The moon was setting as Legolas returned, still standing, from his little sleep. He gave a half-hearted yawn and, not hearing Gimli's snores, looked about for him, but the dwarf was nowhere in sight. Perhaps he's gone for more fuel, he thought with a wry grin. The grin turned to a worried look when Legolas heard the faint sounds of battle. "Yrch!" he whispered and took off at a dead run for the sound.

The night made it difficult to see at such a distance, but Legolas trusted his ears as he ran soundlessly, hoping for the best and fearing the worst. Then, he heard Gimli's war cry "Khazad-dum!" and knew his friend was not in dire straights, but still he pressed on. The battle was too far away, how had Gimli gone so far? The only answer was that the orcs were herding the dwarf somewhere. But where? Toward a trap? Legolas put on an extra burst of speed and within moments cleared a large hill and looked down upon the battle scene.

Gimli was in the center of a mire of orcs, desperately fending them off with his vicious axe, but he was losing ground. Legolas was firing before he could even think, picking off as many as he could before his arrows ran out. When they finally did, and orcs were still coming, he unsheathed his knives and charged straight into the melee.

Legolas somehow fought his way toward Gimli and then they fought back to back. Lunge, parry, lunge, block, was all that kept going through Legolas' mind. The orcs just kept at it. Where are they all coming from? he wondered desperately. We cannot continue like this!

Lasselanta sat bolt upright in the darkness of her alcove bed, sweating. She had had a dream, a terrible one, where she was trapped and surrounded by orcs. No matter how hard she fought, the orcs just kept coming. Celebrindal whined from the foot of her bed.

"Relax," she reassured him. "I'm fine, it was only a dream," wasn't it? She couldn't return to sleep after that, so she got up and put on clothes, prepared to work with soothing stone. However, she found herself putting on her scouting gear. "What am I doing? I can't go out now!" but the urge was persistent, pressing. "But I don't have time to dye my hair!" she knew it didn't matter. Hair could be hidden. She finished dressing and tightly braided her hair, throwing her grey cloak about her shoulders and pulling up the hood.

Celebrindal cocked his head at his friend's strange behavior, but followed her up the stair into the open without complaint. On the way up, Lasselanta grabbed her twin swords, unsure why she did so, but trusting her instinct.

When they reached the open air, she knew her instinct had been right, for she immediately heard sounds of battle. She looked about to find it and her keen night-sighted eyes saw two figures desperately fighting off a horde of orcs in the distance. She did not stop to question who they were; any enemy of orcs was a friend of hers. She immediately set out at a slow, but efficient and ground-eating lope, Celebrindal at her side.

Gimli heard a short cry behind him and shouted, "Legolas! What ails?"

"Naught, Master Dwarf!" Legolas retorted, but Gimli knew he had somehow been wounded. The pair were known for their prowess in battle, but the sheer number of orcs were wearing them out. The dwarf knew that they must somehow overcome these orcs or they would not survive. He already knew that dawn was too far off to merely defend, they must attack. But how? Gimli gave a roar and renewed his fading vigor. Legolas somehow did the same. They slowly beat back those who attacked them, but they were rapidly draining their precious energy reserves.

Lasselanta leapt across a ditch and rounded a hill, only to look down upon the strangest sight: an elf and a dwarf were back to back, effectively fighting off a huge horde of orcs. Celebrindal's hackles went up at the sight of the orcs and he started to growl low in his throat. Lasselanta quickly looked toward the sky; the moon was setting, dawn was not far off, but definitely too far off for the elf and the dwarf. She decided to join them.

She unsheathed her twin blades, twirled them, and started singing an Elven war song as she flew down the slope into the melee, Celebrindal howling, fast at her heels.

Legolas had been too busy to hear the steps, but he definitely heard the weird song that was part haunting Elven and part chilling howl. He didn't care; it distracted the orcs, giving him the chance to kill several in a short span with just his knives. Gimli felled more. The stranger moved so fast he looked a blur, something helped by the fact that he wore a grey cloak that blended into the dark grass and the pale light of the crescent moon. In fact, Legolas was sure that Gimli knew where the stranger was only by the flash of his two swords. Then something ripped out the throat of an orc that had been about to slash Legolas in the arm. He noted with alarm that it looked like a Warg, and was only slightly relieved to discover it was a wolf.

