Huh. Are you all Elrohir haters? He gets punched, and people think it's funny. Weird.
Just kidding. Sort of. I like Elrohir, honest I do… but Leherim needs to have some fun too… and he rather deserved it, for making her pass out and worring Legolas so much. I wonder if Legolas remembers to go back and apologize…
Legolas and Leherim have been close for a long, long time… but it is NOT in any way inappropriate. I realize the obvious comfort with touching and kissing each other could hint at something like that, but it simply isn't so. They would protect each other to the end, comfort and console with words or with a simple touch, but I must repeat—NOT INAPPROPRIATELY. Today we tend to be uncomfortable seeing any closeness between people, going so far as yelling at couples holding hands to get a room (I have observed this myself, no exaggeration here). These two know each other better even than most people given thousands of years would, because they can send thoughts and feelings at the same instant as they are felt. I had a professor once say that three inches is the loneliest distance—the distance between the outside world and what we are really thinking, because no one can bridge it. These two have. I don't know if I would personally consider it a blessing or a curse to be so close to a sibling, but we are talking about elves.
Now, I'll just put my little soap box away, and you can get onto the new chapter, which was delayed for illness and then catching up on school work once I was out of the hospital.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Elrohir's coming your way.
What?!? Why?
To apologize, I believe. Try not to give him a black eye to go with his swollen jaw, all right?
She sighed. Oh, very well. I shall try not to.
That's good. I'd hate to have to save him from you. I've had enough for one day, thank you very much.
Troll. What are you going to do?
Think somewhere. Did you ever open my present?
I—he's here. Later, dear brother.
He shook his head at her sarcastic tone and butted out of the conversation.
Leherim sighed softly in relief, looking up at the elf as he walked in.
"Legolas warned you?"
"Of course," she agreed with a slight frown. "Why wouldn't he have done so?"
Elrohir smiled slightly and shrugged. "You've got me there. There's no reason for him not to. Must be rather dull, though, never having surprises."
"There are surprises you like, and some you don't. A birthday is enjoyable. A surprise attack is not."
He frowned, his eyes darkening. "I didn't come to retaliate, Leherim. I came to apologize and ask that we renew our friendship of old."
She studied him for a moment, took in the swelling on the left side of his jaw. With a sigh she nodded. "As long as you do not call me a thief, I think that may be possible, unless you have come as a spy."
"I have come as a friend."
"Even spies are sometimes friends," she murmured blithely. "How am I to know it isn't so with you?"
"I know you're a princess among suspicious wood-elves, Lee, but that doesn't sound like you."
"You don't know me anymore." She pinned him with a long look taken from Legolas's repertoire of intimidating new recruits at the palace.
He smiled—not the anticipated or desired result. "Perhaps not, but I know that look. How could I have not seen who you are? It's as obvious as your features, your hair. You two look a lot like your mother, you know."
"I remember very little of her, actually," she admitted softly. "I was still quite young when she…" Leherim tightened her jaw and turned slightly away. She shook off the hand that rested comfortingly on her shoulder. "Well," she murmured tightly. "You have not been shown around the kingdom, have you?"
"No," he agreed softly, his eyes dark as he watched her, seeming to ask why she rejected his effort to comfort her. After all, his eyes whispered, I have not seen my mother in many long years either.
It was different from when Legolas spoke with her, for she could hear Legolas as clearly as if he was speaking from a foot away. The words would be laced with whatever he was feeling, and the feelings often came across as well, though she knew he had more control over that than did she. But Elrohir's words were more of a whisper, a hint of what he wanted to say. More like he didn't expect her to pick up on them. She decided to experiment. Have you been to your Grandmother's recently?
He blinked, his eyes widening. An affirmative was in his eyes, but no voice came to her.
She closed her eyes and shook her head. "That's hard to do," she murmured aloud, lifting a hand to her temples.
