Author's Note: So unbelievably sorry for not posting sooner. But I was struck down with a really huge attack of writer's block. That, and another fic grabbed my attention along with a lot of other work. But it's all good now. Hopefully, should have the next chapter up soon.

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"What?" Legolas almost cricked his neck doing a double take. The dark-haired Elf Lord seemed far too calm considering the question and Legolas wondered fleetingly if this was a joke, a weak means of revenge for his breaking of the mutual boundaries between them.

"I asked..."

"I know what you asked," Legolas interrupted quickly, a hand up to stop the question being repeated, "What I would like to know is why you ask. What does this have to do with Bronwe creeping out of bed in the middle of the night?" A thought struck him. "Has someone offered her harm?"

Elrond looked amused. "Would I be standing here if someone had? Some wine?"

"No," Legolas muttered absently. Without thinking he moved to the desk and perched on the edge, far too close to Elrond for what would have normally have been comfortable. But there was something very reckless in the half-elf of this dawn; a kind of self-destructive humour that made one do ridiculous things that would be regretted when the time had passed.

Elrond shrugged, downed his glass and then poured another. "Your daughter," he remarked, "Has the ability to see the past. And what is more, she has seen ours."

Legolas really did get a crick in his neck this time as his head snapped up. He reached up a hand to ease the shrieking muscle and stared at the matter-of-fact expression that Elrond was directing at him. He tried to see into those normally honest grey eyes, to find something that would tell him what Elrond was trying to get at. But there was nothing there but a vague anger at everything and nothing.

The Elf Lord sighed and put down his glass. "Stay still," he ordered, batting Legolas' hand away and doing it himself, healer's fingers quickly unravelling the knot in his neck with a few efficient strokes.

"Bronwe came to me this night," he began, "But she seemed to fall asleep again and so I simply held her, thinking she had woken from a peculiar dream. But then Vilya warned me of some kind of power. The valley was safe, as was the house, and I was in good health. Bronwe was the only other possible source. When I checked, she was having a vision. I waited until she woke, and then tried to draw as much information from her as I could. But she was tired and I let her sleep."

"A- a vision?" Now Legolas was certain that he was lost. This was uncharted territory for him. What did he know about foresight or visions or things of that nature? He was a warrior! Not a visionary!

"I believe she has... well, hindsight," Elrond explained, a small smile playing about his lips at the thought, "it has never been heard of to my knowledge, but I may be mistaken."

"Hindsight?"

Elrond's fingers suddenly stilled on his neck and then drew away self-consciously. The Elf Lord retreated further away and took his glass of wine with him. "She saw us," he answered plainly, "On the night of her conception."

Legolas blinked. "She saw us? Together?"

"Together," Elrond agreed, "In bed. Making love. Well, making her, rather."

The wood-elf blushed, coughing discreetly behind his hand in order to hide his face. He was not normally shy about his attractions or his sexual activities, but there was something very derisive in the deep voice speaking to him. And it made him feel very self-conscious and not a little bitter.

Elrond seemed to notice, for he instantly softened. "But it is not so very bad," he said apologetically, "She did not see very much. Though I will say she saw more than was strictly good for her."

Legolas shuddered at the thought and perched himself on the edge of the desk again, absently dismissing the remembrance that it was unseemly for him to do so. "So what now?" he asked, pushing his hair off his face, "What are we to do?"

Elrond shrugged. "Well, it seems that the little talk about the working of nature will have to be had a little earlier than anticipated. If this happens again, she should know what is going on." He looked up and saw a very curious sight- the famed archer and Prince of Mirkwood, proclaimed as a brave and courageous warrior, was looking pale and rather dismayed. "Is something wrong?"

"Must- must we really have that talk?"

"Well, yes. It is only fair to Bronwe. Oh, don't look so scared! It won't be worse than the one your father had with you, surely."

"Uh..."

"Your father did speak with you, did he not?"

Legolas shook his blond head vigorously.

"He didn't? But... that sounds vaguely disturbing. How did you find out? Well, no, I suppose the urges are fairly strong when one gets down to it," the Elf Lord conceded, thinking about it, "But still- did someone else instruct you?"

"No," Legolas snapped shortly, drawing the tattered remains of his dignity around himself with a flick of his slender wrist, "There was never any need. And I am sure that you can explain things to Bronwe without me."

