Legolas tried to catch her eyes as the meal wore on, but she refused him, her hand moving quickly over the stone in her palm. It took forever for him to catch his father's eye when he finally gave up getting Lunian to look at him. Eventually, his father agreed, and the meal was prematurely ended. Lunian was out of the room in a flash, leaving Legolas blinking in surprise.

"Legolas?"

He looked at his father, knowing shock and uncertainty were probably obvious. "Father?"

"Wait a few minutes," Thranduil decreed with a faint frown.

Uneasily Legolas settled back into his chair, counting to a thousand before he could take it no longer and left the room. He felt nervous, something he had not often experienced, and he was not exactly sure why he was now. Okay, so maybe he had an idea. If Lunian would fade without him…did that mean she did love him?

No, of course not. At least, not any more than any of her other friends.

Elrohir thought she did.

He wanted her to have a place among elves when he left. Mirkwood was the only place.

Legolas would have accepted her to Mirkwood whether or not he was in love with her, merely because she was the daughter of a friend, and as a sister to others.

But would Thranduil have accepted her?

With a shake of his head, Legolas ended the conversation and entered his room, finding Lunian not there as he had expected. He frowned and walked through to her room, not bothering to knock since he didn't expect her to be inside. She was, so he froze, knocking belatedly on the open door.

"Come in," she called absently, brushing her hair.

"I am," he answered, leaning against the door frame.

"Oh," she murmured, not pausing as she brought her hair to the side, quickly weaving it into a single rope. "Good night," she added after a moment, pushing back the covers of her bed before getting in.

He frowned, considering leaving her as she was for a moment… but he wanted answers! "Lunian?"

"Hmm?"

He hesitated once more. "Do you love me?" he flinched slightly at hearing himself, but waited without even thinking of retracting his question.

She let out a breath. "Of course I do," she stated simply, tugging the blankets up higher. "Night."

He blinked and looked at the still form beneath the covers. "Good night," he finally said, unsure what to do or say. She had said she loved him, yes, but the admission came so simply, so… obviously, as if it was a given. Surely if she loved him as he loved her the confession would have been harder. Taking a deep breath he tried to dampen his confusion as he moved back to his room.

Lunian sighed when the elf finally left her room. The confusion tainting the air went with him, and she was able to relax. Guilt set in. Why?

Because he was asking you for the utter and complete truth. You did not give him that.

I told him I loved him! She protested back.

As if it was to a child sitting on his mother's lap. As if there was never any question, as if it held no reason for surprise or joy. Merely as something expected.

She sighed softly, but decided not to answer.

Then maybe I can finally get you to listen. Go in there and lay down beside him. Give him that, at least!

No! You just want me to end up in another awkward situation!

I want you to tell the poor elf the truth before he loses hope. Even now his heart could be breaking. You care, you know you do, so why do you insist on pretending you don't?

I can never love him—

You already do. Now get up and TELL HIM! Or I will continue on until the sun has failed to rise in the east.

She groaned softly, but never before had the voice been so insistent.

That's because, stupid as you sometimes are, you've never endangered him like this before. GO!

She rolled her eyes and got up, throwing the finally warm covers back in annoyance before swinging her legs off the bed and standing in a stretch. She walked through the bathroom, nearly colliding with Legolas. He was standing just beyond the door, staring blankly ahead of him. "Legolas?" she asked softly, moving carefully around him in the narrow space until she stood directly in front of him. His eyes seemed hollow, blank, almost as if he was asleep… and yet it was not the blankness of rest. She shivered as the voice returned. He's dead. You've broken his heart.

He is not! She snapped at the voice, but worried her lower lip. "Legolas?" she asked again, shaking his arm when he still didn't move. More calls and shakings did nothing. Panic began to well up within her, so she tried pinching the tips of his ears, something Elladan had hated. He still didn't move. I told you!

SHUT UP!!

Lunian's breath was coming both fast and ragged as she looked up at the blank eyes of the elf she loved, horror and panic attempting at the same time to choke her, making what air she did manage to take into her lungs seem too little, and too late. The room began to darken as she put her palms against his cheeks, tilting his head down towards her. "Legolas?" she asked again, drawing him down much too easily. "I'm sorry," she whispered, before touching her lips to his.

A quiver went through the body against hers, and she looked up in time to see him blink. He stared blankly at her for a moment, then frowned slightly as he looked around. He tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "I thought you were going to sleep in your room," he murmured.

"I changed my mind," she whispered, her hands still on his cheeks. "What happened to you, Legolas?"

He blinked and slowly shook his head. "I cannot rightly say. I came in, confused," she could feel the confusion coming from him once more, along with intolerable amounts of pain, "and then I don't remember anything until I blinked and found you in front of me. Why?"

