DISCLAIMER: Yadda, yadda, yadda, yadda… (A/N: Don't own anything, never will)

Alright…. Sorry it took me so long to update, but the university has a firm grip on my life, and it doesn't show any signs to slacken… EEK!

SHANDRIAL: Hey dude, here we go again… This time I'm not being as evil as I should, but big promise, someday I will out-evil you!!! Although, on second thought… That's impossible!!! There are few with such… ehm… twisted… minds like you… AND I LOVE EVERY WARPED WINDING OF YOUR BRAIN!!!

WHITE WOLF: Sorry, no happy reunion this time… And I still don't know if the reunion will be a happy one… well, absence makes the heart grow fonder, I think… We'll see *g*.

GWYN: Haven't caught up with posting on MC yet, but see: new chappie…Yeah me *pats herself proudly on her back*

FAER: Yes, poor Leggy…Mwahahahahahahahahahahaahaha…*blinks*

TUXEDO ROSE aka KATIESTAR: *blushes* Thanx a lot for the sweet review… And sorry for the tardiness… Hope you like this new chapter, too

And to all the reviewers who reviewed on MC: THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!!

Here we go!

DARKNESS STIRS

Chapter 7 OF ELFLINGS AND SHIELDMAIDENS

"Stay down!"

"No, I won't. I've got to return to my people!"

"Your people won't appreciate it if I send you back in anything but one piece. Stay still, Elf!" Eowyn pushed a struggling Elf back on his pillow.

Legolas gnarled.

"Lay still or I'll knock you senseless! Do not tempt me!"

A brief glance at her face convinced Legolas that the wisest course was to abide her wishes. She would do as promised, and enjoy it thoroughly.

"You would hit a Firstborn, my Lady?" he asked stiffly. *By the Valar, my voice is weak. I hate it…*

"A certain infuriating Elf-Lord is asking for it, don't you think? It took me a lot to patch you up, and I'd hate it to become undone. I've better things to do, only to see my time wasted. You could be a little more considerate, couldn't you? You think this is fun?"

*Well, it clearly seems you enjoy torturing me immensely. I certainly wouldn't put it past you.* Nevertheless, Legolas ceased struggling and crossed his arms instead, injured dignity impersonated.

"Firstborn… indeed... " she snorted. There were several other things muttered under her breath, too low even for his Elvish hearing. His eyes narrowed.

"Sulking does not suit you, my Prince." She smirked

"I'm not sulking!" he declared outragedly. And clamped his jaws shut. *I'm certainly sounding like an Elfling about to throw a tantrum. Sweet Eru, why do these women always bring the worst out of me? Nilturiel as well as Arwen as well as Eowyn.* he glowered.*Ahh, maybe because you know that they're right and you're not, 'Prince'?* an annoying little voice mocked him inside his head. *I won't be fussed over like an invalid!* he thought back fiercely.

While he was debating with himself, Eowyn snatched the opportunity at his momentary distraction and started to rearrange the blankets around him, straightening the pillows, tucking them neatly behind him,.

"By the Valar, woman, stop fussing!" Legolas snapped at her only to hiss in pain as her hand *accidentally* brushed his side.

Eowyn smiled. It was not a pleasant smile. Legolas fixed her with his Elven look, a look which would have reduced any lesser being to a shameful wrench. But not her. The Shieldmaiden of Rohan simply returned his stare with one of her very own. Legolas averted his eyes.*I'm pitiful indeed*

Smiling coldly she thrust a cup full of an amber liquid into his hands. "Drink this."

Legolas eyed it suspiciously, sniffed at it and frowned. "I don't think so." he stated flatly.

"Oh, but you will, Thranduilion. It's your choice how."

Her jaw was set determinedly, her eyes glistening dangerously. Patience was wearing thin.

"Faramir..." Legolas pleaded. So far the Prince of Ithilien had remained seated next to the bed, barely hiding his amusement while watching the small battle which had ensued as soon as Legolas had awoken.

Now Faramir held his hands up, shaking his head vigorously.

"Oh no, Legolas, I've got nothing to do with it. You're not my patience. You're in Eowyn's hands."

He shuddered. And choked when he noticed Eowyn smiling at him.

"I would drink it, if I where you. She can be very...persuasive." If possible, it got him an even sweeter smile, full of love and... Faramir didn't want to discern the other. He was in trouble, that he knew for sure.

