Part Eight

Unable to Stay, Unwilling to Leave

There is no rose without a thorn

There is no rain without a storm

There is no laughter without tears

In a world gone crazy

Torn between the roads

That we must chose

Win or lose

If every soul should lose its way

If every face should lose its name

Tell me who's gonna stop the rain?

Anastacia – Who's Gonna Stop the Rain

I woke slowly. My mind seemed fogged and indistinct somehow. I knew it was important that I had returned to Mirkwood, but I no longer really knew why. This frustrated me beyond all reason. I gave an angry humph and swung my legs out of the bed, shivering slightly as the cool morning air hit me like an arctic wind. This feeling of helplessness and weakness was foreign and it was beginning to grind severely on my frazzled nerves. The carpet was soft and springy beneath my feet, and I vaguely remembered it, this room and even the way that there was an obvious ring left in the carpet, as if a heavy pot had stood there at one time. That especially seemed familiar. I frowned in confusion, sometimes it seemed that memories were lurking just on the edge of recognition, about to make themselves known to me and then, just before they came into focus, they slipped away. The not knowing was maddening. The last thing I remembered was… waking on that uncomfortable log pile in the forest. For some reason it had been very important for me to be among elves and in Mirkwood. Then a thought struck me. Of course, I was an elf and Mirkwood was my home! I must just be returning from some brave crusade, upon which I underwent horrors so terrible, they caused me to forget to prevent me going insane… Okay, maybe not, but it was nice to imagine myself as a heroine, especially as I wasn't sure just who I really was anymore. Another thought sledge-hammered it's way into my still fuzzy brain; what on Middle Earth did I look like? I stood rather shakily to my feet and proceeded in the direction of what I took to be the mirror. When I gained it's side, I took a deep breath preparing myself for what I might be about to see, then I turned sharply, spinning so that my face hovered mere inches from the reflective pane. I sighed in disappointment, tilting my chin upward slightly as I beheld the depressingly un-pointed ears that graced either side of my face. So I wasn't an elf then. The mystery deepens. If I wasn't an elf what business had I with the elves of Mirkwood? Oh, the confusion! I inwardly berated myself for forgetting, what kind of person was I that I should forget my past at the drop of a hat? Or at the drop off a pile of twigs for that matter. Unless, perhaps, it was a past I did not want to remember… So lost was I in my musing about my previous exploits that I didn't hear the figure behind me until they locked their hands tightly about my shoulders and spun me, none too gently, to face them. It was with some displeasure that I eyed the blonde elf that had me in a death-grip about the shoulders. Did I know this boy? Perhaps he was a friend of mine, if so, how was I supposed to respond to this rough treatment? After a moment of deliberation, I decided to respond in kind. Throwing myself forwards, I jerked free of his grip and pivoted on my left heel, driving hard with my right, impaling the boy's foot to the floor under my own. He dropped down with a howl of pain and I followed moments later, winding up straddling him. "Do I know you?" I questioned cautiously, earning me a glare from the prostrate being I was currently sitting on. "I am Keldarion, Prince of Mirkwood, and I was about to ask you the same question," He growled, his manner distinctly unfriendly. I gave a wan smile, my previous hostility fading into dire embarrassment. It was with a short shock I realised grimly that this was a familiar feeling. Apparently even losing my memory couldn't change some things. Perhaps I was forever doomed. I got up slowly, still grinning in what I hoped looked like a sincere apology. The Prince I had attacked straightened somewhat tartly from the floor and graced me with what I took to be his blackest look. I cringed in response, if looks could kill I'd be deader than a warg in a field full of angry, constipated elves with a grudge