She shivered. "You weren't here," she murmured. He frowned. "You were standing here," she elaborated, "but there was no emotion, no feeling. You were blank, gone."

He winced mentally, knowing what must have happened. He detached himself from her so she wouldn't pick up on it, moving to his wardrobe with a casual shrug meant to answer her concerns. He pulled out a faded shirt and exchanged it for the one he was wearing, looking back to see her chewing on her lower lip. "What's wrong, Milady?"

She closed her eyes, her head hung low. "I love you."

He tilted his head. "So you said before," he agreed softly.

Sighing, she opened her eyes to see the cold fireplace. "Legolas, you aren't hearing me. Forget what I said before, and listen to me now." Slowly, as if it was painful to do so, she lifted her head so he could see her eyes. Pain, fear, and despair lined up and fought to be at the fore. "I love you," she whispered.

As she watched he blinked, as if sure his ears were deceiving him. Then he came closer, his eyes cautiously searching hers. "What did you say?"

"I love you," she repeated, the saying no easier for practice.

The light in his eyes blazed into a fire, threatening to consume her as she watched joy, pleasure, and triumph enter his eyes. Then he blinked and all was hidden, caution dominant once more. Slowly he shook his head. "You cannot be sure. I touch you enough it could be my own feelings you identify."

She rolled her eyes, not believing the elf refused to believe her. After all, it wasn't as if she had just suddenly told him. She had been trying to work up to this for a while. "Trust me, I argued that for a long time," she finally answered him, her hand resting against her temple. "It is not that, nor is it simply because you are the only one here I know." The other elves made little effort to know her, since they saw her as mortal, and only mortal—going to die so soon that it was not worth knowing her.

His eyes lit up when he found only truth within her, a smile turning his lips up in a remarkably goofy smile. "I love you," he murmured, the love he felt for her shining so brightly in his eyes it stunned her. She had only seen a fraction of what he felt, barely scratched the surface. As the fire flickered slowly into a warming blaze as the logs succumbed beside them, his eyes seemed to glow with their own light. He bent his head and let his forehead touch hers. "My love," he breathed, kissing her cheek beside her mouth.

She drew a deep breath, full of his scent, and pulled back slightly. "You were right today, Legolas, when you said I don't love you the way you love me." She continued before her words could sink in and hurt him. She wasn't meaning to. "I cannot. I am human, and can only love you with what little strength a mortal has." She let out a shuddering breath as she looked back into his eyes. "But as much as a human can love, I do love you," she admitted.

Anything else she may have said was lost as he crushed her against him in a tight hug. He shuddered and suddenly picked her up, carrying her over to the bed. He laid her down and stretched out beside her, his hands cupping her face as his thumbs drifted in lazy arches beneath her eyes. "Marry me," he demanded after a few moments of soft, idle kisses.

She froze, making him smile quirkily.

"Come now, Lunian," he chided softly. "It is the logical next step."

She lowered her gaze, her eyes following the flickering shadows on his neck as she tried to find something to say. "It may be the logical step, but for two things. First, I have just gathered the courage to tell you that I love you, and second, I am not an elf."

"So?" he asked, frowning.

She closed her eyes in exasperation. "So, you cannot marry a human."

He lifted an eyebrow while frowning. "Who says? Or have you forgotten Arwen?"

"I could never forget her, nor Estel. She will die when he does, eventually."

"As will I when you die," he murmured, still frowning. "Why not allow ourselves some of the comfort the other can offer?"

She shook her head. "Legolas, I love you. Therefore, I will not marry you."

He stared at her in silence for a long moment. "That makes absolutely no sense."

She sighed in annoyance. Usually he picked up on things before she could finish speaking. This time, when it would be infinitely more comfortable to simply say nothing more, he was clueless, and she had to spell it out. "You will go to the havens after I have died."

"I will probably die when you have."

"Except for the possibility that I will be reborn. That will keep you alive."

"That is only a possibility. It is far from a certainty. The pain of loosing you will be enough for me to follow you in death."

She shook her head empathetically. "Elrohir lives only for that hope."

"And for you. I shall have neither." He drew her against him, kissing her quickly. "Let us not dwell on the future. Too much has happened for that to spoil the day."

"Spoil it? This has been one of the most horrible days of my life."

"But one of the best in mine," he countered, kissing her again.

She closed her eyes. "I say it now, Legolas, and I stand by it for the rest of my life. I will not marry you or any other, nor will I bear children."

He blinked. "Okay, you've explained the first half, now what for the second?"

"Would you want bastards as children?"

