Okay, I should probably clear something up here. Legolas will only go into Mirimir's memories as a last resort. He has other options… I would like to welcome (and thank) all new reviewers for coming to join the ride—hope you continue to enjoy! All that said (which is far less than usual, ne?) on to the chapter. I will warn you this weekend was hectic and I only proof-read it once… *Cringe*

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She bolted upright, breathing too quickly, sweat dripping down her cheeks and behind her ears. She automatically began curling in a ball, her sticky skin too hot under any other circumstances to tolerate the closeness. With a faint whimper she curled ever tighter, closing her eyes, trying to blot out the pictures that had followed her into wakefulness.

They faded, but only faintly. She knew that if she tried to take rest once more the images would reappear, and refuse to be so simply pushed aside the second time. She bit her lip, and gazed at the door in thoughtful silence.

He was awake. She could feel him pacing in his room. But he wasn't coming. He had made that quite clear last night. As long as she refused to share with him the details of her nightmares, he would leave her to deal with them on her own.

She wished he wouldn't. Having him near, his warmth, his scent, the gentle strength of his presence… it all kept the images away. With him laying beside her she never had bad dreams, only happy ones, memories of him and Leherim. Sometimes Elrohir as well, though there were few of him. The little twerp.

Forcing her breathing to calm, she slowly laid back down, her eyes not focused on the door she watched. In his room, Legolas was paused, holding himself tense as he waited to see if she would be all right.

Well, she was no longer panicked, her dream fragments were fading a bit more, now that she was thinking about anything else. But they were only waiting, waiting for her to relax, to try and rest. There was only one hope for it—she would have to remain awake.

She bolted up from forbidden rest a moment later, having seen a face float before her eyes. Before she could think about it, feel anything connected to those features and those eyes, she was out the door and down the hall, running swiftly until she hesitated as she reached the door to the outer chambers the prince and princess had shared for so many years. Finally she pushed the door opened and turned to find dark eyes fastened upon her, his hand upon the hilt of his sword—which rested against the door frame—though it remained sheathed. Seeing her, he let his hand drop, but watched her warily.

She drew her lower lip into her mouth and looked at him for a long moment. Simply being in the same room with him made many of the things fade away. Her fears seemed foolish, considering what she could recall of her dream now.

But he was waiting, holding himself stiff and still apart from her, his eyes traveling slowly between her eyes and her lips, silent in all ways, his very silence reminding her of his previous words. He would be her comfort, but only if she shared why she needed him to be.

In truth, just his presence for the few instants she had remained standing just inside the outer door, seeing him, his strength, his eyes dark with compassion and sympathy, had helped her so much she could leave now and be assured she would rest well for the remainder of the night. Then what of the next night? The one after that? The honest truth was she would have to return, or face the night alone, and afraid to do so. The time before he had first come to her, had helped her, was a time of endless nights and restless days. She could not return… she would not return to that.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do. She clasped her hands together, and bowed her head. "I don't… don't recall much now… He was laughing at something, there was fire, ash. It was hot. Insufferably hot, and someone was screaming. The walls were red." She frowned, shook her head slightly and shifted her arms so she was hugging herself, feeling cold. "My eyes burned, but from what—unshed tears, ash or dust—I cannot recall. Then he stopped laughing, and somehow everything was worse. That is when I awoke." She looked up at him, found he had not moved, though his eyes had grown even darker. "I do not understand it, but the laugh, the red, the silence…" she closed her eyes and swallowed painfully. "They terrify me," she admitted on a choked whisper, tightening her arms as a shiver trickled down her spine.

Strong, gentle arms surrounded her, and a light kiss was pressed to her cheek as he held her. Without a word he caught her up into his arms and swung around, carrying her through his sitting room to his bedroom, to his bed, where he lowered her, and then himself. He kissed her temple and turned her onto her side, allowing her to curl up slightly as she found she always wished to after thinking about something so horrible. He curled around her, warmth touching her from head to toe. With a shuddering sigh she closed her eyes and rubbed her cheek against the hand he had rested in front of her, unable to speak, even in their minds, of her thankfulness for his silence and the comfort of his warmth.

Morning came without further incident, and she blinked a few times to find she was watching Legolas fasten his tunic. He glanced over at her, and the left corner of his mouth twitched up in a faint hint of a smile.

Good morning, he murmured.

Morning, she agreed, slowly sitting up. How late in the morning?

Not very. His words were reassuring, until he spoke again. Still, you may wish to get dressed before breakfast is taken to your room.

She frowned swiftly and looked around, before slowly getting up. She frowned down at her semi-sheer gown, not relishing the idea of wandering the halls to her own room in it when she was likely to meet up with any elves, but especially male elves.

Mirimir?

She glanced up.

He smiled truly then, holding up a bundle of green fabric. As I said, he chuckled softly, tossing her the mass.

