Thank you so much for the reviews! They are getting better and better by the day. I try to respond to as many as I can, though not all of you have granted me a reply address. The fluff of FATH is missing in this one, my friends. And you will see it disappearing more and more as the chapters keep coming. Oh there is love, don't worry, but this one is meant to be more realistic and a song of a different tune.

Theme song for the end part - Savatage, Believe (From Streets: A Rock Opera)

Shanghai!

No other place could compare to the intrinsic, mystical atmosphere that this city emanated day and night. The best way to describe it would be 'full'. And full it was. With people. With color and light. With music, laughter, grim noises. With mystery and intrigue and a chaotic jumble of many other things.

Irulan walked through it, doing her best not to gape at the vitality of it. Shanghai was alive, like a beehive was alive. Certainly New York was crowded. But this crowd was a delirious one that had nothing to do with the businesslike cool crowd of her home city. This was the crowd of humans, mingling and separating like ants. Still, it took nothing from the beauty of the place. On the contrary - she thought it added to it immensely. It felt very intimate and though these were her loneliest days of her life ever -considering that she had cut the bond she held to Russel and Anne as well and was on a completely new and alien placed all by herself- Irulan felt the solitude receding as she walked through the masses.

The first day she was giddy with happiness. The happenings in New York had faded from her mind and she went about the business of being a tourist with a free and full heart. She had enrolled into one of the bigger and more touristic hotels, but refused their guide and instead, held on tight to her guidebook and took the chance to see the city herself.

It was fascinating. Simply breathtaking. From the serene atmosphere of the mausoleums to the frantic streets of the old section, from the massive bridges to the marketplaces she strolled, for the first time in many, many years feeling free and young. 'I know what Baeron must have felt,' she thought as she tried on an old fashioned straw hat, laughing along with the old man who was selling it. 'This incredible, vast country is at my feet. It is open, ready to be explored, ready to be conquered. No family. No friends. No obsessed lovers...' She smirked to herself, thinking of Legolas. Their last conversation still hung in her mind and it was enough to spoil her mood a little. She walked by a bunch of caged birds and lingered, gazing at the animals. 'I apologized,' she thought, once again starting the very conversation that she had had too many times on the plane to Shanghai. 'And he refused!'

True to her expectations, the other party in herself stirred and woke to that challenge. 'He was being kind. A decent man would have insulted you. Or better yet, boxed your ears a little.'

She sighed and moved on, releasing herself from the grip of the salesman. 'But what more could I have done? Should I have ran to his hotel and banged on his door? Especially while that Amanda woman was there!'

'Ah, yes!' was the amused reply. 'Amanda was there. The supportive, kind, ideal woman.'

A flush of anger came over her, but she refused to give in to it, unconsciously pushing her chin up. 'She is. Legolas deserves to be happy. And she is a better woman than me to-'

'Cut the crap,' was the dry intervention and for a moment Irulan halted, suddenly unsure if such a strange inner argument meant she should get some psychological help sometime soon. A woman danced before her, holding up an embroidered red dress, speaking in a language that seemed to be English, but was the strangest thing Irulan had heard. She waved her away with a smile and the Chinese woman glided away. 'Don't tell me you are not jealous.'

There it was again! The whole jealousy issue. 'I'm not jealous,' she snorted to herself, continuing her stroll.

'Right. But if you WERE, it would only be understandable. Anyone who is in love feels jealous.' Irulan thought about denying her feelings, but afraid to go into a dead end street, shut her mouth. 'At least you don't deny it anymore,' was the bored reply.

'I know that I'm in love with him,' she said with exasperation. 'But it's not enough. At least not for me.'

She walked and walked, lost in her own daze, before she finally came upon the place she was looking for.

"An American!" a voice cried just then with amusement, startling her out of her reverie. "Finally!"

Irulan threw a glance around her. There were more than enough tourists here that had a western look to them. She gave the guy an amused look. "Hardly the only one."

"But the loveliest one for sure," he said jumping from his seat on the bench.

Irulan chuckled and waited for him to stride to her. "John Cosgrove," he said, extending his hand.

"Irulan," she said simply.

"Great. Now I have the loveliest American with the loveliest name!" he mused, shaking her hand firmly, then turning it over to give it a kiss.

"Oh stop!" Irulan said and took her hand back. She sighed and glanced at the temple under the heated summer sun. "The Jade Temple," she said, wiping the sweat off her face.

"Yep," he said, turning towards the structure as well. "Amazing place." He gave her a sidelong glance. "First time?" She nodded and he grinned. "Want a tour guide?"

Irulan raised her eyebrows in an amused manner. "Look...let's get this straight. I'm from New York. So I know that nothing in life is free. What will be the price of this tour?"

"For you, to spend time in the company of an irritating and lonely man," he sighed, beckoning her to follow. "For me, the company of a lovely creature who speaks an understandable English accent."

