Nimoë!

For a moment the world stopped spinning.  Desperately, Legolas reached out and pulled the child's face up to his, pushing back the mud encrusted hair, trying to wipe the dirt off of her skin.  Could it truly be?  He cursed the filth that disguised her identity from him, but then he looked, truly looked, into the large grey eyes.  Then he knew there could be no doubt.

His hands moved without his control, stroking the dear face, relearning the familiar contours, although they had not yet molded with maturity.  So young!  Then he became aware of her terrified trembling and his hands twitched with the urgent desire to grab his bow and hunt down the Men who had dared to traumatize her so.  Ungently, he pulled her tight against him, overwhelmed by the rush of emotions that finding her again, so unexpectedly, sent spilling through him, like floodwaters bursting through a dam.

Nimoë struggled in his arms, which were suddenly too tight, and she cried out, "Please!  You're hurting me!"

Immediately he released her, almost as if her touch burned him, silently cursing himself.  What was he thinking?  She had no memory of him.  As much as he wanted to hold her close and never let her go again, he had no right.  She was a small child, most likely orphaned, and what she needed was security, not some stranger frightening her half to death.  "I am sorry, Nimoë," he said, struggling to find a plausible explanation for his behavior.  "It is just that I was overwhelmed by the sorrow of your tale.  Forgive me?"

She looked up her pert nose at him, her head tilted to the side, apparently considering whether or not to accept his apology.  Finally, she nodded, giving one last loud sniffle of her nose, and rubbing her grubby hand over her eyes to clear them of tears.  "Very well, then.  Can we go to your city now?  I am so very tired."

He dropped her a low bow.  "As you wish, my lady.  Take my hand and I will bring you there.  It is still some distance.  Are you strong enough to walk?" he asked with concern, noting her haggard appearance and sunken features.

Pulling herself up to her full height, which was less than impressive, she squared her shoulders.  "I am strong enough for anything, Prince Legolas.  I survived the Emyn Muil and the Dead Marshes.  One little walk through the trees does not daunt me."

Fighting down the urge to laugh out loud at her show of bravado, he took her small hand in his own.  "Follow me, then." Here indeed was his Nimoë.  Strong in the face of unthinkable adversity, even in her youth.

As they moved through secret paths towards the city, Legolas let out a low hoot, alerting one of his border guards, who was perched high in the trees, that he was leaving his post.  Someone else would be sent to take over his watch.

Walking along at her side, he tried to draw her out, to learn more of her history, and found that it was not difficult.  Like many children, she had not yet learned the art of deception or the wisdom of silence.  She spoke of her home in Mirkwood, of the day when she had returned from berry picking to find her house burnt to the ground.  The day when her mother had taken her and fled, telling her of the Elf Colony in Ithilien, where they would be safe.

"She told me that Prince Legolas is a mighty warrior.  That he would keep the bad Men away from us."  She looked up at him, as if measuring the reality of him up against the heroic figure that her mother had painted for her.  "Is it true?  Are you a mighty warrior?" she asked innocently.

They had come to a steep rock wall, taller than himself, and he reached down and lifted her up, settling her feet on solid holds halfway up the wall.  "Stay there and don't move," he instructed, then scrambled to the top of the wall, where he pulled her up after him.  "I suppose you could call me that.  I have fought in many wars."  His heart screamed within him, aching for her to have memory of the last Great War, when they had fought side by side.

"Well, that is alright then.  Mother was so certain that you would be all that the legends said.  She said that you would take care of us."  There was a moment of silence, and Legolas could not but think that she was remembering that last time she had seen her mother alive.  Savagely he fought down the desire to pull her close again, to offer her comfort.

Shaking herself, she continued, "She was right, wasn't she?  You will take care of me, won't you?"  Her voice had sunk down to a quiet pleading, and Legolas found that he could no longer hold himself in check.

He stopped walking and knelt down in front of her, putting his face of a height with hers.  He held her shoulders gently and said, with all the depth of his emotion, wrought by long centuries of waiting for this one precious girl, "I swear to you that I will keep you safe.  As long as you need it, you have a home with me.  Now that you have found me, you need never fear again."

Impulsively, she snaked her small arms around his neck and hugged him gratefully.  "Thank you, Prince Legolas.  I am ready to go on now."

For three full hours they walked.  Had Legolas been alone, it would have taken less than half that time, but Nimoë was more exhausted than she had shown.  She stumbled often, and would have fallen, but for the Elf Prince's firm grip on her hand.  Stubbornly, she plodded onward, unwilling to speak of her crushing fatigue, the way her legs felt like raspberry jelly and her lungs cried out for breath.

They had lapsed into silence, and Legolas found himself unable to tear his eyes from the top of her small head.  For so long he had waited, anxious to be reunited with his love, but never had he expected her to turn up like this.  Alone.  Afraid.  Completely dependent upon him.

The very real threat that faced his people tempered his exultant joy at having finally found her again.  If ever there was a time when he would rather she had not been reborn, this would be it.  Likely there were a few more years of relative peace ahead of them, but he had no illusions that they would last.  Soon enough his small Colony would be attacked, laid under siege. 

