Chapter 2: Unraveling

Rivers wore a thin night rail to evade the heat of slumber, but unfortunately, it was light enough to render her susceptible to the night chill. The straps had eased off her shoulders and her traditional red cloak had sunk to her elbows. Legolas had turned the corner of the guard tower and wondered if that was Lady Brind'Amour standing there or not.

She didn't notice him, milky eyes turned to the sunset. She was beautiful; he did not deny it. Though some elven women surpassed her in abilities, her overall splendour and unique spark intrigued him. He knew she thought of him, thinking about his composure, and wondered if he had made a decent impression.

"My Lady of Hastings," he said, bowing.

With a rustle of her satin cloak, she recognized his presence with a bright smile, casting about for his formal title. The result was a nervous, choppy response. "My Prince...Legolas...of Mirkwood. Yeah."

He chuckled, drawing his own smile out. Blushing, she mumbled, "Sorry. In my thoughts, you are...Legolas. Just Legolas."

He was in her thoughts! "You may call me Legolas, without my title."

She smiled. "Legolas, then. Welcome to the balcony. Care to do some Astrology?" She stifled a laugh, amusing herself.

He walked toward her, watching her features sharpen. They were plagued with fatigue, smitten with the labours of day. He placed a hand on his shoulder. "You need your strength. Please, retire. The hours are dwindling."

Her eyes fell to the floor. Without warning, she flung her arms about him and squeezed him tightly. "Legolas..."

He returned her embrace, not bothering to search for a reason why. It felt good to hold her, to know that she was safe, unharmed by Sauron's hand. "My Lady."

She pulled away, smiling. She curtsied and swept off down the stairs.

As soon as she reached the bottom and came into the sleeping chamber, she beheld herself, arms hugging her sides. That felt wonderful; he was solid iron, softening to her touch. She knew she had fallen in love with him, and she had known for a while. How long did it take for her to admit it? She repeated the words in her head, but held them from escaping into the air.

'I love you, Legolas!'

She chuckled to herself. What would Kyler say?

"Lady Brind'Amour?"

Pippin lie awake in his pallet, arms crossed behind his head. He looked worried. "Are you alright? What happened?"

"Nothing. I had a me-moment. Forget about it." She crossed the room, and stopped as her feet glided past Pippin's head. "Er, Pip?"

"Yes, milady?"

"Rivers."

"River. Right."

"What can you tell me of Frodo and the Ring?"

He stared at her, seeing that she was in no mood to be denied. "Nothing, really. I just know he's off to destroy it. And Sam is with him, I think."

"Never tell any of that to anyone. There are some who would use it against you. Keep it on the DL."

"The what?"

"DL. Down low."

He mouthed a confused agreement, and turned over in his cot. She tucked herself in, keeping a half-closed eye on him.

That lasted for only so long, as her thoughts swam to the elf on the balcony. She reminisced about the four long days in Moria, the talks in Lothlórien, fighting in Edoras, being stabbed, and the hug not a minute ago. The words were ready to burst from her lips, but a scream echoed instead.

"Pippin!" Merry shouted.

Rivers kicked open the sheets, but the sight of the hobbit glued her to her pallet. Pippin writhed in his self-inflicted agony, clutching the burning sphere, unable to let go. His silent screams brought her pain, and she lunged, ripping the palantír from his hands.

There was no pain. No flame, no fire, just a sense of unawareness. She saw a massive eye, lidless, wreathed in flame. The fire dissolved her every thought, scraping her memory for any fragment of knowledge on the Ring. She felt him swimming through her thoughts, and she convulsed, attempting to shake him off, but to no avail. Calming her mind, she found in herself a will and determination, fortitude she hadn't been able to summon for a lesser cause, and she found the eternal...feeling she kept within her for Legolas.

The flames ceased and the scars on her palms ripped with pain. She felt the flames dwindle, and her vision returned. Legolas had kicked the ball from her grasp and as it rolled on the floor, Gandalf sprang after it with a cloak.

"Fool of a Took!" he said, running over to Pippin, who was still. He took his hand, and mumbled something. With a short breath, Pippin stirred to life. "G-G-Gandalf! I'm sorry-"

"Look at me."

Rivers was suddenly engulfed in the reassuring embrace of the Prince of Mirkwood as he dropped to his knee to confirm her status. Just low enough for her to hear, he whispered, "I saw you holding the palantír and my heart..." he paused, hugging her tighter. "You're alright?"

"Yeah." Her hands ran up his chest, permanently etching the sensation into her memory forever. Discovering what she was doing, she recoiled and stood up, cheeks flushing with the throttled blood of embarrassment. Legolas stood up too, letting a hand trail protectively around her waist, but he soon withdrew it, from his own embarrassment.

Gandalf ushered them all into the hall and explained to Théoden the events of the past few minutes. Théoden, being one to lack the necessary logic to compute such equations, asked why Rivers wasn't going as well. "She had a brush with the Dark Lord, no?"

"She told him nothing."

"As did Pippin. Who would he assume the Ring was with? An able-bodied girl or our traditional cavalry hobbit?" He was, of course, referring to Frodo.

"I would place my trust in either-"Gandalf caught himself before agreeing with the King. With a curt nod of his head, he turned to Rivers. "I would like fore you to come along with us to Minas Tirith."

She had to argue. She wouldn't see Legolas until after the battle of Pelenor fields if she went with him. "And what if I do not consent?" After a vicious look from Aragorn, she wished she had left words in her thoughts.

"Then you are at your own peril." He turned briskly, Pippin fumbling in his wake.