Arwen cursed the tiny droplets of rain that fell around her. They impacted
the roof of the open-air passage with merciless consistency, a ceaseless
chorus of taunts.
She was normally rather fond of the steady drops which fell over Rivendell each year as surely as the sun rose and set each day, but this day, they were unwelcome.
"Oh rain, of all the unpleasant visitors to inquire at Imladris' gates..." she sighed and continued to walk. The thoroughfare was surprisingly crowded, and the numerous footfalls blended with the rain's pitter-patter and the mutter of voices into a soft percussive refrain that echoed in Imladris' vaulted ceilings only to add onto itself again and again.
Arwen glanced out over the railing and paused for a moment to survey the scene in the garden below her. She recognized Megundhros standing a few feet away from a towering tree. The ancient, who was wrapped in a rainbow of protective layers, seemed to be giving orders to a troupe of human soldiers.
Everything about the adviser was wispy, from her thin blond hair to her delicate, pale skinned arms, now obscured by bright red sleeves. Her face bore no sign of the countless years of her existence. Like most of the adults in her life, Megundhros had changed little in all the time Arwen had known her.
The old elf's delicate, ceremonial look was belied by her powerful commands. She seemed to have convinced the men to try to climb up into the tree which towered beside her.
Their first attempt was a disaster, and they fell one by one into the mud, cursing faintly and rising slowly. They had clearly never climbed a tree before, but they went at it a second time, still clothed in all their mail, their scabbards dangling into the faces of the climbers below as they scaled.
Once in the mud for the second time, Megundhros chided them gently, and their pride drove them back up with speed that was only matched by how quickly they were down again.
They valiantly drove up the trunk one more time, gripping the tree with all of their strength and desperately grasping at the slick bark. Arwen turned and started back towards her destination. She entered a door which led to the inner rooms of the healing wing.
'Good luck.' She whispered in farewell to the soldiers. As if in reply, a moist thud rose from the garden.
The way was straightforward now, and Arwen hummed a tune despite the disagreeable blessing from above, which pounded loudly enough to be heard very faintly, even now in the beating heart of Rivendell.
Just as in the outer hall, elves were passing around her, each determinedly focused on his or her own mission. It was the kind of day where everyone was doing something, but no one was in any particular hurry to do anything. The mood of Rivendell was subdued—steady.
Arwen's humming only ceased when she turned out of the mainstream. Knocking softly, she stood outside the appropriate door.
"Come," bid a voice from within, and Arwen opened the door and walked in. There were at least a hundred witnesses, but Arwen wasn't worried. No one noticed her.
He was sitting at the edge of the bed, one leg bent at the knee and tucked under the other, which hung over the side of the bed loosely. His hands rested upon his upper thighs, and he was looking at her passively, a bit of humor on his lips.
He clearly noted her perception of his only garment, a haphazardly placed sheet which lay across his lap in a tangled bundle. A smile broke across his face.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself, Legolas." She said, but her eyes reflected the same humor present on his lips, "How long have you been waiting for me?"
"Not terribly long," He replied casually, "Since last night around dinner time." Arwen shook her head in mock seriousness.
"Just wear this until something better turns up." She tossed him a robe.
It had been a bundle occupying the space under her arm, and before that the dusty (and hopefully forgotten) space in the back of Elladan's wardrobe. Legolas caught the bundle, and glanced at it fleetingly, then he looked up and just stared at her. A puzzled look crossed her face.
She was just about to inquire about what was the matter when he spoke.
"You're welcome to watch if you really like but now is your last chance to turn around if you'd prefer not to." He said, smiling amiably.
Arwen's eyes went wide for moment, and her face ripened like a tomato. She quickly spun around and began to display an acute fascination with the opposite wall. After a moment's rustling she spoke,
"Does it fit alright?" she inquired.
"Yes." He replied
"Well does it look alright?"
He seemed not to have considered this, and there was a moment of hesitation before he answered,
"Your eyes can judge better than mine." He murmured, so Arwen turned and looked.
She frowned and walked up to him. She adjusted it a bit, moving the shoulder up and fussing with one of the sleeves.
"What is it?" Legolas asked.
"To be honest, I'm not absolutely sure." Arwen hesitated and looked him over entirely.
"It's the right size, it's just..."
"It doesn't fit me?" he suggested, "Strange that you should have that opinion, for I have always thought so myself. Not about this robe in particular, but about robes in general. Their freedom is constricting, especially when one is climbing trees."
Arwen smiled, "Perhaps your parents wanted you doing something else besides climbing trees when they got you dressed up in robes."