"But you do it all the time with—"
She shook and then dropped her hand, waving off the rest of his statement with a flick of her wrist. "That's very different. For Legolas and me it's as if we are speaking aloud, but no one else can hear. This is more like a whisper, a hint."
"It's all I've been taught to do," he defended softly.
She shrugged. "Well, it's very weak and rather difficult."
"If you have the gift, you could probably do that with most anyone."
She shook her head and led him out of the room. "No. Legolas and I have been trying to include Father for centuries without the slightest hint of success." She shrugged again and began showing him the palace, the village, and what of the forest they were allowed into unarmed. She remembered Legolas's comment and turned back to the garden Elrohir had accused her in, finding her way quickly to the spot. She hunted around while Elrohir watched. "You could make yourself useful and look."
"Look for what?"
"The box Legolas gave me," she muttered, peering through leaves.
"How big was it?"
"Not very. About this long," she held her hands apart, "very narrow, and about this," she cut the distance in half, "wide." She glanced around. "It was blue."
"What else would it be?" he shrugged slightly and began looking.
Leherim's head snapped up at the comment. "What was that to mean?"
"What was what—oh. Nothing," he shook his head and went back to searching.
"I don't believe you, Elrohir. What was it to mean?"
"Oh, forget it," he insisted.
She narrowed her eyes at him, and then sat down where she was, crossing her arms over her chest to glare at him.
"Found it," he murmured, forcing cheerfulness into the tone. "Do you know what's in it?"
"No, I don't. What did you mean?"
"You aren't going to let it go, are you?"
"Not bloody likely," she muttered, before coloring and clamping a hand to her mouth.
He chuckled softly. "You should hear Arwen when we get her going," he teased.
"Oh," she made as if to hit him with the box. "So?"
"So?—oh. You are a stubborn little thing, aren't you?"
"My brother and I are a lot alike," she agreed.
Elrohir had butted heads with the prince often enough to take it as fair warning. "Okay. It just seems that blue is the favored color of your family, that's all. It's what they tend to wear at gatherings, and such…" he finished weakly.
"We wear it because it is a sign of royalty, something we are expected and practically required to wear. Not because it is our favorite color."
"The why is the box blue?"
"It was probably delivered in a blue box, or such a box was all he could find to put it in. It has nothing to do with his color preference."
"Which is?" he asked, holding out a hand to draw her to her feet.
"He prefers green and silver." She dusted off the back of her gown.
"What do you prefer?"
"I…" she trailed off and colored slightly.
"Well?"
She lowered her eyes and studied the box. "Silver."
"And?"
She glared at him from the corner of her eyes before heading off through the halls again. "Blue," she muttered.
"So he could have chosen the box because you like the color?" He chuckled softly at her disgruntled expression. "What of your father, then?"
"Dark red."
"No other color?"
"No. He accepts blue, but it's dark red he prefers. Gold or silver are but more colors to him."
"Hmm. Interesting."
She snorted and wandered to the rooms she shared with Legolas.
"Aren't you going to open it?"
"Wha—oh. I suppose I should sometime today," she agreed, sitting down on one of the couches in the main sitting room. She popped the latch out of the way with a fingernail, and slowly opened the small box. She laughed softly when she saw what it was. Very funny, Legolas.
What? You've been bugging me for decades to get you one.
She held the dagger up and tested the weight of it in her palm. It's a good fit.
Good. I can teach you more now that you have one made for you. Or you could probably coerce Elrohir into it, if you'd rather, as long as he's here.
Do you think he knows any more about it than I do?
Legolas chuckled softly in their minds. Maybe not, but for other forms, I'd say yes. The twins have trained well, through the years, though they seem to be lacking in the sister-training area.
Not entirely, she murmured dryly. Apparently they taught Arwen to curse.
What?!? Legolas choked on his surprise for an instant. Arwen? Sweet little butter wouldn't melt in her mouth Arwen?
I take it you've met her?
I have, rather recently only. She spends a lot of time with her mother's people, as do Elladan and Elrohir, of course.
