I suppose I should point out here that while the group of elves did go into the woods as a group for several hundred years together, they spent the dark hours with their families (though there were probably sleep-overs from time to time) and could leave the wood to stop at home if they wanted something. It was more a general expectation that they go into the woods than anything… including casting them into the woods and locking the gates behind them. I suppose I can say it now. I do not write slash. Some of it is well written, and I have read that which I find interesting… but I don't think I could get my mind around it well enough to write… and truly, I don't care to try. This is my closest foray into that type of writing, and my oc is still female. Well, on with the story…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"Oh… Sorry."

I didn't glance up, frozen in place by the familiar voice. "No harm done," I managed, self-consciously lifting my voice a bit higher. My voice was naturally a bit deeper than most she-elves, but I had been forced to work long and hard to trim off any hint of more feminine thrilling to the tones… which were now called for, and found inaccessible. Of course.

He hesitated where he was, and I could almost feel him looking me over. "You haven't seen anyone else come by, have you?"

"No one," I murmured softly, silently willing him to continue his walk through the garden.

"Da—pardon me. A friend said he would come, and he—"

At this sudden stop, to say I was nervous would be an understatement. He came closer, and I did my best not to swallow or show any other sign of how terrified I was, mostly sure I had just been discovered. "And he?" I prompted, hating the silence more than I feared what it meant.

"Sorry," Leaf murmured, a frown on his face when I dared glance up.

His gaze was fixed on my chest. I flushed and looked down, seeing my chest rather pushed up and out in a display the last few hours hadn't made me a bit more comfortable with.

"I am sorry," he said, noticing my glance, obviously embarrassed at having been caught staring in such a way, his ears flushing red. "I was studying your pendant."

"Oh," I murmured, feeling a bit stupid for not having noticed that. Or considering he would recognize it, for that matter. "It was recently given to me—"

"By Taradriel," he finished with a small smile. I just blinked at him, wondering what to say or do at this point, and I guess he mistook it for question, for he explained. "I know the smith who designed and crafted it—he said he was making it for Tara, who was giving it to someone."

"Yes," I agreed softly, turning my gaze away from him. "She presented me with it tonight."

"I had not the chance to see it before—Wind was busy with other orders, and having trouble with that piece. First such piece I believe he's made."

"Sounds like you know him well," I murmured, still wishing only for him to move on, but not knowing a polite way to tell him to shove off.

"Since we were in the woods," he agreed with a fond smile. "The greatest of friends… which is why I don't understand why he's not here. He said he would be…"

If I could. "Perhaps he was unable," I stated, unable to let that one pass in such a way.

He smiled faintly. "I've no doubt that's true." He glanced at the glow of the party within the great hall which had bled into the garden. "But I wish he was here—it would be nice to have some pleasant company."

Well. I wasn't used to being dressed as a she-elf, but still. "Then I shall leave you to more pleasing conversation. I hear the old ash by the small pond is fond of telling tales."

I was only halfway out of the small glen I'd commandeered not long after my arrival when a hand curved around my forearm. I looked back to see apology written clearly on his face. "I did not mean it like that," he insisted quietly. He dropped his hand and looked down at the ground. "Most do not care to know me… He already knows me. It is easy to be with one you know."

"Perhaps," I agreed, wanting to add that right now I would be glad to have someone I didn't know around instead of him. Wisely I held my tongue as he rubbed at the back of his neck, hesitating about whatever he was about to say. "Oh, spit it out!"

He looked at me in shock, then blushed slightly. Great. He didn't recognize me at least. I should be thankful for the small favors, because I sure had never been granted big ones. "Would you walk with me?" he asked shyly, then rushed on, "At least until my friend comes?"

"And if he doesn't come?" Sorry, Leaf, but I'm not about to come anywhere near these halls in a long time after this.

The look he sent me was endearingly hopeful, and I realized I was seeing a side of him none of the others ever had or ever would. Something in me melted at that look, and I resolved I would do my best to remember myself despite it.

"All right," I agreed, "though I can't say when I'll need to leave."

"You haven't made arrangements?" he asked in shock.

I mentally winced and did bite my tongue, reprimanding it. "I'm staying with Taradriel," I stated instead.

"In other words, no," he murmured for me. "You shall not leave here unaccompanied." There was a certain degree of stoniness about him, tightening the skin around the outer corners of his eyes. Since he didn't often get that look—as far as I'd ever known him—I knew not to bother pushing. It would be easier to get gold away from a dwarf than to change his mind.

Fabulous. Well, I would get to wake Tara, get my clothes back, and get to my own flet for next to no sleep before work tomorrow. "I doubt there's anything in the wood which could frighten me," I said, meaning it, especially at that very instant.