"It's possible I suppose." Legolas replied, taking no more time to consider it now than he could have as a boy.
Arwen finally surrendered and let the robe fall free. After she took a step back, Legolas, who had all this time been sitting on the edge of the bed, pushed himself off and stood.
He was still half a head taller than her, until his knees buckled and he fell to her feet. Arwen gasped and knelt beside him.
"Are you alright?" she frantically asked, but he didn't answer. He was staring at his legs with an intense look of fear. Tentatively, he reached out his right hand. Arwen saw now that it was trembling greatly.
This hand was not the confident weapon of an archer, not the cool, purposeful will of a king. It was the keen fear of a bird stripped of its wings.
He reached out and touched his legs, as if to be sure that they still existed. Arwen looked to his eyes for instructions but the deep blue orbs swirled with ambiguity, and their meaning seemed as obvious as that of any rippled September sky.
"Are your legs hurt?" she finally asked. It took him a moment to answer, for he seemed to be trying to remember, as if the occurrence surrounding his hospitalization had largely faded from his mind.
Suddenly, as quickly as he had been unsure he was positive. Arwen watched Legolas' eyes, and noted how like they were to the great blue sky. Right now, with rapid suddenness they were changing.
From fearful they had come, and gone to thoughtful as he remembered. Now they grew clouded and dark. Yes, they were the sky, and a storm was coming.
He pushed himself up with a fierce suddenness, but had to lean heavily against her to keep from falling again. She caught him, and together they pushed him up to his full height.
They stood like this for a moment as he caught his breath. Then he slowly moved into a forward step, and then a little more quickly, another. Arwen stayed with him, and occasionally he leaned against her for support.
Once he lost his balance, but he got up again and continued on with his walking. They strode around the room nearly fifty times, and with each step Legolas' confidence soared. He was pleased to conquer the malady of his legs so quickly. It now seemed that battling certain other maladies might not be so impossible after all.
He found himself grinning with the intense pleasure of moving again. A blush colored his cheeks too, as he realized he might have been leaning on Arwen a little more than was really necessary.
After some amount of walking, she stepped away from him, but she continued to hold his hand, and they were able to walk together, side by side. He kept pace with her, though the only support she gave was her presence.
Finally, he suggested that she tell him another story, and she agreed.
"Which story shall I tell you?" she asked as she sat down, this time on his unoccupied bed.
He, who was still standing and aimed to remain so, thought for a moment, before he suggested:
"I should very much like to hear the story of Arien, and the coming of light to the land."
She laughed and shook her head,
"But I've already told you that one," she chided gently.
"Yes I know, and since then that story has become a particular favorite of mine. After all, a thing itself is much more evocative than an image, or a word of that thing. You are my Arien, for you have brought light to my world. I will forever love that story, for it will forever be ours." He explained, a sincere smile brightening his whole face.
This was reason enough for Arwen, and she told the story again. This time she was still, and he paced the room, retracing his steps exactly. After telling that tale, she asked him if he might tell one to her.
He thought about it, and momentarily decided on a story about the Ents. It was a sad story, as many old tales are wont to be, and interwoven in its words were songs and bits of verse. They were sung in many languages, including one Arwen had never heard before.
"It is the language of the trees," Legolas explained, "At least that of those trees who reside in my forest home."
"Who taught you to speak it?" Arwen asked, amazed at the prospect.
"Why, a tree of course." Legolas laughed and Arwen realized that she'd overlooked this obvious answer.
"Elves taught the trees to speak long ago, and they still do." Legolas continued.
"And how does one come to hear a tree?" Arwen inquired.
"One need only listen," he replied, and with this he sang again in the language.
Arwen knew that the Elves of the forest were very much attuned with the trees. She knew Legolas had climbed them and lived among them all his life. She considered her peoples love for the sky. The stars and the moon were their great passion.
"Here in my home, we regard the stars as you do the trees."
"So the trees admire the stars. See how they stretch towards the heavens all their days. They can only admire the twinkling balls of light from afar." He said sadly.
"Until the stars shoot down from the heavens to join them." She finished. They spoke for a little longer, but before long it was time for lunch again and she was gone.
Elrond was present at the noontime meal, and Arwen arrived just in time to hear him speaking with his seneschal. Elrond was amazed at how much progress the prince of Mirkwood had made.
"Over the last few days, it is as if he has woken up. I would be little surprised if he is walking again soon." Her father was saying.
Glorfindel shook his head in wonder,
"Amazing." He exclaimed, "When he arrived here, the shadow of death was upon him, and when he showed no sign of improvement..." Glorfindel abandoned this idea quickly, "All I can say is that it is truly a testament to your skill as a healer my lord." He finished.