She rolled her eyes, but could not help from laughing as he gently nudged her on and they entered the temple. John proved to be a really good guide, after all and he was sweet enough for Irulan too overlook the flirting he so adamantly tried to do with her. She figured he probably did this on every female tourist he saw out here. He was charming but thankfully not as shallow as those kind of people usually were. On the contrary – during their tour –which seemed to get longer and longer and finally covered four separate touristic spotlights in the region- she found some of his responses and arguments rather intellectual and deep.

So it wasn't unusual when she found herself sitting in a cheesy bar with him in the later hours of the day. "Look," she sighed for the fifth time, "you are incredibly charming, but I'm not interested in a relationship right now."

He gave her a wide grin that spoke of the alcohol content in his body. "Who is talking about a relationship? We could comfort each other."

Irulan gave him a sheepish look. "I don't believe in that sort of comfort. And even if I did, I'm not desperate, thank you."

"Hell, if you refuse ME," he protested with a squeak, "it can only mean one thing!" Irulan waited with raised eyebrows. "That you already have a hunk of a guy!" She exhaled in frustration and took another sip from her beer. "Though why he isn't here with you..." he added, grinning again, "...is a matter of..."

"None of your business," she finished for him.

"So?" he said after a short silence, "Am I right?"

"You are nosy, that's what you are."

"Aw come on! We are sitting in a crappy bar in Shanghai and will probably never see each other again. You can tell me."

"There's nothing to tell." John looked at him for so long that Irulan again rolled her eyes and added "Anymore."

"Ah," he said, trying to sit up straighter. "So there WAS something to tell!"

"John," she exhaled and took a look at her watch. "it's getting late and..."

"I toured with you all day, didn't I?!" he exclaimed with what Irulan would call a wail. She halted, startled by his reaction. "I ask one small conversation and you want to run off to your hotel like Cinderella!"

"Well but..." He waved his hand in a clumsy manner as if to say that he was hurt and would listen no further. She suppressed a smile at how drunk he was. 'Well, he won't remember in the morning anyway,' she thought then and sighed loudly in mock frustration. "All right, for God's sake! There WAS someone."

"Was he handsome?" he said immediately, turning his attention back to her.

"Oh yes," she chuckled, taking another sip from her bottle. "Very much so."

"Rich?"

She smiled in a mysterious fashion. "Fairly."

"Let me guess...he was infinitely stupid."

"Not at all. He was the smartest man I have ever met."

"He turned out to be married."

Irulan laughed. "No."

"He was like...85?

To that she had nothing to say and only shook her head. "His age was not a matter at all."

John hesitated, his eyes glazing over as he thought of other reasons. "He was...a drug dealer of some sort." Before Irulan could answer, he said "No wait...that's not a bad thing." He grinned at her frosty expression. "He cheated on you?"

Irulan sighed and thought for a moment. "No. Nothing like that. He was...too dominating."

John blinked. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Well...I don't know anymore," she mumbled, massaging her forehead. "I thought about it so often, I think I've got the facts all mixed up."

"Did he love you?" was the late question.

"He did," she said softly. In her mind, she recalled the early morning hours of their night together at his castle, just before the day of the Council meeting. The passion they had experienced after the Sharing had left both of them breathless and unable to move a single muscle. So they had remained, lying in each other's arms, facing each other. Irulan had been falling asleep, then returning to consciousness which brought incredible joy of being in the arms of the man she loved. "I love you," he had whispered sometime during her short conscious phases. "I shall move the world for you, Irulan." Irulan had felt his fingers on her skin, gliding up and down and she had inhaled his scent. 'Maybe this is all that happiness is about,' she had thought somewhere in her mind.

She woke from her reverie when John banged his fist on the counter, making her jump.

"I want his name and address!" He grinned at her bafflement. "You think he would be interested in me?"

Irulan laughed then, spraying some of the beer in her mouth on John. She apologized profusely after that and attempted to wipe it off his face. He tried to wave off her efforts, resembling her to a "friggin camel" and she almost fell off her stool at that. He mumbled all the way to her hotel and pushed up his chin, looking away with a dramatic expression when she tried to kiss him on the cheek. "I'm sorry," she laughed, not caring at the curious and rather disapproving looks she was getting from the other residents of the hotel. "I'll buy you breakfast tomorrow!"

He seemed reluctant but she knew that he was more than happy to be chased after like that. "I want dinner, then," he said, scratching his neck.

"I am planning to leave Shanghai by tomorrow night," she sighed, taking off her straw hat to comb her hand through her hair.

"So soon?" he seemed genuinely baffled. "But Shanghai is not a city to be seen in a single day!"

"Well...I sort of have a destination," she mumbled.

"Where to?" Irulan gave him a sidelong glance. Even though she wasn't very sober, she felt uncomfortable about giving away her destination to the inner and more secluded parts of China to a man she didn't fully trust. After all, he knew her to be alone and knowing this place he could actually... She looked away, not certain how to refuse him when he pressed on. "One more day? Come on!"

