The Undecided of Earendil

By- Larien

Chapter 20

Copperfang- I share your joy in the fact that the finally admitted feelings for each other. And trouble will be lurking behind every door from this point on, so perhaps their actions will have consequences. But as Will Turner once said, "I must face the consequences of my actions..." Oh man, I hated that line. Anyway, will Thranduil lift the banishment? I guess we'll soon find out...Thanks for the review and for reading the other poems. It means a lot.

Elvnchic- I'm glad you enjoyed the romantic chapter, for I worried greatly about it. And the conversation with Thranduil and Legolas was fun, wasn't it? I tried to keep it subtle, but I still wanted Legolas to worry his father, because every child does it to their parents when they are in a disagreement. And I realized I've been slackign on the elvish as of late, so I felt that since it is a very romantic language, it would fit well with the moment. I'm glad you appreciated it. Thanks for the review!

madrone- Yes, I hope to write more romantic things further on, and you are right in saying after much angst. So continue doing happy ending dance, and thanks for the review!

Legolaslover77- Yay for it being tasteful! That was my goal, and it appears that most thought I achieved it. Whew wipes sweat from forehead Glad that's over with. And giving hell to Thranduil you say? Don't worry, Legolas has no shortage of ideas...lol. Thanks for the review!

A/N- Whoo hoo! Chapter twenty! It 'tis amazing I've gotten this far and still have many ideas to write about! Anyway, I'm glad the general opinion on the last cheesy chapter was positive. I was a tad worried about it. This chapter will have a completely different atmosphere, so bear with me because I'm going to fool with everyone's emotions. Reviews encouraged as always! Also, if you critics have the heart, check out the poems I've written recently, all related to LOTR. They're not that long or complex, and I really just want to get more opinions on them. So thanks to those who have, and those who haven't; you should read them and review! Le hannon!

P.S. Sorry this chapter took so long. I think this one, by far, has been one of the most difficult chapters to write. I wanted to get the emotion just right, and there were a lot of things I needed to accomplish. So be that as it may, I would really like to know how it turned out. Even if you just review with a "good," or "bad," I'll be pleased. So with no more ado…

Sky that was as dark as the dodgy water covered all of Rivendell. A bent old wizard leaning on his staff, under the protection of a covered bridge, watched in silence at the weary state Imladris seemed to withhold all this day. Pelts of water like falling tears of a great god covered the earth, moving the leaves and thumping the ground to a steady beat. The air smelt of rain and its humidity clung to every being that dared to venture forth into its wetness. The trees took on a hazy green today, looking bleak and worn, as they allowed their branches to be pelted and moved whichever way the wind wished it. The dwellings were lit, but silent, as most the elves were warm inside them, finding chores to last the rainy day.

The river swept along fluently, seemingly the only thing in a hurry, as its murky waters brushed the shore. It played its own tune along with the drumbeat of the water pelts and sprang white waves to break its shallow ends. No birds twittered, no animals moved. Only worms eager to move about freely, raced along the saddened ground towards nowhere in particular. Water that had already made its grand landing on the bridge's covering dripped itself onto the brim of his hat where then it fell onto his hand, which rested the railing. But he did not stir, only watched the scene below him.

Though bleak and in no condition to be out in, a convoy of elves and horses were situated at the gate. They wore dark cloaks covering their regal garments and their horses rustled uneasily, being continuously drenched by the never-ending rain. A clap of thunder startled one, causing it to rear and neigh in yet another flash of light that illuminated all of the watered-down and sorrowful dwellings. An elf hurried to calm it, splashing through large puddles in his haste and accumulating mud on his boots. A noble elf, in robes of brown, stood in the shadows, under a roof, watching the chaos of the packing elves, keeping himself dry and stern. Elrond showed no trace of emotion, though the way he tapped his finger restlessly on his arm indicated he wished them off in a hurry.

