Well, here's the chapter early, like I promised.
I have never gotten so many reviews for a single chapter before... I'm pretty sure about that. Unless it's the final chapter, of course. Thanks, everyone!
Nienna Silmarwen: Yes, this is, but I don't have it written down as such because I'm hoping it can stand as a story on its own. I know I get wary when I see something is part of a larger whole, especially if the previous one didn't sound interesting. Thanks for a great first review!
Calime Canos: Well, I suppose it depends on your idea of a Legomace as to whether or not I'm writting one. If you mean a romance involving Legolas, then yes, this is one. Your review gave me the impression that's not quite what you meant, though. This story kind of works from the idea that Legolas was called Lord rather than prince when he had a group of elves to look after for himself, rather than under his father. The Fangorn elves, in my mind, call him Lord... so when any elves in this story think of Legolas, either can come out, though it would depend partly on when they knew him/have heard of him & how respectful and title-aware they are being. As for why the story worries her--that's kind of the point of the entire story, so we'll get around to it if you wait a while. And finally, yes, it will be Lunian and Legolas, though Lunian clearly has a bit of growing up to do.
LilAznElfLuver: I know it wasn't nice, which is why I'm back already with more. The next chapter will be out in a week, give or take depending on when I have a while. There's going to be a Fourth party I'm suppose to help prepare/cook for/attend/clean up after.
Sarah G: I figured everyone who knew The Worry Stone would catch on fairly quickly, which is one of two reason's I'm not badgering everyone over the head with it. Glad you're enjoying it!
Sarah: Has it been that long since I posted the teaser? Maybe so... Oh well, time flies when you don't have any. Or was it supposed to be when you're having fun?
juvenile delinquent: I don't see why you can't post your story. I'm sure there are already stories like this one out there... I just stopped reading LOTR stories about a year ago, save ones from authors I already know or came highly recommended, so I really don't know.
The Hobbit Ivy: Hi! It's been a while since you've reviewed something of mine, hasn't it? Or am I thinking of someone else? Oh well. I'm going on way too little sleep and rush hour tension, so don't mind me if I'm a little... confused?
LadyJadePerendhil: Great to hear from you here! I know what you mean. I must have re-red the entire thing a few dozen times to make sure I had characters right, eye-colors, attitudes, mannerisms... for the more minor once, of course. Right now, she is totally clueless. She has no idea, no memory from her previous life. She is nearly a thousand years old, which I have kind of gotten stuck in my head as a good child to adult age, like eighteen or twenty-one (depending on what you want to do). She will be told... soon. : ) She has met Legolas over the years, and considers him a family friend... and read the chapter below. It should explain it all fairly well.
plumsy321, husunny2684, Anonymous, RiRiana, and YeLLoSpRiNkOz: Thanks for reviewing!
Chapter 2
"Hiding, my lady?"
Having felt his approach, Lunian merely smiled, not bothering to look away from the slowly swirling gowns. "And why shouldn't I hide?"
"What is there to hide from? Save compelling music and fine wine? Cheerful company and gay stories? Indulgent—"
"Enough!" she laughed, turning to look at him. "That is quite enough, Ethwan."
"Then I suppose I have been unsuccessful," he pouted, leaning indolently against the wall behind them, his arms crossing over his chest. "I have been unable to coax you out to join the revelry, haven't I?"
"As always," she teased, shaking her head at him, before eyeing his shirt suspiciously. "What are you wearing?"
"Don't you like it?" He grinned. "Enough of the other ladies do, I warn you before you answer."
"You look like my uncle, dressed like that." A lifted brow indicated her idea of its suitability for a friend of hers.
"Hmm," he murmured, a grin and a twinkle in his eye for her disgust. "And as Elladan is still popular with the ladies at his age… I don't think I mind."
"I certainly do. He's a flirt and a tease."
"Talking about me, darling?" a flirtatious voice behind her murmured smoothly, even as warm arms slid around her waist.
"Not hardly, Irithil," she muttered, disentangling herself with the ease of long practice. "As my hiding spot has become rather crowded," she scowled at them, "I take my leave."
"Now look what you've done, Irithil," Ethwan complained as she slipped around the crowd, nearly unnoticed and completely left in peace. "You've scared her off again!"