Turning back at Legolas, her smile broadened. "Drink it. Please." Eowyn *did* have a very sweet smile. A smile which didn't reach her eyes. Two chips of blue ice were levelled at him. Legolas emptied the cup hastily, grimacing at its bitter taste. Why did the healing draughts always have to be so foul?

"Good. See, that wasn't that bad, was it?" Smiling pleasantly she patted his head. Legolas flinched. She could have been patting a dog as well.

"Rest now. As to you, my love," Faramir recoiled as if beaten by a whip, "you make sure he stays in bed. If he as much as puts a foot out or it..." gracing him with one of her sweetest smile she swept out of the room.

As the door closed behind her both sighed relievedly in unison. Legolas gave Faramir a sympathetic look, whilst Faramir shrugged apologetically.

After a few minutes Legolas eyed the door yearningly and folded back his blanket, ready to climb out of bed.

"Oh no, you won't!"

Legolas started, looking at his friend in disbelief. Surely he would be reasonable!

"Faramir, I'm fine. You know I can't stay here any longer. I've got to return to my people." Faramir had to understand!

"You're not going anywhere, my friend. Eowyn told you to remain in bed, and I will see that you'll remain." *Why am I feeling like traitor?* "Besides, even if you were fit to wander around, which you're definitely not," he held his hand up to cut off Legolas' protests, "I'm sure you wouldn't make it down the hall."

"Pray, *mellon nîn*, tell me why?" Legolas asked scathingly.

"Because," Faramir smirked, "you've just ingested a very powerful, if slow-acting, sleeping- draught."

Legolas glared at him. "You...you've let her drug me?!" His speech was starting to become slurred, albeit still conveying enough venom and indignation to make Faramir run for cover.

Faramir sighed. Now it was his fault. Not Eowyn's, no. His. She just happened to be the one to give the draught to him and force him to drink it. Ahh, never mind. The blame was always laid on him.

Legolas sight was blurring, and a sweet darkness caressed his consciousness. He knew he had to be angry, but...why? He was too tired to remember, too tired to care.

"Sweet dreams, mellon nîn." Faramir said softly as he watched the Elf's eyes glaze over and become sightless.

The door closed softly behind him as he left the room.

*****

Soft steps echoed through the empty hallway; it was already late, and the torches illuminated the long, winding corridor with their flickering light. Most residents of the palace had already retired, and calm had replaced the usual busy bustling. Faramir drank in the silence, relishing its soothing peace. Peace… for now. He was pretty sure it would only last as long as the effects of the sleeping draught. The aftermath of this little, if necessary assault on Legolas' persona would be very *lively*, to say the least. Faramir shuddered at the many possibilities of revenge a certain Elf-lord could be plotting against him. He had had centuries of practising and honing his skills, after all, and his ingenuity and deviousness were legendary. So absorbed he was in his thoughts he didn't notice the dark figure lurking in the shadows. Long arms shot forwards, circling around and pinning him effectively against the wall. Before he could react his cry was stifled by another mouth. Faramir smiled against the soft lips and let himself relax against his captor. After too short a time they broke apart, panting from the lack of oxygen.

"A ranger caught unawares, shame on you, my lord."

"But who said I didn't want to be caught, my lady?" Faramir leaned forward, planting a firm kiss on Eowyns forehead, drawing her closer.

"He sleeps, I presume…"

"Ay, Eowyn, would I have left his side otherwise…"

"No, you wouldn't have dared!" Her lips curled in a mock sneer as she fixed him with one of her stares. "You know, you'll be in so much trouble tomorrow."

"Well, then it is only too well that I leave with the army tomorrow." He felt her stiffen, then slowly relaxing again.

"I think we will have to bind and gag him." She sighed. "Or, even better, lock him away in the dungeons."

"He won't be pleased… I wonder what it takes to have the wrath of the Elves descend on you."

Pondering for a few minutes they stood there, in a tight embrace, trying to shake off the shadows looming on the horizon. Faramir knew that the battle would be a bloody one, but he simply hoped they would arrive in time to be of help.

"We nearly lost him… It was by the Lady's grace that Rikar chose this very night to accompany Boromir and his men to collect some healing herbs…"

Faramir nodded. "But now he's here, safe and well. He'll be up and about in no time."

"Yes, and that's what concerns me most. He's a difficult patient at the best of times, and now it will be impossible to restrain him."

"Ah, well, then you will have to devise something clever, my love."

Eowyn snuggled closer against him. "You will be gone for a long time…"

"Then, my lady, let's seize the day… or the night." He purred, his breath tickling her ears.

"Who needs sleep?" And dragging him along they hurried down the corridor.

