Okay, like I said before (for those of you who don't read With Invisible Chains) if I update roughly every five days, I won't leave you hanging over the summer. So if I leave off too long, you'll have to bug me. I only have two major papers and four tests and two finals in the meantime.

And because I've been so totally brain-drained in the last few days, I'll apologize now if I've missed some glaring mistake in grammer/spelling/etc. below. I don't think I have, but then I never do, and the mistakes are still there.

Thanks to those who read/reviewed!

eyes of sky: I don't know why it is--it happens to me, sometimes, too. I've found that if I page through chapters until the update date has changed to today's date, then the chapter appears. (But that could just be this network).

LJP: You've got them down exactly--and I completely agree. She won.

Iluvenis: What do you want to know why for? Glad you liked it... this chapter, though, is a little bit less on 'romance track' compared to some others. Shrugs. Carathwan does feel as he does. But she's allowed to be a bit hesitant, considering how hesitant he is.

Alatarial Elf: I suppose it was sort of depressing. I didn't really notice it at the time, because it is, at the same time, a huge step forward for them but also a step or two back. Carathwan is a little over a thousand years old. She was born after (by a few centuries) the general movement into the West of Lothlorien and Imladris. In my stories (at least so far) I've randomly assigned a thousand as officially 'adult' for the elves. So she's kind of like a just turned eighteen-year old; confident in many ways but still not quite sure of herself around more settled, sure of their place adults.

Chapter 9 No one to dance with

The clouds had been most obliging, she reflected. They'd kept her mind off her reason for being up here for hours before someone disturbed her.

"Cara! Come down, it's time for lunch!"

She shook her head slightly, not caring if he could see the gesture or not. After three months of not speaking to her except to ask if she 'had something to say' to him she wasn't about to be called in like a wayward pet.

She had felt better about the whole thing after apologizing for striking him.

Her eyes hardened as she remembered the smug look on his face when she'd said she was sorry.

"I'm sorry for striking you," she continued.

He waited for a moment, then motioned with his hand. "And?"

"And nothing," she murmured, shrugging a shoulder as she held his gaze. "I am not sorry for a word I spoke, and I still believe each and every one." She turned and left him staring after her.

That had been almost three full weeks ago.

Suddenly her branch swayed more than it ever had because of the gentle breeze.

"Cara…"

She sighed, sitting up to look at him. "Yes, Ethwan?"

"You're still angry with me?"

"Are you still being childish about Lunian's remembered past?" she countered.

He sighed, leaning against the truck of the tree. "I… I think I can grow up," he admitted finally. He risked a look at her. "So… are you?"

"Yes. It took you three months, Ethwan."

He shrugged slightly. "I kept thinking you would give in."

"I know."

He glanced up at her. "Why didn't you?"

"Because I couldn't."

"But—"

"No. If I gave in this time, it would have been standing with you against Lunian. The last few years have been by far hard enough on her, without throwing that into the rest."

"Hard? She's become—"

"Ethwan! She remembered she'd been a human, had been more or less abandoned by the elves who raised her, nearly raped by a human, shot her uncle, been shunned by the elves of Mirkwood until finally Legolas dragged her and a few others out of the wood, had to watch Arwen choose to die, had to see Aragorn's pain for her decision, nearly faded herself because of Elrohir's pain over Lenaith's attack and her birth, the years she spent trying to convince Legolas not to love her, then the endless energy she spent trying to give him hope enough to carry him here, so that they might one day be together again. She has, in the last few years, remembered a very full life. One that was, in her words, ultimately happy. She remembered having to leave her love—having to die. In the past three years she's been through a lot more than you ever have."

Properly chastened, he lowered his eyes, remaining silent for a long while. Finally he sighed. "I'll apologize after dinner."

"They aren't here."

He blinked. "How do you know?"

"I just do," she muttered, not wanting to admit that had Lunian been there, she would have been up in the tree with them.

"Are you hungry?" he asked at length. "Maybe if you come down, Irithil would talk to me again."

"How is Alothie?" she asked quietly.

He blinked at her, then shook his head, rolling his eyes. "I don't know how you knew that."

"Because I helped it along."

"You what?"

She snorted. "Really, Ethwan, she wasn't at all right for you. Far too quiet, subdued. If you didn't run her ragged, she would have bored you. Irithil's a bit more like her. They're a good match."

He looked away, and finally shrugged. "So, why are you still up here? I've apologized."

"You aren't the reason I'm here, obviously," she muttered.

"Oh? I thought you only came here when…"

"When I need to think, or need to do anything other than think?" she offered.

"Luthier?" he asked, frowning savagely.

She snorted. "That isn't about to happen."

"No? You've been eating with him. Dancing with him."

"What else was I supposed to do? Irithil has been with Alothie's family. Lunian with Legolas. You not speaking to me. Should I have eaten in a corner? Retired to my room for the rest of time?"

"You can't play with him like that."

"I can't be like you, you mean?"

He winced under her glare. "He was your friend."

"And still is. I do not toy with him, Ethwan. He is a friend."

"And nothing more, you mean to say."

"And will say."

"When? When you've found someone else to dance with?"

