Well, for the most part, you guys seem to like the approximate pace, though I get the feeling some of you are as annoyed with Lunian as I am… and I'm the one who is supposed to be controlling her. Harumph. Here's another chapter… Where I get the feeling she's the one in control.

Individual review responses: (In other words, if you didn't review and it bores you to read about those nice readers who did, skip down to the pretty little page divider.)

MJLuvsPolar: I know exactly what you mean about being addicted… I probably check all those I'm keeping an eye on four or five times a week, even though it seems utterly hopeless, since several haven't updated since August.   Actually, three years was a while before she ever went to Mirkwood, which was a while before the current time… months at least since her arrival, and he visited her for—I would guess—a few years after that one chapter where three years was mentioned. And I whole-heartedly agree! Lunian is rather slow in this… rather as you would expect an immortal to be, in the matters of love… maybe in other circumstances Legolas would be so annoyingly slow.

maybe tonight: Hang in there, I promise she'll get there… eventually.

Isabel DeVore: I know it's short. It always works out to be on the short side for this story. It irritates me too, and I'm the one writing this! I try to make up for it by updating more often, though.

Maren L P: Go back a chapter… or is it two, now? Anyway, she knows she loves him, and not simply as a friend/guardian. It's just a matter of getting  her to admit it to the poor elf.

Orioncat: Are you thinking 'absence makes the heart grow fonder'? Well, it has been working for Legolas for years…

lkk: I didn't really think about it like that, but went back and re-read… and I have to agree with you. Too bad you can't just print out mental images as posters, isn't it?

Shanastay: It's a beautiful suggestion—I could see it… but rather in reverse at first read through, having Legolas doing it… which presents some problems even when I thought of having her do it. I can't see her waking him in such a way when she's so far maintained a barrier of apparent friendship, and I can't see him breaking through his control to cross the boundaries unless/until she gives him a sign she wouldn't be against it, which she hasn't yet. Grrr. If I use it (which, since the image is in my head it will probably come some time before the end), it will be a bit in the future. I seriously think some part of my mind must actually be Lunian, because every time I sit down to write this story, she seems to take over and pull back from going even remotely close to quick or even normal speed. Still… my only redeeming excuse is she was raised by elves, and is half-elven herself… For what it's worth.

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

"Good morning," a soft, familiar voice murmured in her ear even as warmth spread down her back as he pulled her against him with hands at her waist. He kissed her temple before resting his cheek against hers. "Sleep well, my love?" he asked softly.

"Egola," she protested faintly, escaping his embrace before Thranduil could enter the dining hall. His question followed her, and she avoided blushing only by keeping her eyes from landing anywhere near him. "Very well, thank you," she murmured primly. In fact, she had been sleeping better in the last two weeks than in the last few years.

"Anytime," he chuckled softly, drawing the nearly avoided blush over her cheeks. He kissed her cheek near her ear before sitting down to breakfast, the kiss coming, quite deliberately, just as his father walked in. "Good morning, Father," Legolas murmured, bowing his head slightly, nearly every inch the devoted son. The part that wasn't, his bright blue eyes, were laughing and loving when he looked at her.

She managed, somehow, to keep from rolling her eyes despite the laughter that swelled inside of her as well. Being in love will do that to you, you—

She snapped off the voice before it could continue, simply by looking at Thranduil. The voice wouldn't dare make her mess up in front of Legolas's father. Only because I'm you, and just as in love with the elf as you are. The voice was mocking, but remained silent after that last shot. "Good morning, my lord," she murmured, bowing her head.

Thranduil shook his head slightly. "I sincerely doubt you called Elrond my lord all the time."

She smiled faintly. "You are correct, of course. For several years I had trouble getting names right."

Legolas choked on his wine. "Oh my stars," he muttered when he was able to speak, a grin slowly sliding across his face. "What did you call him?"

She smiled faintly at him, not about to admit that, for Elrond's sake. She looked back at Thranduil, who watched the exchange with amusement ripe in his gaze. "I called him Elrond, mostly, but never in front of visitors who were not friends of both of us."

"We three are exempt from titles, I believe," he stated after an amused silence. "You may call me Thranduil, Lunian."

She bowed her head slightly before sitting across from Legolas, who was still watching her with a smile, apparently considering what she used to call Elrond. After breakfast he caught her by snaking a hand around her waist, drawing her to his side.

"Would you care to walk with me in the woods?"

She thought about it, but slowly shook her head. "Not today."

"Are you becoming a recluse?"