against all things with four paws. I began to feel distinctly uncomfortable and was in the process of trying, as discreetly as I was able, to shuffle slowly away from the glaring elf, without making it obvious that I was doing so. I was making some headway, when another elf burst into the room. For a brief moment I wondered if, as well as my memory, I had somehow misplaced my sanity. Either that or I was seeing double. My explanation was provided moments later, but my relief at not losing my sanity was short lived, as it now appeared I was up against two Elven opponents instead of one. "Brother!" cried the second elf flinging himself into the room and stopping to grasp my blonde assailant by the shoulders. "I heard you cry out! Are you well?" The first elf, Keldarion, shook his head slightly, in an almost amused manner and spoke soothingly to who I took to be his twin, "Nay, Estel. I am well. She merely took me by surprise is all." Keldarion and Estel both turned to glare at me then. I shrugged my shoulders in feigned innocence. "I have lost my memory, or so it would seem." I told them, by way of explanation for my actions. Both looked at me doubtfully. "You seemed well enough in possession of them yesterday," the one called Estel said, his tone decidedly doubtful. "When you ruined our woodpile," Keldarion added in a disgruntled whisper. This earned him a glare from both Estel and I. "What!" he questioned, his face the epitome of innocence. He must get that from his father. The thought crossed my mind without me even really knowing where it came from. What did this mean? Had I knowledge of the parents of these Elven children, were they perhaps my friends? Hope flooded me and I took a sudden step forward, hoping perhaps that these Elven Princes might recognise me, "Do you know me?" I questioned hopefully. "Have you perhaps seen me with your parents?" The twins looked at me doubtfully and my heart sank. "I have never seen you before in my life," The one called Keldarion said, his voice still hostile. "And I have but one parent. My mother is dead, my brother and I were raised by our father's second wife, Osellë." For some reason this new information sent a shiver down my spine and an inexplicable knot formed in my stomach. I was hopelessly confused. These reactions seemed beyond my control and yet they felt perfectly natural, as if they were how the true me felt, before I became memory challenged. I stared into nothing for a while, contemplating the utter misery that seemed to have consumed me since Keldarion's last statement. My vision was turned inward so I did not see the approaching elf, until he tapped me on the arm, physically bringing me out of my daze. I jumped to face him and turned an unintentionally wide-eyed gaze on the startled Elven twin. As my scattered wits returned to me I recognised him as Estel, and with a further shock I realised that he was looking on me with an expression very much akin to compassion. Perhaps my luck was finally changing. Gently he reached forward with his other arm and grabbed me, carefully this time, by the shoulders. "My brother and I have decided to make enquiries about you. You are to stay in this palace as our guest, until we know just who you are. Does this suit you?" I had a distinct feeling that the last question was a formality only and I would be staying in this palace whether it suited me or not, but I had no reason to be impolite to my hosts. "Thank you, Prince Estel. It would suit me well." He gave a formal little bow then and he and his brother turned to leave, promising to return and give me a guided tour later to see if anything jogged my memory. Just as they were crossing the threshold Keldarion turned and spoke suddenly, as if a thought had just occurred to him, "You expressed an interest in our father?" he questioned, at my slight nod he continued. "It would please you to know then, that he is due back in Mirkwood, just a week from now, with our sister. She is the daughter of Osellë, so in truth only our half-sister. We will make all the necessary introductions then." With a final bow they were gone and I was left alone to contemplate my whirling thoughts and try to quell the unease that was growing in my mind.

