Alright, I apparently opened a can of worms with the she-elf question. I realize if you say he-man, she-man, etc, etc, etc, it gets really confusing and really stupid sounding. I'm not using all of these. I'm simply using she-elf, because it is already part of the fan-fiction world. I didn't start it, it just sunk in my head as a good alternative to calling all females maid or something else which—in my mind—puts them at a much lower place than, say, a prince. Not that stories about the prince and the maid aren't interesting. I've read a few that are (and unfortunately don't look likely to ever finish). I still refuse to call any elf a being of men. They are above men. They are not men. How would you like to be called a chimp? All of that said, I appreciate the responses, both ways, but I'm a bit frazzled right now and I would love to consider the debate closed. Some have said Tolkien used it, others that he hasn't, and I haven't have the time to sneeze at the moment, much less read everything Tolkien ever wrote and reconceptualize my entire view of his world in the middle of two stories. Okay, deep, relaxing breath…

LadyJadePerendhil: Wow, I actually spelled it write without looking at the review! No, Mirimir isn't a 'weather witch'. They have good eyes, and can see it coming. I would guess elves are a bit more sensitive than humans to changes in the atmosphere along with the earth. Even humans can feel changes in the weather, to some degree, so if seeing it doesn't float your boat, think of it that way. I considered changing the writing somehow to reflect the elven, but I think most of the time it won't make a difference what they're speaking. Yes, yes, nightmares on the way… soon.

FarFlung: I don't know if they go or not. I re-read the place where I got that from, and it looks ambivalent to me. So… I dunno. But in this fic, they go. Yeah… the sense of direction? I can find my way home… as long as I know exactly where I am. Otherwise I have to stop and ask someone. It's not that I can't tell by the sun, or moss on trees or anything… I'm just usually so far away I could overshoot or undershoot by up to a hundred miles if I'm wrong… Not to mention the trees don't get much visible moss when you're driving. My map always seems to be wherever I'm not. How in the world do people in the middle of nowhere—no trees, distinguishing rock formations etc expect to get where they're going without being miles out of the way? I'm totally off point. Oh Well. Can't believe I'm typing this much. I just spent nearly eight hours typing up my term paper. Psych classes are so helpful for writing decent characters. Yeah, I felt like throwing Aragorn in that way. Do you know if it's true that Legolas and Arwen were an 'item' at one time? Something I've heard while wandering around this site. Okay, warning you: from here I have no time for another… eh… two weeks? I'm not sure anymore… my brain is fried… which will explain any errors above… and perhaps below…

And to everyone else I haven't responded to… sorry, but I've been staring at a computer for so long today my eyes are going blurry!

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"You didn't enjoy your visit with them, not as I expected."

Legolas smiled faintly. "I enjoyed it."

"It felt hollow."

"I know."

Mirimir frowned, tilting her head at him. "Of course you know, it was your feeling. But why won't you admit it?"

"I do admit it."

"Then why say you enjoyed it?"

"I did." His smile grew, his eyes shadowed slightly, but laughing at her. He lifted his hand to her cheek, the touch light and gentle, despite the slight rough places he'd worn on his skin through years of warrior training. "But it did not do what you or I hoped. While slightly strengthened in my decision to remain here until Aragorn's death, it seemed to partially reinforce how long it will be… and how far from Leherim I am."

"And that you don't have it worse than some other elves?"

He bowed his head slightly, but nodded.

Mirimir frowned, absently aware he was getting things ready for them to continue. She felt she should pry into the reason for his silence, but she couldn't begin to guess what the cause was.

"Ready to go?" he asked softly, turning to her once more. He frowned faintly, cupping her chin in his hand. "Mirimir?"

She blinked herself back to the present. "Hmm?"

"Ready?"

"For what?"

"Heading back."

"But we just left."

He smiled crookedly, his eyes lightening slightly. "I meant head back to Greenwood."

She looked past him, saw the horse looking between them with an almost questioning look. "I suppose walking—"

"Is out of the question." His smile grew, his eyes lightening even farther until they were almost as bright as normal. "Yes," he agreed. His large hands settled at her waist, lifting her onto the horse's back. He settled himself behind her, one hand resting on his thigh, the other wrapped loosely around her. With a few soft words the horse headed off.

Mirimir relaxed quickly enough. She was beginning to get used to riding. Sort of. It helped that she didn't have to do anything, just sit and sway with the horse's movements. Even that was more or less debatable, especially when she got bored and leaned against Legolas for a nap. He would always shift so he held her more firmly, would usually kiss her crown, but said not a word until they stopped, if then.