Slowly, the moon crept further across the sky, and by the time it had set completely, all but a few of the orcs were dead. Those that were left fled to escape the coming dawn, but the stranger and his wolf hunted them down, efficiently killing them. All Legolas and Gimli could do was collapse to the ground and breathe. When the stranger returned, small columns of smoke were left in his wake. He had burned the bodies of the orcs. His wolf limped behind him and when they returned to the battle scene, he tended to it's wounded paw, then made a campfire. He dragged the bodies of the orcs a dozen or so meters downwind of the campfire, methodically slitting the throats of all those still alive. He then set fire to the pile of corpses. By the time he was finished, Legolas had regained some strength and stood. He slowly walked to where the person (was it an elf or a man?) stood.

"Thank you, friend," Legolas said in the Common Tongue, "for saving our lives." The stranger cocked his head and replied in Sindarin!

"I do not understand that which you speak."

"I beg your pardon," Legolas returned in his mother tongue. "I thanked you for saving our lives."

"'Twas naught," replied the elf. "Any enemy of an orc is a friend of mine."

Legolas smiled put his hand over his heart and bowed, "I am Legolas, son of Thranduil of Mirkwood."

The stranger stiffened, then drew back his hood for the first time and replied, "I am Lasselanta." Legolas nearly reeled in shock. His rescuer was a woman!

"Ha!" Gimli exclaimed, then continued in roughly accented Elvish. "That explains quite a lot, missy!"

Lasselanta cocked her head and asked, "I beg your pardon?"

Gimli just winked and said, "I know a female singing voice when I hear one, and there was no way your voice belonged to a man, no matter how lovely!" Lasselanta just threw back her head and laughed.

"I have yet to hear your name, Master Dwarf."

"I am Gimli, son of Gloin," he bowed low. "And I am very pleased to meet your acquaintance Lady Lasselanta."

She abruptly turned away, "I am no lady, Gimli, son of Gloin." Then she turned back and said, "Follow me."

Lasselanta had been wary of the elf with the blond hair, even more so when he said he was a son of Thranduil! It couldn't possibly be the same elf, but all the same, the name made her cringe. The dwarf, however, had raised her spirits after all the killing. She would've left them there to nurse their own wounds in the cold dawn had it not been for him. She led them silently and quickly through the hills. She sent Celebrindal off to round up their mounts; he returned by the time the sun had fully risen with the horse and pony galloping nervously, but not hysterically in front of him. They stopped in front of the trio and Lasselanta calmed them, as Legolas was distracted and Gimli was still too exhausted to do anything but plod along.

"Mount up, both of you," Lasselanta said in an unconsciously commanding tone. "I'll have to blindfold you the rest of the way."

"I am not riding that thing when I haven't got my reflexes with me," Gimli retorted stubbornly.

"Fine," Lasselanta replied calmly, which Gimli wasn't expecting. "But you'll have to let Celebrindal lead you."

"Who?" Gimli asked, confused. Lasselanta merely pointed to the wolf, who smiled, tongue lolling. Gimli gulped, "I'll need your help to mount, Legolas."

"What?" Legolas asked, coming out of his reverie.

"Help get me on that damn horse!" Gimli yelled. Legolas obliged, then mounted his own horse.

"Lean down," Lasselanta said as she pulled a pair of leather strips out of her belt pouch. They both obeyed and she deftly blindfolded them. "Now hang on because we're going to trot," she said, grabbing the lead of the pony, letting Legolas' bridle-less horse follow on his own. She set off at the same ground-eating lope she started, with Celebrindal bringing up the rear to keep the horse and pony going, but far enough back to keep them from bolting.

