Thanks, guys! And here's the chapter as promised... though maybe early. I'm not sure. Three people say anything about this chapter and you get a new one by Saturday.

Moon-lit night: You guessed! pout

Juvinile delinquent: Can I just call you JD? My comment was in response to your review. You can't review as one person three times... but you could review annonymously and I would never know, unless you told me. AU is alternate universe, according to Nea, and she would likely know. It's something totally against the book, which my story IS NOT, thank you very much. As for Mary-Sue, she couldn't give me an answer for that, as no one has been able to adequately explain it to her. The best she could come up with is a perfect girl who can do everything, and looks fabulous doing it, always has perfect clothes described to the smallest fiber out of place, often has eyes that change color... you get the idea. No flaws, and the guy in question always falls head over heels in love with her by chapter three... okay, so I'm exaggerating a bit. But not by much, from what I've gathered. Again, it doesn't fit my story.

The elves crouched and waited, each one hidden as well as they could be within the branches. A figure stepped out of a flet and walked down the branch, when she was suddenly knocked off the path by a not to gentle nudge from one of the hidden elves. She fell without a sound, into a large net.

Legolas jumped down to a branch near her. "I can't believe that worked."

An unearthly cry escaped her as she struggled against the net. Her voice was nothing more than a hiss. "Releasse me!"

"Not until you tell us why you have avoided us for so long," he countered, walking out of her reach as her hand darted through the cords, her fingers crooked as she tried to claw at him.

Her eyes narrowed, a low growl brought forth from her lips, which were twisted over glistening teeth. "I'm warning you, Elf. Release me."

A long, angry howl came from the ground below them, followed by a harsh cry above them. Argile and Zetea descended, picking at the rope fibers. Realizing a moment too late the danger they had let themselves in for, Legolas drew his knife and cut her down. She threw him from the branch as she got free, her hands curling around the branch as she paused an instant before hauling herself up, the net falling with him as he fell to the earth, long shining teeth finished what the fall didn't, closing savagely over his throat, crushing through bone and flesh so easily. The stars faded from his eyes, blocked out in the last instant by the figure that crouched over him, starless eyes dark and full of hate—

Legolas jerked upright, breathing too quickly, bathed in sweat. He closed his eyes and drew a hand through his hair, pushing the sweat-slicked tendrils behind his ears. What a nightmare.

He sighed and got to his feet, noticing how shaky his steps were. He forced them to calm enough he could walk through to the flet she had tried to banish him from, aware for the first time in months how slender the branches were, how they swayed and creaked with his weight.

"Nenya?" he called softly when he reached the flet. He knocked on one of the branches. "Nenya, please."

Maybe it was something in his voice, or maybe it was because he had asked nicely, but whatever the reason, the leaves parted, and black eyes looked up at him curiously. "What happened?" she asked, drawing him inside after studying him intently for an instant. She pressed a hand to his forehead, as if thinking he might be ill. He shook her hand off. Elves didn't get sick. Not like that, anyway. "Legolas?"

He swallowed, and realized he didn't know what to stay. Here he was, allowed into forbidden territory with the elf that had shunned them for nearly a week, and he was tongue tied. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, tilting her head up so he could see her midnight eyes in the light of the stars above them. In his dream, they had been so hateful, gleeful as he died, untouched by the stars which glimmered in the obsidian depths now.

"Legolas, what happened to you?" She brought her hands up and pulled his from her face, pushing him backwards until he was sitting on a branch or a chair. He couldn't look away from her to find out. "Legolas?"

"Dream," he finally managed.

Her concern wasn't abated by that. Elven dreams were not a cause for such torment. "What kind of dream?" she asked softly, trying to smooth the worry from her voice that he could see in her eyes.

"We trapped you in a net because you had been avoiding us. You were furious, to put it mildly. The wolves and falcons reminded me…" he broke off, cleared his throat and continued. "Reminded me they tolerate us for you. When you were in danger they had no difficulties coming to your aid."

"Of course they would," she agreed softly. "As they would for you, or any in my group."

"Not if it would mean they were against you," he sighed slightly, keeping his eyes open so he didn't have to see those hateful eyes again. The image was floating through his mind, and even looking into her eyes now, seeing gentle concern there, even that didn't banish them completely. "In my dream you knocked me out of the tree, and they tore into me. Before I died, you knelt over me…" he shuddered. Nenya waited, knowing that he needed to get the details out to get over the nightmare, and a bit curious what had so upset him. "Do you hate me?"