"It was probably that shirt, dear brother," Irithil countered.
Lunian held her laughter until she was safely in the garden, where she gave it free reign. She tilted her head to the stars, opening her eyes to find the familiar patterns, bidding them all a good night of listening and watching as her eyes slowly drifted shut, a smile still upon her face.
"Can you see the stars with your eyes closed, Milady?"
He was the only one who said 'milady' quite like that. If she didn't know how impossible it would be for him to be interested in her as anything other than a friend's daughter, she would likely have shivered at the tone, the husky timbre of it, the feel it was almost an intimate nickname. She smiled slightly. "All the time," she answered softly. "Tell me," she murmured, opening her eyes and turning to face him, "what brings the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen outside when a feast goes on within?"
"Merely a desire to be with that I love," he answered, before a swift and fleeting frown touched his brow.
"They are lovely," she agreed, looking up at the twinkling stars once more. "It has been a while since you have been here, Prince Legolas. Or shall it be Lord Legolas of Fangorn?" she turned, looking curiously at him, awaiting his answer.
He watched her for a long moment, before closing his eyes, his head bowing slightly. Stiffly he straightened, tossing his head back to see the stars. For some reason she couldn't help but notice the way the stars clung to him so lovingly. "Just Legolas." He lowered his eyes to hers. "Please, Milady, just Legolas." He smiled slightly. "As ever, Lunian."
She laughed softly, bowing her head slightly, conceding the point to him. "As you wish, Legolas," she agreed, still smiling faintly. "Why do we always have this conversation?"
"Because you insist upon it, Milady."
"So formal, Legolas?" she asked, turning to him. "Legolas you claim to be, yet 'my lady' I must remain?"
"You used to enjoy being called Milady," he murmured quietly, his eyes darkening in what she knew to be pain, though she could not fathom the reason.
"I must have been quite young, for I have forgotten."
"Young in the way of elves," he agreed after a moment, withdrawing to hide behind the wall of nothingness.
"How do you do that? Not even Grandfather can shield himself so perfectly."
A small smile touched his lips, but nothing reached his dark eyes. "I have had more practice than he has."
"Why?"
"I do not wish my pain to hurt others," he stated simply.
She looked carefully at her father's old friend, and the slight image she had retained of him being a kind, carefree and joyous elf from his visits when she was a child were shattered once and for all. He was a warrior of the old days—trained and tested in a world she would only ever know from songs and books. That he was alive was testament to his skill. That he was known among all the elves for his accomplishments was a stronger one. There were few elves who were as well known as Legolas, Elf of the Nine Walkers.
The warrior before her intrigued her. Tall, beautiful, and seemingly cold, a blade of adamant, honed by years of use to intricate perfection and savage efficiency. Though unmarred on the surface, beneath that were the echoes of battles long since fought—won and lost. No doubt he could tell her in exquisite detail the horrors of that other place, the one she had never known. He carried millennia of death, despair, shallow victory and pain with him, and closed himself from her so she didn't feel it, knowing she picked up on emotions far too easily.
"And how many like me have you had to shield yourself from?" she asked softly, seeking to distract herself from her somewhat troubling observations. It was selfish, perhaps, but she preferred thinking of him as happy over bitter and world-weary.
"You are the strongest, Lunian. And of those, you know me best. Galadriel sees minds as well as hearts, sees intents and desires over pure emotions. Your mother's gift is not as strong as yours. I frequent the dwellings of no others who carry it."
"A gift? Sometimes I would call it a curse."
He smiled faintly, shaking his head slightly. "Do not be discontent with what you have, Lunian. To be here is the greatest gift. Any other annoyance can be borne."
She felt chastened. "With quiet dignity and grace, I suppose?" Mentally she flinched at her own tone, not having meant to sound so sharp. "Legolas, I—"
"Still feel your slight human blood," he inserted, startling her.
She just looked up at him, uncertain how to respond to such. Did she, really? Yes, she had human blood… Her eyes lit up. This gave her a reason for her slight differences, didn't it? Her blasted obstinacy?
A soft chuckle drew her attention. "I see I may have created a problem where there was none."
"Actually, I think you may be—"
He placed his fingers lightly over her lips. "Right I may be, but you need not think on this. I was merely observing that you seem to be reacting against the general expectations we hold for those elves older than you are."
