Part 7

Chiara woke up at the height of the moon. Its brilliance flooded into the room. The luxury of her life glowed around her, testament to the fortune that came to her despite the ill fate of her line. All this she owed to Aragorn.

She pushed away the expensive sheets and sat up on her soft, comfortable bed. Arwen slept in the armchair by the window, glorious in motherhood concern for a daughter's pain. Chiara took her blanket and laid it over Arwen's form. It spoke clearly of the king's feelings that night that he allowed his wife to stay out of their own sleeping chambers that night.

Chiara moved quietly, unwilling to disturb Arwen's rest. Chiara walked outside. The corridors were lit with torches, even though there was no one around at that time of night. There was ever only one destination for her when she needed to think. She climbed the stone steps to the parapets.

The wind was cold up there. Even in the summer it was always coldest at that height. Yet always she came back because of the impression of freedom that it gave her. The skies were above her and the land lay before her. Chiara could pretend that she was not in a gilded cage.

She felt him come up behind her. Chiara knew that it was Legolas even before he wrapped a thin shawl around her and teased her ear with a butterfly kiss. "This is why your people are sickly. You forget the simplest protection."

Chiara closed her eyes and leaned back, allowing him to enclose her waist with his arms. "That's because I know you will always remember."

"Well mind your health," he murmured, "because I will be away for a while."

She turned around in his arms, the shawl dropping unnoticed from her shoulders. Chiara frowned at his words. "You're leaving."

Legolas nodded. "At first light to observe the mercenaries' camp. We shall drive them out of the lands."

Chiara had seen the encampment, the weapons. Her heart rebelled at the thought of Legolas going in to the face of danger. Ageless he may be, but his flesh was as vulnerable to swords and spears as any man's.

They started to climb down as they talked, until finally, they were in the garden. They were silent in their embrace, standing under the brilliant tree that would blind the others if they looked. It was their disguise.

"The Elves last fought at Pellinor," she reminded him. "That was the end of any duty you may have had to the king."

"This is a favor," he told her. "When we win, it will be my grace to ask Aragorn for you."

Yet she despaired for she knew that there was no worth that Legolas had not yet proven to the king. Still Aragorn would not have them be together. She did not know what else Legolas could prove to the king with this one deed. Chiara stared at him, eyes liquid as she met his unwavering gaze. "You will always remain beautiful, Legolas," was all she could say. His eyes held questions then. "It's the gift of the First-born," she continued. His eyes cleared as he began to understand where Chiara was taking the conversation. He waited with bated breath for Chiara to say what they have both tried to deny. "You know well why you and I are not the same."

Legolas brushed her cheek with his fingers. "Men will always hold their gift of mortality against us, Chiara. Yet a force more powerful has drawn us together. You are the gift of the Silmarils, ever for me. That is my belief."

"Cursed jewels! I have not seen them yet they loom above my head. Their bloodied tales sunder us, and shall sunder us in my lord guardian's mind."

"They shall bring us together, Chiara," he said firmly.

"Is your faith so strong that your conceit if that we will overcome our births, my king and your Undying Lands?"

"Not my faith or conceit. My love, Chiara, is strong. As is yours." As he said it, his gaze pleaded with her to agree, because he needed to believe it as well.

She thought of the ill-fated legends of Elves and Men. In that moment, she saw her future in his eyes and knew it for its truth. She took his hands and kissed his palms. "Your hands are so pure and beautiful, and will firmly hold your bow. Your keen eyes will help you defend this land. That soon you will be back to me I pray to Eru. However long or short my Mortal life is, let these be the hands that hold me on my last breath." Chiara kissed the tip of each finger. "Let yours be the eyes I see before my endless sleep."

He shook his head and drew her close. "Talk of mortality late in life, Chiara. Your line has the longest lives among all men. I shall show you this land beyond the mountains; take you to Mirkwood my home, which was once Greenwood the Great. If you so please we shall dwell there and cause its prosper much like Elu Thingol and Melian of old."

Chiara had seen her fate, and she accepted it fully. She did not know how, but she knew when. Legolas was leaving, and she may not see him again. She would give him this. "We will restore it to its former glory."

Legolas nodded. "So do not be careless with your safety," he reminded her.

Chiara pointed to the lone star overhead. Legolas look up, and his face became rapt with wonder. "'Tis the lone Silmaril come out for us."

"Almost as if the Valar speak," she murmured. "And they say that we are not as wrong as Aragorn would have us be."

"Almost." Legolas cupped Chiara's face and gazed at her glow under the Silmaril. He swore that the missing two were captured in her eyes. He laid his lips on hers gently, pressing firmer only when she did. He buried his fingers in her golden hair.

"Take this."

Legolas looked down at his palm to see that she had pressed her necklace, with the silver falcon that was her family crest, in his hand.

"The Falcon has been most loyal to the Eagle of Gondor. Keep this to remind you of your vow to Aragorn. Most of all, keep this to remember that you must return to me."

Perhaps for love, Elven vows of friendship were most often broken. Legolas had known two friends in the last age, both honoured warriors of their clans, who loved the same woman. One killed the other then killed himself. Elven friendships did not stand to love and passion.

Legolas was proof unparalleled. For that night, under the Silmaril in the sky, cushioned by green dewy grass and on Aragorn's palace grounds, he took to wife in body and spirit the lady Chiara, betrothed to the lord of Rohan and before that ward of Gondor. On that night and ever she shall be beloved of Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood.

~~

Chloe was captivated by his eyes. He whispered to her, words strange yet familiar. Her eyes fluttered closed. Blindly, she allowed her fingers to run over the planes of his face, lost in the magic he weaved around them.

She opened her eyes and stumbled back. She did not understand why she was glued in front of him, unwilling to scream for help at the presence of this man who claimed to be something as insane as her destined love. She found herself saying, "I have no memory of you." The moment the words were uttered, Chloe knew that she did not say them.

With the strength of her will, Chloe stumbled backwards. "Please go."

Those words she recognized. She phrased them in her mind. Something inside her rebelled from saying them. It was the same undefined part of her that did not want to escape from the presence of this beautiful stranger.

Legolas motioned to the pendants that hung from her neck. "May I?"

Chloe closed her fist tightly around them. Legolas was hit by the force of the jewels throbbing in her hold. Chloe took the necklace off. She dangled it in front of him, an offering. Legolas reached out to touch it.

Lex stood a few feet away, looking at the two. "Chloe, don't!"

The two looked up towards Lex, who stood with the sun behind him.

"Elboron," Legolas said upon seeing him. His skin teased the tip of one. The jewels glowed and suddenly exploded a brilliant blinding white. They captured the sun and reflected the light.