Yes, Mirimir talked, and her father is to blame for her past silence… I just realized I seem to have something out for fathers in my stories. Weird. Anyway, thanks for all the reviews, everyone, but I'm holding the response short(basically to the above lines) because I need to get to class and wanted to get this up today. For some reason the html is no longer showing the …, instead showing them as a single period, so I'm trying it with spacings to see if it works. If it does (sigh) I'll go back and re-upload the previous chapter.

Farflung: Yeah, I thought about that as I was writing it, but couldn't think of a good place to separate it into two chapters to help in the suspense area. Leady E is more likely in the healing rooms with a guard, because of the child. I really need to read the Sil. It sounds more and more interesting all the time. Yeah, Legolas wasn't completely off the hook, but knowing he was drugged helps a bit, right? And now all the wood can be back in arms to defend him… although he has to feel sheepish. The prince of Mirkwood, elf of the fellowship, doped up and snared.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"It seems there is a lot more to this Mirimir than a lack of words," Thranduil murmured softly, leaning back in his large chair.

Legolas smiled slightly from his carefully casual position, half-sitting and half-standing on and against Thranduil's desk. "Yes. For many years she has consumed all the books she could get her hands on with an eager hunger that even Elrond would admire."

Leherim laughed, her eyes sparkling. "And that's saying a lot."

"She has written before?"

"Obviously she knew how to write," Legolas glanced down at the papers in question, which detailed all of the things Mirimir knew about Lady Eiectorm and her plot in gracefully sloping handwriting, though several marks were somewhat unconventional, more reminiscent of the old script than that which most currently used, which made sense, when he remembered she hadn't been taught how to write—she had undoubtedly taught herself using the books in the library as a guide. "But she never gave us a note."

"Legolas, has she ever…" Leherim frowned and broke off, biting her lip.

"What?"

Spoken to your mind?

"Only after the council was released."

"Um… One of you want to fill me in?"

Legolas turned slightly to see his father more clearly. "Since they met, Leherim and Elrohir have formed a tentative link such as she and I have shared for so long. From the day they wed, I have found myself connected in such a manner with Mirimir. She never used it to send thoughts, and hardly ever intended to send anything through it at all, though she accepted it, and me, fairly easily." Because he always managed to be there, once he'd figured it out, when she was having a nightmare, reliving a terrible memory from her past. Maybe now she would share them with him… if she ever woke up.

Leherim tilted her head, frowning slightly. "And when she did speak, was it easy?"

"Of course. Just as if I was speaking with you—as it's always been with her."

"But…" Elrohir and I took decades to converse easily, and over long distances we still have trouble… Do you mean to say you could speak to her while in Gondor with Aragorn, though I couldn't speak with my husband without concentrating hard when we were merely in different parts of our family homes for years?

"I suppose… yes."

Leherim sighed and rolled her eyes. "You have all the luck."

"Not all," he reminded her with a grimace. He shifted his arms more tightly over his chest, trying to still the burgeoning pain. He held in another wince as something other than pain flared in his chest. He started to laugh, but the pain cut it off short. "Oh, damn it all," he cursed, pressing against the muscles in his chest that hurt even as each breath became painful. Mirimir, don't panic. I'll be there as soon as I can, he promised, even as he concentrated on blocking enough of her pain he could manage to walk and breathe at the same time.

"Legolas?"

"Mirimir's awake, and panicking."

Leherim blinked, and then her mouth dropped open before her eyes widened in sympathy… for about two seconds before a wicked little smile sparkled in her eyes and turned her lips. "Now you know another reason I hate you working as a warrior."

He sent her a weak glare, but he focused more on getting to Mirimir than in putting effort into it. "Coming?" he bit out.

Thranduil and Leherim shared an amused glance before Leherim slipped to his side, pulling his arm over her shoulder. "I think we could make it to Gondor and back before you get there, at this rate."

"Then give me a hand, sister dearest."

She chuckled lightly at his clipped tones and tightened her arm around his waist. "Let's go."

When they reached the room, they found Elrohir about ready to pull his hair out in frustration, and Mirimir crouched beneath the table, one hand wrapped around her middle as the other helped her stay upright.

Legolas growled softly before moving forward with a wince. "Mirimir," he murmured quietly.

Her eyes darted from Elrohir to him, and she started to get up, but the pain stopped her, flaring through him again.

"Legolas? Are you all right?" Elrohir hesitated, his steps stuttering to a stop as he tried to figure out which elf needed his attention worse.

Legolas nodded shortly. "I'm fine… or I will be," he added, carefully lowering himself to a crouch before her. "Come on, little one. I'll help you up."

"Are you sure that's wise, Legolas?"

