Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof

*****

To pretend that you are happy when you are really very upset

Legolas made the mistake four times before remembering. 'Don't ask,' he thought to himself. 'Don't ask where Nana is.'

But the empty halls saddened his heart, and it seemed the sun would not shine. When none bore witness to his misery, the young prince rested his chin in cupped hands and watched the grey rain slide over the window panes. He imagined races, one droplet moving into another speeding up, and the boy trailing with his finger the tiny little spots of water come off the congealed splotch. Without Nana, it was difficult to believe in happiness.

When it did not rain, Legolas wandered windowless corridors. He cared not for the pale hue his skin took, nor the splitting at the ends of his hair. Why bother? For since Nana went away, no one had cared about a solitary little boy. That was what happened, Legolas realized, when everyone loved just one person. Sometimes this thought made him feel angry, for Nana should not have left if it meant taking everyone's love. Then he would feel awful for blaming Nana. It wasn't her fault, not after what the Orcs did to her.

But no one seemed to want to change at all! Everyone kept on being sad, and each sad person saddened a deal more, until at last there was nothing but sadness. At this point it was that the Elfling wandered along a corridor, at first not noticing the odd sounds. At last his ears twitched, and he wondered. It was a soft, painful keening sound that he heard. Someone was crying. There was nothing new; when was there not someone crying in Mirkwood?

Legolas had every intention of ignoring the noise, but upon passing an open door her peered in, strictly out of curiosity, and gasped. "Adar?" Thranduil seemed not to hear. Placing one foot before the other, Legolas crossed the room to stand before the bent, sobbing figure that was his father. "Ada." Pushing aside the desire to cry with his parent, Legolas wrapped his arms around the elder Elf and rested his head on his shoulder. "It will be all right, Ada," Legolas said. "We will go on. And we will see her again."

Thranduil raised his head, brushing away tears. His own son had found him crying. Thranduil had not cried since his wife went away, and it was unfair for Legolas to be the one to see him this way. "It will," Thranduil replied, trying to mean it.

"Really, Ada. It will," and somehow, though he knew not how, Legolas meant it. Though he knew it not.

Brave people

"Who do we mark here?" Estel asked, to which Legolas had no reply.

Estel knelt and kissed his fingertips, then pressed them against the stone marking the burial site. His kinsman, Halbarad, lay there, a cousin never to be seen again. What could be said to this? Halbarad had been a child, yet had easiest accepted Estel, had shown him customs and later been his very close friend. What words would now ease the pain of the knowledge that Halbarad was never to be seen nor spoken to again, never laughed with or leaned upon when drunk? He was gone, and he would not be coming back.

"We mark the brave."

"Aye." The Ranger stood, looked into his friend's eyes, and repeated the words. "We mark the brave."

*****

Emmithar: Are you stalking me? Ha ha, just kidding. I am fine. High school sucks. I hate it much. When I'm through with it, and after I've finished school, I'm going to be a rural veterinarian so that I never have to talk to human, except about their animals. How exactly are you looking for me, out of curiosity? O.k., so you do have more than one. Difficult to update all of them, isn't it? Hm. Well, I'll do a new chapter for that one soon. Heh, I've got all these ideas stored up, and there are about five stories I want to begin. So very, very irresponsible of me. Ah, well. Anyway, how are you? Hope you're well.

Author's note: Two definitions didn't exactly work out. . .

NEXT: Disturbed