Lunian met Arwen before dinner, tilting her head towards Estel in question. Arwen shook her head before sending her husband out to see to their guests. "Tomorrow? Or tonight?"

"I'll tell him tonight after we retire," Arwen promised.

Lunian smiled softly and looked out over the section of the village that could be seen from the window. A few children played in the street, and Lunian found herself watching them in utter fascination.

"What's so interesting?"

"The children," Lunian murmured. "I've never seen any before." Elves didn't have children that often. She had been the only one born in Rivendell for several hundreds of years. And she wasn't an elf.

"Have you ever considered having any?"

Lunian glanced at her friend. "Of course not. I haven't even considered finding a mate. That's one step you can't skip in getting around to children." She looked up, frowning slightly. "Shouldn't the stars be visible by now?"

"They will be soon, don't worry," Arwen's voice was soothing, the touch on her shoulder calming. "Why don't you pull your hair back from your face?" She pulled a small section from each temple and braided it back to her crown, then joined the two braids into one. Then Arwen flipped it in front of Lunian's eyes, and brushed her hair until it caught the light. She replaced the braid, letting it keep Lunian's hair smooth and in place. "There."

"There indeed," Lunian grinned. "My turn," she murmured, sitting Arwen in a chair. She pulled small sections from Arwen's crown, braiding them before letting them fall over her shoulders as Arwen used to wear it. "Is the meal ready?" she asked softly when a knock came on the door.

"And awaiting our Ladies," Estel agreed. "My queen?" he asked, holding his arm for her to take. "My sister?" he added, hooking his other arm for Lunian, who laughed and put her hand in the crook of his elbow.

Elrohir smiled when he saw the trio coming. "If you don't mind, Aragorn, I shall relieve you of Lunian. It wouldn't do for you to deprive Elrond of her as well."

Aragorn paled slightly but smiled before giving her hand to Elrohir so he could escort her in to the meal. Everyone rose as their King and Queen entered, and remained standing until they were seated.

The meal was pleasant enough, mostly because there were few people there she didn't know. Only three men, in fact. One was a head guard, the other a ranger she had once met when he accompanied Estel to Rivendell. The third was watching her whenever she looked up. It was an odd look, one that she had never encountered before.

While that was interesting, it was also disconcerting and a bit scary. After a while she kept her eyes to the other end of the table, engaging Elrohir or Elladan in conversation rather than let her mind be idle enough to glance back at the man.

"Ignoring me?" a familiar voice asked softly, the words angled to her ear alone.

She looked at him with an instant smile, but her eyes fell on the man as she turned to look at Legolas. A shiver raced over her skin and she turned her head again to those on her other side. "Not at all, Legolas."

"What is it?" he asked, his voice suddenly cold. She could see him glance around the room from the corner of her eye, and his head turned towards her before he shifted in his chair, leaning partially over the table. "Look at me."

She closed her eyes in relief when she found his new position blocked her view of the man unless she chose to look around Legolas. She smiled as she opened her eyes, about to thank him, but the words died in her throat at the blue fire in the eyes watching her.

"What was he doing?" he asked, his voice low, the tone icy and deadly.

She blinked, trying to reconcile that voice with the elf she knew, but couldn't. This wasn't her friend Egola. This was the elf of the fellowship, the Legolas who had killed countless numbers among the enemy's rank. "Egola, please," she whispered.

As she watched, some of the stoniness left his features, a little of the fire leaving his eyes. Anger still radiated strongly from him, but it was manageable now, and no longer drowned out her own feelings. "What was he doing?" he repeated.

She decided it wasn't wise to mess with him in such a mood, opting instead to simply tell him. "Watching me. With the oddest expression I have ever seen. It was like… like…" she still couldn't quite fathom it, much less articulate it.

"Possession? Determination? Cold certainty?"

She shivered at his voice, at his words, and the realization he was right. That was it exactly. "But why…." She trailed off, felt a chill race over her body as her blood turned to ice and her mind numbed. "Surely that is not the one Elrond thought would be a good match," she finally managed to protest.