Elrond stood up and came to him, touching his cheek with a small smile. Legolas was alarmed to see the slight over-brightness in his former lover's eyes. He knew that teasing look. "I am afraid, my Prince, that you presence is required urgently. You were as much to blame for Bronwe's vision as I was."

"Blame? I did not intend to sire a child that could see her own conception!"

"Nevertheless, you have. Therefore, you must accept responsibility. No child of mine is going to go through her life experimenting simply to find out what the compulsions are that she feels." He smiled wider. "And you might benefit from the talk too, seeing as how your own education was stilted."

The blond growled, fingers twitching to do something drastic even when he didn't in the least mean to do it. "I," he warned shortly, "knew enough to aid me in ensuring that such an accident did not occur. It seems you forgot!"

The hand dropped.

Legolas could have bitten out his tongue for that ill-timed remark. "Melme, I did not..."

"No, you are right. I should have been more careful. I should not have assumed that the curse would have lifted on its own." Elrond sat down heavily in his chair, twitching the heavy tunic closer around him, his hands disposed of neatly in his lap. He seemed to think for a moment, lost in some disturbing memory that made him frown somewhat. "But what good can such a gift be to her? Why need she look to the past?"

Legolas shrugged. Mentally, he was kicking himself. The effort involved took up a lot of concentration, even for an elf. "Sometimes," he mused, "The future can be changed by the past."

Elrond looked up sharply. "Repeat that," he snapped, an idea forming in his head. He had heard those words before, uttered by Gil-Galad on some petty and vague point one night in the distant days of Lindon.

The blond was startled, but willingly repeated the words- "Sometimes the future can be changed by the past. It is something my father would say to me."

"The past... the past is gone. Can it change much? No. But... it can teach! It can instruct!" Elrond dropped his head in his hands and rubbed at his eyes. "Ai, Elbereth! This is not my night. I believe I may know the answer to the problems of our world. Or at least, to Sauron."

"Bronwe?" An icy hand gripped Legolas' heart. Gift be forsaken, he was not sacrificing his daughter for the good of the world. She was just a child! It was impossible!

"Bronwe? No. Not Bronwe. She has no place in this fight. She will find her own path in her own time. And I feel sure that it will rest in Middle Earth. But the Ring is returned and the threat of Sauron is imminent. We almost lost before amidst much blood and death. It was not the way."

Legolas watched in some trepidation as Elrond jumped up and began pulling books out of the shelves at random. The deft hands let none of them drop or damage, but nevertheless, there was a nervy haste to the actions that made him fear a little. The Elf Lord was tired. Legolas had hoped to make him rest somewhat. Or at least relax!

Those hands were flipping hurriedly through a book twice the length of Legolas' hands. The forefinger flicked up the edge of the page and then the rest joined in to turn it. The grey eyes were fixed in intense concentration on the words, the soft mouth gently murmuring phrases and half-thoughts. And those hands...

Legolas got carefully off the table, pulled the book away and put it neatly on top of the pile. "Stop," he said firmly, grasping those protesting hands and holding tight, "Leave it for now. Take some rest and tell Glorfindel first."

"There is no time..."

"Ah, but there are more pressing things," the blond purred, moving closer. Blue eyes began to darken in anticipation, the slim, reed-like body pressing closer. "There is the matter of that little talk on the arts of adult love."

Elrond pushed with half-hearted decline at the hard plane of chest pressing against his. "That was for Bronwe," he growled.

Legolas grinned an evil little grin. "Then I suggest we practise what we are to tell her," he smirked, "Else she will be confused. Besides, you promised to instruct me as well."

"It is not my fault if..."

"Erestor will kill me if I ask for this lesson from my father. It is therefore your duty."

"My duty? Now there is a..."

"Elrond?" a third voice joined in. No reply came.

Glorfindel stuck his head around the lip of the door, enquiring and confused at the soft sounds until he saw the locked embrace of the other two. Chuckling quietly to himself, he made a mental note to keep Bronwe occupied for a while longer. At least for the morning!

The little elfling trotted solemnly at his side before tugging on his hand. The tall elf looked down to her with a smile and a raised eyebrow.

Blue eyes blinked up at him- "Why do big elves kiss with their tongues?"