She chuckled at the wail he released. "I don't know. Depends."

"Depends on what?"

"Depends on if you behave or not," she said, waving her finger below his nose.

"ME?! I am not the one spitting others in the face, Madame."

"Oh for the love of God! I didn't..."

"Whatever," he waved, then grinned at her. "I'll pick you up tomorrow morning. At...11?"

"Fine," she grinned back.

"Unless," he drawled, "I mean...if we wake up together, I won't have to come to pick you up...and that would save us some time you know..."

"Good night, John," she said, then turned on her heels and walked up the stairs to the hotel. 'This is wonderful,' she thought to herself as she walked to the elevator. 'I love this journey! This must be true freedom!' She pressed the button to her floor, convinced that she was about to have the most amazing time of her life in China.

It would take here only a few days to discover that she couldn't have been more wrong in her assumptions.

'You still love her,' a voice said in his head. 'She insulted you. Refused you. Belittled you...and you STILL love her!'

Legolas groaned and looked out the window of the jet. 'What curse is this?' he thought. 'All my honor. All my caution until now for nothing. One woman managed to tear it all down into nothing!'

'And yet...you love her still,' was the amused reply.

He sighed. How could he deny that? Every time Amanda touched him, it felt wrong and it only served to remind him of what he would never have again – Irulan's touch.

Contrary to everyone's belief, Legolas had no intention of diving into a relationship with Amanda right away. For one thing, he felt nothing for her. Before, the genuine liking he held towards her now would have probably ended in an affair and he would have shared a few months or maybe even years with a woman like Amanda. Now, though, after Irulan had blown like a hurricane through his life and changed his whole view on love and passion, the blonde woman seemed only a washed-out replacement for what he wanted in his life. Before, he would have appreciated her gentleness and patience enough to give her a place in his life – at least for a while. Now, though, it would mean fooling not only her, but also himself.

And yet, she seemed the only and perhaps perfect solution to get over Irulan. If there ever was such a thing as getting over your true love. Legolas had thought about this during the nights he had been unable to rest due to that sizzling sickness. He had turned on his bed and watched the ceiling, his inner turmoil silent and agonizing. The idea that he would be betraying Amanda by pretending that she was his genuine love had occurred to him. But he had soon enough come to the conclusion that he would not pretend such a thing to her, anyway. Amanda knew about Irulan and she knew about his feelings for her – at least to some extend. Of course he would never bring it up –though she might, in the upcoming years, to blame him for not loving her as much as he had loved Irulan- but at least it was a known fact to her now.

Also, Legolas was not inexperienced when it came to affairs. He knew well enough how to woe and cherish a woman. He knew how to respect her and how to nurture her with anything she might need. He had had, after all, many relationships before Irulan had shown up and they had all been very pleasant for the other party. He knew that love was not essential to keep an affair like that and he knew without a doubt that he could make Amanda happy if he chose to do so. At least for a while. But could he make himself happy? That was the question, the real problem, that he had faced in those silent nights. 'I can make myself content,' he had told himself, and it seemed to be the only thing that was in his power. He would have a patient, attractive, supportive woman by his side and how many people in the world had more, anyway? Wasn't that what happiness was, in the very end?

He sighed, listening to the deft music in the jet and the humming of the engines. No...that was not what happiness was. Happiness was a combination of all he had savored during the few days he had had with Irulan. Irulan, who knew his real identity and yet, was neither afraid, nor mesmerized by it. Irulan, who had listened to his past and had, for the first time in his life, invoked the urge in him to tell about that past. Irulan, for whom he felt an attraction that seemed simply foolish in its intensity. Yes...she meant happiness.

And yet, she meant also pain, loss and grief. Amanda would never have the power to render him so small, so in need of someone. No matter what she did, she would never be able to hurt Legolas with more than the minor, common heartache that was natural in all affairs and usually followed a disagreement, argument or conclusion. He simply didn't love her enough to feel more than disappointment or sadness about anything that could go wrong between them. Irulan, on the other hand, had refused to hold his hand in Rome and never would he forget how frustrated he had felt at that moment. She had praised Baeron and it had been enough to wake incredible jealousy in him. She had ran away from him and the panic of a possible loss had clouded his mind to such extend that he had ended up being the reason for the death of one of his oldest friends. A tempest she was – not the safe haven that Amanda promised to be.

And he wanted to be in the tempest, damned be it all! All the time he had admired and envied Aragorn and Arwen, apparently Legolas had failed to see that such a great thing would also demand great sacrifices. He had looked upon them with longing and he had not realized that what that couple had managed to build, was the end result of a long and painful process for both of them. Now, after having been granted to taste the very same love himself, he was left with the bill and all his fortune was not enough to pay a price so high.