Now, thrown into the balance, he had a newfound reason to fight.  Nimoë!  Still his mind could not truly comprehend it.  What was he going to do?  She had no one else left in the world.  It seemed that she must become his ward.  He did not flinch from the responsibility for, in the absence of a parent, he would not have had it otherwise, but her extreme youth posed problems for him.  He could not raise her as his own.  That would not be right, for his intentions for her were certainly not those of a father towards his daughter.

Rather, he would place her with a family within his realm and, more challenging, he would have to give her as wide a berth as he could, to allow her to grow and flourish without his constant, hovering presence.  Sternly he told himself that he had waited for four long centuries.  Certainly he could wait a few years more.

Feeling a strange shaking along his arm, he looked down at her in alarm.  She was crying again, wrenching, body-wracking tears.  Concerned, he asked, "What is wrong, child?"

Through large hiccupping sobs she cried, "I cannot keep going.  If I take one more step I will fall, and I won't be able to move again!"  Her last word rose on a wail, and she fell to her knees, her face buried in her hands.

Legolas cursed under his breath for what must have been the hundredth time that day.  Darn the girl and her stubborn pride!  He should have known that she would push herself past her limits before she would admit a weakness.  This was the same woman who had proven just that time and again during the War of the Ring.  There was no reason to expect her to be different in this incarnation.

He reached down and pulled her up into his arms.  She seemed to weigh nothing, and a new wave of worry swept over him.  Even a child as young as she was should have some substance to their body.  She must be half starved.  Food and a bath would be her first priorities when they reached the city.

Once he had her firmly in his grasp, he hurried off through the woods at a brisk jog, running smoothly so as not to jolt her.  The need to bring her to a place where she could be cared for was hard upon him, and it gave speed to his feet.

In but a few short minutes, he discovered that she had curled herself trustingly against his chest, and her eyes had closed in sleep.  Oh, the innocence of youth!  Had he been another man, perhaps one with evil intent, she would have been in grave danger, for she placed her trust so completely.

Pushing that uncomfortable thought aside, he ran on, coming to the more frequently traveled paths, closer to the city.  There he passed by other Elves who had come to the safety of his Colony.  They turned to watch his passage with wonder.  What matter was so urgent that their Prince would run towards the city in the middle of the day, when it was well known that he never left his patrol until it was completed? And what small bundle did he carry in his arms? 

At long last he reached the outskirts of the city. Unlike the great cities of the Elves which had flourished during the Third Age, his was more spartan.  Great trees grew clustered close about and, suspended among the branches, were buildings, light and airy, but free of decoration or embellishment.  There had been little time to worry about such frivolities during construction.  It seemed that almost every month a new Elf or family of Elves appeared, seeking sanctuary.

They were put to work, building their own dwellings.  Every able-bodied Elf who joined the Colony was expected to pull their own weight.  They were responsible for the construction and maintenance of their own homes.  The men served time in the border patrol, while the women, and those men who were not out manning the borders, shared other responsibilities, such as farming, cooking, and public works.  There were a few healers among their number as well for, although Elves cannot fall ill, injuries were inevitable in the rustic life that the lived.

As he approached the rope lift that would carry him up into the canopy of the forest, to his own home, Legolas smiled to himself.  He would place Nimoë with a family of healers.  Her natural skills demanded that she should have training in that field.  A gentle snore reached his ears and he smiled, then pulled his right arm tight around her, grasping the rope with his left, while his foot stepped into the loop at the bottom.

One of the men who worked in his household had seen him approach and he dropped the counterbalance down from the high porch.  Immediately, Legolas and his burden were lifted high into the air.  When he stepped off of the swaying rope onto the solid pine of his entry porch, he finally allowed himself a sigh of relief.  Sweeping past the Elf who pulled the counterbalance back up, he pushed wide the door of his home, and went straight through to the sleeping room.

With soft hands he laid the slumbering girl in his bed.  So small was she that she seemed lost in the vast space.  Legolas laid a coverlet over her gently, although he doubted that anything he did would rouse her, and bent down to place a kiss on her forehead.  Before leaving to summon women to care for her upon waking, he knelt down at the side of the bed, taking her small hand in his own.

He spoke an oath then, a solemn pledge.  "Nimoë, once, in another lifetime, I loved you more than life itself.  I have loved you since then with no lessening of my feelings.  I swear to you now that I will protect you with my life.  Although I must remain aloof, I will be ever watchful.  If ever you have need, I will be there to lend you aid.  And when the time comes that you remember what has been, I will be waiting.  Then we will do what we never had a chance to, so many long years past.  I will marry you, and dedicate my life to you.  I swear this on the very blood that beats through my body.  I love you now and forever."

Tearing himself away from the tiny body, which housed the soul of his beloved, Legolas turned and left the room, intent on bringing those who could care for her, and on making a most momentous decision.  Who would raise this child as their own?