The ride from Ithlien was long. Legolas paused a moment, spinning lightly in his saddle to locate the whereabouts of Osellë and his daughter. What on Middle-Earth was keeping them? A soft clatter of hooves came to his ears and moments later the two of them rounded the bend in the track and cantered lazily up to meet him. "Legolas, why have you stopped? You seemed in such a hurry earlier." Osellë said, her melodious voice soft and genuine, but Legolas could not help feeling a certain amount of frustration. "Will the two of you please show some haste?" he said, his words coming out more sharply than he had intended. Sighing deeply he tried again, "Something in Mirkwood calls me. I am anxious to return." Osellë's expression turned sombre and she spurred her horse into a gallop, the Elven maid at her side following suit. Finally! With a short sigh of relief Legolas kicked his horse into an all-out run and hastened to Mirkwood, to find out what called him home.

Keldarion and Estel cornered me in the garden. I had taken to hiding in a certain corner when I needed some solitude and it had not taken them long to discover my hiding place. Now there was no way I was ever going to get any peace! I stifled a smile as the twins approached, indulging in one of their ever-present rows. I had grown to like them a lot this past week, despite our initial hostilities. The brothers had proven to be deep and caring souls, with a kinship that far surpassed any I had ever seen before. They were inseparable and I was fast becoming a third party to all their little pranks. I had discovered within myself a latent desire to cause mischief that I suspected had been well used in the past. I had been hiding out in the palace for the past week, with the help and guidance of Keldarion and Estel, due to my fears that I might be recognised for all the wrong reasons. Enquiries about me had been made, discreetly, but so far none of us had been able to learn anything. Endless hours of boredom were interspersed with visits from the twins, who I think, despite all their intentions to the contrary were beginning to look on me a friend. Both were very handsome, and this did not pass my attention, but for some reason I was not at all attracted to them. It was very strange and I often contemplated that in some of the more boring moments. It was ever a puzzle to me. The twins finally reached me, and I stood to greet them, issuing first the mandatory mock bow that had long ago passed from necessity, but that I now used to torment them. Keldarion raised a hand to cuff me about the head and Estel prepared to tackle me to the ground, as was the norm with our play fights, but the clatter of hooves interrupted our game. I turned my head as three horses raced into the courtyard, their hooves striking the cobbles so hard I saw sparks fly. I watched from a distance as a male elf dismounted and my vision funnelled in on him. I know him! In that instant memory slammed into me, physically knocking me backward with its force. I stumbled and landed on my knees, the breath knocked out of me as memories crushed into my mind, crowding all other thoughts or feeling out of the way as they surged to fill the blanks in my brain. It was a very painful feeling even though