Sorry I'm a bit late, but my classes have been very heavy on the reading side. This is my first real moment to breathe all week, and I still have tons to do before school's over for the day.

Animir: You didn't like Legolas for a while? ; ) I can't imagine why...

Lady Anck-su-namun: Well, at least I'm not the only one. It certainly decreases the number of people who will enjoy what we find amusing, though...

sarah: I always knew that there would be depths to Legolas that she wouldn't know--something deeper and more zealously guarded than Leaf... I just didn't know I'd end up exploring it. I was planning to just let her know, let them find a common ground and let it go. But I'm liking this, too. It's a bit more challenging than usual.

LadyJadePerendhil: Well, he's not usually clueless.

iria-86: Definitely true--there was too much pain between them to hop right in.

Chapter 42

"Up. Left. Forward. Left. Up."

"For everything holy," Eomer panted, "Stop giving her directions!"

Legolas laughed. "And what am I supposed to do? Watch you fail to teach her anything?"

Eomer grumbled. "She was learning fast enough for me, before you started commenting. Have you ever tried to block two blades with one? When your opponent is smaller, stronger, and faster?"

"Save for smaller, yes. Would you care to trade?"

"Not all of the qualifications will have been met," Eomer managed, wiping his brow.

"True. I would judge myself stronger… though probably not by too much, save for her injury."

"Are you guys done?" I asked softly.

Eomer crooked a brow before handing his sword to Legolas, who let it lie in his palm for a moment before nodding. He swung it down hard, making small sparks appear when I countered. His head tilted, ears deaf to Eomer's protests for his force. "You are weakened still, aren't you?"

I snorted. "It's not like I've been hard at work, Legolas."

"No," he murmured, frowning as he swung again. "Alye, keep sharp. You're faster than this."

"But not faster than you," Eomer protested before I could recover enough to speak.

"Would you care to join us in a race later?" Legolas countered wryly.

"A race?" Eowyn asked, coming up with Arwen, Estel, and Faramir. "Between you three?" her eyes were laughing, looking expectantly at Legolas. "I know who won't win," she teased, glancing at her brother.

"What do you think, Arwen?" Estel murmured. "Legolas or Alyeni… assuming of course that we don't join in."

"While fleet indeed for a human," Arwen murmured, smiling fondly, "I do not believe you could beat any elf. It has been far too long since Legolas and I raced for me to guess whether he or Alyeni will win."

I looked at them in surprise. Were they really expecting us to race? "Um… guys? If we already know who will win, do we have to race?"

"What? You don't want to race me?" Legolas asked, a small smile turning his lips and sparkling in his eyes.

"I—"

"First one to the tree and back!" he called over his shoulder.

My jaw dropped. "Prince indeed," I muttered, before taking off after him. He had just made it a few steps past the tree when we met, his eyes widening as I sped around the tree and sprinted back, arriving well before him. "Foolish elf," I chided.

"Hmm," he agreed, a faint smile turning his lips. "To think I could ever run faster than you. I never have been able to, even when you were weighted down by a dress."

I laughed softly. "You were the one to suggest my nickname."

"And a fitting one," he teased, his smile turning crooked.

"And 'Leaf'! Very original."

"Hey! I explained that already."

I paused for a moment and then nodded. "So you did."

Some of his humor died, as he offered me his hand. "Walk with me?"

With some hesitation, remembering the first time I had accepted a similar proposition, I took the hand and let him draw me through the hall into the mountain. He released me to take the shortest way up—straight up. At the top we looked beyond mortal sight. The ruins of Mordor glared at us, blackened and grotesque. I turned aside, looking instead to Rohan.

"Are you content?" he asked suddenly.

I turned towards him, lifting a brow, asking for an explanation.

He rubbed the back of his neck, and sighed. "Being here. You have friends here."

I understood then. "I have friends at home, too."

"They don't care what you wear here."

"Only those I call friends don't. The humans eye me even more oddly than they do you."

"Strangers verses those you have known most of your life."

"Legolas," I sighed, "do you want a full answer?"

"Of course."

"I miss the trees. It hurts to be so far from them, from home."

"Home," he stated, a faint bitter note to the word catching my ear.

"I will wait for you to decide it is time."

"What if I never do? What if I don't want to go back?"

I considered that for a while. I was content… but I was also a wood-elf. I would not be content forever, living here, among humans and rock. I… I don't know how Arwen planned to do it… but then, Estel's life would be finite. "Legolas… I cannot survive here indefinitely. Perhaps you can—your blood is somewhat different from mine. But I cannot. If not home, then I need some other forested place to be…" With a grimace I glanced up at him. "Why do you deny your home?"

He had been watching me intently, but now he tore his gaze away, staring blankly at the land around us. "Perhaps I do not deny it, so much as fear it." He crossed his arms over his chest.

I frowned at the defensive gesture, and tentatively reached out, placing my fingers over his forearm. He glanced at them, and slowly adjusted his stance. "What is there to fear? You will return as a hero, a figure from songs."

"That will be little different than being their prince, save that I can think myself justified in feeling I at least partially earned the… honor." The way he twisted honor left no doubt in my mind how he felt about the attention.

"Then what do you fear?"

He grimaced, troubled eyes lifting slowly to my own. "That it will not be home." The aging in his eyes I had first seen when I first saw him in Gondor was all too apparent in that moment.

I started to chide him, saying of course it would be, but I paused. "Why?"

"Because I have changed."

"And you think you can't be changed and at home?"

"I think how I've changed keeps it from being home," he countered quietly.

My retort died on my lips. "You truly expect it, not just fear it?" I swallowed heavily, looking away when I realized my voice had trembled.

Long fingers slid along my cheek, brushing my jaw-line. "I expect…" he sighed, stepping around me so he was facing my back. His hands settled on my shoulders, his forehead pressing against the back of my head. "I expect that I will be gallantly welcomed when I return. I expect my father and I will have several warm hours of conversation… I expect I will soon fall into the old routine, as if nothing has happened… as if everything that has come to pass is simply an added title, and no more. To behave like it is what is expected of me…" His hands tightened almost painfully. "And I expect," he continued bitterly, "that I shall slowly go mad."

Considering his words, I could suddenly see it all too clearly. You didn't leave a battle that you entered, even if you lived. Not truly. Especially those battles where there was little hope of victory, or survival. "You trust your father so little?"

"My father?" he echoed blankly.

"He is—in my experience—a fairly wise and observant elf… More than that, one who loves you. Do you really think he wouldn't notice?"

Legolas's body paused, stilling. Then he relaxed, his hands sliding down my arms to my hands. "He would know. He would understand. If it weren't for the kingdom, he might have been where I find myself."

"Is there no one else? No one you believe knows you well enough to see your discontent?" I turned, reaching for the hands that had released mine.

Legolas looked down at our hands, but didn't move within my grasp. "Only you…" he trailed off.

I tightened my hold on his hands. "And I'll be there, with you. We are friends."

The faintest flicker of a smile touched the left corner of his lips. "I am glad of that."

I watched him gaze into the distance again. "You yet fear?"

He sighed. "You are sure that your home is there. I am not… I fear…"

Being alone. Of needing to be somewhere without those expectations, but not having anyone when he found his somewhere.

Foregoing the usual bounds between myself and my friends, I stepped a bit closer, resting my head on his shoulder.

Slowly, as if unsure of their welcome, his arms lifted and loosely circled around me. When they weren't rejected, they tightened, pulling me into a gentle embrace.

"I'll be there," I whispered, "if you'll let me."

He didn't reply, but the hug became tighter, and it somehow felt… desperate.