Lunian sighed once more and placed her hand over the brooch Galadriel had given her for the elven cloak she now wore. Now she knew the cloak and brooch Legolas wore were not the work of Mirkwood after all. It was hard to think of them, Estel and Legolas, going on such a dangerous and dark quest.

Not that she didn't think they could do it. On the contrary, she had the feeling the two of them together could do pretty much anything they wanted to do if they put their minds to it. And it would be done well—come hell or high water.

But to see them now, Estel the King of Gondor, married to Arwen, and Legolas… An elf, who would always be an elf. Now that made sense, she scoffed at her own thoughts. Of course he would always be an elf!

It wasn't as simple as that, though. It was the timelessness within the eyes and faces of all elves that made it hard to explain. She had met Frodo and the other hobbits on their return, and had trouble believing they weren't exaggerating what had happened to them, for they all seemed quite merry and robust, with the exception of Frodo. Frodo looked as she would have expected them all to look after such a quest. Haunted, old, perhaps even broken. His world would never be the same, for he had faced evil so great a slight shade of it had worn off, covering his vision, keeping him from ever seeing the light of day as brightly as it had shown before.

But he was the only one thus touched. Sure, Estel looked older, but it had been a while since she had last seen him, during which he had the trial of taking the throne and defying Elrond's wishes for Arwen by marrying her and making her his queen. Lunian would have been more surprised if he had stopped aging. And while there was a hint of sadness about him most of the time, it resided in Arwen's decision, and the knowledge that the one he loved would one day die because of that love.

How horrible that must be, she thought, shuddering. How perfectly horrible to know that something so powerful, with the potential to be the greatest thing in life, could also be the cause of its extinguishment.

Legolas… If she concentrated really hard on her foggy memories of that time when he had visited Rivendell when she was a small child, she could recall him looking up at the stars, or getting lost in his thoughts.

She had heard his mother had already passed to the grey havens. She guessed that was the cause for his past distance, for even before the fellowship had left Rivendell she had heard Elrohir and Elladan discussing their old friend, and the way he still sought peace. That would have been long before he had heard the cry of the gulls.

His eyes flashed before her vision, so bright, yet too often haunted with the desire for something he wasn't ready to give in to just yet. She had seen it take many of the elves in Rivendell through the last years, the desire to pass to the havens, but he hid it better than most.

Every passing seemed to seep deeper and deeper into her heart, cutting away at what made the world pleasurable in her mind. Without the elves, what was the point?

Men were so cruel, crude and selfish.

Estel excluded, of course.

Just then she became aware they were stopping for lunch. She blinked absently and tucked her worry stone into the little pocket she had sewn into the dress she was wearing before sliding to the ground. After stretching her back and arms, she joined the others where they sat and talked.

Just before they would have packed up, Estel glanced at her. "Care to see the Argonath?"

"Are we close enough?" she asked, looking around as if expecting them to peek out at her.

Estel grinned. "We are indeed. Come along, little sister." With long, ground-eating strides he led her to the river, letting her look up. "The kings of old."

His kin. She watched as he seemed to grow taller, looking with obvious pride at the stone monuments.

They were somewhat impressive, she had to admit. But…. They were so obvious. You could see them from such a long ways off, couldn't deny what they were, nor that they had been made for a purpose. To prove the might and power of the kings.

Perhaps she was just too used to the elves, their buildings being an extension of the land around them, no need for such displays of power or dominance over the land. That wasn't their way.

Frowning slightly at the large statues, she looked back to Estel. Or Aragorn, rather, for he was the King in that moment. Reaching up, she messed up his hair, scattering it over his face. She turned back to where several of the others were watching with veiled amusement. "Come on, Estel."

She saw the amusement increase when Estel turned to face them, running a hand through his hair to tame the suddenly wild locks, but ignored them, moving instead to her horse. She rubbed the velvety nose and then behind the ears. "Ready to go, my friend?"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's Note: I know the chapters are short, but I'm having a terrible time making them any longer. If you really, really hate short chapters, despite faster updates, check out Listen, Children. It's almost done, after all…. ; }