I felt most of the pain was in my mind and not physical harm. The brothers took my fall to the floor to be a panicked attempt to hide and hastened to reassure me, "Fear not! That is but our father! We will go and get him, and he will know what to do. It will be well," With those hurried words the twins raced off to greet their family, leaving me with a considerate pat on the back. I barely heard their words. That was my husband, that was Legolas. Their father? Then those must be… my sons. I had been with my sons for a week and not recognised them, what kind of mother did that make me? My heart was pounding ridiculously hard against my ribcage. I was back, I was truly back! I had escaped the halls of Mandos! Did I not warn them I was hard to get rid of? I would see my children, and Legolas… speaking of whom… I raced to my feet, Legolas! I had to tell him I was back, what a reunion we would have! My selective memory neglected to remind me that Legolas was married to Osellë now, with a daughter of their own. I was too lost in the moment to listen to reason, or even the warning my senses were screaming at me. I raced on, blind to the turmoil I was about to cause.

Legolas raced into the courtyard. What was it that called him so? Was something amiss in Mirkwood? He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding as his two sons appeared from the garden, for a brief time he had feared that the sense of foreboding was something to do with them. It would kill him to lose them, for with them would die his last link with Vénea as well as the loss of two so dear to his heart. He grasped them quickly in a tight embrace, relief giving him sudden strength and he was loathe to let them go. When he did so he looked around expectantly. "What is amiss?" he questioned the two of them, hoping they would know what had called him. They exchanged bewildered looks and Legolas' suspicion rose. Perhaps this was more serious than he had first surmised. Keldarion spoke up first, "Nothing is amiss, Adar, but we do have something we need…" Legolas cut him of swiftly, "Something is different here." He told them his eyes narrowing. "Something has called me." His son's expressions changed from confused to worried but Legolas was already halfway up the steps into the palace, so he did not see the guilty look that passed between them. Nor did he see as a human woman tore out from the garden and raced to embrace them both. They seemed surprised, and did not pull back, but patted her gingerly on the arm as if they were unsure of the cause of this sudden behaviour. She did not release her grip, but shouted joyfully into their tunics, "I am your mother! I am Vénea!" with a final joyful cry she left them (the two quickly sat down on the floor, so stunned were they by her sudden announcement,) and turned to Osellë. "Osellë, I am back!" she sang out, her voice loud and strong. She did not see the icy fire burning in the eyes of her friend, nor the stiffness in her movements as she threw her arms about her. She did not remain there long and within seconds she too was tearing into the house, after her errant husband. She left behind three very confused elves, sitting in solitude on the cold courtyard cobbles, each lost in their own thoughts.