Shuffling his feet, which had grown rather cold, Gandalf pursed his lips as another roll of thunder shook the ground on which he stood. Some elves had just run to assist a larger, more regal looking elf who was carrying a rather large pack to a carriage that awaited him, pulled by two very anxious looking mares. The elves grabbed the pack from Thranduil, who nodded grimly, wiping the rain from his cloak and pulling his hood lower yet over his eyes. As the elves slipped and sloshed their way to his carriage with his belongings, he scanned the surroundings, raising his head high to peer from under the hood. This resulted in more rain pelting his face, so he grumbled and turned on the elf who had calmed the horse.

As Thranduil demanded to know where his son was (to which the other elf shrugged and tried explaining he had no idea, even though the princes' horse was completely packed and ready), Gandalf hummed a note to himself, turning around and crossing the bridge. On the other side, the view opened to many dwellings and side roads, on which there was occupying one, and elf and a girl. He watched quietly, as the two spoke quietly to each other, the girl staying under a lowered roof, but the elf letting his deep black robes get soaked in the rain.

"This is where I take my leave, then." Legolas said quietly.

"It 'tis." Caniel replied, looking at his feet, which were sinking into the muddy roads of Rivendell. "You will return?"

"I swear it." He tried to smile, but it proved as vain as not getting wet.

Caniel shivered, only wearing a silk blue dress and cape with matching gloves, her skin wrinkling with bumps and her hair damp and straight. Legolas made to move towards her, but then stopped, realizing he could be of little help in his wet state.

"Don't be too long."

Legolas wondered how long the trip away would be; for it was entirely up to his father how long he dared endured this escapade. But Legolas nodded from under his hood.

"Be careful when you're with Aradhel. I've already told you-"

"You don't trust him. I am aware." Caniel smiled sadly, wrapping her arms around herself.

"I don't." Legolas agreed. "And if he breathes on you…"

They laughed quietly, though not heartily. Both felt as cold and empty as the very streets of Imladris, and neither wanted to be the first to say good-bye. But as voices started beckoning for Legolas, their farewell was cut short and Legolas looked, dismayed, towards where the voices were coming from.

"Already…" He sighed. Looking back to Caniel, he saw a wet trail leading down her cheek. Had he not known better, he might have been fooled into believing it to only be a raindrop. But when he cuffed her chin in his hand, and brought her eyes up to him, he saw them red and wet. Smiling softly he said,

"Be strong, Caniel."

She smiled back, nearly choking on her words, but retaining the rest of the tears. "I am."

Legolas nodded, moving closer as he did so. "I know."

Kissing her good bye was not passionate, not sweet, or even loving. It was as bitter sweet as the sour remarks his father had issued. It was as bitter as the wine they had shared. Or perhaps it was as bitter as the harsh events the world liked to throw at them, with each passing day new ones abounding. Either way, after what seemed like many moments of them holding to one another, neither wishing the moment to end, Legolas pulled away and walked away from her, not looking back nor saying good bye. Only wishing to rid himself of the desire he felt and not wanting her to see the tears that had welled under the darkened hood.

Pulling it down farther, causing a great shadow to hide his eyes, he sauntered to his horse, ignoring the reprimanding that was issuing from his father. Gandalf felt a drip of water caress his cheek as Caniel walked slowly towards the entrance gate, keeping to the shadows. Raising a weary old hand to wipe away the sudden tear, the wizard clomped back to his original position, watching Legolas mount his horse with another great clap of thunder. It was as if everything was finally being broken apart. Here before them time seemed to split and everything that was right had gone wrong. Nature had turned bleak for a reason, and Gandalf did not shed tears in vain. Passings and fates were altered in this one breaking of persons, and Gandalf knew that things would be different whence these elves left. The rain pelted harder as Thranduil tromped into his carriage, bringing along fresh tears hewed from the heavens above, and hellish mud that clung to everything that was turning against it.

As the procession started out of the gate, Elrond holding a steady hand in farewell, Legolas strayed a second behind the carriage to stare into the shadows he knew Caniel to be lurking in. He felt her presence, felt her will to be strong, and with a kick to his horse, who reared slightly as more lightening illuminated her shaking, frail shadow, Legolas left the dwelling of Rivendell.