Elrond shook his head though.
"I can think of nothing I have done that could cause such a remarkable reversal of his state." Elrond caughed softly before continuing,
"My original diagnosis was near so grave as yours, but things are going well. It is that child of mine, who this must be attributed to." Arwen's mouth fell open. Had he known of her visits all along?
"Verily my lord, it is Elrohir's doing." Glrofindel agreed, and Arwen realized her mistake. She smiled. They could only keep their visits a secret for so long. She would not correct him until then. After all, her father had been correct—it could be attributed to one of his children.
The next day it rained again, the men were going at the tree again, and Arwen again wondered what could be up there.
When she arrived at his room she found him in his bed, and immediately he began describing to her how her father had jumped when, calling to Elrohir (who had gone out a moment to flirt with a nurse) to bring him a bottle, he found Legolas fetching it for him instead.
Arwen found the thought of her stoic father so caught off guard quite funny. She wasn't precisely sure why, but she also felt relieved that he hadn't explained to her father just who it was that was responsible for his recovery.
'Let him go on believing what he will.' She thought, 'Elrohir shan't complain.'
She snapped back to the real world, when she heard Legolas speak.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Let's go outside." He suggested again, inciting from her a look of bewilderment.
"But it's raining." She protested.
"Aye, it is, but rain is a feast for the senses, and mine are starving."
Surrendering to his logic, she helped him up, and though he could walk almost by himself, she aided him out the door to help off the morning stiffness.
They stood in the rain for a full moment, and though he suppressed them to silence she could feel heavy breaths rumbling up his rib cage, and shivers from what seemed to be an intense combination of pleasure and cold.
Finally, he let off a dismissing breath, and slowly dropped down to the balcony floor. He leaned back to lay his entire body against the cool, sleek stone. His hand was outstretched and lay palm down, fingers slightly curled on the ground.
She had sunken with him and now sat beside him, her knees resting against her chest and her eyes trained on him.
The rain was falling in a thick shade, and though they were side by side, the sheets of mist between them made Legolas' form seem little more than a fuzzy outline to Arwen.
Neither spoke. Both seemed content let the rain chatter idly between them. It was very surely soaking his hair, and his only good robe, which she had brought him. She looked at his calloused hand lying before her, and on a whim she took it up into her lap.
With focused attention, she began to study it. His fingers were very long, and his knuckles were especially thick, notably more so than his fingers. His hands seemed to be altered in any way that might allow him to climb a tree faster or let an arrow fly truer.
On his wrist she noticed the mithril chain, still hanging loosely, its tiny leaf charm now sporting a shining glaze of rain. She took it gently between her fingers, and examined it closely. Suddenly, his hand slipped from her lap but the loose mithril loop remained in her hands.
Arwen gasped,
"I'm sorry," she said, realizing quickly the rain might have drowned her out. She lifted his hand back up and slipped the chain easily over it, releasing his arm gently when she finished. He pulled it back before his face and with his other hand felt the gap between the chain and his arm.
"It is a bit too big, don't you think?" she asked no louder than before. Evidently he heard her, for soon he spoke.
"Its because it doesn't belong there." He answered, "Its an anklet."
He slipped it off of his wrist again and sat up. The rain was soaked all through his hair and the locks had become slightly darker.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her calf. She jumped, but before she could recoil it, he had slipped the mithril chain onto her ankle. She examined it, and looked up at him.
"Hmm, looks better on you anyway." He said, nodding in satisfaction before sinking back down to the ground and closing his eyes.
Arwen realized suddenly how wet she was, but the most surprising part was that she wasn't cold. The rain was actually pleasant. With a coy smile, she rested her head upon his stomach, lying perpendicular to him.
His eyes flashed open in shock just as hers closed softly, but after a moment he closed them again, and just lay there. Though there was no bright sun to tell it, the noon was fading away.
The rain ceased and as dusk disseminated on the land, so too a feeling of serenity filled every part of Rivendell. The city and her citizens were at rest, and though recently darkness had reared its hideous form nearer and nearer to her borders, she slept easy in the wake of the gentle storm. There would be time for those struggles later.
The next morning brought a break in the showers, and the sun was shining pleasantly on the two elves, who had again decided to spend the day outside again.
Legolas seemed averse to the idea of an actual walk, so Arwen, reminding herself that she had to lead him one step at a time, agreed that the balcony would suffice.
As they stood at the rail, looking over, Legolas spoke.
"There is a tree down there making an amazing racket." He noted, "For a tree that is."