I flew into the house. What a wonderful time was this! I had returned and all was well, now all I had to do was find that tricky husband of mine… I raced up the flight of stairs in front of me, using every ounce of energy on movement, so I had none spare to call out. I saw a flash of blonde up ahead and my pace quickened. I rounded a bend and there he was. My breath caught in my throat at the sight, he was more beautiful than even my memory had told me, his sunlit locks caught on a gentle breeze, his blue eyes intense. I stumbled slightly, hitting a wall and grabbing on for balance. Even this little noise caught his attention and he whirled to face me and froze. For a second it felt to me as if all time stood still. Nothing and no one moved. Then the silence was broken as a horse neighed in the courtyard below and shied slightly, it hooves clashing loudly against the cobbles. This jolted us out of the moment and Legolas took a step back. Unfortunately there was nothing for him to step back onto. The carpet fell away beneath his feet and he tumbled headfirst down the short flight of stairs. Short though it was it was long enough for him to hit the floor hard at least three times and I flew down after him, careful to remain safely on my feet and so avoid landing on top of him and injuring him further. He landed unceremoniously at the bottom and there was a muffled whoosh as all the air was driven from his lungs. I jumped down to land beside him seconds later, and leant over his prostrate form. At the sight of me, leaning over him from above, sunlight glinting and shining in all the red highlights of my hair, his eyes snapped shut. Filled with terror that he had taken more hurt than I could see, I bent low and frantically whispered to him, "Legolas! What ails you?" His next words were so low that I had to lean in close to catch them and even then I wasn't sure if I had heard him correctly, "I have passed to the halls of Mandos." I leant closer. "What?" "My spirit has moved on into the waiting halls of Valinor." I shook my head vehemently, momentarily forgetting that his eyes were closed and he couldn't see me, "No. Legolas, no! You still live." He gave his own head a small shake, but did not open his eyes. "I have passed into the next world. I am at peace, I have joined you at last." His words were soft and almost wistful, but they annoyed me anyway, had he not heard a word I just said? I took him by the shoulders, "Legolas, open your eyes. You and I, we both live!" He rested his hands on top of mine and ignored my comment. "You are dead and I have joined you. I did not think a flight of stairs would succeed where the Dark Lord Sauron himself has failed, but I am glad it was so. I have missed you." I was very annoyed by now, touched as I was by his sentiment, I would have been far happier had he actually heeded my words. Talking to him obviously was not working, so I changed tactics, instead slamming my heel down on top of his foot. His eyes flew open and locked onto mine with a glare that was all too familiar as he cradled his injured foot in his hand. "It would seem I am not dead. Have the Valar sent you down to torment me some more? A fallen angel as it were?" His words were as he would have said them before my… demise… but I could see the tears in his eyes and hear the heartbreak in the words. It had been too long. I pulled him forward into my embrace and for a second he resisted and then he collapsed against me, his arms finding mine and locking on tightly, as if he would never let go. I felt his sobs shaking his chest as he held them at bay, and the first spike of worry seared into my brain. He had never ceased to be open with me before… I pulled back to stare into his pain-filled face, "What is it meleth-nin?" The term of endearment crossed my lips without thinking and he winced at it. Then it came back to me… Legolas and Osellë… Stung, I flew to my feet, fury igniting in my eyes. "You married her, didn't you?" I raised a hand to run it through my tangled locks as a memory I didn't want to recall returned to haunt me, "What, I'm out of the picture so you find a replacement?" I yelled, my fury rising up to drown my breath-taking misery. I knew dimly that my words were unfair, but this betrayal, as I saw, it hurt incredibly badly. My husband and my best friend? It was a scene straight from my worst nightmare, only this was real, and there would be no waking up. Legolas flew to his feet, "It was never like that!" he yelled back at me, tears flowing down his fair face, "You died in my arms! Do you know how that feels? As far as I knew you were never coming back! What of the children? Keldarion and Estel? How would you have had me raise them, without the influence of a mother figure? You left me here with two children and I almost died from heartbreak. Now, after all this time, you ask me if I just 'replaced' you? When I still…" His last sentence was yelled at the top of his lungs, but he cut it off sharply, closing his eyes as he left the sentence hanging. I stood there too shocked to move. When he still what? He had choked off the sentence part way through and the look on his face made me want to not push him any further. I could see that my 'replacement' comment had cut him deeply. But, after all this time? Just how long had I been gone? My boys looked about nineteen to me, but then that was by human years; my face paled. By Elven years they would be two hundred by now. I was rooted to the spot, two hundred years was an unbelievably long time to wait. Had it truly been that long? The first tear was so hard to get out I would have thought there would be a pause before the next, but they just tumbled out, getting ever faster and faster. A raging torrent was pouring down my face and I had a wild wish that I would drown in this flood, and so find release from all the problems me merely being alive had brought. Damn all this too hell, what was I even doing here anyway? Turning on my heel I ignored the frantic shout from behind me as I fled from that room, following my feet, my vision so blurred with tears that I did not even realise when I left the house and entered the cool silence of the garden.