"What?" the sole word was startled out of her.

"Do you hate me? I've pressed you when you would have preferred being left alone, I've tried to make you realize we accept you as you are, but you hide away from us still. Do you hate me? If I were to die, would you kneel beside me in sorrow or glee?"

Legolas lifted a hand to his stinging cheek, his eyes wide as she backed away from him, her eyes as angry as they had been in his dream. He rubbed the skin absently, looking at her in confusion. "What was that for?"

"Your idiocy," she snapped, scowling at him. "Your inconsistency. In my limited experience with elves, males seem to believe she-elves are flakey and flighty. I can see they've never dealt with you!"

"What?" he frowned, dropping his hand.

She winced slightly at the mark on his cheek, but her anger kept her from feeling sorry for long. "I avoid you to protect myself, you stupid elf! When you learn the truth you will turn from me, withdraw the friendship you offer so forcefully. When you do, I will be left here. I have always been alone, but never lonely. If you become my friend, that will change. I'll look around my flets, and I'll remember where you and I walked, spoke, where we became friends, and I'll miss it. I'll miss what I should have known never to allow myself, what I should have resisted." She paced to the other side of the flet and returned, shaking her head. "I do my best to keep you away, and you push harder. You almost make it, so I escape, and you dream I'm some wicked orc of an elf who would delight in your death. A dream is a dream, but to believe it enough you are unable to brush it off…"

Legolas closed his eyes, disgusted with his own behavior, now that it had been pointed out to him so brutally. He got up and caught her, pulling her against him.

"Wha… what are you doing?" she asked, when some slight struggling hadn't gotten her released.

"Holding you," he grumbled, wondering how many more injuries she would inflict upon him before he was able to get some sleep.

"Why?"

"Because I think you need to be held for a minute, and I can't think of any apology that would be eloquent enough." He pulled her closer, shifting slightly so she couldn't jab him as easily as her struggles became more determined, and then frantic. "Now hush. I'm not letting go until you relax, so get used to it."

Nenya's eyes were wide. She worked her hands between them until they were splayed over his chest, and pushed with all the force she could muster. A slight space formed between them for an instant, but Legolas shook his head and pulled her back, holding her so tightly with one arm he was able to use the other to pull her hands up so her arms were draped over his shoulders.

Without leverage, Nenya cast about the room for anything she could use to free herself. The only thing she came across she had to dismiss. She wanted her freedom, but not at the cost of killing him. She took a deep breath. "Let me go," she growled.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"How long has it been, Nenya, since someone held you?"

Not since her mother. "Eirthriel had just turned five hundred," she murmured.

The body against her tensed slightly, and he shook his head before releasing the tension with a sigh. "Nenya," he breathed, his breath warm against her cheek. "Your mother left that long ago?" When she nodded mutely he shook his head, moving slightly. A gentle kiss touched her forehead. "You should have come to us. You were too young to be here on your own."

"I managed just fine," she defended at once, pulling against his arms again.

"I know," he agreed, tightening his hold. "But at what price? Was your independence worth it if you can never trust any other elf?"

She couldn't think about that. She could never trust any elf not to hate her when they knew the truth. It would shock and horrify them, and they would leave her to the dark woods alone, if they didn't try to destroy her, which was what she expected they would try to do, no matter what Thranduil would say to the contrary, or even what he might order. "Please let me go," she begged, her throat tightening.

He sighed softly, but shook his head once more.

"Why not?" she whispered, swallowing hard.

"I can't," he whispered back, his tone as tortured as she felt.

"Why not?"

He swallowed, and searched her eyes for a long moment, giving her a chance to enjoy seeing the stars shimmer in his. "Because, whether you like it or not, you are my friend."

"No."

"Yes," he countered, laying his cheek against hers. "Please accept this."

"I can't."

"Yes you can," he promised.

"You'll leave. You'll hate me."

"You think I don't already?" he asked softly. "You've turned the world upside-down and inside-out since you stepped into the halls, and you don't show any signs of letting up any time soon. You're confusing, irritating, often irrational, more often too logical, and overall an absolute nightmare, especially when it comes to my peace of mind. Why I got the idiotic notion in my head to befriend you in the first place I may never understand, but I did, and I have, and as torturous as it may be to both of us, as much as we may hate each other for it, there's nothing we can do to change the past."

"You can't hate and still be friends."

"Sure you can," he murmured. "And we are, so give up the denial, give up the fight and the resistance. If you didn't care, if we weren't friends, you wouldn't have been concerned by my nightmare, and you wouldn't have been hurt by what I said."