Arwen listened hard but she couldn't hear anything that alluded to the speech of trees.
"What does it say?" she asked.
"It says that if the hard skinned men scaling its hide night and day don't cease their scrapings it will be skinned before nightfall." Legolas looked confused, but Arwen understood.
"It's those soldiers." She explained, "Megundhros has convinced them that there's something up in that tree worth their efforts. Is it very angry? I never considered that trees wouldn't like to be climbed."
"Trees don't mind being climbed. It sounds to me like what they're doing isn't climbing at all." He shrugged, and whispered something in the speech of the trees.
"What did you say?" she inquired.
"I asked it what the morsel the armored men are clamoring for is. It says there is a cat perched in its boughs." Legolas replied.
Arwen gasped. So they really were going after something. It wasn't just Megundhros' eccentrics.
Looking back down at the area below, Arwen could catch no sight of the animal. Unfortunately, signs of the men were rampant. There were some sections of the tree where the abrasive chain mail had scraped away bark, and the crushing force of armored bodies had transformed the area directly below into a mud hole.
"They are going about it rather brutishly." She observed, "But by their colors I would guess them men of Rohan, and there is little opportunity or desire to climb trees for the riders of the plain."
Legolas nodded,
"I'll leave the horse breeding to them if they leave the tree climbing to me." He announced grimly, and Arwen laughed at his seriousness.
"That's not a bad idea." Her laughter had stopped and her look was thoughtful, "Couldn't you climb the tree and get the cat down?"
He shook his head, and said nothing.
"You can't honestly think yourself incapable. Your legs are back in order and that tree is not half so tall as the Horple I knew you to climb before even reaching your majority." Arwen pointed out, "Look at it, you can't say you don't see that too."
He blinked, and Arwen thought she saw a bolt of pain cross his eyes, but he suddenly turned away and she couldn't be sure what emotion had flared up within him.
"I...I think I'm getting cold." He trailed off and seemed more distant suddenly. She opened her mouth to question him, but he turned and marched back towards the doorway. He nervously groped for the door handle and when he caught hold of it he walked back into his room.
"Is something wrong?" she called after him, but he had vanished into the room and no answer came.
Arwen followed after him, and saw him facing the opposite wall, leaning against it with an outstretched palm. He did not notice her entry, or if he did, he was careful to make no sign that might imply that he had.
"Legolas, is something wrong?" she asked again, this time more firmly. It elicited the same response: none.
She shook her head and walked to the door which led out into the hallway. Holding it open she paused, giving him a moment to call her back. When he didn't, she left.
Legolas turned to stare at the now closed door. Feeling grief overcome him, he sank down against the wall and buried his face in his hands.
"Yes." He whispered softly to the darkness.
-END OF CHAPTER III-
A.N. Hi everyone, how's it going? You've managed to make it though an exceptionally long-winded chapter of this story, good for you! I decided to beat my record for longest chapter because I felt they'd been getting shorter and shorter. Unfortunately this came out a little long. Maybe I should have broke it up... well in the immortal words of Liam Lynch, Whatever.
Sarah: Sorry, I hope the bulk of this chapter will make up for how slow it was in coming. Thanks for commenting!
Alexi: Thanks! Now if only I was there to act it out we'd have a real show. I really appreciate the comment!
Lana: I simply adore you for reading and reviewing, hon! ::hugs::
Nienna Tindomerel: Oh god I'm so sorry. I bet reading this fic reminds you why you left... thanks for the reinforcement. I'm glad you've found your fan self again.
Klic: Sorry, gotta keep the suspense up a little longer...lots of hinting in this chapter though so I'm sure some of you have guesses.
Pishymishy: You may love being left in the dark but Legolas doesn't seem to be very fond of it does he? Hehe, poor Elf.
Lauren: Always glad to have a new opinion. Thanks so much for your time!
Karone Evertree: Thanks! Again sorry about the wait. On another note, wouldn't we all like to notice Legolas' nakedness?
Arkade: I'M SO SORRY!
Gionareth: Yes, at last. As for Legolas' illness—I'm not telling. Not yet. I'll give you a hint though. ::glances side to side to make sure the coast is clear be fore leaning down to whisper:: It's not an illness. ::vanishes into the night::
Farflung: Poor Arwen. I think I'd go on that horror ride though anytime, considering the ending (: Thanks for your comments and I hope you'll enjoy more of Legolas nude in this chapter...well I guess there was the sheet. As to Arwen, I don't understand the haters either. I can't say I hate anyone in Lord of the Rings. There's a definite pecking order with certain Elves on the top, but except for the characters you love to hate, they're all fine by me. Thanks again!