So apparently the siblings don't always get along as well as do we?
Do you see either of them here?
She laughed softly. Well met, Legolas. I suppose I should return to the room, in case he's trying to speak with me.
He's already figured out the look that goes with us speaking, so I would be surprised if he is.
Alright. Thank you, and if he doesn't know more than I do, I'll be pinning you down for training.
Very funny.
She laughed again and spun the dagger around, an expert little flip that would startle most elves who didn't know Legolas had been training her since he had begun mastering the basics. The lessons had ceased partially because of the pressure for a princess to not be trained as a warrior, but mostly because he couldn't teach her any more than he had with the weapons they had to work with, and so their training had ceased almost a hundred years ago, though he would remind her to practice, from time to time.
"It is a very beautiful dagger," Elrohir murmured.
Leherim blinked and looked from him to the dagger, trying to see what he meant. "I suppose so," she agreed. There was an ancient battle prayer scripted down the short blade, and silver twisted around the handle, which was of black leather, with small markings burned into it. A blue stone graced the top of the haft at either side, smooth and glimmering. The blade itself was long, tapering simply to a perfect point, both sides sharpened to deadly precision. She put two fingers at the point where the haft met the blade, showing it balanced perfectly. "But its looks have no meaning. Its strength is the important part, the balance, the weight of it, the way it rests in the hand—it is a very fine dagger. Now Legolas can teach me more."
"You're going to have Legolas teach you how to use a dagger?"
"He is quite capable of doing so," she defended her brother at once, her eyes darkening.
"I've no doubt for his abilities with the bow or his twin daggers, or for the sword he sometimes carries, but a single dagger? Not exactly his favorite, is it?"
"He is still very adept."
"You needn't get prickly about it," he murmured softly, frowning at her. "I was merely stating fact. Legolas prefers other weapons than this."
"Yes, but he was not allowed to join the guard until he was as good as his teachers."
"As it should be," Elrohir agreed with a nod. "Where others could get by, he had to excel. Being a prince makes it mandatory to be well versed in the art of defending oneself and those he loves. That he joined the guards makes it all the more important that he be deadly with any weapon he could chance upon in time of need."
"Then why do you doubt he would be a good teacher?"
"To be perfectly honest, I don't think he has the patience to teach his little sister to fight."
"You think you could do better?"
"I would be sure of it."
"Then you shall have to prove it to me," she murmured, hiding a triumphant grin. You're temporarily off the hook. Elrohir's going to do it.
Hmm. Took you less time than I expected.
"I shall," Elrohir murmured. "Did he want something, or did you have something to tell him?"
"Hmm? Oh, it's nothing." She got up. "Well, dinner is to be served shortly. Shall we?"
Elrohir smiled slowly. "It would be an honor to escort you, princess," he bowed slightly and held out his arm for her.
Leherim started to correct him, but rolled her eyes and gave in instead, though she refused his arm until they were at the doors. She blinked and looked around as she entered, wondering when the colors on the wall had been changed. Her eyes widened as she remembered. "Oh I forgot, I—"
"I'll do it tonight," Legolas murmured, coming up from one of the sides. Father probably intended us to meet Elrohir at dinner, so I can no doubt be excused. Besides, she really is getting better around me, you know.
She'll eat with both of us in the room, yes, but with you alone?
One way to find out, sister dear.
She sighed. Very well. But if she doesn't eat you must give her a chance to, and return in about ten minutes to remove the tray.
I know, I know. Eat with Father, would you?
I am, I am. She frowned and nibbled on her lower lip. I hope she accepts this.
Legolas smiled slightly and shrugged, leaning down to kiss her cheek. "You should probably stop by later," he murmured aloud.
"Inform her I will," she agreed, nodding slightly. "You'd best go."
He nodded and started to move past, but the look on Elrohir's face was too good to pass up without comment. "What's wrong, Elrohir? You look like you just missed avoiding one of Elladan's pranks."