She stilled, not daring to breathe as she found she couldn't refute his claims. "No," she whispered softly in utter horror.

"I'm sorry."

"No you aren't," she grumbled.

He smiled slightly, resting his forehead against hers. "I'm sorry you've been so long without anyone. Sorry you find the thought of a friend so hard to accept. Sorry you still cannot find it in yourself to trust I won't be scared off by whatever secret or secrets you keep. But you're right. I'm not sorry I finally figured out I broke through the barrier you keep trying to build up around you."

"You needn't sound so smug," she muttered, looking away from him. "Would you let me go now?"

"You haven't relaxed," he chided, a smile in his voice.

She growled softly, then consciously forced herself to relax. As she did so, she became painfully aware of how close they had gotten through all of his attempts to restrain her. "There, I'm relaxed. Now will you give me some room to breathe?"

"You aren't relaxed." Though he didn't released her, he lightened his hold a little bit, giving her enough room she could no longer feel his heart beating against hers.

With a growl of impatience, she attempted to relax again. To help, she thought of the last time her mother had held her.

"It's time for me to go, my darling child," Garenla murmured.

"Why must you leave now?" Nenya asked with a frown. Her mother was still weak from the spider poison in her veins.

"It is time. You will understand some day, Nya," Garenla pulled her daughter into a hug. She rested her head against her child's, smiling slightly, a pain-filled smile.

"What do I do?"

"You wait until it is your time. You keep doing what you have always done. Someday," Garenla smiled, "someday you will have another in these flets. Eventually, you may even have children of your own here."

"No one else shall use our flets," Nenya declared fiercely.

"Child, you are too young to make statements about the future with such certainty. No one can tell all the paths of the future, even among the Valar." Garenla brushed back a bit of Nenya's dark hair. "I must go now."

"I'll tell—"

"There is no need for them to come with me, dear. They cannot, anyway."

Nenya sighed. "Mother, why can't I go with you?"

"It is not your time. You have other things to do. When the stone returns you will have to respond."

Nenya's bowed head lifted slightly. "But I am too young to do such!"

"Now. But the call will not come for many years, I'm sure. You will have strength enough by then." Garenla smiled faintly and held Nenya closer for an instant. Then she sighed and let go, leaving the flets without looking back.

Nenya sighed and looked around in confusion, wondering what she should be doing right then, though she felt rather directionless without her mother. Her eyes fell on the pouch of food her mother had prepared for her journey to the West. She snatched it up, and ran after her, but she got to the edge of the woods without finding her. To avoid the woodmen she had gone back home, wondering how her mother planned to reach the Undying Lands without any food.

"She shall come back for it in a day or so," Nenya told herself.

She never had.

Not the most relaxing memory she could have chosen, Nenya realized, but she couldn't force herself to drag up another one. Instead she focused on the world around her, and realized she wasn't as uncomfortable being held now as she was when she first drew her against him. Of course, then she had wondered what he was trying to do. It seemed quite likely, now, that he was just trying to drive her absolutely nuts.

She drew in a deep breath and slowly blew it out. How relaxed was relaxed enough? She couldn't get much more relaxed, not without falling asleep, which she wouldn't intentionally do in the arms of any elf. Ever.

Still, this one claimed to be her friend, claimed it wouldn't change when he found out.

While she didn't believe the second part, enough of her believed at least that he wouldn't hurt her now that she felt safe enough in his hold. She took another deep breath and let it out.

Legolas smiled against her hair, feeling her try to work it out, to release the tension his grabbing her had caused enough to relax. A cruel trick, perhaps, but it was working, even if she would deny it in the morning.

If she relaxed before then.

"Are you sure it was me?"

He blinked. "What?"

"The person kneeling beside you. Could you see clearly enough to see who it was?"

He frowned. "It was your hair and eyes," he murmured. "The rest had faded by then."

Her eyes lost a hint of their glimmer for a moment, but she shook her head and lifted her arms, burying her face against his neck after wrapping her arms around him. He blinked a few times, but was surprised again as she slowly relaxed against him, going boneless in his arms.

She fit well.

He nearly let go of her at the thought, since he wasn't supposed to think such about her, for whatever reason that they didn't want to tell him. He forced himself to hold on, pulling her closer for a moment before releasing her. He tucked some of her hair behind one ear. "See you in the morning," he smiled, one brow lifted, daring her to deny it even as he kissed her forehead and backed up to leave.