I had hidden in my usual place. The soft solitude of the garden gave me some solace and I tried not to make any noise and so avoid detection by the elves I could hear at the far end of the garden searching for me. Neither Legolas nor Osellë was among them. I supposed that they were busy in their chamber, Legolas having profusely apologised, insisting that he had no idea why he said what he did, and they were busy doing… married couple stuff. An area that had previously been my and Legolas' forte. The thought of the two of them together made me feel almost physically sick. I attempted to banish all such thoughts from my mind and curled up tighter into myself. A rustle in the bushes to my left had me spinning in a second and I got a mouthful of blonde hair as I span to face my former husband. Legolas looked at me from out of the bushes. One single twig was stuck in his hair. His eyes seemed red-rimmed as if he had been crying and his breathing was slightly unsteady. For a second we simply stared at each other. Then, with what sounded like a strangled cry he threw himself back into the bushes he appeared from and rapidly began to disappear from view. I gave chase. Racing through the branches after him, sticks and branches snagged in my hair and clothes, pulling me back and slowing me down. He was getting further and further ahead of me. I cried out in frustration, what was it that gave speed to him, but seemed only to be hindering me further? Perhaps it was that annoying fact that he was an elf and I was not, frustration gave me sudden speed and in one quick burst I caught up to him and grasped his sleeve, wringing the fabric tightly in my fist. I dug my heels into the ground and held still, forcing him to give up his flight and he was eventually forced to face me. Fresh tears flowed down his face and his eyes shone with them. I did not move, I could not. The look in his eyes held me helplessly rooted to the spot. Valar, how I loved this elf! He held still, only a slight trembling of his limbs giving away his emotional turmoil. Slowly I dropped my hand from his tunic and stared down at the leaf-littered floor. Pure unfiltered moonlight hazed down between the gaps in the branches, giving the wood an almost unearthly feel. The soft silver shone in his hair, making it seem more golden than ever. I almost wept at his beauty, beauty that was beyond my reach forever. Without even realising I was doing it I reached out a hand to touch his cheek. It felt slick, cold and damp with tears under my fingers, and with a trembling hand I wiped them away. His own hand flashed up, catching mine within his grip, I knew his original intention had been to push my hand away, but when we touched flesh to flesh something like a bolt of electricity ran up my arm. I guessed he must have felt something similar, as he just held onto my hand and grew completely still, half his face in shadow, half illuminated by the moonlight. I still dared not move, I don't even remember breathing, but I guess I must have at some point. I was too lost in this moment, wishing it could last forever, wishing Osellë had never existed. Reality seemed so far away and a thousand years distant. I wished with all my heart that it could stay that way, alone in a glade with the elf I loved for all eternity. But life has a funny habit of playing tricks on you that way. It was in that moment that Legolas spoke, "I cannot stay." My world, even though I always knew it could only be temporary, smashed into nothingness. My voice, when I spoke in return was choked, strangled, "I know. But I had hoped…" My words trailed off into silence. There was nothing more for either of us to say. But Legolas looked as if he wanted to. His carefully contained composure broke and his true emotions shone naked on his face. Pain, longing, desperation and …love. Suddenly I knew what he wanted to say, the three words that were forming on his tongue as he opened his mouth to speak. The world seemed to slow down, I saw the leaves drift to the floor around us so slowly, but my thoughts raced. I couldn't let him speak this, if he did, it would break Osellë, my best friend. She had loved him for so long, and he must love her or he would never have married her. These thoughts each burned a hole in my heart, holes that ached and felt aflame even as they appeared, but I continued in my trail of thought. Everything Legolas had, everything that had happened after my death would be ripped away with the words he was about to utter, but I… I would be happy. Deliriously so, I would have my husband and my children, life would be better than I had ever dreamed, could I really let that go? Some internal voice answered for me, 'If you love something, let it go…' I smiled, but my smile was one of heartbreak. That was my decision then. "I…" I cut Legolas off, raising my head to face him, still smiling. 'I'm going to let you go,' I whispered to him, in my mind, wondering if somehow he would hear me and understand. "Don't." I whispered out loud. Each word ripped itself from my lips, each killing something inside me a little more. Maybe it was hope. "Go to Osellë. It is late. She will be missing you." Legolas was silent. He looked at me and I wondered if his heart felt anything like mine did. Ripped in two. I took a step, but not forwards, backwards, away from Legolas. "You cannot stay," I whispered, the words dragged from my mouth, something inside me dying even more. He did not say a word, he just and turned and left the clearing. I watched him leave, something inside me leaving with him. "I will love you forever," I whispered brokenly to the forest, speaking the words I should have said moments ago, to the elf who was now beyond hearing. "I love you." In that second the very last of whatever it was inside me withered and died completely. I fell to the floor like a puppet with all it's strings cut. In that second I knew what I had lost. All my hope was dead.

