by tomorrow noon. He may be limping, but I felt sure we would not be keeping this Elf down for long now.

I lifted the pad I had been using to absorb what his leg was discharging to make sure the bleeding was under control. It was almost completely stopped. In some ways it would be nice were all my patients Elves. Their injuries healed so quickly and apparently their blood had superior clotting ability too. All I would be treating would be injuries; Elves did not have the illnesses we Humans contracted. However, if the Elves I had met so far were any indication, they could be an exasperating bunch!

I took a clean piece of bandaging and draped it over the wound, then rose to my knees and bent over my patient, resting my hand on his back.

"Legolas," I said quietly, "are you doing all right?"

At some time during the procedure, he'd exchanged his elbows for his arms, and now his forehead was resting on them, as they lay crossed on the bedroll. At my question, he raised his head, and he turned his face to me and answered.

"Yes," he said, "I am fine. Thank you for all of your help. I appreciate all you are doing for me."

I smiled at him and told him quite truthfully, "Think nothing of it, Legolas. I am going to warm some more water so I may bathe your leg and prepare the poultice nice and warm, and then I'll get you bandaged. Do not think I have forgotten—because I have not—there is still one of your hands left unwashed, and I will get to it next."

He rose to one elbow and said with a weak chuckle, "No, really. That is not necessary. You have worked long hours over me all day. I believe you may be excused from washing one hand."

I eased him back down to the bedroll. "Just lay still. I'll be right back. Sleep if you can."

I rose and got the water warming. Legolas was right. I had been working over him all day, and I was very tired. However, it felt good to be doing what I do best! Even if it was on that stinker of an Elf—who wasn't such a stinker when he really needed my help. I'd have to remind him of this the next time he got ornery with me.

"Legolas," I said as I approached him with the now steaming water.

"Yes?" he answered.

"I was merely making sure not to startle you in case you had fallen asleep," I replied. "Just rest. I will be finished with you soon and will not bother you again for the night."

I sat and uncovered the wound, marveling at the amount the swelling had already receded. If this were a man I had been treating, the swelling would have been lessened, but not by this marked degree. I may have to emend my earlier prediction. Perhaps by morning—and not noon as I had thought earlier—he would be limping around and be hard to keep down.

Elves. Something told me I was in for a lot of surprises in the coming months of living with them in Imladris.

I soon had my patient all scrubbed and bandaged and tucked in for the night. Gimli was surprised when I threw another piece of wood on the fire, for the night was growing quite late by now.

"Maeren," he said, "you must be tired. Why are you stoking the fire, lass?"

"I need a cup of tea, Gimli," I replied. "After I perform a procedure such as I just did, I often simply need to sit and relax for awhile—sometimes quite awhile. Why don't you catch a few hours of sleep, my friend? I can sit somewhat of a watch. All has been quiet on our journey so far, and we are very close to Imladris, are we not? Nothing is apt to be lurking here, do you suppose? I will scream bloody murder if some fell beast should stumble upon us. It will likely keel over from the fright of my voice and there will be no need for weapons or warriors to slay it."

Gimli chuckled at me and shook his head. He wandered over to sit beside me.

"Lass, you are quite a piece of work, are you aware of that?" he asked.

"It has been told to me a time or two," I said, "but I cannot see it myself, I am afraid."

"Well, you must trust me on this, then," he said looking at me sideways, "I have never known anyone quite like you, and I dare say, I probably never will again. And that will suit me just fine. One of you is all I care to have in my life, and if Aule will bless me, all my life you shall be in it!"

"Here, here!" I said, as if in salute, but my tea was not yet ready, so I 'cheered' in thin air. We both laughed.

"Gimli," came the voice of the Elf, "go to your bedroll and get you some sleep. The two of you carrying on so is keeping me awake."

"I cannot go to my bedroll, you impudent Elf," Gimli said sassily. "It seems you are laying on it. However, I have saved myself a stout blanket, and the fresh hard earth is calling to me. I will heed your advice of taking some rest, for it is sound. I bid the fair healer a good night, but you—you silly Elf—oh, I suppose I bid you a good night as well."