-JP out-
She was normally rather fond of the steady drops which fell over Rivendell each year as surely as the sun rose and set each day, but this day, they were unwelcome.
"Oh rain, of all the unpleasant visitors to inquire at Imladris' gates..." she sighed and continued to walk. The thoroughfare was surprisingly crowded, and the numerous footfalls blended with the rain's pitter-patter and the mutter of voices into a soft percussive refrain that echoed in Imladris' vaulted ceilings only to add onto itself again and again.
Arwen glanced out over the railing and paused for a moment to survey the scene in the garden below her. She recognized Megundhros standing a few feet away from a towering tree. The ancient, who was wrapped in a rainbow of protective layers, seemed to be giving orders to a troupe of human soldiers.
Everything about the adviser was wispy, from her thin blond hair to her delicate, pale skinned arms, now obscured by bright red sleeves. Her face bore no sign of the countless years of her existence. Like most of the adults in her life, Megundhros had changed little in all the time Arwen had known her.
The old elf's delicate, ceremonial look was belied by her powerful commands. She seemed to have convinced the men to try to climb up into the tree which towered beside her.
Their first attempt was a disaster, and they fell one by one into the mud, cursing faintly and rising slowly. They had clearly never climbed a tree before, but they went at it a second time, still clothed in all their mail, their scabbards dangling into the faces of the climbers below as they scaled.
Once in the mud for the second time, Megundhros chided them gently, and their pride drove them back up with speed that was only matched by how quickly they were down again.
They valiantly drove up the trunk one more time, gripping the tree with all of their strength and desperately grasping at the slick bark. Arwen turned and started back towards her destination. She entered a door which led to the inner rooms of the healing wing.
'Good luck.' She whispered in farewell to the soldiers. As if in reply, a moist thud rose from the garden.
The way was straightforward now, and Arwen hummed a tune despite the disagreeable blessing from above, which pounded loudly enough to be heard very faintly, even now in the beating heart of Rivendell.
Just as in the outer hall, elves were passing around her, each determinedly focused on his or her own mission. It was the kind of day where everyone was doing something, but no one was in any particular hurry to do anything. The mood of Rivendell was subdued—steady.
Arwen's humming only ceased when she turned out of the mainstream. Knocking softly, she stood outside the appropriate door.
"Come," bid a voice from within, and Arwen opened the door and walked in. There were at least a hundred witnesses, but Arwen wasn't worried. No one noticed her.
He was sitting at the edge of the bed, one leg bent at the knee and tucked under the other, which hung over the side of the bed loosely. His hands rested upon his upper thighs, and he was looking at her passively, a bit of humor on his lips.
He clearly noted her perception of his only garment, a haphazardly placed sheet which lay across his lap in a tangled bundle. A smile broke across his face.
"Don't look so pleased with yourself, Legolas." She said, but her eyes reflected the same humor present on his lips, "How long have you been waiting for me?"
"Not terribly long," He replied casually, "Since last night around dinner time." Arwen shook her head in mock seriousness.
"Just wear this until something better turns up." She tossed him a robe.
It had been a bundle occupying the space under her arm, and before that the dusty (and hopefully forgotten) space in the back of Elladan's wardrobe. Legolas caught the bundle, and glanced at it fleetingly, then he looked up and just stared at her. A puzzled look crossed her face.
She was just about to inquire about what was the matter when he spoke.
"You're welcome to watch if you really like but now is your last chance to turn around if you'd prefer not to." He said, smiling amiably.
Arwen's eyes went wide for moment, and her face ripened like a tomato. She quickly spun around and began to display an acute fascination with the opposite wall. After a moment's rustling she spoke,
"Does it fit alright?" she inquired.
"Yes." He replied
"Well does it look alright?"
He seemed not to have considered this, and there was a moment of hesitation before he answered,
"Your eyes can judge better than mine." He murmured, so Arwen turned and looked.
She frowned and walked up to him. She adjusted it a bit, moving the shoulder up and fussing with one of the sleeves.
"What is it?" Legolas asked.
"To be honest, I'm not absolutely sure." Arwen hesitated and looked him over entirely.
"It's the right size, it's just..."
"It doesn't fit me?" he suggested, "Strange that you should have that opinion, for I have always thought so myself. Not about this robe in particular, but about robes in general. Their freedom is constricting, especially when one is climbing trees."
Arwen smiled, "Perhaps your parents wanted you doing something else besides climbing trees when they got you dressed up in robes."
"It's possible I suppose." Legolas replied, taking no more time to consider it now than he could have as a boy.