She unfurled a dress, one she had not seen before. Whose is it?

Yours.

It is not! She had never seen it before, and she would certainly have remembered this.

It is, he insisted. Leherim had it made for you, but they were called away before she could give it to you. I forgot about it until I was thinking you would need something to wear this morning.

She looked down at the fabric, and slowly shook her head. It is too fine.

If you are uncomfortable in it, then hurry to your room to change. I have already received summons from Father this morning, so I must leave now. Hopefully I shall see you by dinner…

That bad?

He rarely summons me before breakfast. To do so indicates a certain degree of panic in the old boy.

Mirimir looked down at the dress, tracing a silver leaf stitched into the full overskirt. And if you do not?

Do not what? he asked absently, fastening his hair into the small braids he always wore to keep his hair out of the way when on duty as prince… or warrior.

Do not see me by dinner.

Then I don't see you for the meal, and you either eat alone or come to the great hall.

That's not… not what I was thinking of.

Oh? he looked around for his dagger, then slid it onto his belt before looking up. He flinched at her expression. I'm sorry I'm distracted, he soothed quietly, stopping his efforts to get ready long enough to wrap his hands around her arms, leaning his forehead against hers. But when Father summons like this, he needs me as soon as possible.

I have nothing against you going to see your father. I merely wish to know how things stand.

Things?

Between us, she explained in exasperation. He froze in his movements, so she continued. Shall you come to me when my dreams turn to nightmares, or shall I be running to you once more?

He turned to her, his eyes dark as he brushed her cheek lightly with his knuckles. As long as you share what troubles you, I shall come to you.

Are you certain?

I have done it for many years, little one. I am used to it, and no one thinks twice about seeing me exit the library in the morning. As for you now, you may find it wise to leave through the secret exit.

Secret exit?

Mmm. The tapestry out of place in Leherim's sitting room hides a half door, the tunnel from which leads to a large bush in one of the smaller gardens. The metal bar on the left will come out if you push up and then pull it towards you. Try to put it back when you're done, though. He kissed her forehead and left without another thought or glance.

She rolled her eyes at the ceiling and shook her head, before self-consciously closing the door so she could dress. It had been made for someone who wore beautiful things, hand stitched with loving care so each little leaf was of perfect placement and design. With a shake of her head she knew she would be changing as soon as she could.

She checked the little escape tunnel Legolas had told her of, and though normally she would have taken it without second guessing him, she hesitated. Even from here she could smell dirt, but more than dirt, grime. The tunnel itself was so short she would have to walk as she used to, before she could walk upright, to get through… which would be fine, except for the dress. It would sorely need a cleaning after crawling through murky tunnels, and she couldn't be sure it would hold up to such a scrubbing as would be required, especially considering the finely embroidered patterns.

Despite her opinion of the dress, based mostly on its practicality, Leherim had apparently had it made for her, so she would someday possibly wear it for her, and until then, she would pull it out once in a while just so she could marvel over the design and stitch work. Which made traipsing through dirt and mud not an option. Taking a deep breath, she pushed her hair behind her ears—she really needed to cut it shorter, it was almost brushing her shoulders—and stuck her head out into the hall, escaping the chambers quickly, trying to act as if she was supposed to be coming from the prince's room.

Still, that wasn't to say she wasn't just as glad when she reached her room without having come across anyone. She leaned against the solid old door in relief, smiling faintly at the picture she must have presented, attempting to be inconspicuous as she snuck down the hall in a radiant dark green and silver dress that was designed for a ball and twirling dances. With a quick shake of her head she moved away from the door, changing quickly.

She froze when she realized she had left her nightgown in Legolas's room… and the servant who tidied his quarters was undoubtedly there already, making retrieving it impossible.

What is it?

I thought you were busy?

I felt a twinge, and I have a moment. What is it?

Well, she hesitated a moment longer, then sighed. I got back to my room all right, I didn't see or hear anyone…

But?

But I left my nightgown out.

Soft laughter came through to her. Is that all?

Legolas! It's one thing for them to know the truth, another to spread rumors…

And how do you suppose they would manage that? All of your clothing, with the exception of anything Leherim had made for you, was designed more or less in general for any female who calls the halls her home. There is no way they would be able to guess who it belongs to, especially considering the mix-ups they sometimes have in laundry with such generic items. A dress, they may have recognized, but not your nightgown, little one.

She frowned faintly, and bit her lip, only partially convinced. Are you sure?

Yes, I'm sure. Relax, Mirimir. Though they may speculate, they can know nothing for sure.

Gee, that makes me feel better.

Silence.

Legolas?

Sorry, busy again.

She exhaled heavily and shook her head, moving to her bathing room for some water for her thirsty plants, trying to convince herself—mostly without success—that he was probably right, and that she should forget about it.