"I want children, with you. I…" he trailed off, frowningly admitting to himself he still planned on trying to change her mind about marrying him.

She shook her head at him. "I will not change my mind. Beyond their status as legitimate or not is their blood. My half human blood is likely enough to keep them on these shores. It is too much to deprive you of one you love without her being your wife and the mother of your children, and without forcing you to leave those children behind as well."

"Then I shall not go."

Shaking her head once more she started to sit up. "No, Legolas. When I die you will pass into the West, or you will spend time with Gimli. You will not die. You will wait, and hope."

Legolas started to argue with her again, to express the large number of doubts he had on that score, for he could not imagine living without her—already he had been quite close to death for loving her. He noticed her nibbling her lower lip, though, and sighed. "I will try to live, my love," he finally promised, wishing to put her at ease. "It will not be easy."

"As long as you truly try," she whispered, resting beside him once more. She kissed the tip of his nose before snuggling up against him, falling quickly asleep.

For Legolas sleep was not as easy. He felt incredibly buoyant, yet at the same time as if he would never be able to get up again. Having her return his love was more than he had dared hope for in the last months with her, for she had proved rather stubborn in the matter. Though she had shown signs of growing closer, a large part of him had not expected them to live to reach this stage.

He nearly hadn't. The strain of such devastating emotions was taking its toll on him even now, drawing him closer to the earth with a pull the elves do not usually feel. He sighed softly and drew his love even closer, the feel of her snuggled so willingly against him enough to help lighten the burden she had unwillingly laid upon him.

She still had hope he would live on without her, despite everything she had witnessed or heard of. He had none. She saw it, felt it, and it terrified her. In her mind, elves were not made to die. It was a horrible and tragic thing if they did. For her, humans were entirely different. They were dying from the moment they first existed, death looming over their shoulder, his grim presence making them live life all the harder, ignoring the wisdom that could be gained through careful study, because they simply did not have the time. It was right and natural for them to die, and their deaths would no more phase her than would that of a gnat. She saw herself as an insignificant insect compared to the elves, something here for an instant and then gone without leaving a lasting memory.

But such was simply not the way of the elves, and certainly not for him. To him it was tragic for any life to be cut short, as long as the life had been lived well and on the side of good. It was the orcs, spiders and other such creatures that were insignificant to him. Though death was not a concept all elves had to grapple with, all knew it, for they could grow weary of their lives and submit to the eternal slumber their existence seemed to forbid. It didn't. Elves did die, not merely in battle or by broken hearts, but by growing too tired to continue. It was natural for many, eventually. Of course, try explaining several thousands of years to one who has not yet seen a thousand seasons, and most likely never will.

Still, she loved him. It was his hope, his youth, his eternity. She loved him. As long as he had that, he would manage to find a balance somehow, despite all these confusing and conflicting emotions. Part of him wanted to announce it to the world, another part wished to wake her and claim her, another to chain her to him however he could, whether by marriage or metal. Yet another voice in his head urged caution and patience. She was still young, after all. Not by the ways of men, but she would probably live a good while beyond their typical lifespan.

It was to that thought, the thought of holding her as he did for the next few hundred years that he finally fell into dreams, the other emotions drained away as the three words that made everything all right passed through his mind again. She loved him.

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

Trying something a bit different… author's note down here. Haven't done that in a while, I don't think. Well… this story is being a bit weird as far as reviews are concerned. Not you guys, you are all great… It's just reviews don't always show up in the count the same on the web as when I'm logged in, and I don't always get notification when someone's reviewed. Rather annoying, really. A LONG(ish) chapter! At least relatively! I decided to give Legolas a moment with the voice in his head because, come on, don't we all have one? (At least?) No, she's not schitzo. I'm actually rather into psychology, so trust me, not schizophrenic. And after all the requests, begging, and threats, the revelation is here… Which no doubt startled anyone who actually reads chapter titles before reading the chapter.

No, this isn't the end, before you guys can ask. Go back and reread the story summary if you can't guess why. I'm considering taking votes from here on: should he live or die?

Donna-Artino: If you read the little author's notes on every chapter, you probably were blasted with me complaining about complaints on chapter length, huh? Oh well! C'est la vie… I know she's naive… I've been trying to make her grow up a bit… but she won't let me make her do much of anything. It's a funny thing, but though I may be close to tears when writing something, I set it aside and edit it later, catching mistakes more than anything, and I forget what impact the words had on me when I wrote them the first time… Thanks for reminding me!

MJLuvsPolar: Probably not quite what you meant by Legolas forcing her to admit it, but hey, it works!

Leggylover: No dogs! Please, no dogs! (LOL—I actually love dogs, but hey…)