Gandalf watched the gates close and Elrond rub his forehead wearily, glancing to the haunting sky before turning away from the leave of elves. Checking once the shadows, Gandalf sighed deeply, taking in the once sweet scent of rain, which was now stained with wrong and bitterness. Then he too made his way back into the library where he sat with his books, to wait out the rain.

Riding behind his father, keeping his connection to the presence of Caniel, Legolas fought every urge to turn and go back. For a while it appeared that Caniel had remained strong and the only tears shed were those of the gods. But as more thunder rolled, Legolas felt his heart wrench and he knew she was in pain. A tear escaped his heavy eyes and was soon to fall with those of the sky as he continued on, nudging his horse faster, wishing to no longer feel the anguish that was so strongly emitting from her.

For in the shadows, the half-blood had broken down. Her sobs shook her shoulders and were drowned by the thumping of water to the ground. Covering her face with one hand, she allowed them to consume her, racking her body of any energy and turning her face a violent shade of red to brighten the black surroundings. As she sobbed, her cries bringing about a flash of lighting that was blinding, no elf bothered to look. No one noticed the lone girl who was almost screaming in the anguish that consumed her every muscle and bone. No one heard the blood that pulsated through her, and the heart that had broken into a thousand pieces. No one felt the utter helplessness of her who felt as though the world was tumbling in around her.

No one that is, except another who sat silently in a dwelling on the opposite side of Rivendell.

The next days flew by, and each grew as long and as tiring as a life span of the earth. The elves of Rivendell went about their daily routine; Caniel had resumed lessons with Elrond, to which he droned on while she gazed out the window, apparently oblivious to all the wise elf was saying. But she heard it all; her eyes were just fixed on the horizon where somewhere inside her she awaited the familiar silhouette of an elf clad on the back of a black stallion. But as days became weeks, and weeks into a month, no such elf came and the days were steadily growing nearer to her departure from Rivendell to the north.

Aradhel and his sister had already returned, about a week after the meeting, and Aragorn had left Rivendell for a time. For what, no one was quite sure. Gandalf could be seen often pacing the sullen bridges, smoking his pipe then disappearing for days at a time before again showing up in Elrond's library, digging through books. Elrond himself seemed to be in a rather hazy, if not dazed state. When his lessons commenced, he didn't seem bothered that Caniel was in no state to listen. Instead he only continued to drone on, himself not listening to the words he recited. At times, he would have finished a lesson, neither him nor Caniel remembering a single thing that had been taught.

On many of the days, Caniel would lock herself inside her house, which had succumb to a rather pathetic state; dishes sat unwashed on the tables, candles were burnt out and windows locked tight. Her cupboards were continuously bare and the books she read were scattered in piles around the desolate building. When she wasn't hiding away there, she would move herself to her clearing, which was always vacant of other elves. There she would often just lay in the sun or practice her archery, for which she had acquired a beautiful bow from Aragorn before he had left. She had gotten quite skilled in a short amount of time, her arrows all aligning within the center ring. When she tired of the constant stringing of the bow, she would return home to find that Arwen had left her food or had cleaned up some of the house, but never did she actually visit with her. It seemed that nowadays most people preferred seclusion to company.

It wasn't until one particular day, in which the clouds covered gray again and the dew sat lazily over the dying flowerbeds, that Caniel was interrupted from her reading in the dim light. An obtrusive pounding on her front door made her jump from her spot on the couch, sending her book fluttering to the floor.

"Come in." Caniel called, reaching down to pick it up.

Arwen came bursting in a second later, looking rather excited in her velvet robes and billowing hair.

Rushing up to the girl, who was in a high neck, peasant gown, Arwen pulled Caniel up from the couch by the elbow and started dragging her towards the door.

"You must come. Quick!"