After half an hour's time, they splashed through the stream and reached the hut. "Dismount," Lasselanta ordered. Legolas obeyed, trusting his mount, but Lasselanta had to pull Gimli from the poor pony, who lost most of his mane to the dwarf's clenched hands. She led them both inside, sat them at her table, and told them they could remove their blindfolds.

Both were in shock at her home.

"Ah!" said Gimli. "Not only am I back on the ground, I'm under it too! And such fine workmanship! Is it dwarvish?"

"No," replied Lasselanta, amused. "It is my own." That left Gimli speechless.

Legolas was less enthusiastic than his travel partner and looked cagey and disturbed. Then he saw the globes of bluish white light. "Fëanorian lamps!" he whispered in awe.

"I beg your pardon?" Lasselanta asked.

"Where did you get those?" Legolas queried, gesturing toward the globes.

"They were my mother's," she replied. "I brought them with me when I left."

"Do you know how to make them?" he asked excitedly.

"No, I haven't the faintest idea," Lasselanta said, a bit confused. Legolas looked downcast, as if he suddenly remembered he was underground. Lasselanta sighed and said, "Come let me take care of those wounds," and she deftly began to remove Legolas' shirt to take care of a deep shoulder wound.

"What are you doing?" He asked tensely, stopping her hands.

"Fine," she replied crisply, removing her hands. "Do it yourself, but don't you dare start bleeding again. You too, Master Dwarf," she said coolly to Gimli as she left to go get the right healing herbs from her storeroom.

Once in the storeroom, which smelled sharply and cleanly of herbs and stone, Lasselanta leaned wearily against her work table. "What am I doing with these two?" she whispered to herself as she began to automatically prepare athelas and rock rose for Legolas' shoulder wound. Chamomile and wormwood were made into a fine bruise and muscle strain salve for the both of them. When she was finished with all her salves and dressings, she grabbed a roll of bandages for major wounds and returned to the main room.

Legolas had removed his shirt and had indeed started bleeding again. Lasselanta's lips tightened at this, but said she nothing. Gimli, due to his mail, had received nothing more serious than a few shallow cuts, so Lasselanta suggested, "Perhaps, Gimli, you would like to bathe while I take care of Legolas?"

"I do not want to inconvenience you, Lady," Gimli gracefully replied, but Lasselanta could see the hope against hope in both his and the elf's eyes.

"Follow me," she said with a small smile. "And I am not a lady."

She led him down a curving hall to the hot spring and opened the door, letting out a billow of steam.

"Wonder of all wonders!" cried Gimli. "The lady has a hot spring!" He immediately sprang into the room and was already shedding clothing and armor when she hastily shut the door. Lasselanta returned to the main room and started cleansing Legolas' wounds.

"I'm sorry," she apologized as he winced at the hot water she applied to his skin, "but I cannot allow you to go outside if you are to stay the night." Legolas visibly sagged at this pronouncement. "However, I can lead you back to your camp first thing in the morning if you wish."

Legolas did not answer, but asked, "Why do you not wish to be found?"

"There are reasons I have survived this long on my own, Master Elf, and secrecy is one of them," she replied curtly, evading his question. He wisely said nothing and when she had finished binding his shoulder wound and salving his other minor cuts and bruises, he accepted a cup of hot mint tea and a warm scone. "We will have a proper breakfast when I return from tending the horses," she said apologetically, and left.

Legolas was stunned as he sipped the soothingly hot tea. He ignored the scone. He had too much to think about. Fëanorian lamps! How did she get a hold of so many? Just who was this elf and what was she doing so far from civilization? She obviously wasn't a wanderer; the cave was too secure and well-furnished for that. And, now that he thought of it, he seemed to remember that she had red hair! Real, fiery red hair, not auburn or strawberry blonde as only a few elves in the last thousand years were known to have. It was a paradox: she was an elf, she had red hair. Elves didn't have red hair! They hadn't since the last of Feanor and Nerdanel's children died out in the Second Age! Wait, red hair and Fëanorian lamps. Was there any connection? Could there be? Legolas' thoughts were spinning as they hadn't since discovering Gandalf had not died in Moria. Just as he was about to give up and go to sleep, Gimli entered with wet hair and a clean set of clothes on.