The elf slowly shook his head. "I knew about you two, and I expected it… But this is more than I expected."
Legolas laughed softly and clapped the confused elf's shoulder. "You'll get used to it. Everyone else has." He missed what Elrohir said to Leherim about that, but could feel her amusement as he headed to the kitchen for Mirimir's meal. His own tray was waiting, with enough food for Leherim as well. He removed most of the extra food, and carried the two trays up to Mirimir's new room.
He set one on the table and opened the door, carrying in the other. "Evening, Mirimir," he murmured, seeing her on the chair near the shelf. She remained there as he set the tray on the table beside her, and didn't move even as he settled himself on the bed facing her. "An old friend from Imladris has arrived today, and Leherim has chosen to eat with him."
At the word 'him' her head snapped up, her eyes darker with disbelief.
"Elrohir won't hurt her," he frowned at her. "Besides, should he try anything, I'll feel it. She's not that good at blocking her emotions, not for more than a minute, anyway. Doing so exhausts her control very quickly."
Mirimir frowned and ran a hand through her short hair, sending the strands about her chin in disarray. She looked down at the tray, absently took something from it and began to eat.
Legolas smiled slightly and turned to his own meal. "Are you finished?" he asked softly, looking at her nibbled plate. "You don't eat enough, Mirimir," he murmured with a frown. Encouraged by her comfort with him so far that evening, he knelt before the chair, looping his fingers around her upper arms, easily touching his finger to his thumb. "You're far too thin. There is plenty of food, little one, you should have become a bit more than bones, as long as you've been here."
She frowned at him, tilted her head and studied him solidly. Her grey eyes shifted over his face, down to the hand still around her arm. She reached out and removed his hand, dropping it to his side. Suddenly she inched her fingers out and touched his cheek lightly, before snatching her hand back as if burned.
"It's all right," he murmured, taking her hand.
Her frown returned, but she let him guide her fingers over his face. She bit her lip lightly, but continued her explanation as he dropped his hand. Her hair slashed over her face, hiding her eyes. Without thinking he reached up, was almost to touch her when her hand fell from his face, returning to be cradled by the other in her lap. "I won't hurt you," he promised with a faint frown. "I was just going to…" he lightly slipped a fingertip beneath the strands and drew a feather light line across her temple and behind her ear, tucking the strands out of the way.
She watched him as he did so, but she didn't tremble, didn't flinch, didn't turn glass-eyed and turn away. She simply watched him.
"I don't know why you're suddenly comfortable with me, but I'm glad it's finally happened."
Her eyes widened, and she lowered her gaze, a faint touch of blood coming to the tips of her ears.
"You do understand. Mirimir, can't you speak?"
She looked away, her gaze falling onto the shelf. She reached for a book absently, smoothing her fingers over the illumination on the cover.
"You understand me, I know that. Won't you respond?" He reached out again and lightly touched her cheek.
She pulled back, sinking deeper into her chair to avoid his touch. She shook her head and moved her hand to intercept his, keeping him from touching her again. She shook her head harder.
"Okay, you don't want me to touch you, right?"
Her eyes flickered to his for an instant, but she focused on her bare feet where they poked out from under her skirt.
He sighed softly, slowly standing. He moved back and sat on the bed, watching her. She relaxed a bit, letting her hair slide in front of her face again, peeking out at him from behind her lashes every now and then.
After a time he shook his head. "I wish you would just explain it all. If not to me, to Leherim. But perhaps you are incapable of speech, even though you do understand it. Still, you could make a sign, somehow." He frowned at the books. "Can you read?"
She looked down and slowly shook her head.
"No. Thought not. Would you like to learn? You could get a lot more out of the library that way."
Mirimir looked at the book that rested against her thighs, opened it and ran her fingers lightly over a few of the fairly large words. She frowned at them, and then slowly held the book out for him. He took it with a smile.