Caniel felt her heart pulsate at the excitement and hurried along to follow the girl who raced ahead down the corridors towards the entrance gate. As they neared it, Caniel smiling uncertainly, but scanning quickly for the elf she so longed to see, it was a great surprise when Arwen continued on past the gates. Feeling her heart sink, but curiosity rising, Caniel called out,

"Where are we going?"

"Sírdhem's dwelling."

Quickening her step to catch up, and rounding a corner to the more quiet part of Rivendell, Caniel felt to secure the pin that was holding her hair in place.

"Why are we headed there?"

"Because, she wants to see you." Was all that came from Arwen as she took a short cut through an alleyway. Soon the high up dwelling loomed in front of them, looking as bleak and deserted as ever.

"What?" Caniel paused in her step, startled by this news.

"She wants to see you." Arwen turned briefly, thrusting a piece of parchment rather small in size into Caniel's hand. "Look. When I came to visit her today, she wrote this down and I immediately sent for you."

Caniel looked at the frail parchment on which it was wrote,

Caniel

"She wrote this? I didn't know she could-"

"We don't know a lot about her now do we?" Arwen smiled as she turned and started up the winding stairs to the door. "I just think it's incredible that she actually communicated. Have you any idea what she wants?"

Caniel thought back to the vision she had last received when with Sírdhem and wondered if it had anything to do with this visit. Simply shaking her head no, though, she followed Arwen up the staircases, where on they knocked quietly before entering the dusty house and once again finding themselves in the small room where Sírdhem sat in her chair waiting for them.

"I brought her." Arwen said breathlessly, looking to Sírdhem who was eyeing Caniel with those vacant blue eyes. "Is there anything more you would like, Sírdhem? Would you like me to leave?"

"Yes." Caniel spoke, but it wasn't of her choosing.

"I'm sorry?" Arwen turned to Caniel, looking rather shocked and confused. "Yes? You want me to leave?"

"I don't, that is, I didn't say that." Caniel muttered, looking at Sírdhem with wide eyes.

"But then how…" Arwen suddenly caught on and looked too at Sírdhem whose unwavering stare wasn't the least bit penetrated by their flustered looks. "Did she…"

"I think so." Caniel whispered back. "Perhaps then you should go."

Arwen nodded. "I will wait right outside if you need me. Good bye Sírdhem."

Hastily she walked out of the room, but not before casting one more curious glance at the silent girl in the corner. When at last she'd gone, Caniel sat again in the chair across from her.

"You wished to see me?" Caniel asked, but there was no reply. "Was it because of the vision I had last time?"

This time a smile, very faint and almost painful looking was etching the skinny features of her face. Her thin lips parted slightly and her big eyes blinked once. Nodding, Caniel straightened.

"Well then?"

Sírdhem reached out her hand, holding it palm up for Caniel to grasp. Looking at it wearily, but decided it was as good as anything, Caniel took the bony hand and immediately was launched into another vision.

This time she was in a rather dark chamber where all she could see was small breakage of light through the cracks in the wall. The floor was littered with scurrying animals and straw and there were bars surrounding her on all sides. And behind those bars were the most beat-up people she had ever seen. Men of all ages, scratched and bruised, and coated with so much mud they appeared to be nothing more then a moving mound, stared at her from all angles…though not at her. The cage behind her where a small girl, the same one who had been dancing in the streets, sat silently just as bruised and muddy as the rest. Her eyes were hazy as she stared at the ground where a mouse scurried around her feet and her hair was in tangles around her shoulders. The men didn't talk, only watched intently as if waiting for her to start dancing. But she only sat remorsefully in her corner, where very little light etched her older body.

Then there was a loud clang and some heavy looking jail-keepers marched in, hitting the other cages with their whips as they walked past, just to taunt the men, then laughing to themselves. Occasionally they'd throw out insults and when they reached the cage of the girl, they pulled out their keys and dragged her out by the scruff of the cloth she had tied around her. Forcing her roughly ahead of them to a man who stood in the doorway, Caniel moved to the side to better view the scene. The man in the doorway was sturdy and handsome, and Caniel recognized him as the boy that had danced with Sírdhem earlier. As the girl crawled to the mans feet, tears smearing the mud on her cheeks, Caniel was amazed at the lack of caring on the mans expression. The jail men crossed their arms with bemused looks on their faces as she pleaded with the man to have pity on her.