"Your turn, Master Elf!" he boomed cheerfully. "And you'd best hurry or there won't be any hot water left!" He roared with laughter at his joke. Legolas dismissed all his former thoughts and grinned.

"Gimli, you are incorrigible," he replied. "Even a near-death experience doesn't dampen your spirits."

"You can't keep a good dwarf down!" Gimli declared in agreement as he took Legolas' spot, as well as his scone, and Legolas went to go wash up.

Lasselanta soothed the horse and pony, both of whom were less nervous since Celebrindal had left to hunt. They had been grazing near the stream when she came outside, and she quickly gave them a good rubdown with a rough cloth since she had no currycombs or brushes.

"That'll have to do for now," she whispered affectionately and patted the pony on the neck. She tried to do the same with the horse, who had been friendly during the rubdown, but now he shied away. "Hmph," snorted Lasselanta in disgust. "Just like your master: friendly enough when I'm doing you a favor, but aloof when you're done with me." She gave the pony an apple she had grabbed on the way up, "That's for all the mane that's gone missing," and then went back inside.

Legolas marveled at the indoor hot spring. Never had he seen such a blend of nature and artifice! But his awe was soon dispersed as the thought of getting truly clean, as he had not been since the trip began, was too much. He stripped and lowered himself into the hot water, careful not to get the bandages wet. Then, he leaned back for a nice, long soak.

"Done with the horses already?" asked a gruff voice. Lasselanta spun, startled, then she laughed.

"Gracious, Master Dwarf!" she exclaimed. "You frightened me."

Gimli immediately looked remorseful, "I'm terribly sorry, Lady! I meant no harm."

"No, I know you didn't," Lasselanta replied ruefully. "It's just that...I'm not used to voices other than my own. I've been alone for too long." That last bit was said quietly to herself, and Gimli pretended to ignore it.

"I must thank you, Lady," he began, "for the pleasure of such a lovely bath! But I must ask, how did you get it like that?"

"First," Lasselanta stated, "I am no Lady. Call me Lasselanta." When Gimli nodded she continued, "Secondly, I discovered that hot spring quite by accident. I was digging in this area to build a home when scalding water began to well up through the soil. You might say I got "burned" by that incidence. I avoided the damn thing until I finally got it through my thick head that it was probably the most valuable thing on this plain."

"Digging?" queried Gimli. Then it dawned on him and he was once again astonished, "You mean to say that you dug this whole place out yourself!"

Lasselanta allowed herself a small, proud smile, "One can work wonders when alone and homeless on a plain with several centuries at one's disposal."

"Well!" was all Gimli could manage. Lasselanta truly grinned this time.

"Would you like some breakfast?"

"Would I!" Gimli exclaimed, then stammered, "That is, if it is no trouble, my Lady." He winced and corrected himself, "Lasselanta." She let out a merry peal of laughter and immediately started on breakfast, but not before ordering him to apply some bruise juice.

"You can't let those bruises bleed themselves out," she said firmly. "And don't even think about letting those strained shoulder muscles stiffen." She handed him a small pot of the salve and returned to her cooking.

Legolas gingerly pulled himself out of the water after he decided he was as clean as he was going to get without wetting the bandage on his shoulder. He toweled off and slipped carefully into the cleanest pair of clothes in his pack. He put the towel into a wooden bin that seemed to be used for that purpose and left the steamy room. The air outside was comparatively cool and dry and Legolas' keen sense of smell caught the waftings of a most delicious breakfast brewing, the likes of which he hadn't seen in many a week. He ambled back down the corridor toward the main room where he found Gimli gingerly rubbing some sort of salve on a bruised shoulder, and Lasselanta busy preparing a meal.