"They seem to wish it of me, as well."
"They may. I know not. Nor do I care," he looked beyond her eyes to the stars above them. "After all, in the presence of something so beautiful, what can one care for the expectations of others?"
"But not meeting those expectations hurts…"
"It hurts everyone, little one. Those who think they fail, and those who make them believe themselves less than they are by being unthinkingly harsh. Perhaps in a human realm it would not be so, but here it is." He lightly brushed some hair back from her temple, settling it behind her ear. "Would you walk with me for a while, Milady?"
She lifted troubled eyes to see his calm face, and could recall seeing it so often in her young life. "You are an odd one, Prince of Eryn Lasgalen. But who am I to deny one who is at once a lord, a prince, and a family friend in something so trivial… especially when what you ask was my original intent, anyway?" She offered him a smile and began walking, trusting him to come along.
He laughed softly at her words but fell into step, letting her think in silence for a while. "What has distracted you from the stars, Milady?"
"You." She moved to a bench, leaning back to see the stars.
"Why is that?" he asked quietly, sitting down beside her.
"Because you confuse me so," she admitted just as quietly.
"How?"
"Why? So you can gloat at successfully confusing yet another poor maiden?" The questions were without heat, for she knew the answer before he spoke.
"No," he countered, shaking his head slightly. "So I can stop confusing you, if possible."
She frowned, tilting her head slightly to the side as she tried to form coherent thoughts about why she was confused when around him. "You are the only one who has never forgotten my name, other than those who saw me on a near-daily basis from birth, to start with."
"You're the only child of a good friend," he murmured softly, studying her as she slowly turned her gaze from the stars above to those which melted into his eyes.
"Yes, but you never even needed a while to remember, and you never say 'this is Elrohir's daughter', you always say 'this is Lunian' when introductions are made."
"You are Lunian," he murmured, tilting his head back, resting it against the stone of the bench as he looked at the stars. "I am sorry if I am the only one who sees that."
"It's not quite like that," she countered, frowning as she tried to put everything else into words. "I…"
"Yes?" he asked quietly. To her relief, he kept looking above them, rather than at her.
"You're… I'm a very young she-elf, and I know I've not much experience in the world, and my title is more honorary than anything. You're a prince, a lord, a warrior, one of the Nine Walkers, and known by all the elves for all of those things, without even mentioning some of your odd friendships. I feel like I should feel so small around you, tiny, insignificant… foolish, perhaps. But I don't. Instead what I do feel is totally opposite. As if I can say anything, and you'll listen honestly. As if I could tell you my deepest secret and know it was safely guarded. Almost as if I could always turn to find you there when I need you to be. All of which is utterly ridic—"
For the second time that night her words were stopped by his fingers. "You should never doubt that."
"I know it's ridiculous," she muttered, frowning at him.
He shook his head with a faint smile. "No, Milady. You should never doubt that I am always here for you. I always have been."
She searched his eyes for a while, but they were perfectly enigmatic, as usual. So she used the skin contact gained by the fingers lightly stroking her cheek to try and explore his feelings a bit better, and found only love. With a slight smile she reached up, touching the back of his hand lightly.
It seemed to make him realize he was touching her, as he withdrew his hand at once, turning to look at the stars once more. She tried to lean her head against the back of the bench as he was, but was too tall for it to be in the least bit comfortable. Knowing he was taller than she was by at least an inch, she turned to see how he had managed, and found he was actually a lot less elegantly sprawled than he appeared at first. Knowing her mother would not be at all pleased to find her similarly even if she wasn't in a dress, she turned on the bench, making him support her, laying her head on his shoulder.
He stiffened for a moment, then shifted, drawing her back so she was cradled against his chest, his body turned into the arm of the stone bench, his head angled a bit less comfortably, but she was perfectly fine. He shook his head slightly as she pulled her legs up on the bench with them.
"It's been a while since we've done this," Lunian murmured.
"Yes," Legolas agreed, his voice a bit rough.
Looking over, she saw a flicker of something in his eyes before it was gone, hidden from view as he looked back to the stars. "Not since I was in my twenties, I think."
"We've watched the night since… but not like this."