Legolas' heart felt choked. His whole being felt twisted as if he was being pulled slowly in two, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It was all so confusing! He did love Osellë, it was true, but it was different to the way he felt about Vénea. Which one was true love, and which was false? Ai, why did the Valar torture him so? But even worse than the indecision was the knowledge that, no matter what he felt for Venea, they could never be together as they had been before. Too much had passed, too much had changed. Bound by duty, honour and respect Legolas was held captive inside his own heart. And the realisation was killing him.

I returned to the palace in a daze. Not really caring whether I lived or died had made me a little lax in watching where I was going on my way back so I was now bleeding from various cuts and scrapes on my arms and face. I looked at the blood with distaste. What did the blood matter, it was too little to kill me and that was all I was really interested in at the moment. What did anything else really matter anyway, I had nothing left to live for. I might as well be dead for all I mattered to anyone. All my human friends were long dead and the elves were making it painfully apparent that I would be better off dead in their eyes also. I would leave now and spare them the bother. Perhaps I would die on my journey to nowhere. The thought of death didn't bother me and I began to look on it as a relief, a way out, an escape. But taking my own life, that was beyond me. I probably would not have the courage anyway I thought bitterly as I trudged into my chamber. It was the same chamber I had once shared with Legolas when we were married. After my death it had fallen into disuse as Legolas and Osellë moved into a different chamber. It would fall into disuse once more when I left, I thought distantly, my mind too numbed by shock and pain to follow a coherent route of thoughts. I was just wondering whether or not to bother taking any food with me when I left when a shape flew into my chamber. At first I did not even care enough to turn to face this intruder, so uncaring was I about my life or death. However, my buried survival instincts kicked in when I felt the cold bite of steel against my neck and I stiffened my back, the will to fight for life returning minutely. Maybe I was not ready to die again just yet. I would have turned then to face my attacker, but the blade against my throat hindered that plan somewhat, unless I wanted to slit my jugular in the process. Contrary with my mindset of just moments before, that thought no longer sat very well with me, so it was with some trepidation that I endeavoured instead to speak, "Who are you and what is your quarrel with me?" I questioned, the blade pressing dangerously near my throat with each breath I drew. "What is my name?" came the voice, and with that voice my spirits fell. It was a voice I recognised only too well. I suppose I should not have been surprised, but I was. Surprised and infinitely disappointed, "Oh, Osellë," I whispered. The blade dug harder against my throat, "Oh, Osellë? What right have you to 'oh Osellë' me? At least you know my name, friend." Her voice was hard with malice, but I recognised the heartbreak behind it. It did not take a genius to guess the reasons for her visit. "Legolas did not choose me, Osellë," I whispered around the metal edging my throat, hoping to mollify the enraged elf, "He picked you in the end." I tried to tell myself that I was not lying to my friend. I'm just… omitting certain truths… But even I couldn't believe it. If I couldn't convince myself, I don't know how I ever expected to fool Osellë. She didn't even pause. "Liar!" she spat at me. "I saw you in the woods with him, poisoning his mind against me! Did you think I wouldn't see you, sorcerer? You bewitched him before and your spells will lure him away from me again! I won't lose him!" She held the blade so hard I felt a hot trickle of blood run down my neck to stain my tunic crimson. "You haven't," I tried to tell her the truth this time. It was true, Legolas was to remain with Osellë, though it tore my heart to let him go, I loved him so I must. Love is more of a curse than any spell ever invented, and I dare any wizard to tell me otherwise. My heart was still pounding, but I pushed it from my mind as I concentrated on soothing Osellë, and hopefully distracting her from trying to kill me. "Please, we were friends once… He is your husband now," I had intended to keep my words distant and aloof, but even as I spoke the last sentence my voice wavered and cracked. It was no use; the grief was still too near. A single tear dripped down my cheek and I dared not reach up to wipe it away, lest it be the last move I ever made, so I was forced to wait as I felt it drip, agonisingly slowly, down my cheek and onto the blade that was already stained with my blood. I made no noise, but my lower lip trembled and I could feel a minute shaking in all of my limbs as all the grief I had stored up inside of myself and the fear sparked by my present predicament, became too much for me to hide. I heard a sharp intake of breath from Osellë as my tear dripped from the knife and onto her hand. The pressure on my throat lessened somewhat, and I was pleased to find that breathing began to come slightly easier. Osellë took a step away from me, the knife drifting down to press into my midriff. This would have been a great improvement, had my bladder not be full to