"I see you're done cleaning up," commented Lasselanta without turning. "Perhaps you'd care to join Master Gimli in salving those bruises and strains?" It was more of an order than a request. Legolas cocked an eyebrow, but silently did as he was bid. Lasselanta was stirring something on the stove that looked to be a stew or soup of some sort, but he couldn't tell which.

"Here," Gimli handed him the pot of salve. Then he grunted and stretched, expecting to hurt, and was surprised when he didn't. "Will wonders never cease?" he asked himself quietly. Lasselanta just gave a low chuckle. Legolas eyed the stuff doubtfully, but found it was painless to apply topically. Indeed, it felt like he was merely rubbing on some harmless cream or somewhat, and it smelt mostly of sleepy chamomile, but Legolas detected a hint of pungent wormwood. However, after a few moments, Legolas felt even more refreshed than after his bath, which had just made him drowsy, for all the dull ache from his bruises and muscle strains had disappeared.

"It appears that Gimli speaks the truth," he commented to himself.

"Are you implying that my word was ever in doubt?" Gimli demanded, half in jest, half serious.

"Not at all, Master Gimli," Lasselanta replied smoothly for him. "I believe Master Legolas was merely using his keen senses to come up with his own conclusions. Am I right?" She turned from the stove with a pair of soapstone bowls so thin they were translucent that were filled with a steaming grain porridge, fragrant with raisins, fresh cranberries and blueberries, honey, and cream. She set them on the table, then set metal spoons beside them, and cups of hot tea down as well. "Eat," she commanded, then left the room.

"Oh!" exclaimed Gimli in delight. "Now this is a meal!" He took a huge bite, then nearly doubled over in pain. "Hot!" he roared, looking for something cool to drink, but there was only the hot tea. Legolas burst out laughing after a futile attempt to hold his own tongue. He pounded the dwarf on the back, then quickly rummaged through their packs for the water skin. He tossed the skin to Gimli, who greedily downed the cool water to quench his steaming tongue.

"Perhaps next time you'll test before you down the stuff?" Legolas queried. Gimli just glared at him over the quickly-emptying water skin. Legolas took a spoonful, but carefully blew on it before taking a cautious bite. Properly cooled, it was heavenly. Gimli, with his scalded tongue, was unable to completely enjoy the porridge, but Legolas made sure to fill him in on all he was missing.

Lasselanta finally went and got the chance to wash up and change clothes. She immersed everything but her hair briefly in hot water again, then toweled off and changed into a long, dusky periwinkle blue split skirt, a white tunic shirt, and soft leather boots. She combed her hair and braided it back again before returning to the main room to partake in her own meal.

Legolas was shocked when Lasselanta returned after being gone for so long, for she had changed from a disheveled, blood-streaked warrior to something much closer to a lady. She was wearing some sort of pants that were really a skirt thing. He couldn't explain it. But it was blue, like an overcast sky, and it made her eyes look clearer, whereas they had looked stormy in the night. And she wasn't exactly pretty, but very striking, and her hair shone copper in the light. When she discovered Legolas' eyes upon her (which didn't take long), she gave him an even, appraising gaze of her own, then turned to her own porridge.

Gimli finished his breakfast and sighed with relish. "Now that, my La... ahem, Lasselanta," he said appreciatively, "was the best meal I've had in many, many a day."

Lasselanta, who looked amused, replied, "I take it you do not enjoy your own cooking, Master Gimli?" Legolas strangled a snort of laughter, while she threw him a grin and Gimli glowered at him.

"On the contrary, Lasselanta," Gimli replied smoothly. "It is to Legolas' that I object!" He roared with laughter and Lasselanta let out a peal of her own. Legolas just pursed his lips and bore the humiliation with reluctant grace.

"Oh!" she sighed after all that laughter, then said, "Come now, Master Gimli. We are being cruel. I am sure Master Legolas' cooking is quite equal, if not better than my own, which is of no great note."

"No great note?" Legolas questioned. "Surely you jest! It is excellent even by royal Elven standards."

"Royal?" Lasselanta queried warily.

"Oh yes," Gimli supplied. "Legolas is a Prince of Mirkwood, so he should know!" Lasselanta momentarily experienced tunnel vision and felt faint, but quickly composed herself.