Legolas's hand rested over hers, and he drew in a deep breath, but he said nothing.

Silence was often very eloquent, especially when backed by elven eyes. She shivered and reached for her worry stone, rolling it quickly through her fingers. "No. No. I cannot—"

"Shh," Legolas murmured, catching both of her hands in his. The grip he held her in prevented further movement of her stone. "You need not," he promised.

Looking into his eyes, she saw again the look of certainty in his eyes when he told her she would not be forced, as he pledged he would not allow her to be forced. She relaxed under their spell and smiled. "Good," she agreed, letting out a breath. "That is very good," she smiled again. "I was not ignoring you," she murmured, going back to their original conversation.

"I thought otherwise for a while, but I understand you would prefer to look upon your friends than on him."

Elrohir turned to them suddenly. "Why are you two speaking in that tongue? It is rude to prevent some at the table from understanding, much less joining in," he frowned at Lunian, since he knew she had been taught better manners. Though a prince and often a diplomat for his father, Legolas was, above all else, a Mirkwood elf. That title would explain if not excuse a multitude of impolite tendencies.

"The man at the end was staring at me in a very…" she shivered and skirted over the most eloquent descriptives, "poor manner. Legolas believes he is the one Elrond wished me to marry. Is it any wonder we switched our tongues as we discussed it?"

Elrohir looked at the person in question when Legolas leaned back to a more normal position in his seat. He shook his head. "Why would Elrond choose him?" he asked, disdain in the tone even as he looked at the window behind the other side of the table so the subject of their discussion would hopefully not notice. After all, humans tend to be so dense about the ways in which elves showed their emotions. "Think no more of it, dear little one. His eyes are too dull to worry over, or even to consider."

She frowned. "Then why would Elrond have chosen him in the first place?"

She caught the look the two elf lords shared over her head, but couldn't figure out what it meant, other than they were hiding something from her. She sighed and rolled her eyes, trying not to get angry. When she failed she got up to leave. "If you two do not wish my company any longer, I shall simply retire for the night."

"Would you allow me to escort you back?" Legolas asked at once, rising to his feet beside her before she could respond, irritating her more than their previous actions.

"I will not get lost, Prince Legolas."

He reared back as if she had slapped him, his face paling, and Elrohir was on his feet before Legolas could recover or say anything. "I will make sure of it," he insisted, his eyes hard suddenly.

Lunian closed her eyes and sighed softly, then threw up her hands and walked quickly away from the table, ignoring the faint sounds of Elrohir following her. When she made it at last to her room, she opened the door quickly and whirled on him when he followed her into the room. "What was that about?"

"We were just being polite."

"Polite? Since when do I need someone to walk me to my room?"

"You have not been here long, Lunian, and you—"

"You've not been here much longer!" she protested. She paced over to the wall and threw the shutters open so she could see the night sky. The cool breeze and the soft dance of lights above helped cool her temper. "Why did you really wish to see me back?" she asked levelly.

Elrohir sighed softly and moved to stand behind her. "Because we no more like the look of him than did you. Rather than be sorry we had not escorted you, we risked incurring your wrath. Legolas, not having the same history with you as do I, was hit with most of it. You hurt him, little one."

She closed her eyes, but ripped them forcibly open when all she saw was the color and light drain from Legolas's face again and again. She sighed softly. "I will make it right," she promised just before Elrohir left with a soft, automatic good night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Thanks to everyone who reviewed! Just so you know, when schools out I won't have a chance to update, and any updates I do manage, by some device I haven't figured out yet, will not be able to respond to any questions or comments raised by reviewers. Which reminds me… I remember reading Elrond and his brother had a choice between being immortal or mortal. Each chose differently, and Elrond's children were given the chance to go into the Undying Lands as long as they went with him. I don't know how it works for any other elves. So I'll just say this. Lunian is mortal.