"Why wouldn't it—" he broke off with a grimace when the full extent of her pain crashed through him the instant their skin touched, nearly sending him to the floor. "I see your point. Perhaps you would…"

"Of course," Leherim agreed. She held out a hand to Mirimir, helping the injured elf stand carefully, and wrapped an arm around her when she began to waver on her feet. "You should be resting, Mirimir."

Mirimir glanced at Elrohir and carefully drew her knees to her chest, before shifting slightly to help minimize the pain.

Legolas got to his feet, enjoying the loss of pain. He picked her heels up and physically forced her to lay down flat, sitting beside her when he had done so to help make up for the more vulnerable position he had put her in. "Mirimir, I think it's time I introduced you to Leherim's husband… Or perhaps she should?" When Leherim didn't say anything, merely made her way to Elrohir's side, Legolas shook his head. "Elrohir is one of Elrond's sons, and he is known for healing. He helped you return to us." You have nothing to fear from him.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide and struck with silver lights. She reached up, almost to his cheek before they both winced from the move. She frowned, touching his chest lightly. Why do you hurt?

Because you do.

What? But…

What?

She shook her head slightly. Nothing.

There is no nothing, not now. What were you thinking?

I was remembering a time when Leherim mentioned one of the reasons she hated you being in danger—she could feel your injuries. Am I wrong in assuming this is like that?

No, you are perfectly correct.

"Anyone want to let us in?" Leherim asked in some slight annoyance.

"What do you mean?" Elrohir asked, frowning at her.

"He can talk to her like he does with me," she answered softly. "And I'd bet they were talking just now."

Elrohir chuckled softly. "So you finally get to see what it looks like."

"Hmm. Glassy eyes, distant expressions, yeah. Doesn't quite look intelligent, does it?"

"You do it all the time, Leherim, so don't start with me now," Legolas grumbled, settling against the headboard.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"What were you talking about?"

He smiled faintly and closed his eyes as he let his head fall back against the wood work.

"Legolas?"

Lazily he opened his eyes. "You're still here?"

"You pulled me along," she grumbled.

"You have it reversed, dear sister."

She snorted and stormed from the room. The males left behind shared a look before chuckling softly. Elrohir looked at Mirimir, then back to Legolas. "I need to see how the wound is."

Legolas nodded once, before tilting his head at Mirimir, who didn't like the idea one bit. He will simply remove the bandage, add new herbs, and place a new bandage upon it. That is all.

Still, she was hesitant. I don't want him touching me.

Little one, he's the one who stitched you up to begin with.

I was unconscious then. I'm not now.

Legolas lifted a hand to his head, rubbing at his temples. Will you allow him close enough to see, at least?

Distrust flooded him, and filled her eyes. I don't…

You don't want him that close, I know, but I don't know enough about healing to know how well or poorly it's doing compared to where it should be. He needs to see it to know what needs to be put on it… and it would be best if he could do it.

He can look, she finally agreed softly, saying nothing to the rest of it.

"Legolas?"

He sighed and looked up at Elrohir. "You may sit near, but don't touch her… or move suddenly," he added, not relishing the idea of enduring another blast of pain her instantaneous attempt to escape would cause him.

Elrohir slowly nodded. "All right." He moved forward slowly, pausing when Legolas held up a hand to stop him. He sat carefully, trying to go slow enough to keep from causing her worry. "Legolas?"

He nodded and shifted to face her more directly, and gently opened the first several fastenings on her nightgown, parting it carefully so all they could see was the bandage. Moving as minutely as he could, he lightly pulled the bandage off, wincing with her when the fibers stuck in or pulled at the wound.

Elrohir leaned in just enough to see the wound a bit better, and then pulled back, calling for an herbal paste. Thranduil handed it over, since all the servants had left earlier. Elrohir handed the paste to Legolas. "Be generous with it, but only right along the wound."

Legolas nodded and did as directed, first with the paste, then the bandage. He murmured a few words of healing he remembered from his injuries, resting his hand over the wound, and felt the pain ease slightly. He refastened her gown and kissed her forehead before sitting up again. "For both our sakes, lie still for a while… as in a few days."

But that's so dull. And my plants need watering.

He chuckled softly. "I'll find you some books, and I can handle watering the plants." You can speak out loud, you know.

No, breathing's painful enough.

I can feel what you are, Mirimir. You're doing all right, at the moment.

Will it remain that way if I begin chattering inanely?

He couldn't help a grin at her indignant expression. At least you're talking somehow. That's a start.

He was halfway to the door, behind Elrohir and his father, when she paused him. Legolas?

Hmm? He asked it while turning back to look at her.

Why is speech easier like this than out loud?

This is just like thinking, vocalization takes practice… another reason you should speak out loud.

She shook her head slightly, stubbornly saying nothing else.