Lenaith.

An elf.

Lunian's mother was an elf.

She was half elven.

Her mother had been raped.

That's how she was conceived.

Why her mother died.

Why the elf Elrohir loved so much died.

She was an orphan, taken in by the elves who would have been her grandfather, her uncle and her father, none of whom were truly related.

Legolas closed his eyes, sighing softly, trying to get the explosion of thoughts clear in his head. This explained a few things.

It also gave him new insight into Lunian, and hope for the future.

But first, he simply couldn't stand it anymore.

Getting up quietly, no longer aware of Elrohir sitting across from him, he walked down the halls until he came to her room. Testing the handle, he found it was still locked, so he went outside and found a tree close enough to work. He climbed quickly up and jumped onto the balcony, walking easily through the open doors.

Lunian was lying in bed, still awake, but her back was to him, watching the door. "Hope you don't mind, but I let myself in."

She jumped and twisted around, her hair spread over the pillow until she sat up. "What are you doing?" she asked in a soft voice, pulling the covers around her shoulders even though she was still dressed for the day.

"I had to see you," he murmured, crossing to her side. Without speaking he sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms, hugging her stiff form to him. "Elrohir told me about your mother," he finally murmured, kissing her temple.

She got even stiffer, though he would have sworn it wasn't possible. "Did he?" she asked softly, her tone cold.

"Sure did," he agreed, holding her tighter. "I'm sorry, my love."

She surged away from him, getting up from the bed. "Don't call me that!" she snapped, pacing at the foot of the bed as he made himself comfortable, the pillows propping him up enough he could see her but still be comfortable.

"Why not? It's what you are."

"I can't be. I won't be. I refuse!"

"Sorry, but you can't refuse."

"Why not?" she asked crossly, stopping to glare at him for a moment.

He chuckled softly. "It doesn't work that way."

She threw up her hands and began pacing again. "You have to stop it."

"I thought we had already gotten past that. No one can stop it."

"Someone should have."

He sighed softly and sat upright. "Why?"

"Because this could kill you!"

"Could," he agreed.

"Doesn't that scare you?" she asked, stopping again.

"No."

"Why not? I've had all my life to get used to the idea that one day I will simply no longer exist, and I can't come to grips with it. I know it will happen, and I accept it, but the idea of no longer existing… How can you accept it so quickly?"

He sighed softly. "Lunian, in the ways of elves I am young. In the ways of men, I am ancient beyond reckoning. I have seen generations of humans pass by as so many leaves falling in the autumn. I have lived long enough to know the price of love is one I am willing to pay. For me, there is nothing else to consider."

She let out a noise of frustration and began pacing again. "And when I die, what then?"

"Then I shall either die beside you or hold to the hope that your mother's blood is enough for you to be reborn."

When he answered without hesitation she looked at him, swallowing at the light in his eyes before she looked at the floor. "What do you want with me? Why not someone who can live beside you for the rest of time?"

"All I want from you is what you're comfortable with giving. If friendship is all you desire, then I shall be content with that. Just don't cut me out again."

She sat on the bed, tracing a pattern of swirls on the cover for a long while. "I don't think I could stand to," she admitted at last, before crawling up beside him with a sigh. She kissed his cheek and laid against him, her head on his shoulder, her hand over his heart as if she were a small child who had had a bad dream and sought reassurance the world was really not as bad as she had imagined. She didn't stir as he kissed her forehead, and didn't protest when he settled his arm around her waist or covered her hand with his, letting him make lazy arches on the back of her hand with his thumb.

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

Well, here's the next chapter… and it wasn't the flu, which means I'm going to be sick until some doctor actually decides to do something to put me out of my misery… In the meantime, the conscious hours are mostly taken up with school since I'm currently four days behind… so chapters may not be coming as quickly unless a miracle happens and I can breathe without keeling over in pain.

Sigh.

; )    Enjoy the chapter, and to all my readers: May your week be better than mine. I wouldn't wish mine on the harshest flamer the net has ever seen. Well, maybe. ; )