*****

Loud chirping interrupted his dreams. These annoying little birds. So busy and loud at these stage of the day. Legoals graoned. His mind was a little bit hazy, but nevertheless he felt an instant urge to harm somebody. He didn't know why, but the thought of his hands tightening around someone's throat was a very comforting one. Well, maybe he should settle in shooting the chirping beasts outside at first.

He opened his eyes and took in the faint light which entered across the open balcony. It was shortly before dawn. So Eowyn's draught had not lasted long enough. Smirking he unfolded the blankets and swung his feet out of the bed. The movement had been too rash, a wave of light-headedness made him grasp the post and steady himself. After the world had calmed down he slowly but determinedly pulled himself up. When he was sure to be able to stand on his own he strode towards the balcony, letting the cool air caress his skin and dispel the last remnants of the drug. Although it was still before dawn, he could hear and see the soldiers below him moving busily around.

He frowned. So Faramir wanted to leave without him!

Never.

With grim determination he returned to his chamber and proceeded to wash himself. Opening his wardrobe he checked for suitable clothing. This was his chamber in Minas Ithil, and therefore pertaining lots of clothes and other personal items. Everybody of the fellowship and close friends owned a room in the respective homes of their friends, and now more than ever Legolas greeted this proof of friendship.

He went over his clothes, selecting some, discarding others. After all he was to set out on campaign, so the outfit had to be suitable. Usually he hated to fuss over clothes, and he couldn't care less what he was wearing, but on this occasion he had not only to go to war, but he had to go to war as the Elf-Lord, the Prince, the leader and King he was. He had never claimed this title, feeling it belonged only to the great and wise among his people, but under Elvish law he was that and nothing less.

After a few minutes he settled on an outfit wholly made of leather. Dark green leather leggings, black suede boots reaching up to his knees and a black tunic, his coat-of-arms embroidered in silver on his breast. Gently he tugged the tight leggings on, wincing when the effort made his side twinge, the slipped on his boots and buttoned his tunic.

The image the mirror greeted him with was deeply satisfying. In front of him stood a warrior, none to be trifled with. Cold grey eyes peered at him critically, a grim smile of approval thinly on his lips.

Swiftly he started to braid his hair, not only the knots and braids of a warrior, as he usually wore them, but also the more intricate pattern of Mirkwood royalty. Whilst his hands swiftly arranged his hair he let his mind wander. Grief gripped his heart as he remembered the ones he had lost only a week before, and tears tried to well up. But he never let them. This was not the time.

Finished with braiding and satisfied with the result he walked to a cupboard, and opening the drawer he pulled out a sword. On his last visit a month ago he had damaged the hilt, and Faramir had been so gracious to offer his smiths to repair it, and Legolas had accepted it. A bitter smile played around his lips. With his bow and knives gone he at least had his sword. Gently caressing the runes on the blade he started to dance with it, the lethal dance he was famous for. Each move, thrust and retreat a smooth, elegant pattern, slowly at first, then with increasing speed, until his movements were but a graceful blur.

A thin layer of perspiration glistened on his brow, his body a single throb of pain he moved on regardless, pushing himself towards his limits and beyond, testing his strength, despising his obvious weakness.

"What in Arda are you doing!!!"

Eowyn stood rooted on the spot. She saw the shadow in front of her swishing the sword, thrusting and blocking, moving with lightning speed. At her words Legolas turned around, his face flushed, but his expression serene. His braids danced with the chilly morning breeze, and realization struck her squarely in the face. He was clothed and ready.

Fixing him with her stare she hoped to make him squirm uncomfortably as always, but it elicited not a single flicker. He brushed it off as it were nothing, and Eowyn felt it harder and harder not to avert HER eyes as his stare pierced through her, looking into her very soul. She had never felt so young and insignificant, and she realized she had never felt the full impact of an Elf-lords gaze. The Elf standing in front of her was not her friend Legolas, but the Lord and King of Eryn Feredron, millennia old, full of power and wisdom. Who was she to question his actions?

Legolas regarded the woman in front of her and smiled sadly as he read the emotions rushing over her face. He felt a little bit of regret that he had to make her uncomfortable, but it was necessary. If he didn't pour the last ounce of willpower and strength into his look, he would never get past her defenses and able to ride with Faramir.

"I have to go." His soft statement shattered the spell on her, and she locked her eyes with his.

"No, you're still wounded." As soon as the words left her mouth she clumped it shut with a click. The eyes of her friend bore deeper, threatening the pierce her very heart.