With a rough kick, the man issued her away from his shiny boots and scoffed in her face. With a wave of his hand, and a joyous smile on her face, the jail guards picked her up and tossed her out of the doorway onto the barren streets, where she shouted back many hoarse thanks to which the man simply turned away and left her to crawl away.

As Caniel watched the frail figure crawl away, the scene turned a blurry shade of gray, twisting and melting in front of her like fog, until she reappeared in a bar that appeared just as smoky. It clung like fine clothes over the red lamps everywhere, and the shouts and poundings of tables and glasses filled her ears as she peered around the dense bar filled with drunken men of every shape and size. Tables were filled with gamblers who would slap their cards down violently if they lost, daggers constantly threatening the throats of the winners. The bar itself, stretched from one end of the building to the other, was packed with new orders of drinks, to which bar maidens hastily filled and refilled the glasses, taking only a moment to flirt with every customer in their lacy chemises and tight bodices. Grease and hair was all that could be made out for most of the men, and meandering over to a nearby table, Caniel was amused to find the same girl, very full and voluptuous in tight garments playing a ruddy hand at some gambling game. The game seemed rather intense, a lot of money piled into the center, when a man slipped some fake cards in to claim a victory.

Disgusted by the dishonesty, Caniel wished someone would notice and do something. And as the other men grumbled and threw away their cards, the girl did. Sírdhem whipped a dagger from her cleavage, jumping from her chair with some rather rude words and clasping it against he man's throat, pinning him in a clever maneuver against his chair. One of the other men made to grab her away from him, but with a forceful kick, unlike any Caniel had seen, Sírdhem sent him tumbling back into the bar where others laughed, offering him a drink. The other men decided better then to argue and let her threaten the winner into admitting that he had cheated. Shoving him aside and piling the money into her pouch, Caniel watched a different man, rather rich and handsomely dressed in a military garb approach Sírdhem. After many compliments he offered her to come with him and soon they were headed out of the bar to start Sírdhem's training to join the battle units of the city.

As the vision again faded and smoke clouded her vision, Caniel was surprised when the scene that greeted her was the face of Sírdhem back in her room, her hand holding tight to Caniel's. Sweat had accumulated under Caniel's neck and she was feeling weak as she looked to the ground, taking her hand to wipe her brow. Sírdhem said nothing, only watched quietly, leaning back in her chair.

"Is that it then?" Caniel asked with a shaky voice.

When there was no respond, she nodded and made her way out of the building. The sky had grown dark and she guessed it to be around dinnertime, but her mind was debating more crucial facts besides what to eat. Why was it that Sírdhem was so intent on showing her, her past life? Was there some significance that Caniel just wasn't catching? Some message that she hoped to portray? Or maybe it was just to have something to do, to keep company. Either way, the visions were startling and Caniel wondered why it was she was in a jail to begin with. And why the man who had so loved her earlier would turn his back on her like that now?

Perhaps, Caniel thought as Arwen raced towards her full of questions, there was some similarity with their relationships. Maybe the man Sírdhem had once loved had learned of some different blood or lineage and had turned from her, as Thranduil had done with Caniel. Yes, there were some similarities with their fighting abilities and how both had been left by the ones they loved. But why was it necessary for Sírdhem to show it all? Was it just because she finally had someone who would understand? In any case, Caniel hoped that if they continued to be similar, her fate wouldn't lead her to a desolate building where she would then live out her life in silence.

"Nin dago! Nin dago!" Legolas ordered as he dodged two sets of blades that hurtled towards him. (Kill me, kill me!)

Throwing his helmet aside and blocking another set of very slow and clumsy attacks, Legolas held out his arms. "Man gen carel?" (What are you doing?)