But at that moment she wasn't bored. She was confused.

Ever since the first night he had come in her room when she had woke from some horrible image she couldn't escape, he had always managed to be there for her in some form or other. Which explained why she felt she owed the same to him.

It was hard. Hard to accept, to believe, harder still to follow through. She didn't know how to help him, had no idea what was wrong. Every attempt she'd ventured to discover what he hid had come up without results, and she was out of ideas.

Absently she started to hunch up defensively, but one shaky moment was enough to remind her she was not in a good place to do such, and enough for Legolas to tighten his hold on her.

What's the matter?

She shook her head slightly and regained her seating. Nothing.

Why don't I believe that?

Because he was a very intelligent elf. She sighed. Because it's not true?

That might have something to do with it, he agreed, humor mingling with concern in his mental tone. So, what's the matter?

Unconsciously her hands tightened. "There is nothing the matter with me!" she snapped.

Then why are you about to draw blood?

What?

He moved his hand, making her realize she had been holding onto it tightly with both of hers, and that she was pressing it against her middle. Well?

Sorry, I didn't realize…

Just tell me what's wrong, Mirimir.

She sighed and looked down at their hands, both of hers currently resting against the one he had placed around her, since she had merely released her tight hold. Lifting her fingers now, she found marks from her fingers wrapped over his fingers and about his wrist. The angry marks stared up at her for a few moments, but they faded quickly, leaving no sign. She traced where they had been, rested her fingers lightly over what could have become bruises. I hurt you.

No you didn't.

Yes.

He shook his head. No, you didn't. You just squeezed a bit.

Would you tell me if I had?

Yes.

The answer came quickly enough she knew he hadn't thought about it. She sighed and leaned back, tilting her head to the side to rest against his neck. So if I haven't hurt you, what possible reason could you have for not telling me what's wrong?

His heart stopped for an instant, before it kicked up in speed. What?

Something is wrong, Legolas. Something beyond Leherim's absence. Whatever it is, it started not long ago, and you have avoided every attempt I have been able to think up to discover the cause.

He sighed, his eyes closed when she looked up. You are right.

And?

He smiled faintly, but still refused to look at her. You are also impatient.

Legolas, she protested.

He looked down at her, his eyes shadowed. It is something Arwen said.

Is that all? Or do you pity her?

Pity? Certainly not. She enjoys being Aragorn's queen.

But she will one day die.

Yes.

She frowned. That doesn't concern you?

It was her choice. She loved Aragorn too much to choose otherwise. Why should I be concerned, one way or another?

I don't mean Arwen… I mean death.

His eyes darkened, disbelief showing for a moment. Um… little one, I know you haven't spent a lot of time around friendly elves… but you do realize elves are more or less immortal, right?

She frowned at him. But elves die all the time.

No, only in battle, or when they lose the will to live… I thought you knew that.

Yes, that made sense. Why had she thought otherwise? She frowned, but could come up with no reason, dropping her head to his shoulder instead.

Mirimir?

Hmm?

He was silent for a long moment. Then he shook his head, leaning back slightly, forcing her to sit upright. He turned her sideways with one hand so he could see her, cupped her chin and forced her to look at him with the other as the horse slowed to a stop without being urged to do so. Mirimir, what's your name?

What? She frowned at him. "What are you talking about?"

What's your name? How old are you? Who are your parents? Have you any siblings? Where were you born?

She gaped at him, looking into stormy blue eyes. What are you talking about? You know all of it.

I know none of it, he countered, a frown slowly drawing his golden brows together. Your name?

Mirimir. You know that.

I doubt that is the name you were given at birth.

Then how do I have it?

He sighed and spoke to the horse, insisting he begin moving once more. The horse flattened his ears and stomped, but took the mouthful of grass he'd gotten while his master was distracted and began walking again. I gave it to you.

What?

Don't you remember? Not long after you came, Leherim wanted to give you a name. She asked me about it, and I decided Mirimir would work. She agreed, and there you go. But what was your name before? Legolas frowned as her eyes went blank, pale grey staring at him in confusion. Mirimir?

I… I don't know. I don't remember. There's nothing before Leherim.

He sighed and shook his head. There is, little one. Perhaps thousands of years. We have been able to find out little to tell you…

Little? But not nothing?

Seeing the trees ahead, he urged some speed from his horse, unsure what he would have told her if that hadn't distracted her.

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