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Lunian stared numbly at the branches before her, hearing her name being called, feeling their worry increase as she didn't return their calls.

"Legolas! Anything?"

"Nothing," Legolas answered, his voice heavy. "Where would she go, Elrohir?"

"Assuming she went—" Elladan's words were suddenly cut off, a pained breath hissing out of him, a familiar sound, considering the number of times she'd seen and heard the impact of Elrohir's elbow or hand with Elladan's gut.

"Maybe in her tree. That's where she always used to go when upset or needing time alone. Though recently she was taking to the glen more."

"I've already checked there," Legolas muttered.

"So have I. Repeatedly." Elrohir sounded so old, so tired. If she wasn't so numb she would have felt sorry for him, and would have climbed out of the tree just to please him. But she was numb, just numb enough not to feel pain, though she was aware of the world around her enough to know she was cold. So cold, icy, inside and out.

Footsteps below her tree indicated they were close, and very agitated. How else would an elf make so much noise? "This is it, but I can't see anything."

"Allow me," Legolas's mutter reached her, and she heard some of the lower branches being shaken. She had wrapped his cloak around her almost at once when she climbed up here to begin with, so he wouldn't be able to see her unless he climbed right up beside her. Elrohir and Elladan had never climbed above the first several limbs, so she figured she was safe.

But as she began feeling his worry, along with seeing as the higher branches moved slightly, she knew she had underestimated the effect of putting a wood-elf in such a situation. It mattered little that he was only half wood-elf, because half or whole, wood-elf he was, and he knew how to climb trees. Too soon she caught a glimmer of gold, then of the sky as he looked up, his eyes locked in hers for a long moment. "She's here!" he called down.

"Praise to the Valar," Elrohir murmured softly. "Is she conscious, at least?"

"Yes," he called back, frowning slightly at the question.

Lunian had never thought about that. Elrohir or Elladan had somehow gotten her out of the tree while she was blacked out before. Probably Elrohir.

"Lunian?" the elf in question called. "Are you all right?"

No. She wasn't. She said nothing, turning her head away from where Legolas was still working his way up to a comfortable place beside her. "She looks fine, Elrohir. We'll be down by dinner."

She could hear the frown in his voice. "All right. If you're sure…"

"Yeah," Legolas called, waiting silently until, apparently satisfied, they had been left alone by the twins. "Lunian?" he asked then, focusing all his attention on her.

She didn't look at him, didn't answer, just let her mind sink slowly into the darkness that had been threatening to overcome her before.

She was jerked rudely back to reality when strong hands fastened over her arms and shook her. She opened her mouth to protest, and he stopped, but left his hands on her. "Do you have any idea what we've been through looking for you?" he growled, his eyes narrowed. "We were thinking the worst—that you were going to be hurt and we wouldn't find you in time to help you." He moved in closer, his eyes leaving a burning trail over her face. "And you were up here watching the day pass you by?" he hissed the last, nearly shaking in his anger.

She sighed softly and leaned her head back against the trunk of her tree. "Leave me alone, Legolas."

"I cannot. I want to know what possessed you to do such a thing. Elrohir was nearly out of his mind with worry when you didn't show up for dinner last night. When you still hadn't appeared by morning, he was absolutely frantic." His hands tightened on her arms, his eyes telling her in no uncertain terms he had been right there with Elrohir emotionally. "Why did you do that to him?" To them both.

She closed her eyes against the burning light in his, unable to believe, even less to deal with it. "I wanted to be alone."

"You could have come in for meals, to sleep. How long have you been up here?" Concern was battling with his anger, enough that he realized how tightly he was holding her arms, releasing his hold slightly, frowning as he noticed how cold she was.

"Since you left me in the gardens."

He closed his eyes and shivered softly, moving even closer so his warmth brushed against her chilled side. "Is it my fault you're up here?" he asked softly, his voice and eyes pained.

"No." Not really. Not entirely. It was her fault for forgetting what such looked like, for not recognizing it soon enough to stop it. "You leave in a few days. You should prepare."

"I'm not getting out of this tree until you do," he insisted stubbornly.

"Your father will be angry. Maybe you should surprise him by showing up early. If you left now, you could be back for the last of the fall festival." She was grasping at straws, needing to send him away where she wouldn't have to look at those eyes. Where he could regain his senses and admit that he was wrong, that he couldn't possibly be feeling what his eyes said he was.

"You want me to leave?" he asked softly. When she nodded, he sat back slightly, his breath leaving him in a slow hiss. "Why?"

"It is time for you to leave. What do a few days matter?"

"A few days can make a big different, Milady."

His slightly husky 'milady' sent shivers over her skin, but she wouldn't be so easily deterred. "Yes they can," she agreed absently instead. "Shouldn't you spend them at home?"

When she dared to look up at him, she almost cringed at the woeful weariness in his eyes. Knowing she was the cause made it so much worse than seeing and feeling it. But she couldn't give in. Thank goodness he couldn't feel her emotions the way she could feel his.

He swallowed, his head bowed, his shoulders slumped slightly. Defeat. Sorrow, not from him this time, filled her, but she managed to remain firm. "I stay here until you get down," he finally said, his voice hollow, the sweet, soft edge suddenly gone from it. The edge that reminded her of the soft murmur of water running joyfully over stones. The edge that could have been compared to bells and laughter, but for the depth of tone.

"Very well," she declared, getting down as quickly as her stiff muscles would allow. She fell into a graceless heap when she got to the ground, but managed to regain her feet as he stepped down beside her. Without looking at him she walked quickly to the hall, planning a good long soak to ease her muscles.

One that would hopefully wash away the memory of that lifeless tone. That would wash away some of her guilt at hurting him while keeping her firm in the belief that it was the only way to help him. And which would hopefully wash away the tears already building behind her eyes, clawing for release.

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All right… for those of you who wanted something soft and fluffy… well, too darned bad. I already had this written before I got any reviews, so you'll have to wait a while longer. It'll come, no worries there.