The two other elves only continued to attack rather pathetically in the clearing, their armor showing many cuts and gashes where Legolas had hit them effortlessly with his blades. As Legolas swung around them, his form being a blur with his speed, he managed another two swipes getting their back armor before coming around and snagging one of them in the arm. As the two elves stumbled around, he tossed his blades aside.

"Nin dago." (Kill me.)

The two elves looked at each other through their helmets before lunging at the prince. Legolas only watched with amusement before dodging both attacks and pulling both sets of blades away from them. As they turned to face their own weapons held to their throats, Legolas sighed, tossing them aside as well.

"Mudatha. Am man theled agorech?" He asked quietly. (That will suffice. Why did you do that?)

The other elves took off their helmets, wiping the sweat from their brows. One was a dark haired, very sturdy elf while the other was blonde and flexible like Legolas. The dark haired elf spoke,

"Legolas nin goheno. Your father warned us to go easy on you." He admitted. (Forgive me Legolas.)

"He what?"

"He didn't want you getting hurt, what with your upcoming decision." The other elf nodded. "He just said to give you practice, but to let you win since that is what a prince should do."

"Win?" Legolas rolled his eyes. "Sunc ylf ernediaid." He laughed and the other elves tried to hide their smiles as well. (He had too many cups of drink.)

"I'm sorry Legolas, but that is what he ordered." The dark haired elf said again.

Legolas nodded just as the very elf who had ordered the chaos came sauntering towards them.

"Legolas! Prestad?" Thranduil asked, smiling warmly and opening his arms wide to the trio who nodded a greeting. (Is there trouble?)

"In fact there is." Legolas turned to him. "Did you order them to go light on my practices?"

"I just said to make sure you didn't get hurt."

"And that I won?"

"Prince's always win."

Legolas threw his hands in the air in exasperation, turning to the other elves. "Iston vellas gîn ne ndager. And you two are comparable fighters to myself. So I want a fair fight that will teach me something. And my father will not object lest he wants his son to learn nothing." (I know your strength in battle.)

Thranduil sighed before he nodded smugly, stepping aside, still looking more pleased then ever since his sons return home. Legolas, on the other hand, grumbled to himself as he grabbed his helmet before saying,

"Iuitho vefyl gîn i bado thegra." (Draw your swords and go first.)

The others nodded, doing as he said and soon a full battle ensued. Their movements were all gallant and quick, the others scrapping occasionally on Legolas' armor, but for the most part, Legolas' remained with the upper hand. His swings never missed and his parries were excellent, twisting and turning in all sorts of unseen directions. After a very long, and very exciting match, Legolas had once again locked weapons with them, sending their blades flying in opposite directions. Sharing a hearty laugh, the two trainers held their hands up in defeat and Legolas nodded, sheathing both blades and turning to his father.

"Impressive, Legolas. I will admit." Thranduil clapped his hands a few times while making his way to Legolas who stood gallantly in the middle of the field.

"Nothing to worry about." Legolas said grimly as the two instructors left the field, each rubbing the sore spots where the blades had hit them hard.

Thranduil raised an eyebrow. "I wouldn't go that far. You are skilled yes, but accidents do occur."

Legolas said nothing and his father gestured for him to walk, so he tore off his armor and started down a winding path, taking in the deep scent of the old trees that was Mirkwood. As sunlight breached his face in scattered etchings and birds sang songs of old, Thranduil tromped along side him, running his fingers through his golden hair and beaming at the shading trees that stood old and proud.

"While we speak of worries, I must admit to being a bit worried on your lack of decision, Legolas." Thranduil said suddenly.

Legolas was not surprised and fought hard to suppress his agitation. "I am aware of my lack of decision, father. And it has been for a reason."

"And what reason is that? The fact that you have not even tried?" Thranduil asked incredulously.

"I had dinner with one of the many." Legolas smiled sarcastically.

"And you didn't speak a word to each other."

