I love parties. Love them so much. Yes, that was a bit heavy on the sarcasm, but that's OK, right? If I have to dance with one more complete flickin' stranger, I'm going to lose what little mind I had to begin with.

Not that most of them are too bad. Imrahil of Dol Amroth -- father of that Lothiriel chick, the one Eomer's stuck on -- is very sweet, and hilarious. The other one's I couldn't tell you their names. I had to dance with Eomer, who kept stepping on my toes because he was gawping at Lothiriel. I had to dance with Elladan, which was horrible, because he kept making me laugh and forget the steps. I had to dance with Haldir, which was just above and beyond the call of duty, I think. There was also Faramir, who kept stepping on my toes because he was gawping at Eowyn -- who really does look beautiful, wearing white, like she always does -- and Boromir, who was ALSO stepping on my toes, because HE -- yeah, you guess it, was gawping at Edana.

This has not been a fun evening.

Yeah, by the way, this brother of Legolas's? Derinsul. Took me five tries to get the pronunciation right. It's a freaking odd name. The other two -- the ones who were here before -- are Eriadhras -- couldn't say that if I wanted to -- and Jadriel. Why am I telling you this, you may ask? Hey, a girl's gotta know her in-laws.

But, anywho, back to the party. I haven't been able to find a corner to hide in, somebody -- usually one of my brothers, or the twins, or Legolas -- catches me before I can get away and introduces me to more people. I force a smile, make polite small talk, and wonder when the hell this is going to be over.

During a break in conversation -- the first one we've had all damn night -- Legolas slips up behind me, deposits a wine glass in one of my hands and takes the other one. "Smile, love, it'll be done with soon enough."

"I am smiling," I say softly. And I am. It's a forced smile, but it's a smile. Also, I'm pretty sure my face is stuck this way.

He laughs slightly, leans over, and kisses my cheek. "That doesn't look like a smile, love."

I shrug and attempt to make my face return to some semblence of normality. "Best I can do." I finally glimpse a secluded corner and duck into it, dragging him with me. "I hate this," I mutter, and sincerely attempt to hide myself from everyone's view, using Legolas's body -- I'm so glad he's taller than me -- and also his robes. I like Elven robes. Two people fit. To hide in. Pervs.

I yawn and close my eyes, resting against him for a moment. He tucks some of my hair behind my ears. "You're exhausted, Kayli. You should go to bed."

I nod. "Yeah." I step away, fighting with my hair. Again. "Will you tell the lovebirds I bailed?"

He pauses for a second, just blinking at me. He's trying to figure out what I just said. It's ok. I have a tendency to confuse Middle-Earthians with my modern Earth slang. It's all good. "Yes," he says, and kisses my forehead. "Good night."

111

I am never going to be in another wedding again. NEVER. Well, just one, obviously. It's not like I can have a stand-in for my own, right?

Faramir and Eowyn look so happy together, it's making me nauseous. Aragorn is marrying them, seeing as how he's King and all, and Boromir and Brioc are standing with Faramir, leaving me and Edana with Eowyn.

And as happy as Faramir and Eowyn look, Edana looks absolutely miserable. Her eyes are all red and puffy from crying, and so is her face. There are some things not even makeup can repair. Boromir is very firmly not looking at her, and come to think of it, he doesn't look really all that happy either, even though I know he's thrilled for Faramir.

Speaking of happy, Eomer and Lothiriel are disgustingly cuddly. Well, as cuddly as they can be with Prince Imrahil glaring over his shoulder. At least somebody's got it going right. Well, actually, everybody does, with the exception of Boromir and Edana. Even I have my love life sorted out, which is sad. Very, very sad.

Faramir and Eowyn kiss, and I start counting down the minutes until I can take off these damn shoes. Another thing to add to my 'dislikes' list, which is growing by the...minute.

Once more, we start the parade down the aisle. Legolas slips into place next to me. "You're not smiling," he says, and he's laughing at me. Not out loud, but I can all but freaking hear it.