"No, I just don't want to think about orcs or spiders on a walk today." She had plenty to think about without throwing danger into it.

His arm tightened around her. "Did Elrohir ever teach you archery?"

"No."

"I think it's time you learned."

Which explained why she was suddenly standing on the archery field, holding a bow that seemed much too large. "Legolas, there is a reason Elrohir gave up on me becoming an archer," she warned as he tried to shift her stance.

"What's that?" he asked absently, lifting her elbow as she blew a strand of hair out of her face. He stepped aside with a nod, and she watched the arrow fly crookedly, way off to the left.

"I shot Elladan our first day of practice," she finished, wincing as a few elves dodged her arrow from the path they had been walking on. Where it was supposedly safe. "Elrohir had to remove the arrow, and the lessons never resumed."

"He gave up too early," Legolas murmured, frowning at the path her arrow had taken.

"He never expected me to worry about giant spiders," she countered, sighing as he handed her another arrow. "Are you sure about this?"

"You should learn," he insisted, correcting her stance yet again. "Just try not to shoot me."

She dropped the arrow. She fumbled to catch it but it hit the dirt at their feet. His jest caught her off balance, and she felt blood roaring through her veins as she crouched to retrieve the arrow. "I'll do my best to miss you," she promised at last, as her fingers finally held the arrow tightly enough to pick it up. She stood up and let him reposition her, trying to take in all the comments he made about why he shifted her so uncomfortably.

"Look at the target, using the arrow to point at it. Aim higher than you think you need to, and then let go."

She did as he said, and the arrow flew reasonably straight…. for about six feet.

"You lifted your hand when you let go, which pushed the arrow down," he explained softly, retrieving the arrow. He brushed the small dirt clod and grass from the tip. "Try again, keeping your hand and arm as straight as you can."

Two hours later, the fingers of her right hand were somewhat numb from the circulation being cut off by the length of time he took to reposition her, and the way the string slipped over them when she was finally allowed to release the arrow. Her arms and shoulders ached from the tension of the bow, and her left forearm was covered in a bruise from her elbow nearly to her wrist from the string hitting it because of the way she held her arm, despite Legolas's repeated attempts to change her position. Her feet felt disconnected, and she still couldn't figure out why she couldn't have herself angled a little more towards the target so she could better see where she was aiming. Maybe if she was, the string wouldn't get caught in her hair nearly every time she fired an arrow.

"Egola!" she finally whined. "Enough!"

He blinked and looked up at her, before smiling sheepishly. "Sorry." His eyes shifted from those of a warrior and a teacher to those of a friend, and he took the bow and arrows from her before sliding an arm about her waist to walk with her back into the palace.

She dug in her heels.

"What?"

"Aren't you going to show me how it's supposed to be done?" she asked, really just wanting to see if he did all the things he kept insisting she needed to.

With a laugh he turned from her, fitted an arrow to the bow and fired before she registered he had laughed. The arrow stuck proudly in the center of the target, staying there unlike the one of hers that had struck the lower edge, shaking for a moment before falling to the ground. She still didn't know if he stood how he insisted she should.

He turned back and lifted a brow. "Someday you'll be a—"

"Terrible archer."

He smiled down at her, teasing lights dancing in his eyes. "Aren't you that already?"

"Nope. Anyone who can be called an archer at least knows how to get the arrow to go forward."

He frowned and looked off to the side, looking for the arrow she had somehow managed to send spinning behind them. He left her side, returning with it a moment later. "I still don't know how you managed to mess up your grip so bad. You must have lowered your right hand and…" he trailed off and shook his head. "I don't know. I've seen arrows go straight up, straight down, wobble in the air before nose diving, but that was one I've never seen."

She shrugged slightly. "Well, glad I could educate you. One of us had to learn something after all that time." Something other than when the elf tells you not to hold your arm like that, don't hold your arm like that. She rubbed her green flesh absently, trying to coax it to stop discoloring. As if that would work.

"You did better by the end."

"Otherwise you would have given up on me as well."

"Not a snowball's chance in Mt. Doom," he murmured, sliding his hand around her waist, tugging her to his side.

She closed her eyes on a slight sigh, glad that for once her little voice decided to stay quiet. Only because I love it when we're this close to him. You seem to ignore the way heat spreads out from wherever he touches you. I'm not going to.

She pursed her lips and touched the hand at her waist, sliding her fingers between his, not catching the surprised, hopeful and slightly pleased smile that flashed briefly across the elf's features. She didn't feel it either, because she was too busy not thinking about emotions at that point, trying to keep that voice silent.