I'm afraid I can't read my own writing and figure out if it's a cliffhanger or not. Sorry. Anyway, I'm back… on the 5th, in case fanfiction.net won't let my upload yet. I got the notice that my initial chapters had been removed because of a rule they imposed after I went on break, so I didn't even know about it until they said I wouldn't be able to upload for a while. I had trouble with my computer, so this is it for now.

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Legolas closed his eyes with a faint smile. It felt good to be coming home, even if his heart longed to know what was hidden in the sound of the sea. He would remain on these shores for a while, and then he would join those before him who had sailed into the West.

Elrohir was with him, more than eager to see his wife. They both could feel her excitement, though he could catch it much more easily. She would be waiting for them, her arms around whichever one was through the gate first, then the other. After greeting her, he would head off to see their father.

With another slight smile he admitted to himself that his father would be overjoyed to have him home, no matter what he actually said or did. He had been understandably angry and pained at first, but Leherim had assured him that had slowed to a simple worry, which was the best he could hope for, under the circumstances.

His eager haste to return home had him on the ground first, and his sister's arms flew around his neck. He breathed her in with a soft sigh, holding her tightly. How many times had he been tempted to speak with her, just to reassure himself there were things proceeding normally somewhere. He hadn't wished to worry her, though, and that took precedence when he decided when or if he should talk to her. He'd often felt her waiting anxiously for word, but she knew not to contact him, since the slight distraction could well have proven deadly.

Elrohir cleared his throat, so Legolas held her tighter for a moment, kissing her temple before releasing her. All the way to the throne room he was stopped and welcomed home. There were the bustling makings of a grand feast everywhere he looked, so it wasn't too hard to slip unnoticed into his father's study, where his father typically was when such a fuss was being made in the great hall.

His father stood without a word and embraced him. Legolas closed his eyes in relief.

"Welcome home, son." Thranduil's voice was a bit rough. "You've been missed."

"Thank you, Father. I have missed it here," he admitted.

His father's eyes twinkled. "Ready to be a Prince, once more?"

"Never that," Legolas denied with a smile. "The son of a king, I can handle, but a Prince? Perish the thought."

Thranduil chuckled heartily. "Well, there's to be a feast, of course, since Leherim told us you were both coming by dusk. All things considered, Elrond has agreed they shall spend their remaining time here… which won't be long."

"No," Legolas agreed with a sigh. "It will also not be long before I follow. I have heard the sea… and it is unsettling. I am glad to be back, but now there is something always missing, always questioned, in the back of my mind."

Thranduil sighed softly, but nodded. "I shall not remain here forever, either. In a short time, especially with my children gone, the elves of Greenwood shall be left to fend for themselves or cross to the Undying Lands." He rested a hand on Legolas's shoulder, and guided him over to his chair. "Now, I know you will be called upon to explain the whole quest during the celebration of your return, but I wish to know things that you shall leave out."

Legolas laughed softly and launched into his tale, speaking of Gimli and the odd friendship they had formed, and of Fangorn, both things he was sure he would limit his speech of when asked questions by the elves that night.

He had certainly been right about that, and as they digested the story and fell to song, he was rather glad to step unnoticed into one of the gardens. As long as he didn't look up, he could almost make himself believe he was outside. The ceiling was high and far away, but his eyes had always found it too easily. Soft light illuminated the garden as if made by stars and the shimmering reflection caught in water and the elves themselves, just as the light of their beloved stars would.

A slight smile tilted his lips as he felt the peace that pervaded the garden. His thoughts began wandering to Lothlorien, before he sensed someone behind him.

Turning, he found himself faced with a vision of beauty. Dark hair swept partially back, decorated with small silver flowers and dark green leaves, her skin glowed with the loving light around them, her eyes glittering like stars. He compared her to Arwen, and found he preferred the elf before him. How much of that had to do with the worry and pain that had diminished the Evenstar and how much was circumstance—Arwen was taken and with Aragorn, this elf was probably unattached and here—he couldn't say. The she-elf was almost perfectly eye-level with him, her chin set firmly without being stubborn, though now lowered. Whether in respect, a display of modesty, or amusement, he couldn't begin to guess.

He swallowed carefully. "Hello," he breathed.

A faint smile twisted her lips, and her silver-tipped lashes swept down to hide her eyes.

"Legolas?" Leherim called from the halls. Where are you?

"I'm in the garden," he called. When he turned back, the elf was gone. He spun around, but found no trace of her, nor even anything to assure him he had actually seen her. With a sigh he moved towards Leherim's voice, wondering if it was another trick, something left over from the quest. A last remnant of the ring's power, perhaps, or maybe it was just his longing for the sea manifesting itself in a vision he could accept desiring. At any rate, it seemed he had dreamed the she-elf up.

Still, she-elves had found their way into his mind, so as one approached him he found himself more disposed to speaking with her than he normally would.

"Good evening, my lord," she murmured, bowing her head demurely. "Have you found your home as you remembered it?"

"I do not recall you," he admitted softly, taking the wine glass passed to him by a servant.

"I was with family in Imladris for many years. They have chosen to go to the West, so I have been sent back to my parents until all must remove from these shores."

"It will not be long."

"Long in the way of humans, or elves?" she asked, a faint frown appearing between her fine blond brows.

"Of elves. I've no doubt several generations of most men shall come and pass before all the elves leave, but by the ways of elves, it will not be long at all."

She sighed softly and looked at the dancing couples. "It is a dreary thought," she murmured quietly. "Perhaps a dance would chase it away?"

Usually Legolas would shrug off any such invitation, but it had been a while since he had participated in the festivities of a feast in the Wood, and longer since he had consumed as much of their wine as he had that evening. All things considered, he was more disposed to female company than usual, and allowed his arm to be taken.