"She wasn't one for talking." Legolas brushed away a pesky fly that buzzed around his forehead. "And I said hello."
Thranduil grunted as they rounded a bend to a shallow pond that was littered with algae and croaking with obnoxious frogs on every lily pad. Legolas picked up a twig to twist around his fingers as Thranduil wondered what he could say to challenge his son's stubbornness towards giving the women a try.

"What about dinner with another one of them tonight?" Thranduil offered.

"I have a dinner already with some old comrades."

"What of tomorrow?"

"I feel not like cooking."

"They will cook!"

"Perhaps I will not be hungry."

"Legolas!" Thranduil shrieked. "You are making excuses as the tree makes leaves! Is there no end? I brought you here to give them a chance, to which you agreed! And I will not take this as lightly as I have done. This needs to be done as soon as possible, for a prince does not dally in his affairs. Especially ones that will determine much of his future."

Legolas snarled. "I was with one of them the other day father, and do you know what I accomplished? Instead of her saying, "Yes Legolas," I finally got her to say, "Whatever you wish Legolas." Do you know what it's like to be with someone who will crawl on all fours if you ask them to?"

"Do you?"

"Yes!" Legolas actually laughed at the absurdity of the memory. "She did it for hours until I finally told her she could stop."

"You didn't actually…" Thranduil looked utterly appalled at his son.

"I did. I wanted to see how long she would go." Legolas was completely stern as he admitted to it. "And I will say this now, no wife of mine will ever get down on all fours, even if she has a blade to her neck. She will stand tall and strong as a ruler would be."

Thranduil slapped his forehead in disbelieve. Legolas only smirked to himself, still recalling the meeting with the elf maiden, and tossing his twig into the pond.

"Legolas, as amazed as I am by your antics, I am not amused, nor are any of the elf maidens, I'm sure! You are their prince and should start acting like it! What do I have to do to impress upon you the seriousness of the situation? You need to find a wife from among those women or else!"

"I still face banishment?" Legolas asked timidly, as they emerged into the dwellings.

Thranduil nodded grimly. "I will not go back on my word Legolas. I need you. You're people need you and it seems threats are the only way to get you in the right state of mind. Now, tonight after your dinner, I will be sure to have one of the maidens waiting back at your dwelling. I don't care what you plan to do, but believe me when I say I better not see anyone crawling around come tomorrow, or you can consider yourself an outcast."

"And what is one to do after dinner?" Legolas asked through clenched teeth as they stopped walking at a parting in the road.

"You used to find plenty to do with Caniel after dark." Thranduil said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow at his son. "And I'm sure these girls are much more suited for the cause."

"You disgust me, father." Legolas spat. His fists were clenched at his side and he felt his blood pulsate through him. "I would never dishonor Caniel."

"Ah. Well at least you've learned what it means to be a gentlemen." Thranduil shrugged and turned to make his way back to his dwelling. "I was worried you had learned nothing during your travels."

Legolas bit back some nasty words, but instead shouted after his father, "I learned how to love, my lord. And it appears that's only something learned by traveling, seeing as though you've somehow missed it."

Thranduil stopped dead in his tracks for a moment, before continuing on, mumbling about love and how little his son knew of it. Legolas on the other hand sank into a nearby bench, suddenly aching for the presence of Caniel. It had been weeks since he had brought her up for often he refrained from saying her name, or evening admitting he knew her for the pain was too deep. At night his dreams were haunted with images of her, leaving him lonely and depressed come morning. Through the days he'd busy himself with other affairs, though every minute he spent with another woman, he found himself comparing them to Caniel.

Would he ever be able to get over her? Legolas' body ached as he thought on a marriage with one of the elves, where on all he would do for the rest of his life is compare her every deed to that of Caniel. Time would bring healing, he assured himself. Yet as the elf sat there on the bench, his face clapped in his hands, deep inside a voice told him there was nothing to heal a broken love. Not time. Not people. Only the lover herself who was back, meditating deeply on the same issue, in Rivendell.