"What are you thinking about?" Haldir said and approached to sink into the seat next to the Prince.

Legolas groaned and massaged his face. "I'm thinking that I want Sauron back." He gave the perplexed elf a look. "Things were simpler when he was around."

Haldir chuckled to that. "Ah, the good old days! When you could solve a problem by a simple strike of your sword!" Legolas groaned again in approval. "Things have gotten really complicated ever since, haven't they?"

"Too complicated," the Prince murmured. "I may be getting too old for this, Haldir."

Haldir grinned. "Nonsense. That would make me ancient and well...I refuse that definition." A short moment passed between them and they both glanced at Anne and Russel, who had fallen asleep. Haldir grinned, listening to Anne's slight snoring. "Fascinating," he said slowly. "No wonder that humans took our place in this world. They are incredible creatures." Legolas shook his head with irritation. "You still don't like them, I see."

"I serve them," was the late reply. "I rule them. I save them. I protect them. But no, I don't particularly like them." He waited before he added. "Especially these days."

"May I speak freely, my Lord?" Legolas gave the other elf a surprised look before he nodded in approval.

"I think," began Haldir tentatively, "before we blame humans for their 'flaws', we should maybe blame ourselves for still not being efficient enough to handle and oversee those flaws."

"Oh, I see where this is going," was the dry reply. "It was me who made all the mistakes."

Haldir sighed. This was going to be difficult. "No doubt that she has made many. But we are the older kind." Haldir hesitated for a moment. "We are the wiser kind."

"Apparently not." Haldir remained silent to that. "Why am I on this plane?" he exhaled.

"You made the right choice, that's why."

Legolas smirked. "The more I think about it, the more it seems wrong."

"What does?" was the surprised question.

The other's brows furrowed as the gazed to the sleeping duo again. "Us chasing her like this." He received a long look from Haldir and decided to explain. "I am beginning to think that the more I chase Irulan, the further she falls." He gave it a moment. "Last autumn Irulan ran from ME, Haldir. And she ran TO Baeron."

Haldir gave him an unreadable look. "You know very well that Irulan did not mean to..."

"I know that she did not run to Baeron out of passion or love," Legolas sighed in frustration, making a small graceful, dismissive arch with his left arm. "But she ran, nevertheless. I have thought about that many times." His voice drifted a little and he halted. "When we spoke on the phone, she had told me that she needed time. That she would return if she were given that time. I think she might have been right."

Haldir's expression became a frosty dryness. "Lord Legolas," he began with a tense tone, "with all due respect....you think it would have been wiser to leave Irulan at Baeron's care?" He received no answer. "You know very well that he would have taken her!" was the hot addition of a hiss.

A long moment passed and they sat listening to the humming engines. "Like I have taken Bentanta from him?" Legolas murmured finally and rose his head to look Haldir in the eye.

It took a moment for Haldir to overcome the shock of his words. "You have not taken Bentanta," he said, heavy disbelief in his voice. "She came to YOU. She chose YOU."

"You mean like Irulan chose Baeron," was the calm reply.

It made Haldir surprisingly furious. "No!"

Legolas made another dismissive motion, showing his unwillingness to convince. "It would have been only fair, is all I'm saying."

He locked eyes with a seething Haldir. "What nonsense is this? You know well enough that digging up past regrets accomplishes nothing, Legolas. We have too many of those to recall and never enough time to make up for them." Legolas' silence made him continue, his tone eager to convince. "What Baeron did was wrong. He sought to assist Irulan, no doubt, but you can't turn him into a saint, assuming that he had no selfish motivations in this deed at all."

"Maybe so," Legolas said, his voice firm. "But the truth remains – Irulan ran because I chased her. And what exactly am I doing now, Haldir?"

"So you would leave her to her fate?"

"No," Legolas exclaimed in frustration. Again he looked at Russel and he turned down his gaze before his imagination could run wild and offer him intimate poses of the man and Irulan. "I am here to help. But...this must end, Haldir. It MUST."

"What must end?" was the dry question.

"This! Me overpowering Irulan. Me taking her choices from her."

"You were entrusted with the guidance of her kind," Haldir said, now more than eager to convince the Prince. "And I assume that includes Irulan."

"With the guidance, yes. But not with oppression on such personal level."

"Oppression?!" was the disbelieving exclamation and made Legolas turn his head to take a look at the frustrated elf. "It is called ASSISTANCE."

Legolas' eyebrows rose in surprise. "Since when?"

Haldir groaned and looked ahead. "The choices you made were the right ones. I would have done the same, in your stead. And so would have Aragorn."

Legolas blinked, startled. "That was a low blow," he said finally, no amusement in his tone.

Haldir's gaze was piercing when he locked eyes with him again. "It was no blow, but merely the truth."