bursting. This new pressure made controlling my bodily functions so much harder. "What has happened that I should come to this?" I heard the words and my focus returned outwards, to Osellë, "Holding a knife to the throat of my best friend, already stained with her blood and tears? What have I done?" I did not reply. I felt even that slight effort might cause my control to slip and I needed all of it right now, to shield the pain, and my… bladder predicament. Neither of us really noticed when the door flew open for a second time and a third figure came into the room. I soon took notice though, when I caught a flash of golden hair, and my eyes locked onto the fiery blue ones of Legolas. His face was the picture of misery. His eyes were still wet and his clothes were torn and stained with mud. His hair was bedraggled, which said just about everything. Even without all the other signs that alone would have been enough to convince me that there was something seriously wrong. His gaze flicked between Osellë and I, almost as if he was unsure what he was really seeing. Then without a word he approached the two of us, snatching the knife and finally freeing my poor bladder. It was nearly fatal. As he took the knife Osellë simply let it go, almost as if she had totally given up, and he was unprepared for this sudden release of tension. He jerked the handle with more force than was necessary and it span suddenly in a lethal arc aimed for his own throat. I leapt forwards, but Osellë was faster, she span suddenly, knocking the blade off-course with her own forearm, and with the full weight of her body slamming into Legolas and driving him to the floor, well out of range of the blade. It clattered, with a metallic twang, to the floor some feet away. I stood still, useless now, where I had leapt to, some feet away from the wall I had been pressed against. It was a fair leap, but it had gone unnoticed in the shadow of Osellë's great act. I was of no use here. I turned to leave these lovers to what I was sure would be a huge embrace, with Legolas finally realising what he had been about to give up. And it is for the best; I tried to make myself believe that, but I couldn't. All I had left now was a burning ache where my heart should be. It hurt more than I would have thought possible. I turned to leave behind this life, this love, the ruins of what I had thought would be a fire to burn forever, now a pile of ash and smoke. There was nothing left for me here. A hand on my arm stopped me before I had even taken a step towards the door. I did not turn. If it was Osellë with that knife I could only hope she would not hesitate to strike, and I had little doubt of her aim. A soft voice spoke and it was not the voice of Osellë. "I will not let you walk out of my life for a second time." He said, and my battered heart swelled; it was Legolas! Osellë also got to her feet, but instead of moving to strike or attack she leant wearily against he wall and let her head hang low. Did she give her permission then? Could it be that she would let me have her husband? There was not time to answer my unspoken question as Legolas was speaking again, me hanging off his every word, "Do you remember our marriage vows?" I nodded profusely, how could I forget? That had been the best day of my life! I did not yet trust myself to speak, lest this be a dream and I awake from it. At my head motion Legolas continued softly, "Then you remember we said, 'as long as these promises hold true.' And now I believe it is time to tell you," My heart was pounding so furiously now I wondered why I was not back in the halls of Mandos, "I love…" his words were cut off as he slumped senseless to the ground, only my reflex of catching him, and stopping him hitting the ground at full speed. I was very, very surprised, that was the last thing I had expected. And the most infuriating! The Valar seemed to have the worst sense of timing I had ever heard of! Will I never hear the end of that sentence? Osellë collapsed to the ground moments later and I, having my arms full of Legolas, was powerless to catch her. The dull thwack as she collided solidly with the earth actually made me wince. For the first time I noticed a strange, vaguely purple mist filling the room and swirling in eddies past my feet and around the two unconscious elves. I caught a whiff of it as it floated past and wrinkled my nose in disgust, it smelt bitter, like rotten vegetables, or bread left out in the sun. A figure appeared in the swirling mist and I squinted to make it out. The silhouette seemed human, but I felt a chill of malice as it limped closer, still partially obscured from my view. "Vénea?" a voice questioned, it's tone incredulous, but I knew its owner only too well. But, it was impossible, wasn't it? The voice drew nearer and I held back a scream as I realised that it was the man I had feared. But how was he still alive, after all this time? He hoisted Legolas out of my grip even though I strongly resisted and put a knife to his bare throat. "Resist any more and elf-boy here gets it, see?" he whispered harshly and I gave a stiff nod. He let out a mirthless laugh. "Never thought to see you again, lass, and least of all here!" he cried evilly as he dragged the unresponsive Legolas and me from the room. Great, I thought as I stumbled down that corridor, wincing every time he let Legolas' head bash against one of the walls, each time hating him more and more. Now my bladder seemed to be the very least of my problems.