"True," she agreed, before falling silent as they watched the stars move across the sky with the unending desire they had always shared—to know all there was to know about the beauty above them. "How different are they, here?"
He took a deep breath before answering. "As different from one end of Middle-Earth to the other, I suppose. I cannot rightly compare, as I knew none of these patterns there."
"Hmm," she murmured, merely for an excuse to make a sound.
As the sun began tinting the sky she heard footsteps approach in a quick manner, pausing slightly before continuing on. "Good morning, Father," she called, before turning her head to see him.
He smiled, not bothering to ask—as so many would—how she knew who it was. He knew she could sense several people without focusing on that gift, could tell where they were in relation to where she was. That aspect of her gift, at least, was limited to family, and very close friends. "Good morning. I see you and Legolas found each other, as always."
"Mmm. So we did. Another peaceful night of stargazing. Of course, he tried to say… he's asleep, isn't he?" she asked, scowling when her near barb went unnoticed.
Elrohir chuckled softly. "I believe so. It's not often I see him so at peace."
"Why I have that effect on him, I don't know. If he didn't always seem so in need of it, I'd take offense that he seems unable to remain conscious in my company."
"Do not take offense, daughter. Legolas rarely lets his guard so far down around anyone."
"That's all fine and good, but he doesn't have to go into a comatose state every time we watch the stars all night." She sighed softly as the arms around her, though seemingly gently placed, proved utterly immobile when she attempted to rise. "Da!" she complained.
He chuckled. "You got yourself there. Besides, he looks so peaceful—"
"Yeah, he probably does. But what of mother when she finds us like this?" she knew she was almost whining, but her muscles were protesting her previous lack of movement by complaining bitterly. Plainly put, she wanted up!
Elrohir winced slightly. "A sight I do not wish to see," he admitted. "But I've awakened him in the past to nearly have my head taken off by a blade I didn't think he was carrying."
"He is unarmed."
"He is never unarmed," Elrohir countered, frowning at her. His words came back to her as he walked into the halls of Elrond. "Wake him, Lunian. Then both of you come to the morning meal, as you both managed to miss most of the feast, though you were expected there for the entire time."
She sighed in resignation, arching against the restraining arms, twisting around to see Legolas's face when her attempt was proved futile. His eyes were distant, glossy and unfocused. "Legolas?" she called his name a few times, then did her best to shake him. That didn't work well, since she was resting against him. Finally, at a loss, she tweaked his ears.
He blinked, slowly focusing on her. "Lunian?" he murmured, and for a moment there was something utterly beautiful in his dark blue eyes. Then he blinked again, and she could almost feel him putting his emotional barriers in place with a physical impact. As it was, she felt suddenly cold. "Lunian, are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Father says we should be at breakfast, which would require us changing clothes first… which necessitates you letting go of your unbreakable hold on my body."
He blinked, moved slightly, and let go of her at once, as if unaware he had been holding her at all. "Didn't moving work?"
"You didn't wake until I pinched your ears."
He sighed, absently unbraiding his hair to smooth it back. "Forgive me, Lunian. It is not often any more that I find such deep and peaceful rest. Apparently I was loath to leave it." He ran his hands over his face, looking so bone weary she wanted to help somehow.
Without really realizing what she was doing, she stood up and walked around behind him, tugging him back. He looked up at her when his back hit the bench, clearly wishing to know what she was going to do. She righted his head and began braiding his hair, finding the task familiar and somewhat soothing after several minutes spent contemplating the lecture she would have gotten if her mother had found them first. Legolas would have undoubtedly woke a lot quicker than he did.
"Thank you, Milady," he murmured when she was finished, getting to his feet to bow his head slightly to her. "Would you allow me to escort you to the meal?"
"At your own risk, you realize. I'm determined not to be overly polite to anyone who asks why I wasn't in the midst of the celebrations."
"Why weren't you?"
She paused, turning to look back at the golden-haired prince, a faint frown touching her brow. Anyone else would have received the standard answer—she didn't like them—if the got an answer at all after such a declaration as that from her. "I don't feel I have a reason for celebration," she admitted instead. "All my life it's felt like I'm waiting for something." She shrugged slightly, seeing nothing on his face to pause her from going to her room to change.
Legolas tilted his head slightly as she left, a faint frown drawing his brows together thoughtfully.