Well, Maybe Tonight, here's your definite answer as to who caught her.

I suppose this counts as yet another short chapter. I am capable of long chapters, honest! Just not with this story, apparently.

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Legolas sipped his wine and listened with half an ear to the music being played in the adjoining room. Soon his father entered, having taken his leave of the party as well.

"How is our young guest?"

"Guest?" he asked sharply, lifting his eyes to his father's.

Thranduil held up his hand in a silent bid for peace. "What would you like me to call her? Our new live in mortal?"

Legolas frowned slightly and took another drink. "Since she first woke she has been too dizzy to get out of bed. It will pass once she gets enough food and drink in her system once more. She did not stop often enough on the journey here, in her haste and worry." She had made herself ill. Anger filled him for an instant, directed towards a few elves who had left for the undying lands not long before.

"Will she manage to join us for dinner tomorrow?"

"I believe so," he agreed, finishing his glass and shoving down the anger. He rose and bowed his head to his father, before moving to check on Lunian. He knocked softly on the door, and then opened it when no answer came. She was asleep again, or still, he wasn't sure. She had been in bed since he'd caught her as she fell to the floor in his room.

She stirred as he sat in the chair beside the bed, slowly opening her eyes. "Legolas," she murmured.

"Correct, my love."

She smiled and slowly eased herself into a sitting position, closing her eyes and lifting a hand to her head as her smile vanished.

"Still dizzy?"

She nodded and winced.

"Here," he gave her some water to drink, after sprinkling a power into it and swirling it in the goblet until the particles had dissolved. It let off a soft odor, but had no flavor. She drank obediently, and then piled the pillows behind her so she could sit back comfortably. "Better?"

"Yes, thank you." She watched him for a while, then looked around her. "Where am I?"

"The room that is yours as long as you want it."

She smiled faintly again. "I like the paintings."

He smiled at her and moved so he was sitting on the bed, able to take her hand. "I thought you would." He kissed her hand and twined their fingers together. He looked around at the murals, the rich colors. "This room was prepared at the same time mine was, when Mother was with child. If she had born a daughter, this would have been her room."

"So I'm in your non-existent sister's room?"

"No, you're in your room."

She smiled at him and then looked down at her free hand, at the worry stone she rubbed there. "What did the letter say?"

"Elrohir wrote that he thought you would prefer it here, that they all loved you but could not bear to part with you in such circumstances, and that if he had the choice, he would have stayed for you."

"That's just silly. He had to leave when Elrond left, or he would have had to remain here." She shook her head. "Sometimes, I think he takes the vow he made to her a little too seriously."

"He is your father, Lunian. In all ways except blood."

"Blood is enough, sometimes," she reminded him softly, her eyes shadowed as she obviously let her thoughts turn to her death.

"Sometimes," he agreed. "But not where the heart is concerned, no matter what kind of love it chooses." He sighed softly when her eyes fell away from his, obviously not agreeing with him. How long did he have to convince her? The eighty years she had mentioned? He would guess longer, if she stayed away from orcs and the giant spiders in the forest. Aragorn was past ninety already, and showed the potential to live for a long while yet. Well, he amended silently, long in the ways of men.

Lunian was half-elven, so she would get even longer to live, would she not? And even if not, having her nearby was going to be very enjoyable. As much as he had always enjoyed Rivendell, Mirkwood was his home, at least until he could no longer deny the desire to cross. She yawned and let her weight carry her deeper into the pillows. With a soft smile he kissed her forehead before leaving her be.

His feet took him to the small garden which was in a hidden exit from the palace. Hidden, because it was not worth the door on it as a way to get out and away from the palace. The garden was small, secluded from the rest of the world on all sides by sheer rock. Five strides had him across the length of it, only three would leave off the width. But it was a decent little garden, easy to get to, unknown to many so there were not constantly voices he tried to avoid. He settled himself down on the bench at the 'far' end of the garden and considered what was happening.

On the one hand, he was glad Lunian was here. After all, it meant he could spend time with her nearly every day. No longer would he miss her so much his heart would threaten to slow to an unrecognizable whisper. No longer would his father have to send him away to become well again.

Yet, at the same time, it would be a torture, having her so close all the time. He wanted to reach out, enfold her in his arms and never let go. He wanted to make her happy and keep her safe, but she had done nothing to indicate she would tolerate anything more than what liberties he had already taken. Not that anyone, even Elrohir, could get upset or cautious about those. He would slide his arms around her waist, pull her into hugs once in a while, kiss her cheek, forehead or temple.

He wanted her closer. Closer and closer until there was no longer a Legolas and a Lunian. Closer until there were no more thoughts about mortality or immortality. Until she stopped trying to keep him at arm's length for his own good.

Keep him at arm's length she did, however. While he didn't know how much time he had with her, he knew pushing the matter would only push her away. Unless she came to him, they were at an impasse.