Not mine, Tolkien's. Wuv to the reviewers.
Galadriel had an interesting surprise the next morning. Haldir was waiting for her with a smirk that looked almost malicious.
He unfolded a bit of black notebook paper, folded in the shape of a crumpled ball, and read aloud the gel-penned words.
"I'm leaving you all now. It's all Galadriel's fault. She arranged my marriages for her own purposes. I will probably sustain a near fatal injury and you will all be filled with angst. Amin feuya ten' lle. (That means 'you disgust me' in Elvish, by the way.) Namaaarie, I am off to find Orlando Greenleaf and cancel the wedding." Haldir absent-mindedly folded the note into a paper replica of one of his lady's swan boats, because border-guards learn some interestingthings to keep them busy.
"Orlando Greenleaf?"
"Thranduil's son, perhaps. Legolas does mean Greenleaf, though that is all I can make of it."
"Ah. Why did you say namariё so strangely?"
"That is how it was written."
"And why did you say such strange words, and then say that they were Elvish?"
"Milady," said Haldir, sounding indignant, "I read the letter the way that it had been written. Now should we not warn the young prince?"
"Elbereth knows he can care for himself."
~
Legolas knew she was near. He also knew that she was powerful, because the urge to name a white horse Celebelarwen and ride through flowery fields was nearly irresistible.
Unfortunately, though the Prince did not yet know it as unfortunate, he was headed to Rivendell.
And "Elrond's daughter" lay in wait like a lioness. Barely had he left Mirkwood when she pounced, tossing her hair, silver as the moon, silver as the moon and stars, silver as the moon and stars at night, silver as a silver flower growing beneath the moon and stars at night—again, I digress. She blinked, fluttered her eyelashes, and flirted without a trace of shame, completely unrecognizable from the creature that had called Haldir a minion not so very long ago, particularly since she seemed not to know that he, this Elf that she seemed so interested in, was Legolas, the one she said she would never marry. She did seem to want to marry him, or at least court him, at the moment. She flashed deep emerald eyes and murmured, "Where are you going? I'm headed to Rivendell. Perhaps you can accompany me?"
Pretending to give succumb without actually succumbing is one of the most difficult tasks in all Arda.
Legolas had perfected the skill.
"Of course, beautiful lady," he said, smiling at her. "I am headed to Rivendell, and I only hope one so beautiful as yourself could join me on the long and perilous journey." He emphasized "long" and "perilous," hoping that perhaps she would moan about how she could never leave her beloved GreenGlitterWood, home of the fae Pegasi. It had happened once. The Sue, Alexis, had been convinced that there was a spell around GreenGlitterWood to make it invisible to everyone but those who knew the secret spell to reveal it, and that the wood was hidden inside Mirkwood. She had refused to leave Mirkwood, but was killed by a spider in the process of searching for her "rightful home." Perhaps this Sue had a similar bond to a certain place. And perhaps, if he was fortunate, the place involved deadly arachnids.
Alas, Legolas had never had very much luck in the field of Sues. "So am I," she screeched. To her the screech sounded like music. To Legolas the screech sounded like Nazgûl.
"You voice is like music and honey and cool summer breezes," he declared passionately.
She giggled. "Thanks. You're really hot."
What must every Sue call him hot? Was it a compliment? Legolas was unsure, but he did as he always did and gave her a faint smile.