"So I suppose your father is King Thranduil?" she asked faintly.

Legolas, a bit surprised by Lasselanta's strange behavior, replied shortly, "Yes."

"Though," chuckled Gimli. "He has never been fond of dwarves, and I daresay he'll not be happy when we arrive."

"Arrive?" Lasselanta felt stupid for repeating them in such a fashion.

"Yes," Gimli replied. "That was where we were headed before those damn orcs got me cornered."

"Oh," she said shortly.

Then Legolas asked, curious, "Just exactly what were you doing when the orcs attacked?"

Gimli looked uncomfortable and replied quietly, "I was gathering fuel."

"What was that?" Legolas questioned mischievously.

"I was looking for some horse shit, dammit!" Gimli roared. "And I got distracted by those damn stars you're always prattling on about," he angrily shook his forefinger at Legolas, who merely grinned. "They looked too much like the glittering jewels in the walls of Durin's cave! And before I knew it I was surrounded by orcs who were herding me north."

"What?" Legolas asked, puzzled now. "Toward old Angmar? Why?"

"I don't know," replied Gimli honestly. "They must have some sort of camp up there or something."

"It is a camp," Lasselanta said quietly, looking down into her porridge. They both looked at her in disbelief. "I suspected something for some time, but most of my energy went into being overlooked. If I was far enough from home, I picked off a few with a bow, but I avoided close combat with more than three in a group. I picked off some scouts that way though. They started to travel in pairs after three years of disappearances." She sighed, "But then the orcs were gone. All of them. I didn't see a single one for over a year. I thought they had finally gone for good, but one day, they started to return. In large groups. And they were led by a new kind of orc. A kind that didn't mind the sun so much, and was larger, stronger, faster. I left them well alone after that. But I noticed that they were all headed in one direction: north by northwest. I figured they were gathering, but where? And why?" she sighed again and took a sip of her now lukewarm tea before continuing. "I followed a scout home one day. I picked him off once we were in view of the camp. It was larger than I had expected. I still don't know why they're there, or what they're doing, or who's leading them. All I know is where the camp is."

She was finished, but she knew Legolas and Gimli wanted more answers. Unfortunately, she had none. She stood and was about to collect their empty dishes, when Legolas stood and did it for her.

"Just tell me where to wash them," he said simply.

She stared, then protested, "But you're a Prince..."

"Who's done his own washing for the past seven years," Legolas interrupted smoothly. He obviously wasn't going to take no for an answer, so Lasselanta helplessly led him to a cupboard in the wall that opened to reveal two deep basins set into the rock and a spigot set into the wall. He looked at it quizzically and she turned the spigot, letting a cold stream of water into the right-hand basin. When it was filled, she filled the other part way, then filled the teakettle and set it on the stove to heat. She then opened a smaller cupboard inset into the back wall of the larger one, opened it and pulled out a jar of milky brown liquid. She handed it to him and he opened it and sniffed. "Soap?" he guessed. She just smiled and shook her head.

"The dishes go there," she said, pointing to a rack on the wall that held other dishes and utensils, which Legolas hadn't noticed before because it was between the tile stove and the far wall. She then grabbed a towel from the smaller cupboard and handed it to him. "Unless of course," she said. "You want me or Master Gimli to dry?" Legolas glanced at Gimli, only to find the dwarf dozing and gently snoring.

"Would you...?" he trailed off. She just sighed and took the towel from him again. Then she took the simmering water off of the stove and added it to cold water. Then she poured in a small amount of the distilled liquid soap and handed Legolas a rough cloth and waited for him to get started. He merely shook his head ruefully and immersed his lean hands into the hot water and proceeded to wash the bowls. He absently hummed the tune to the Narmarie as he worked, and at first Lasselanta was just waiting for dishes to dry, but then she noticed what it was he was humming.

"That song," she said curiously. "I've heard it before, but I only remember the first part. What is it called?"