"You know I have to. It's my people. I cannot stay here idly while others fight for their lives. Even if it cost me my life. I cannot and will not. It is your choice, my Lady, to help me or to stand in my way and face the consequences."

A sharp intake of breath was her answer. Legolas regarded her calmly, but inside him the emotions raged in a whirling turmoil, making him dizzy. He had never threatened any of his friends, only in common jest and banter, and it broke his heart, but not his resolution. Both of them knew he would never harm anybody, but if they stood between him and his people their friendship would be forfeited.

Eowyn shot him a dark look. She knew the meaning of his words, and it hurt her. But, to be honest, she knew she wouldn't react differently. And the bond between an Elf-lord and his people was of a strength and depth she couldn't even start to understand, if she tried a lifetime.

Defeatedly she nodded.

A beaming smile was her reward, and she felt her spirits lift again. He wanted to say something, but she cut him off wearily.

"You'll ride with Faramir, but I will be damned if I let you go in anything but your clothes and a sorry sword. Come with me. You will wear armour, if I have to beat you inside it! And after what you have said I will more than enjoy it. So give me a reason, and you will know what it means to face the wrath of the Shieldmaid of Rohan!" Her words were harsh, but the smile in her eyes belied their coldness.

Legolas bowed solemnly, the stretched out his arm, and they walked arm in arm out of his chamber.

*****

Faramir sighed. He was so tired! But a wicked smile tugged at his corners when he remembered why he was currently suffering from lack of sleep. It had been thoroughly worth it. He scanned his men, an army of five hundred, ready to march. He raised his arm to shout the marching order.

"Wait."

Faramir turned round, facing the source, and felt his mouth opening and closing repeatedly, trying to digest the vision. In front of him stood Legolas as he had never seen him before. Clad in dark green leggings and a dark tunic he had put on braces, a bow and quiver strapped on his shoulder, a sword on his belt, braided in a fashion he had witnesses only once before, on his crowning as the King of Eryn Feredron. Silver armour shone in the rising sun, but was quelled by the radiance of the Elf himself. His skin glowed intensely, an ethereal vision, far removed from reality, a beauty seldom to behold by mortal eyes. He could hear several gasps and cries of surprise from the surrounding soldiers, but he felt utterly spechless. *A child of Iluvitar, a firstborn… Truly one of the Eldar. *

After a few time he slowly regained his senses, looking incredulously at Eowyn. "What's the meaning of this?" He barked. She simply shrugged. "I think you should give him a horse my lord, or he will walk all the way by foot. Anything short of killing him could not prevent him from coming, so I think it might be better that way. At least there might be a slight chance to deliver him home more or less unscathed."

Faramir narrowed his eyes, but at the dejected look on Eowyn's face he knew there was nothing he could do. He nodded at on of his men who dismounted quickly, leading the horse to Legolas. In a swift, elegant motion he was seated on top of it, taking the reigns from the other's hand. With a nod he urged Faramir to proceed.

Glaring daggers at his stubborn friend next to him, Faramir bent down, kissing his wife good-bye. They held each other tightly for some minutes, finally letting go reluctantly.

"See that he remains alive, for I long his return to sort some things out with him!" Faramir could sense Legolas wince, and he smiled broadly. Oh, revenge could be so sweet...

"As you command, my love" With that he saluted and turned around to his men.

"MARCH!"

TBC…

Shalalalal lalalalal… *cough, cough* Ahem… sorry about that tiny Eowyn and Faramit bit, don't know what possessed me… Lay the blame on Lisa, it's all HER fault… Yeah, right… Ahem, I promise this will be the first and only fluff scene in this fic!!! I swear!!! AFTER ALL, THIS IS AN ACTION AND ANGST FIC!!! *cough, cough*

Well, I'm fully aware that it's taken me very long to come to the action scenes, and that I have thoroughly neglected Aragorn and Gimli, but this will be redeemed from the next chapter on, then there will be lots of battle scenes, much more angst, torture and, and, and… So watch out for Chapter 8, "LIKE A PHOENIX…" Coming soon to your favourite ff.net (if God and the university allow it…)

So, please be so kind, and give a lil bit attention to this nice little button down here, it's thoroughly suffering from lack of affection… Press it!!! I'm in the basement, you're high in the sky, so drop on by… Leave a review… *cough* I'm not suffering from insanity, I'm enjoying every minute!!!

Saes, mellyn nîn, review, let me know what you think about it, what I should change, where improve…

See you soon….mwahahahaahah