He frowned, but didn't mention what I could see was in his mind to—spiders, orcs, sometimes even men and trolls. Men were the least to worry about, but for some reason she-elves generally had a great dislike for them.

At any rate, Leaf—who never did tell me his name, or for that matter ask me mine—and I walked about the gardens for a time, speaking of trivial little trifles, before we wound our way back to the small bench I'd been at when he'd found me. Not knowing he found me, of course.

"You know, you do remind me of someone," he murmured, breaking a rather long silence.

"Oh?" I asked uneasily.

"Yes," he agreed quietly, gazing at me in a way totally unlike usual. There was a bit of wonder in his bright eyes, something quizzical, but most of all—and above all else—hopeful. "You remind me of Wind."

"Is that a good thing?" I hedged.

He caught on to my unease, and laughed softly, tilting his head back to study the way the light reflected on some of the leaves above us. "Wind is my dearest friend—the only one from the old days I now know, and the only one I have met who doesn't care what I do in the palace."

"Why should anyone care?"

His smile was one of pure contentment and approval, with a bit of lazy amusement thrown in for good measure. "People do. Most people. Not you and Wind."

"Is Wind truly his name?"

Leaf laughed lightly. "No. But it's how I know him."

"And how does he know you, then?"

He grinned crookedly but didn't look at me. "Leaf."

"Why Leaf?" I asked, for it was something I'd always sort of wondered, even if it hadn't been enough to ask before.

His smile faded a bit, and he shook his head. "I don't remember."

"Liar." I stated it before I thought about it.

He turned his head sharply and stared at me in surprise. Then he blinked and lifted a brow. "You're right," he agreed, sounding vaguely puzzled. "I was just learning the language names are built from at the time, and used the common term for part of my own name. Later I wished I had been more original."

"But by then it was too late?" I murmured.

"Mmm." He looked back at the halls and shook his head. "Speaking of too late, if you don't head back soon, you won't get a chance to until nearly dawn."

"Then I'd best go." I promptly got up and, with a faint nod to him, headed out of the palace. The gates crashed behind me before he drew up along side me. I'd almost thought I would be free of him. "I'm sure I can find my way."

"Can you? In the dark, in an unfamiliar forest?"

I crooked a brow at him. "Is that to say you know the way to Taradriel's flet?"

"Yes."

I stopped, crossing my arms over my chest.

He smiled slightly and continued walking. "Tara would sometimes make lunch for all of us… or at least a snack. Wind would run to ask when we had been playing harder than usual. Tara was something of a mother for him, ever since his died."

After the first few words I had recalled what he meant, though I'd never thought he would remember her flet's location well enough to find it—after all, if he knew where to find Tara, he as good as knew where to find me, and he never had. But I was a bit more concerned—momentarily, of course—with the fact that he already felt he knew me well enough to keep walking, knowing I would catch up.

I think it goes without saying I felt very odd trying to keep what Alyeni knew of Leaf separate from what Wind knew of him. It was beyond difficult, and nearly out of the acceptable realm of what I could deal with in any way remotely resembling calm.

After a seeming age we reached Tara's flet. "Well," I murmured, "good night."

He blinked at me in some astonishment, a slow smile tilting his lips. "You aren't like the others, are you?"

"The other whats?" I asked in exasperation, part of me envisioning the look on his face if I gave in to the growing urge I had to just knock him down and run for it.

"The other she-elves I meet."

I very nearly laughed at that. "You have no idea." I decided to retreat rather than attempt to figure out if that was a good thing or not. "Well… Good night."

He laughed lightly, leaning against the tree in such a way I couldn't escape the damned evening. "How long are you visiting?"

I did something then that I immediately regretted. I looked at him. Something at once delicate and painful slammed into my gut in that age-long instant, an impact that I knew would not be quick to fade from memory. Taking an excruciating breath which was rather shaky, I tore my eyes away and looked up the ladder. "Not long," I murmured, intended to never again set eyes upon him while I wore a dress.

Disappointment rang in his voice, and would have shown in his eyes, had I dared to look. "I don't suppose you'll be anywhere tomorrow?"

I nearly rolled my eyes. "Leaf, of course I'll be somewhere—I just can't say where." That, at least, was true enough. He wasn't slow enough to fail and make the connection if I mentioned either work or the place I—when Tyran—worked. "Again, good night."

"Night," he agreed softly, stepping aside. Since he looked about to say something else, I sped up the ladder as quickly as I could, dropping the door into place behind me.

I stood there for a long moment, my eyes tightly closed as I tried to excise the memory of him gazing wistfully after me. Without waking Taradriel I changed, leaving everything I hadn't come with—and the pendant—behind me as I slipped into the darkness, aware enough of myself and the night to keep my dagger close.