Arwen finally surrendered and let the robe fall free. After she took a step back, Legolas, who had all this time been sitting on the edge of the bed, pushed himself off and stood.
He was still half a head taller than her, until his knees buckled and he fell to her feet. Arwen gasped and knelt beside him.
"Are you alright?" she frantically asked, but he didn't answer. He was staring at his legs with an intense look of fear. Tentatively, he reached out his right hand. Arwen saw now that it was trembling greatly.
This hand was not the confident weapon of an archer, not the cool, purposeful will of a king. It was the keen fear of a bird stripped of its wings.
He reached out and touched his legs, as if to be sure that they still existed. Arwen looked to his eyes for instructions but the deep blue orbs swirled with ambiguity, and their meaning seemed as obvious as that of any rippled September sky.
"Are your legs hurt?" she finally asked. It took him a moment to answer, for he seemed to be trying to remember, as if the occurrence surrounding his hospitalization had largely faded from his mind.
Suddenly, as quickly as he had been unsure he was positive. Arwen watched Legolas' eyes, and noted how like they were to the great blue sky. Right now, with rapid suddenness they were changing.
From fearful they had come, and gone to thoughtful as he remembered. Now they grew clouded and dark. Yes, they were the sky, and a storm was coming.
He pushed himself up with a fierce suddenness, but had to lean heavily against her to keep from falling again. She caught him, and together they pushed him up to his full height.
They stood like this for a moment as he caught his breath. Then he slowly moved into a forward step, and then a little more quickly, another. Arwen stayed with him, and occasionally he leaned against her for support.
Once he lost his balance, but he got up again and continued on with his walking. They strode around the room nearly fifty times, and with each step Legolas' confidence soared. He was pleased to conquer the malady of his legs so quickly. It now seemed that battling certain other maladies might not be so impossible after all.
He found himself grinning with the intense pleasure of moving again. A blush colored his cheeks too, as he realized he might have been leaning on Arwen a little more than was really necessary.
After some amount of walking, she stepped away from him, but she continued to hold his hand, and they were able to walk together, side by side. He kept pace with her, though the only support she gave was her presence.
Finally, he suggested that she tell him another story, and she agreed.
"Which story shall I tell you?" she asked as she sat down, this time on his unoccupied bed.
He, who was still standing and aimed to remain so, thought for a moment, before he suggested:
"I should very much like to hear the story of Arien, and the coming of light to the land."
She laughed and shook her head,
"But I've already told you that one," she chided gently.
"Yes I know, and since then that story has become a particular favorite of mine. After all, a thing itself is much more evocative than an image, or a word of that thing. You are my Arien, for you have brought light to my world. I will forever love that story, for it will forever be ours." He explained, a sincere smile brightening his whole face.
This was reason enough for Arwen, and she told the story again. This time she was still, and he paced the room, retracing his steps exactly. After telling that tale, she asked him if he might tell one to her.
He thought about it, and momentarily decided on a story about the Ents. It was a sad story, as many old tales are wont to be, and interwoven in its words were songs and bits of verse. They were sung in many languages, including one Arwen had never heard before.
"It is the language of the trees," Legolas explained, "At least that of those trees who reside in my forest home."
"Who taught you to speak it?" Arwen asked, amazed at the prospect.
"Why, a tree of course." Legolas laughed and Arwen realized that she'd overlooked this obvious answer.
"Elves taught the trees to speak long ago, and they still do." Legolas continued.
"And how does one come to hear a tree?" Arwen inquired.
"One need only listen," he replied, and with this he sang again in the language.
Arwen knew that the Elves of the forest were very much attuned with the trees. She knew Legolas had climbed them and lived among them all his life. She considered her peoples love for the sky. The stars and the moon were their great passion.
"Here in my home, we regard the stars as you do the trees."
"So the trees admire the stars. See how they stretch towards the heavens all their days. They can only admire the twinkling balls of light from afar." He said sadly.
"Until the stars shoot down from the heavens to join them." She finished. They spoke for a little longer, but before long it was time for lunch again and she was gone.
Elrond was present at the noontime meal, and Arwen arrived just in time to hear him speaking with his seneschal. Elrond was amazed at how much progress the prince of Mirkwood had made.
"Over the last few days, it is as if he has woken up. I would be little surprised if he is walking again soon." Her father was saying.
Glorfindel shook his head in wonder,
"Amazing." He exclaimed, "When he arrived here, the shadow of death was upon him, and when he showed no sign of improvement..." Glorfindel abandoned this idea quickly, "All I can say is that it is truly a testament to your skill as a healer my lord." He finished.