"How can you speak like that?" Legolas said, now growing angry. He did not like discussing Aragorn and Haldir knew of this. And if he liked anything less than that, it was the speculation of whether Aragorn's actions were justified or not. The admiration and love he felt for his friend was perhaps too strong for the taste of others, but Legolas refused to change that, no matter how many millennia had passed.

"Forgive me, Legolas," Haldir said coldly, "I intend no disrespect. But I think that your dedication to Aragorn makes it hard for you to see the whole truth to him." Legolas clenched his jaws, feeling anger slowly simmer inside him before the Marchwarden chose to continue with a deeper and slower tone. "Aragorn TOOK Arwen," he said, his crystal eyes unflinching under the furious gaze of the other elf.

"It was not against her wish," Legolas spat.

"Of course not," was the calm reply. "But he took her, nevertheless. Knowing that it would part her from her kin. Knowing that it would bind her to him forever. That it would mean a death in agony for her after his passing."

Legolas' hand dropped and the gaze he gave the other elf cut the Marchwarden short. He swallowed, speechless at the flames dancing in the Prince's eyes. "Arwen was happy every single day of her life with him," he hissed at Haldir, an intense surge of protection running through him.

Haldir gave him a long, calm look. So long that the Prince clenched his jaws and leaned back, clearing the space between them again. "Precisely my point," the Marchwarden said finally.

Legolas remained utterly baffled. Haldir's words ran through him and echoed inside, turning him upside down. He was right. And yet, he was wrong. Irulan was right. 'No,' sighed a voice in him. 'She is wrong.' He gazed into the other elf's eyes, reading nothing but sympathy and a cold decisiveness. 'You are wrong,' he said in his mind, trying to convince himself. And yet, he could not overcome the feeling that his words had a certain logic to them. "Irulan is not Arwen," he said finally, unable to come up with anything else.

Haldir's eyebrows rose, almost in amusement. "I noticed." He exhaled in relief when he realized that the fury that he had woken in the Prince had begun to tune down, thanks to his surprise. "Legolas," he tried again, a bit more tentative. "She obviously needs our help. We should aid her in this time of need. If for nothing else, then for our debt to the great King." Legolas pursed his lips and did not speak. Haldir sighed deftly. "After that, you both can go your own ways."

"I don't think Irulan will appreciate my 'assistance'," was the other's late and cold reply.

Haldir leaned back in his seat. "I imagine that she will be angry at first. But if we can make you two become friends..."

"Haldir," the Prince cut in with amazement, "your imagination is running wild today. First this trip to China. YOU!" He watched the Marchwarden shift with discomfort. "I thought you would not return there for at least a few hundred years." Haldir clenched his jaws and focused on Anne who was snoring louder now. "Do you think we will need aid from our old friends there?" he said, not without amusement.

"I hope not," was the stiff reply.

"Why have you not contacted anyone from the Circle to ask for aid?" Legolas mused. "Irulan has been gone for two days. I would have expected you to have tracked her down by now."

"I didn't think that we should drag the Circle into this," Haldir said sheepishly. "It is a private matter. It seemed inappropriate to ask the aid of the Circle."

Legolas' eyebrows rose. "Very wise of you, my friend," he said and Haldir wasn't sure if he was sarcastic or serious.

The Lothlorien elf rose to his feet, the wish to console Legolas having evaded him for good, and mumbled an excuse before he strode away. 'So much for consoling,' he though, feeling the amused glance of the Prince on his back. 'Some elves simply deserve to suffer!'

Saiko was sitting alone in the elaborate Japanese garden and as always, she was not surprised when Legolas appeared right beside her. His shadow fell on her and she merely smiled ever so slightly. "Again, I failed to startle you," he said and moved to sit opposite from her. She said nothing, but slightly bowed on her kneeling position, then sat up again. Legolas remained, watching her settle back to her former pose. Her long, pitch black hair was pinned on her head as was the Japanese custom and her pale face reflected nothing but perfection. He sat, inspecting her immaculate features, her flawless skin, her perfect posture. His eyes glided over her blue on blue gown with embroidered golden flowers, her small and white hands, folded on her lap. He had often thought that if every other proof failed, Saiko alone would have been evidence that the Gods DID exist - how could such a creature come into being by the mere chain of coincidence and evolution? No. She could only have been carved by divine powers, no doubt.

As always, she didn't look into his eyes, but at someplace over his shoulder. He sighed and inhaled the clean atmosphere of the Japanese garden. The cherry trees were in bloom and his eyes wandered up to the one they were sitting beneath. The scent of the plant was incredible and was washing down on them as the petals were raining on their heads due to the slight breeze.

"Saiko," he said, slowly, enjoying the sound of her name, "I must go."

She said nothing for a while. "Will you return?" was her late question. Her voice was soft and clear, almost childish.

