A soft growl erupted Legolas's throat as he watched Calmacil hover around Lunian even as she tried to detach herself from the man to shut the door to her room. Finally Legolas moved forward, intending to bodily remove the man if need be.

Seeing him coming, Calmacil backed off, bowing gallantly before letting Lunian close the door. The man turned to Legolas as he considered letting him off the hook and walking right on by. "Good evening, my lord," the man said cordially enough, but with a cold, mocking note in his voice he probably didn't know Legolas could hear.

Legolas found himself at a loss for words.

"My lord? Are you well?" This time the mockery was loud and clear, at least to Legolas's sensitive ears.

He toyed with the idea of not responding, not giving the man the pleasure of it, but since the taunt had to do with Lunian, he was not entirely rational, and even knowing his irrationality he preferred making sure she would be left alone over avoiding a conflict with the man. "I am, yes," he stated at last.

Calmacil nodded, smiling slightly at the ease with which he had kept the elf in his place. It was a sly, sinister little smile, but the elf wouldn't know that, surely. He lowered his eyes in a false show of respect and began passing by, but it appeared the elf was not quite finished.

"If you force yourself on her in any way, Calmacil, you will know death by an elven blade."

Calmacil blinked as the elf stared into him for an instant before walking away so silently Calmacil was sure a ghost would have made more noise. A shudder traced down his spine and the hairs on his neck stood up as he recalled the ice, the anger and rage in that final look. It had been not a threat, but a promise.

Suddenly very uneasy about what he thought he knew about elves, he began walking, trying to clear his thoughts. Elves were passive beings. Full of light, song and laughter. They had grand parties were the drinking and music lasted until the next day, if it ended at all.

Other things he knew began fluttering through his mind, darkening and deepening the picture. They had hundreds of years as children, thousands as adults. Warriors trained for millennia before they were given that title. Every elf currently in Gondor was a warrior, Arwen excluded, and he had heard it said she had been trained for a lifetime of humans so she could defend herself and her children if needed. Their songs were also of battles, war, pain, despair, grief. He had heard Aragorn singing one when they were younger. He had translated it, stunning the rangers with the emotions wrought with the words and music by the creatures they thought knew little of pain, since they were immortal.

Though always seeming controlled, removed, he had just glimpsed in the prince's eyes a hint of the true being behind the mask. Controlled? Frighteningly so. The prince was the embodiment of power and strength. Every movement of the body was planned by the mind, no energy wasted in useless or graceless movement. The rage was controlled, harnessed, but Calmacil had been shown how easily the controls could be switched off, capable of erupting forth in a strength and energy with a violent vigor he had scoffed at when told of the prince's exploits in the war of the rings. He no longer doubted. The prince was a predator, and had given him one chance to save his own life.

But though it was a somewhat terrifying reality, it didn't matter. She was his.

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

Hey all. I'm finally back! And I'll have more very soon, I promise, but with school, and work—five people fired and no one hired, training and hiring and…AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Anyway, it's hectic. I have a full excuse written in my bio for why it has taken me so long… but I plan to have a new chapter up by Wednesday at the latest.

Sorry it took so long!

Nea