Yes, I'm back at school… is that a good thing?

Oh well, at least I have internet access again.

I know I said I'd have this chapter up by yesterday… but one little tiny snag in that idea… The entire network was down. Every time I tried to get online. So, it's here today.

*Warning* This chapter may be considered rated R… so if you can't handle that, don't read on, and if you can and think I should change the story rating please let me know. I'll change it. It won't bother me a bit to do so.

So, here it goes. Thank you all for your e-mails (and reviews)… I thought I got one e-mail from someone who was having trouble getting past chapter one—I've been trying to locate that e-mail and seem to have deleted instead of moved it, so if that person is no longer having problems, please e-mail me to let me know, and I'll stop trying to find you.

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Lunian was in high spirits as she walked through the gardens, saying her goodbyes to the flowers, glad she wouldn't have to see them again. Except maybe for a short visit such as this one. It was decided! Finalized! She would not marry Calmacil. She was nearly humming under her breath with her excitement, when she saw a lone figure standing still, looking up at the sky. It was in the predawn hour, when the sun was beginning to crowd out the stars above, but they could still be seen if one concentrated.

Or had elven eyes. For elf he was. Bright blue eyes searched the sky for something she couldn't see any longer, if her eyes could have ever found it. She closed her eyes and concentrated on him, letting the feelings she'd picked up on wash over her. She reopened her eyes and looked again, confirming the confusion.

"What do you look for?"

"Peace."

"From what?"

"Life."

She hesitated. "It is not the call of the sea that worries you."

"No."

"Then what?"

He smiled faintly and lowered his gaze to hers. "A puzzle I will gladly spend the rest of my time in Middle-Earth trying to solve, if given the chance."

She frowned faintly, because it sounded like he was asking her permission to do so. "What puzzle?"

He smiled but shook his head, and she knew he wouldn't answer no matter how often she asked or how pleadingly. He was a Mirkwood elf, and they were notoriously stubborn. He had never shown her any different. So she tilted her head back and looked at the sky. "Can you see any of the stars still?"

"A few," he agreed.

"Tell them good morning for me. I'm going to say goodbye to Arwen and the little one."

"You knew the first night, didn't you?"

She smiled at the memory. "Yes."

"How?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I could just feel it."

"I have known a few elves with such a talent, but I've never heard of a human knowing so simply of a pregnancy."

"And how many do you know of? And how many have grown up around elves, being taught by them? It is an uneven standard you hold up, Legolas."

"Forgive me," he murmured softly, looking at her for an instant, his eyes enigmatic. Then he turned his head back to the sky, clearly dismissing her. "I have detained you. For that also, I ask your pardon."

Her lips parted as she stared at him in confusion. "Why do you distance yourself from me?"

"Do you wish me to be close?" he countered, not looking back at her.

It was that that worried her most of all, that he did not allow her even to see his eyes so she would have an idea what was wrong. "You are a dear friend, Egola. I do not understand why you chose to change that now."

"I do not," he said at long last. "I would rather die than have you hurt or distressed. You will always be dear to me."

He was still closed to her, his head tilted just perfectly away so she couldn't see his eyes, couldn't use them for clues as to his thoughts. His face gave nothing away, his pose even less. His voice…. Was full of soft sorrow, pain and grief.

She didn't understand why he was hurting, didn't know what to do to change that. So she did nothing, mostly because Arwen called to her then, asking her to come into the hall. When she got there she was given a hug and a pouch of seeds for the plant she had most enjoyed. Elrohir shook his head and warned her she must keep it from taking over the garden. She promised and went up to her room to gather the last of her things.

With a happy sigh she started to leave, only to find her path blocked by the man who would have been her husband, if given his way.

"You aren't leaving."

"Yes I am," she insisted, moving forward to pass him, but he didn't back away. "If you will excuse me, I'd—"

"I won't excuse you. You're mine and you're staying here."

"No, I'm not. On either count. I belong to no one, and I am certainly not staying here a moment longer than I must." She tried to slip past him, but he caught her arm, his fingers digging cruelly into her flesh. "Let go of me," she hissed, trying to wrench her arm free. Trying and failing.

"Not real fast. I'm not some idiot elf. I know how to change a woman's mind." His other hand came up, took her other arm and pushed her against the wall, pinning her there with his body.

She blinked in shock. Memories flashed in her head. Elrohir, his eyes so sad, so often. The statue of Lenaith in the small stone nook behind the waterfall. The stars above she whispered to when she thought about her mother, wondering what she was like.

She would not suffer the same fate. She twisted against his hands, gaining herself a few inches of freedom from his confining bulk.

"It'll be easier on you if you don't fight," he murmured, his breath warm and moist against her neck.

She shuddered and jerked her knee up. Though she hit him solidly, the effect wasn't what she'd hoped. His hands tightened on her and he slammed her into the wall.

"Be nice," he growled, pressing against her. His hands held her upper arms, but not her lower arms and hands. A flicker of memory provided her with a little bit of more useful memory. He carried a dagger at his waist.

Before she could consider how badly she could hurt him, and in so doing lose her nerve, she grabbed it and struck him, burying the knife deeply into his side. Or so she thought. He yelled out in rage and backhanded her, before going for the knife she still held in her hand.

Stunned that her attempt had done nothing, she nearly froze, moving only at the last instant to the side, getting to her bed. She jumped onto it and ran to the other side, trying to get him away from the door, holding the knife ready in case he came too close.

He ran for her, and though she slashed out at him, he still managed to pin her against the corner, striking her again as the knife fell to the floor with a disparaging clatter. The rough stone walls pressed into her back, and she could almost hear the stone crying out for her to fight, but her strength was failing. She was no match for him.

She heard cloth rip, felt more pain on her arms as she continued to try and fend him off, being able only to slow him. The stone echoed her shrieks, but the heavy wooden door was closed, and even the waiting elven ears wouldn't hear her.

Suddenly, when she was starting to be sure she would have no choice but to endure her mother's torment, her assailant went still, a thickly fluid cough coming from him before blood ran from his mouth and splattered on her bared chest, before he sank to his knees, his eyes wide and glassy as he toppled against her. She shuddered and squirmed out from his weight, and only then saw the silver-handled dagger sticking out of his back.

She ran across the room as soon as she was clear, right into the waiting open arms. Her savior held her tightly, whispering soft elven words of comfort to her as she sobbed in relief.

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A/N: Once again, if anyone thinks I should change the rating, please let me know.