"I don't know," he said, his eyes still on the pink flowers that were sailing down on them. A silence set in between them and Legolas hesitated only for a moment before he reached out and picked a pink petal from her blue black hair. Saiko did not move but she looked him in the eye and for a moment his hand lingered, then retrieved. He swallowed, feeling pinned down by her slanted eyes and her black orbs. "Would you want me to?" he whispered finally, gliding his fingers over the soft texture of the flower and imagining that Saiko's skin would probably feel very much like that.

The woman smiled one of her very subtle smiles and once again gazed towards the hills. "Such a thing wouldn't be wise," was her late and soft reply.

Legolas said nothing. In the six years he had spent in her presence, Saiko had been as reserved as she had been on day one. 'Six years' he thought, watching the petals dance around them. 'Filled with nothing but agony for the woman I can not have. For the woman who would never give herself to me.' He glanced down at the flower in his hand and the breeze brought the scent of the cherry flower to him. "I care nothing for wisdom," he whispered. She would be listening, of course, but for the moment that seemed not important. "If you asked me to stay, I would, Saiko."

"Hiroyuki-san," came her clear voice. "If you stayed, you would stay for nothing more than what we have now - this very moment." She found his eyes again. "You would stay for a conversation in a late spring garden. I fear that this is not what you deserve."

"Nevertheless, I would stay."

She gave him a long look. "Then I would have you go," she said finally.

Legolas took a deep breath and smiled ruefully. Of course that would be her answer! "Maybe if you had no master..." he began, feeling foolish and silly.

"But I do," Saiko said.

He hesitated. "Maybe," he said then, his blue gaze deep and penetrating, "If we were in another time, in another place..."

"But we are here and now," was her slow comment.

Legolas had felt then the helplessness he had often felt in the presence of mortals. Here it was - time. Flowing beneath his fingertips. Unstoppable. Ethereal. Deadly. He gazed at Saiko and forever he would remember her like she was at that moment - her face bearing a gravity that seemed unnatural for her youth. The pink and white petals whirling around her. A single strand of hair loose from the pins on her head, waving like a tiny black flag. The infatuation he was feeling for her bloomed in him so fervently that he felt the need to inhale deeply and divert his gaze down to his hands that were resting in the placid Japanese manner on his knees. The breeze swept by them, none spoke. Time ticked by, and he accepted it like he had come to accept everything else. It took him more than half an hour to bring himself to get up, slightly bow to Saiko, then turn on his heels and stride away. She sat through it with utter patience and slightly bowed in return as he rose to his feet.

It was the last time he would see her. A few months after his leaving one of the dominating clans in Japan would rush into her master's house and slaughter everyone inside. Legolas would find out later that both her master and Saiko would choose to impale themselves on their own blades rather than fall prisoners. The remaining part of his life would be dotted with inner turmoil and arguments whether he should have stayed and if it would have made any difference.

He sighed, letting the droning of the plane engines return to his senses. The image of the pale beauty of Saiko sitting under a pink rain floated up to him. Back then he had thought he had felt for her what Men and Elves were cursed to seek forever - love.

But the Gods were not kind enough to bless him with the love of a kind woman like Saiko. Oh, no! They had another in mind - a woman who was almost the complete opposite of the Japanese girl he had met hundreds of years ago. While Saiko was cool, submissive water, Irulan would prove to be a blazing hot bundle of a creature who would challenge everything and anything that lay on her path. Saiko had dedicated her life to a single man and was happy to serve him in any manner that seemed fitting. Irulan had turned her back to the seat at the Circle that would have given her the opportunity to serve all humankind. Legolas smiled deftly, trying to imagine Irulan in Saiko's position. Instead of singing ballads to her master at nights with her sweet voice, Irulan would probably smash the instrument on his head. There was really nothing graceful or even feminine about her.

And yet...she possessed a spirit that Saiko would never even come close to grasping. Legolas had seen the same spirit in some other humans - but often it was driven by greed or ego. What was unique to Irulan was that she cared nothing for those kind of base human motivations. He knew that Irulan would swallow galaxies if she was offered the chance, but it wouldn't be to gain any kind of power over anyone. She simply wasn't wired.

A picture of Irulan in Saiko's light blue kimono and large, peach sash came to his mind. She sat with the same placid pose and the tree shook above her in the same manner. Her hair was tied up in the same fashion and likewise, a strand stood loose. Irulan had nothing of the beauty that Saiko had possessed, but that didn't make the excitement that coursed through Legolas any less. She looked up at him, her brown eyes soaked in a self-confidence that would look alien on Saiko. And yet, he knew that Irulan was far more fragile a woman than the Japanese beauty had been. It intrigued him that both looked so different on the surface and were something entirely else underneath it.

"Irulan," he said in his mind, "I must come to you."

She said nothing for a moment, then turned to look around the large garden that reflected perfect symmetry and soft angles merging with sharper ones. She squinted her eyes, as if to look into the distance. "What is this tie that binds you to me and drags you halfway across the globe against your wish?" was her final question. Her voice didn't hold the sweet sound that Saiko's did. But he preferred hearing it over anyone else's.