We all laughed as Gimli found himself a nice hard piece of earth and wrapped himself up well within his stout blanket and was soon snoring—softly for a change. Perhaps the hard earth agreed with him.

I fetched my bedroll and hauled it over closer to the fire, and now I was pretty much at a right angle with Legolas. I didn't expect any problems with my patient during the night, since his injury had responded so well to the draining, but a healer never knew, and I wanted to be near in case he may need something. I prepared my tea, dosing it with lots of honey as usual. It was just what I needed right now. Very soothing.

As soon as I was finished drinking my tea, I lay down on my back. I didn't pull a blanket over myself. I hadn't the energy at the moment to do so. I didn't bother with washing up nor did I heed any calls to nature, as I had done that just before I had drained the wound on the Elf's leg. I simply lay flat on my back and stared up into the night sky, looking at the stars glittering in their indigo field overhead. I could feel myself calming down by degrees. My muscles were relaxing, and I was very near to sleeping. I was aware of my baby gently swimming within my body. I wondered what it was like inside there, all snuggled and warm. I suppose babies were totally unaware of their surroundings. As children and later as adults we knew nothing of time spent in the womb. How funny I should even contemplate such thoughts.

"Aragorn's child moves within you," Legolas said.

For some reason his voice didn't startle me. Perhaps because it was such a calming sound, not abrupt and mean like it usually was when he spoke to me. Then it dawned on me how dark it was.

I rose up on one elbow to look at him. He was on his side facing me, and as I turned over to question him, I saw his eyes avert from my body up to my face.

"Yes," I answered, "my baby does move tonight. But how did you know? It is dark, I am clothed, and you are more than three feet away."

"My eyesight is good, even in the dark," he said as if that answered all my questions.

"Well," I said, wondering if he could also see in the dark that I was blushing. I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks, "I find it very disconcerting to have someone stare at my person while I am unaware of it—even when I am aware of it."

"I am sorry," he said sounding somewhat chastised. "I had noticed it before in the daylight. I saw the motion and wondered at its source. I decided it could only be the young one, so I inquired. I meant no offense."

I eased my arm down onto the bedroll and propped my head in my hand, lying all the way down on my side. I forgot that the Elves have no mothers-to-be, nor babies to hold. I smiled.

"No offense taken, I suppose," I replied. "Simple curiosity cannot be held against someone." A thought then occurred to me. "Legolas, why are you not asleep? You should be exhausted."

"I was just laying here thinking," he said almost wistfully.

Not wanting to pry, I simply said, "Oh."

I resumed my position on my back once more, again looking skyward and admiring the stars. The vastness of the night sky sometimes took my breath away. If you tried to think of how distant each of the stars and the moon was from Middle Earth, it could make your head spin. And it was all so beautiful.

"I knew not that you had been married," Legolas said quietly.

I wasn't sure I wanted to continue the conversation down the trail it seemed to be leading this time, but for some reason, I answered him.

"Yes, I was. For fifteen years." There. That wasn't so hard.

"Something must have happened."

"Yes. Something did." It was getting harder.

"It must have been bad."

"Yes. It was." Please cease this, Legolas.

"They died in a fire." Did I just say that?

"They?"

"I had a twelve year old son as well." Why am I doing this?

"Eru, no!" he gasped quietly, obviously shocked at what I had just told him.

Of all the people I had told so far about the tragedy that had befallen my family, Legolas' reaction was the most heartfelt of them all. I turned back over onto my side to see his face, but I could not because he had fallen onto his back, and his arm now covered his eyes again, reminiscent of the way he had kept it for most of the morning. He was very quiet for a while.

"I am sorry for your loss," he said at last.

"That means a lot to me, Legolas," I replied.

He took his arm from his face, and propped himself up on one elbow again.

"Why would you say that?" he asked, his brows drawn together in a frown. "We have hardly had two kind words to say to each other this entire journey. Why would a few from me now mean anything to you?"