Elrond shook his head though.
"I can think of nothing I have done that could cause such a remarkable reversal of his state." Elrond caughed softly before continuing,
"My original diagnosis was near so grave as yours, but things are going well. It is that child of mine, who this must be attributed to." Arwen's mouth fell open. Had he known of her visits all along?
"Verily my lord, it is Elrohir's doing." Glrofindel agreed, and Arwen realized her mistake. She smiled. They could only keep their visits a secret for so long. She would not correct him until then. After all, her father had been correct—it could be attributed to one of his children.
The next day it rained again, the men were going at the tree again, and Arwen again wondered what could be up there.
When she arrived at his room she found him in his bed, and immediately he began describing to her how her father had jumped when, calling to Elrohir (who had gone out a moment to flirt with a nurse) to bring him a bottle, he found Legolas fetching it for him instead.
Arwen found the thought of her stoic father so caught off guard quite funny. She wasn't precisely sure why, but she also felt relieved that he hadn't explained to her father just who it was that was responsible for his recovery.
'Let him go on believing what he will.' She thought, 'Elrohir shan't complain.'
She snapped back to the real world, when she heard Legolas speak.
"What was that?" she asked.
"Let's go outside." He suggested again, inciting from her a look of bewilderment.
"But it's raining." She protested.
"Aye, it is, but rain is a feast for the senses, and mine are starving."
Surrendering to his logic, she helped him up, and though he could walk almost by himself, she aided him out the door to help off the morning stiffness.
They stood in the rain for a full moment, and though he suppressed them to silence she could feel heavy breaths rumbling up his rib cage, and shivers from what seemed to be an intense combination of pleasure and cold.
Finally, he let off a dismissing breath, and slowly dropped down to the balcony floor. He leaned back to lay his entire body against the cool, sleek stone. His hand was outstretched and lay palm down, fingers slightly curled on the ground.
She had sunken with him and now sat beside him, her knees resting against her chest and her eyes trained on him.
The rain was falling in a thick shade, and though they were side by side, the sheets of mist between them made Legolas' form seem little more than a fuzzy outline to Arwen.
Neither spoke. Both seemed content let the rain chatter idly between them. It was very surely soaking his hair, and his only good robe, which she had brought him. She looked at his calloused hand lying before her, and on a whim she took it up into her lap.
With focused attention, she began to study it. His fingers were very long, and his knuckles were especially thick, notably more so than his fingers. His hands seemed to be altered in any way that might allow him to climb a tree faster or let an arrow fly truer.
On his wrist she noticed the mithril chain, still hanging loosely, its tiny leaf charm now sporting a shining glaze of rain. She took it gently between her fingers, and examined it closely. Suddenly, his hand slipped from her lap but the loose mithril loop remained in her hands.
Arwen gasped,
"I'm sorry," she said, realizing quickly the rain might have drowned her out. She lifted his hand back up and slipped the chain easily over it, releasing his arm gently when she finished. He pulled it back before his face and with his other hand felt the gap between the chain and his arm.
"It is a bit too big, don't you think?" she asked no louder than before. Evidently he heard her, for soon he spoke.
"Its because it doesn't belong there." He answered, "Its an anklet."
He slipped it off of his wrist again and sat up. The rain was soaked all through his hair and the locks had become slightly darker.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her calf. She jumped, but before she could recoil it, he had slipped the mithril chain onto her ankle. She examined it, and looked up at him.
"Hmm, looks better on you anyway." He said, nodding in satisfaction before sinking back down to the ground and closing his eyes.
Arwen realized suddenly how wet she was, but the most surprising part was that she wasn't cold. The rain was actually pleasant. With a coy smile, she rested her head upon his stomach, lying perpendicular to him.
His eyes flashed open in shock just as hers closed softly, but after a moment he closed them again, and just lay there. Though there was no bright sun to tell it, the noon was fading away.
The rain ceased and as dusk disseminated on the land, so too a feeling of serenity filled every part of Rivendell. The city and her citizens were at rest, and though recently darkness had reared its hideous form nearer and nearer to her borders, she slept easy in the wake of the gentle storm. There would be time for those struggles later.
The next morning brought a break in the showers, and the sun was shining pleasantly on the two elves, who had again decided to spend the day outside again.
Legolas seemed averse to the idea of an actual walk, so Arwen, reminding herself that she had to lead him one step at a time, agreed that the balcony would suffice.
As they stood at the rail, looking over, Legolas spoke.
"There is a tree down there making an amazing racket." He noted, "For a tree that is."
Arwen listened hard but she couldn't hear anything that alluded to the speech of trees.