Legolas sighed and looked down. He was still holding the pale blossom in his palm. He closed his fingers on it as the scent of the cherry tree washed over him. "The same thing that makes you run from me halfway across the globe," he said finally and locked eyes with her.

Irulan frowned for a short moment, then smiled. It was one of her sad, reluctant smiles and had always woken in him the desire to kiss it away. His eyes lingered on her lips, then found her eyes again while the forced the need away. "Tell me," she sighed and looked up to the cherry tree, her eyelids fluttering as the petals waltzed down on her and settled on her hair and her shoulders, "have you ever seen as greedy, uncaring, selfish creatures as the both of us, Legolas?" She fixed his gaze once more and continued. "No matter what the price, we dare not end this battle we have brought upon ourselves. Ready to burn the entire world, if need be. Ready to burn ourselves in it." He didn't answer and she clenched her jaws, directing her eyes onto her own hands, folded in a similar fashion in her own lap. "My rage frightens me," she added almost with a whisper and he was surprised to hear the true fear in her tone. "As does my youth, my wild mood swings, my unpredictable agony."

Legolas thought of reaching out and holding her hand in a soothing manner. But afraid that she would draw hers back, he resisted the urge. "Those things in your nature frighten me, too," he said finally, half-amused. The atmosphere did not grow as light as he wished it would. "But they also draw me to you. I would not change a single thing about you, Irulan," was his more serious addition.

She smirked and ripped off a few grass stems - something Saiko would have never done. He watched her restlessness. "But you DO, Legolas," she exhaled, somewhat frustrated. "You want me to be a...a...woman." He looked up, surprised and she gave him a sheepish glance. "I don't know how to be that." A blush crept up her face and she turned away, showing him only her profile. "I know how to be a warrior. All my life all I did was to fight, to strive, to aspire, to try. Now here I am, and..." she lifted up her arms as if to show him her kimono, "...and you want me to be this. This...woman!"

Legolas gave her a long look. It seemed so simple and yet, so complicated. Could it be true that underneath all her brazen self-confidence, her might of a warrior, her stubborn pride, Irulan was merely a little girl, afraid of the unknown? Afraid of a commitment with the man that Legolas was? At the moment, she did indeed seem awfully frightened and lost and though Irulan could look like that and become a dangerous lioness in the blink of an eye afterwards, he could not help his hand from reaching out and his fingers touching her cheek. She turned to him, startled. "I, too, have been nothing but a warrior so far," he sighed. His voice seemed distant - like the voice of a stranger. The incense of the tree above them was intoxicating and filled his lungs with sweetness. "I have no clue how to be a man."

True enough, though Legolas had had commitments, they were fairly short-lived (for someone of his lifetime, anyway) and not true commitments of the heart. It would be a pathetic lie to deny that the idea of offering his heart to someone didn't wake fear in him.

"I would never be as patient and supportive as Saiko," Irulan said, leaning her head on his hand and he opened his palm, cupping her cheek.

"I would not want you to be," he whispered, suddenly not sure if this was merely daydreaming or a true vision.

"Neither would I adore you like Bentanta did."

He swallowed, pained by her mentioning that name and stuffed the idea of Baeron and the disaster in Egypt, away. "I seek no adoration," he managed a moment later.

Irulan, who had been watching him with those deep, brown eyes waited. "But," she said finally, "I can love you more than any of them ever did, Legolas." Her voice was almost inhuman in it's softness. "That power and privilege is reserved to me and me alone."

Legolas halted. 'Am I dreaming?' he thought, baffled. Elves did not dream in the manner that humans did, and such realistic experiences were often named 'visions' rather than the meaningless jumble of images that mortals called 'dreams'. 'Is it the sickness?' He remained perfectly still, indecisive if he should try to wake from whatever this was, or if he should enjoy and cherish the moment. It was, after all, incredibly pleasurable. He looked back at Irulan and felt the surge of hope that had come over him with her last words bloom in his chest, again. "Please," he whispered, his heart hammering, his brain pulsing. "Please do so."

Irulan smiled again and her hand came up to cup his as it still stood against her cheek. "I want to," she sighed and suddenly looked very sad. "But I can't, Legolas."

He inched closer to her. "Why?" was his urgent whisper of desperation.

Irulan locked eyes with him then and suddenly the warm breeze of the spring around them didn't feel warm at all. Legolas swallowed again and felt the urge to wake up boiling in him once more. And still, he resisted, frozen in anticipation of what was to come. "You should know," she said, her expression unreadable. "It was you who killed me, Legolas."

For several seconds he didn't understand her meaning at all. The idea that she meant his last harsh words to her appeared to him but as soon as he thought of that option, he knew that she did not mean that. "How..."

