Legolas watched Lunian walk away until the walls of the small hallway no longer shifted in the flickering torch light with her movements. Then he turned his eyes back to the hall in time to see Arwen watching him with a slightly sad and very sympathetic look. He would have frowned, as if he didn't know what she was meaning by that look, but he knew too well, and deemed it not worth the effort to deny it.

The man who had watched them from the archway to the garden was lounged in the hall. Aragorn knew him, and Arwen kept an eye on him, which made Legolas more wary of him than the way he had been watching Lunian had.

The man had looked at her like he had already decided she was his, and he liked what he saw. While Legolas couldn't blame him for liking her, the possessive gleam in the man's dull eyes left him chilled. Though Lunian hadn't seemed aware of the man as he surveyed her, Legolas had finally reached the limit of his tolerance. He stood up, standing a short ways from her, but still effectively blocking the man's gaze.

A shiver raced over his skin and down his arms before sending a shock down his spine, drawing him a few inches taller as the man spoke to Elrond.

The elf lord glanced over at him, the sorrow in his eyes making it all too clear. This man was the one he planned on marrying to Lunian. Even if she were not so against it herself, he would have opposed it on the basis of the man's eyes. She had been raised among the elves, had the spark that could never be quenched nor even endured for a long time by those who had it not. To put her in such a place with a man such as that…

Anger, dark and cold took over his senses, building that fire in his own eyes. He would not allow it. She would smother here, would die before her time. As short as her life would be, why couldn't she live it among the elves? There would remain a place for the elves even after her life had ended. There was no cause to separate her from all she knew—and what she knew was elves.

Elrond shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, and suddenly excused himself rather abruptly to the man. Walking quickly across the room, he drew the elven prince to the side. "Calm yourself. I would never force her."

"That is good." Legolas gave him a deadly stare. "Because it would kill her to endure such a punishment."

"Punishment?" Elrond asked in surprise, a brow arching. "Calmacil is a good man, from the line of kings."

"A man, at least," Legolas agreed. "But his eyes are cold and dull. He wishes a breeding mare, not a love. He looks at her as one who picks out the animal to be butchered for his feast. It would not be right, to put one such as Lunian with such a man. What she is would be destroyed." Which would be a terrible thing, indeed.

Elrond held up a hand for silence. "She shall choose, Legolas."

Legolas ignored the gesture. "She does not like it here already, Elrond. She panics at the very thought of being left here." To die. Perhaps she was not an elf, but even humans would die if they lost the will to do so.

"So I saw," Elrond admitted wearily. "But she alone shall choose, Legolas. Whatever she wills will be done."

"There are several who would see that ends truly."

Elrond nodded. "Indeed there are. Arwen, Aragorn, Elladan, myself, you, and Elrohir, of course."

Legolas frowned slightly at the 'of course' part, but said nothing as Arwen motioned for a servant to show him to a room. He walked behind her, noticed how nervous she seemed. Surely by now she would have gotten used to elves.

"Stop scowling," a cheerful voice murmured from an open door along the corridor they were walking in. "You'll frighten the poor woman."

"It seems I have done that already, though I don't know why." Knowing a language unknown to the majority of mortals became useful, from time to time.

Lunian looked at the woman and asked her quickly where she was headed, before dismissing her. She walked with him down a few doors, and leaned against the door frame of the cold room when he entered. "Elladan is next door, Elrohir beside him. Elrond will be across the way." And her room was across from Elrohir's. "Don't frighten the poor people, Egola. They can't help it."

"Help what?"

"Being in awe of you, and all the elf lords here. Arwen is more relaxed, more used to showing emotions. You seem cold to them, distant."

"And what of you?"

"They see my ears and forget I arrived with elves, as long as I am not in the company of those elves."

"Aragorn arrived with elves."

"And they love him. They think they understand humans, in every way they could possibly come. But they know little of elves, and so are uncomfortable…" she trailed off and smiled. It was both rueful and somewhat shaky. "I'm doing the same to them, aren't I?"

He didn't really want to agree with her, because he could see she might force herself to endure it just to be fair. "You see what you do through the eyes of a human who knows the elves. You are still human, but what you know will always separate you from them." When her eyes lowered he sighed, setting his quiver beside his bow before moving to stand in front of her. He hooked a knuckle under her chin, lifting her head so he could see her eyes. He winced. "I did not mean that."

"Yes you did, and you're right."

He was the one to look away. "I didn't mean to make you feel so alone. You aren't."

"Aren't I? Estel is the only one like me in Middle-Earth." She laughed softly. "And he married an elf, but lives with humans. One man before me is hardly precedence enough for me to know what I must do."

"You must do what your heart tells you to."

She frowned. "My heart? It grows ill thinking of remaining here."

"Then don't."

She lifted dark green eyes to his, the gold not visible in the sunless room. "Is it that easy, Egola?"

"Many have said you will not be forced into anything you do not wish. Arwen, Elrohir, Elrond. If you do not believe them, will you believe me?"

She frowned at him as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. "Believe you in what?"

"Believe me that I will not allow them to force you to do something you do not wish," he murmured after a long pause, trying not to say too much.

She smiled faintly, lowering her eyes once more. They fastened on the brooch that helped keep his cloak fastened. She reached up and removed it, before circling him to remove the cloak. She folded it automatically, obviously having performed the task countless times before. She laid it upon the table his bow was on, and then looked up at him. She smiled again and lifted her hand to his cheek. "I believe you, my friend," she murmured, before tilting her head up, kissing his cheek.

She smiled once more and ducked out of the room.

Legolas closed his eyes and leaned against the wall, letting out a tense sigh. If this keeps up, she could very well be the death of me.

He let out a humorless laugh and ran a hand through his hair, not sure if he was joking or not.