"I hate weddings," I mutter through clenched teeth and forced, plastic smile. "Hate them. Never going to be in another one again."

He looks at me for a moment, an amused look on his face. "Really?" he says lightly. "That should be interesting."

I make a face at him. "Yeah, yeah. Other than that one."

We make it back inside, and I am so relieved to be in the shade. It just figures that today would be even hotter than the past week, and all of us out there in heavy formal robes and gowns. It's times like this I find myself wishing that Elves felt the heat the way humans do. Just so they could suffer right along with us.

Legolas leans over and whispers in my ear. "You look awful."

I glare at him. "Oh, thank you." I aim an elbow backwards, but he's fast. Sneaky bastard. I didn't even see him move.

He steps back up next to me and slips an arm around my waist. One of the ladies of the court gives me a nasty look. I glare right back. I am SO not in the mood for the petty jealousies of the vapid palace decorations.

Ack. Is it just me, or has the heat made me really nasty? Yeah, I had a feeling it wasn't just me. Too much to ask for, I guess. I shake my head and tug away from Legolas. "I need to go lay down for a while. I'll be back downstairs in time for the ball."

I walk away, leaving him staring after me.

111

OK, we all know I'm in love with Legolas? We've covered this, right?

And we all ALSO know that having someone with me constantly, looking over my shoulder and holding my hand, will tend to make me slightly irritated. If not out right piss me off.

But see, what he's doing is something in between. He's trying to be a husband. I know we're not married yet, but the theory applies. He's doing his best. And I'm not making any damn effort. Why?

I don't know how. My own inadequacies tend to bother me. In case you hadn't noticed.

I quietly shut the door to my room, then sigh and close my eyes. I am so damn tired. This constantly strong, can-handle-herself female image wears on you more than you'd think. I would like nothing better than to just collapse and let someone else take care of everything. Take care of my Men, take care of Iariel's betrothal arrangements -- I can see it coming, somebody has to take care of it -- take care of my brothers when they need it -- OK, just Boromir now, Faramir has Eowyn, but still -- take care of beating some sense into Boromir about Edana -- then I won't have to take care of him either, huzzah! -- my own marriage, everything. All of it.

What's really hard to accept is that there really is someone there to do it.

Ugh. Check out the headache, y'all. This sucks.

I start to pull the pins out of my hair, glancing casually around the room. Nothing's changed since this morning, really. Everything looks so normal that I look right past Leilanni.

The first time.

Oh, shit. This can not end well.

I don't move my eyes from her, once I actually see her. She's wearing one of my dresses -- prison issue obviously didn't agree with her -- and going through my jewelry. Most of it is random stuff I don't care about, but my rings are in there. If she touches them, there will not be a hole deep enough for her to hide in.

"Hello, Kayli," she says sweetly. "I've missed you."

"The feeling's mutual," I snap back. "I've missed having your head on a pike on my freaking balcony."

No, I don't have a balcony. It's the thought that counts, right?

She turns to look at me and smiles slowly, which worries me. Something is very not right here. Hugely not right. So hugely not right, so obvious, that I'm looking right past it and I can't SEE it.

Ugh. Ugh, ugh, ugh.

She slips a knife from somewhere in her skirts and throws it. I move, but not fast enough. It buries in my shoulder, and I cry out.

I stumble slightly, wince, and pull out the knife. There's something black mingled with the red on the blade.

Poison. I detest a poisoner. They should all be hung or beheaded, just on principal.

The room starts to get a wee bit unsteady, like it did when I was drunk, only far less pleasant. I grit my teeth and manage to focus enough to throw.

Then everything's black.

Deja vu.

TBC...

Thanks, Mel. You rock!

Hey, everybody. Since FFN has removed some of my work -- namely, my scripted movie parodies -- I have begun my own yahoo group. Yes, I realize there may have been an error in my thinking process there, but it's too late now. I've invited some people, those whose addresses are in my twisted little mind, but anyone and everyone else is welcome to join. In fact, please

this will be updated there, also the abovementioned scripted movie parodies.

Thanks!

Paige