"That's why they mean so much to me, Legolas," I replied, "because they are so unexpected. I never thought to even have a pleasant conversation with you at all—not that this is exactly a pleasant conversation, considering the subject."

"Then let us change the subject," he suggested. "Why have you disliked me so much? From the very beginning you have shown nothing but contempt for me. Why? What did I do to you?"

"Well, for one thing," I said in a matter-of-fact voice, you vex me for some reason. "Do not ask me why, for I really do not know; I cannot tell you. The second reason is very personal and horribly embarrassing, and you will laugh and make fun of me, and I just cannot tell you."

"And you expect me to leave you be after you tell me all of those things?" he asked incredulously. He switched into what was probably one of his best seduction type voices, asking me again to disclose this deep, dark secret of mine.

"Maeren," he said serenely, "I promise I will not laugh at you nor will I make fun at your expense. You have my word. If it is serious enough to cause all this trouble between us, then I will not laugh, believe me."

I suppose he had a point, but he had no control over how embarrassed I was going to feel.

I closed my eyes and plowed into the explanation.

"Legolas," I said, "you bear a great resemblance to my dear husband, Dustin. I did not see it at first; in fact the first time I realized it was the day you called me a whore."

His eyes snapped to mine at the sound of the ugly word he had used to describe my character.

"You heard that?" he asked.

I chuckled. "As if you thought I hadn't. You certainly said it loudly enough. Anyway, I had gone off a bit into the wood to think things through, and it was then that I realized just how much you resembled my Dustin, and therefore, how attractive you were to me. I began pushing you away the minute I met you—even before I knew why—because I was attracted to you. I pushed you away by any means necessary—snide remarks, making fun—whatever it took." I looked at his face, and it gave away nothing. "All right, go ahead and laugh."

"I have no intention of laughing," he said with a frown, "I almost wish I could apologize to you."

"For what?" I asked completely puzzled.

"It must be hard having to be around a constant reminder of someone who is lost to you. I regret that you had to be put through such a thing." At my uncomfortable expression, he added, "What? Do you think me incapable of feeling sympathy for someone?"

"Of course not!" I exclaimed. "I am simply surprised you would even think to feel that way. See? It simply shows that even after spending weeks together, we know each other not at all!"

"Perhaps that is the source of our vexation with one another?" he ventured to guess.

"No," we both answered together. Then we laughed lightly.

We were quiet for a few minutes, when Legolas spoke again.

"So, Maeren, are you still attracted to me?" he asked slyly, with one eyebrow raised.

"No, but I am still vexed by you," I replied with a grin.

"Ah, but you do find Elladan attractive, do you not?" he asked with an impish quirk to his mouth.

I frowned. "Now what would make you ask a silly thing like that?"

"Well," he answered slyly, "I simply hope it is true. He certainly finds you to be so. I would hate to see his affections tossed about by a common—"

"Watch it, Elf," I said in warning. He chuckled quietly. I continued, "I find it hard to believe he finds me anything of the sort."

Legolas looked me in the eyes and said, "I would not make any wagers on that, my dear healer, were I you. One need only look at him to see it."

"Well whether he does or he doesn't, or I do or I don't is quite beside the point, and none of your business anyway! And I hope you know that attraction and affection each have little to do with one another; I have found that out the hard way—and do not ask me to explain that either, for I will not. What I will say to you is, to lay yourself down and go to sleep. Mother has spoken! You have had a hard day and I have as well. Now, good night to you, Elfling. Pleasant dreams."

I lay myself down, and this time I pulled my blanket up to my chin. Perhaps the Elf wouldn't begin perusing my body and watching my baby moving around. I hoped he wouldn't find anything else about me entertaining at all tonight. I was very tired of a sudden and needed to sleep.

I lay there for a few minutes, finally relaxing. I took a deep breath, at last feeling nearer to sleep.

"Good night, Naneth," Legolas said tiredly. "Pleasant dreams."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o