"It is all right," Irulan said and smiled broader. Legolas' eyes fell to her chest as a red stain appeared on the blue folders of her kimono. It spread there like a small, angry cloud. The shock sent a bolt of electricity through him and he flinched, suddenly convinced that this was neither dream nor vision. There had been very few occasions that had deemed Legolas speechless and unable to move in real life. This felt very much like one of them. "It is all right," Irulan said again, her tone eager to persuade. "I shall love you anyway, Legolas."

Legolas jerked out of his dream and his seat so abruptly that he stumbled and found himself kneeling on the floor. Confused and unable to drag himself out of his shock, he tried to grab the seat and rise, but failed because his arms and his legs seemed to be trembling. He would have been embarrassed at his clumsiness if he wasn't as dazed and afraid as he was. He felt Haldir's strong grasp lifting him and placing him into the seat again right before the elf's face appeared before his, deep worry etched in his usually serene expression. "Legolas!" he hissed, "Legolas! What happened!?"

He tried to speak and found himself unable to do that as well. Finally he managed to wave his hand as if asking for a few moments. His friend understood and waited it out, rather impatient but wise enough to hold back. He glanced over his shoulder and was glad to notice that both Anne and Russel still seemed soundly asleep. When he turned back to Legolas, the Prince seemed better, but not less afraid. "What happened?" he urged again, his voice low and cautious.

"I had a vision, Haldir!" Legolas hissed suddenly, grasping his arm with such strength that Haldir –even though he was an elf- felt distinctive pain. "Gods!" Legolas said, his eyes widening with the recollection of it.

He tried to stand up and failed because Haldir pressed him down. "Tell me what you saw, my Lord."

"I saw Irulan," Legolas whispered, his face incredibly pale. He locked eyes with Haldir and the Marchwarden was stunned by the expression in the blue orbs. "She will...I think she will..."

He didn't speak on and Haldir had to shake his shoulders to gain his attention again. Legolas seemed unable to break free from whatever vision he had witnessed and this, more than anything else, frightened him immensely. "What did you see?" he hissed, squeezing his friend's shoulder.

"Irulan will die," Legolas said then, his voice broken and desperate. "Irulan will die," he whispered again.

Haldir remained stunned for a long moment. 'Impossible,' he thought. It was simply impossible. Why would Irulan die? She was merely on a trip to China and the Prince was overreacting to the dark scenario they had offered him. A sudden stab of guilt traveled through him at the thought of the forged letter and he instantly decided to tell Legolas right there and then that there was nothing to worry about. But one look down at the other elf changed his mind immediately. Legolas' state showed without a doubt that this had been a true and very realistic vision and Haldir, as all other elves, knew better than to ignore those. His words came to him with a different meaning, then, and he felt himself sinking into the seat beside the Prince, his hand still grasping the shoulder of the other. "But...impossible, Legolas," he managed finally, though his words were pure stupidity and he was very aware of that. "How could that be..."

"I don't know how!" Legolas exclaimed with frustration. Haldir glanced at Anne, but she merely turned on her other side and continued snoring. "But I saw it!"

"My friend," the Marchwarden said with a shaky voice a moment later, "perhaps it is the sickness?"

Legolas hesitated. The fear and desperation pulsing in his veins made it very, very hard to think, but he tried with all his might to push the background noise of panic into the background. Could it be the sickness? Such a state was highly unusual for elves and no one really knew what it could bring. 'Perhaps I am having a fever,' he thought, and instinctively placed his palm on his forehead. It didn't bring any revelation at all, but that didn't dismiss the idea completely. Sickness and fever did cause such nightmares in humans, so why not in elves?

And yet...he shivered, thinking of how the petals had fallen on Irulan's head and how her eyes were embedded in pain. It had been so real! He turned to Haldir, who seemed more sick than himself, at the moment. "Could it be the sickness?" he whispered.

Haldir took a deep breath. "I think...I mean...why not?"

Legolas thought it over for a few minutes, then seemed to relax a little. "It could be," he said, his voice not a whisper anymore. "I have never been sick before."

Haldir nodded eagerly. "And perhaps her note might have left the residue of such a feeling in you. So you slept and you dreamt that..."

Legolas slowly shook his head, silencing the other elf. "It was no dream," he said finally, locking eyes with Haldir again. He pursed his lips and gazed out the window. In an hour they would be in Shanghai. This would be the longest hour in his life, by the looks of it. "But...perhaps I saw this vision in some metaphorical sense?"

"Of course!" Haldir said and his eyes twinkled. He shifted a little, turning to the Prince completely. "You didn't part well. That and the note and the illness..." he let his voice trail, annoyed at how fake it all sounded. "I'm sure Irulan is fine, Legolas," he said finally. He didn't want to talk any further.

The Prince looked at him and for a moment Haldir thought he looked right THROUGH him. That his gaze reached to the secluded corners of Haldir's soul that whispered how grave his lie was at the moment.