Unconsciously, she sighed, her gaze drifting away.

"Valar," he breathed. "You have found someone to dance with, haven't you?"

"No," she shook her head.

"Yes you have. Who is it?"

"I have found no one to dance with, Ethwan."

Her assured tones gave him pause. "Well," he murmured after a long moment. "Who would you like to dance with, then?"

"Someone who shall never dance with me," she replied quietly. "Now please get down. My thinking tree doesn't work with someone else in it."

He frowned at her for a time, and then sighed, shrugging. "You'll be in for dinner?"

"Unless I grow blind," she agreed.

"I'll be out again if you aren't."

"No you won't."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you need to apologize to Lunian. That takes precedence over my eating habits."

"I suppose so," he agreed, sighing heavily. "I'm not looking forward to that."

"You shouldn't be, if I truly know about what you said to her."

"Oh?"

"Did you really make her think you considered her nothing more than a mere human, even now? Even after all these centuries of friendship?"

He sighed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. He shook his head. "Maybe I should write a speech and just send it to her as a letter."

"Maybe you shouldn't keep putting off talking to her."

"But if Legolas is with her, I might get hacked to bits."

"Stop it," she scowled. "You know he won't."

"How do I know that?"

"Because you're her friend, and she loves you. He won't hurt you."

"He nearly shot Glorfindel, didn't he?"

"He fired a warning shot, keeping Glorfindel from reaching out to her."

"So, who's to say he wouldn't shoot me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Your actions, your words, have hurt her. He will wait to eviscerate you until you have apologized and made things better with her once more."

"Oh, now I want to go talk to her."

She chuckled softly. "It's your own doing. I could have eviscerated you myself."

"I figured that when you slapped me, and looked at me as the elders do when they think of orcs."

She snorted. "I imagine so. I did hate you at that moment."

He looked at her, sorrow shading his eyes. "Can we go back?"

"Of course not."

He sighed.

"But we can go on."

He glanced at her, and slowly nodded, running a hand through his hair. He started to climb down, but paused, looking curiously at her. "When did you get so mature?"

"I've been taking lessons," she retorted dryly.

He frowned faintly but descended, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

She snorted quietly, then sighed and laid down once more, stretching her arms out beyond her head, letting her hair fall from the branches supporting her head. She watched the clouds roll on for a while, and finally made herself think.

"Carathwan?"

She groaned softly. "What?" she called back down.

"Are you… okay?"

"No. Go on in without me."

"But…"

"Go, Lunian."

"Cara…"

She shook her head. "Lunian, there is nothing you can do, and nothing that can be said. Go and join the others."

Suddenly Lunian sighed. "What did he say?"

"You can—"

"Not Ethwan," Lunian interrupted impatiently. "What did Glorfindel say?"

Carathwan looked down so sharply she lost her balance. She tumbled from the branch, hearing her name from two places as the world sped closer. The impact knocked the wind from her, stunning her. She blinked slowly, the pain suddenly curling from her entire side, even as she struggled for breath. She needed to move… needed to do something to ease the pain.

She needed to breathe and get off of her side.

"Cara!" Lunian called.

"She had the wind knocked out of her," the other voice murmured, before large hands turned her, easing her off of her side and onto her other one, pushing her knees a bit closer to her body, somehow helping ease the tightness in her chest.

She drew a deep breath shakily, but gratefully, as the dancing lights before her eyes began to fade as the world grew clear and crisp once more, even if it still seemed to be moving when it shouldn't.

"Nothing broken," he murmured, before the world moved once more.

She made a small sound of fear, and he stilled.

"Easy, Carathwan," he murmured.

She felt foolish for the fear, but she'd been moved far too quickly not long before, and the world still didn't feel quite right.

"Lunian!"

"Legolas!" she called back, turning her worried eyes to her prince.

"Are you alright? What hap—" he froze upon seeing Carathwan. "We'll get Elrond," he murmured, voice devoid of emotion, now that he knew it wasn't his wife who was injured, but rather someone she cared about… which did tend to make her a bit irrational. He drew Lunian away, despite her protests.

Glorfindel managed to open her door, and laid her upon the covers, brushing her hair back. "How could you fall out of a tree?"

"It's happened before."

"When?"

"The last time… I was twenty," she admitted. "Though I was ten when I broke my arm."

He sighed, sitting in her chair, lifting a weary hand to his brow. "Why were you up there?"

She looked at him for a long moment. "You know why."

"Ethwan?" he asked, knowing the answer.

She closed her eyes without bothering to shake her head and drew a cautious breath before the door opened. She looked up at Lord Elrond, who glanced curiously at Glorfindel before feeling her injured arm and leg, then shifting her gently to feel her side.

She clenched her jaw tightly, closing her eyes, unable to stop a few tears escaping. A palm slid against hers, making her eyes open. She looked into bright, troubled eyes and carefully exhaled, watching him as Elrond prodded her.

An herbal scent filled the air, before a warm mixture was smoothed over her bruised bits, making her clothing cling tackily to her body, and making her lids heavy. "Lord Elrond…"

"Rest, child," he murmured.

Her last thought before her lids drifted closed once more was; "I'm not a child."