Legolas looked surprised, "It is the Namarië."

"How does the rest of it go?"

He looked slightly puzzled that she would not remember, but sang anyway,

"Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen,
yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!
Yéni ve lintë yuldar avánier
mi oromardi lissë-miruvóreva
Andúnë pella, Vardo tellumar
nu luini yassen tintilar i eleni
ómaryo airetári-lírinen.

Sí man i yulma nin enquantuva?

An sí Tintallë Varda Oiolossëo
ve fanyar máryat Elentári ortanë
ar ilyë tier undulávë lumbulë
ar sindanóriello caita mornië
i falmalinnar imbë met,
ar hísië untúpa Calaciryo míri oialë.
Sí vanwa ná, Rómello vanwa, Valimar!
Namárië! Nai hiruvalyë Valimar!
Nai elyë hiruva! Namárië!"

He had a clear baritone voice and Lasselanta found herself haunted by the sad tale of the rift between Valimar and Middle Earth. She was so immersed in the beauty of the long-forgotten song that she forgot about the dishes, and Legolas had finished both the dishes and the song, while they piled up in the rinse basin, un-dried. He shot her a bemused glance and gestured toward the dishes, which she hastily began to dry. He gave a low chuckle and she looked at him indignantly. Then her face softened, and she said, "My mother used to sing me that song, but I only remembered the first two lines because they contained the origins of my name. Ai! laurië lantar lassi súrinen, yéni únótimë ve rámar aldaron!" she sang softly, remembering.

Legolas looked at her in shock, "Your voice, I have heard it before!" Lasselanta looked confused. "Last night," he continued, "When the stars rose."

"You heard that?" Lasselanta was incredulous. "How could my voice carry that far?"

Legolas smiled, "You were upwind from us and I am an elf. Do you need any other explanation?" Lasselanta just shook her head, smiled, and finished drying the last dish. She stacked them all up, and was about to put them away, when Legolas once again took them off her hands and silently started to do it for her, only to have her take them back again.

"Absolutely not," she chastized. "That shoulder has not even yet begun to heal, no matter that you are an elf." She put the dishes all in their proper spots. "Besides, you need rest." Legolas tried to protest, but she held up her hand to silence him. "Come," she beckoned. "You need sleep to heal."

"What about Gimli?" Legolas queried amusedly, gesturing toward the still snoring dwarf."

"I will take care of Gimli," she replied. "Now get yourself to bed, Master Elf," and she herded him toward her own bedroom. He sighed and allowed himself to be herded and was amazed at the room she opened to him.

The walls were smoother than the hall and the other rooms and this floor was laid with green soapstone tiles instead of bare stone. Most marvelous of all was a skylight. It was a huge chunk of rock crystal set into the ceiling and veined with hairline fractures and other impurities that refracted the light into the room. Legolas could not see the sky, but he basked in the light.

Lasselanta noted this and said, "So I supposed you'd rather not sleep here?" and gestured toward an alcove bed with the cupboard doors open. It was a cozy nest, but got pitch black when you closed the doors, and while Lasselanta found it warm and comforting, she was sure that the blond elf would feel trapped inside. Legolas looked at the alcove and nearly blanched at the thing.

"If you don't mind..." he trailed off and looked up longingly at the skylight. Lasselanta just chuckled and hauled the feather tick out of her bed. "Oh! You don't have to - I can sleep on the ground..." he protested.

"Nonsense!" Lasselanta interrupted firmly. "I'm not sleeping in this room anyway," and with that, she dumped the feather bed on the floor and began arranging it into a comfy nest. She was busily fluffing a pillow when a pair of lean hands came into her line of vision and gently took the pillow away.

"Lasselanta," he quietly admonished with a small smile, "I will be fine on my own." She straightened and looked him straight in the eye.

Certain he was telling the truth, she nodded once and said, "If you need anything, I'll be in my workshop. It's just down the hall, the green door on the right." Legolas just looked at her silently, then put his hand over his heart and made a small bow. After a moment of awkward silence, Lasselanta left.