"What does it say?" she asked.
"It says that if the hard skinned men scaling its hide night and day don't cease their scrapings it will be skinned before nightfall." Legolas looked confused, but Arwen understood.
"It's those soldiers." She explained, "Megundhros has convinced them that there's something up in that tree worth their efforts. Is it very angry? I never considered that trees wouldn't like to be climbed."
"Trees don't mind being climbed. It sounds to me like what they're doing isn't climbing at all." He shrugged, and whispered something in the speech of the trees.
"What did you say?" she inquired.
"I asked it what the morsel the armored men are clamoring for is. It says there is a cat perched in its boughs." Legolas replied.
Arwen gasped. So they really were going after something. It wasn't just Megundhros' eccentrics.
Looking back down at the area below, Arwen could catch no sight of the animal. Unfortunately, signs of the men were rampant. There were some sections of the tree where the abrasive chain mail had scraped away bark, and the crushing force of armored bodies had transformed the area directly below into a mud hole.
"They are going about it rather brutishly." She observed, "But by their colors I would guess them men of Rohan, and there is little opportunity or desire to climb trees for the riders of the plain."
Legolas nodded,
"I'll leave the horse breeding to them if they leave the tree climbing to me." He announced grimly, and Arwen laughed at his seriousness.
"That's not a bad idea." Her laughter had stopped and her look was thoughtful, "Couldn't you climb the tree and get the cat down?"
He shook his head, and said nothing.
"You can't honestly think yourself incapable. Your legs are back in order and that tree is not half so tall as the Horple I knew you to climb before even reaching your majority." Arwen pointed out, "Look at it, you can't say you don't see that too."
He blinked, and Arwen thought she saw a bolt of pain cross his eyes, but he suddenly turned away and she couldn't be sure what emotion had flared up within him.
"I...I think I'm getting cold." He trailed off and seemed more distant suddenly. She opened her mouth to question him, but he turned and marched back towards the doorway. He nervously groped for the door handle and when he caught hold of it he walked back into his room.
"Is something wrong?" she called after him, but he had vanished into the room and no answer came.
Arwen followed after him, and saw him facing the opposite wall, leaning against it with an outstretched palm. He did not notice her entry, or if he did, he was careful to make no sign that might imply that he had.
"Legolas, is something wrong?" she asked again, this time more firmly. It elicited the same response: none.
She shook her head and walked to the door which led out into the hallway. Holding it open she paused, giving him a moment to call her back. When he didn't, she left.
Legolas turned to stare at the now closed door. Feeling grief overcome him, he sank down against the wall and buried his face in his hands.
"Yes." He whispered softly to the darkness.
-END OF CHAPTER III-
A.N. Hi everyone, how's it going? You've managed to make it though an exceptionally long-winded chapter of this story, good for you! I decided to beat my record for longest chapter because I felt they'd been getting shorter and shorter. Unfortunately this came out a little long. Maybe I should have broke it up... well in the immortal words of Liam Lynch, Whatever.
Sarah: Sorry, I hope the bulk of this chapter will make up for how slow it was in coming. Thanks for commenting!
Alexi: Thanks! Now if only I was there to act it out we'd have a real show. I really appreciate the comment!
Lana: I simply adore you for reading and reviewing, hon! ::hugs::
Nienna Tindomerel: Oh god I'm so sorry. I bet reading this fic reminds you why you left... thanks for the reinforcement. I'm glad you've found your fan self again.
Klic: Sorry, gotta keep the suspense up a little longer...lots of hinting in this chapter though so I'm sure some of you have guesses.
Pishymishy: You may love being left in the dark but Legolas doesn't seem to be very fond of it does he? Hehe, poor Elf.
Lauren: Always glad to have a new opinion. Thanks so much for your time!
Karone Evertree: Thanks! Again sorry about the wait. On another note, wouldn't we all like to notice Legolas' nakedness?
Arkade: I'M SO SORRY!
Gionareth: Yes, at last. As for Legolas' illness—I'm not telling. Not yet. I'll give you a hint though. ::glances side to side to make sure the coast is clear be fore leaning down to whisper:: It's not an illness. ::vanishes into the night::
Farflung: Poor Arwen. I think I'd go on that horror ride though anytime, considering the ending (: Thanks for your comments and I hope you'll enjoy more of Legolas nude in this chapter...well I guess there was the sheet. As to Arwen, I don't understand the haters either. I can't say I hate anyone in Lord of the Rings. There's a definite pecking order with certain Elves on the top, but except for the characters you love to hate, they're all fine by me. Thanks again!
-JP out-