No, last chapter was not the shortest I've ever written. Believe me. I don't really have much to say here, except it's unlikely (though not totally impossible) that I'll even check e-mail over the break. So, unless something really messed up happens, see you in Jan!

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Arwen frowned at the herald's message. "Elves?" she asked in surprise. Her son and daughters looked up at her expectantly. "I do not know, my children," she answered with a blink. She walked to the balcony to see the approaching visitors. "They are elves," she agreed at once. No one else rode without saddle or bridle, and few could claim such horses, even as near to Rohan as they were, since Shadowfax. All were blond, but that was a common thing for elves. Five males, and a female.

"Who is it, Mother?" Eldarion asked, coming to her side. His eyes were sharp, but not sharp enough.

"Arwen?" Aragorn asked as well, coming to stand beside his son.

She smiled to see them, for Eldarion had outgrown his father in height, at least. "It is Legolas," she replied, seeing the bow of Lothlorien Galadriel had given him, "unless I am very much mistaken, but they are wearing hoods."

"Why would they do so?"

"Unsure of their welcome, perhaps," she mused, before turning her eyes back to the female. "I wonder…"

"What?" Aragorn asked at once.

"There is a female along."

"A female?" he asked, his tone blank. "Then Legolas has married? She would not be a guard, and no one else would… Could it be?" he breathed, his mind moving to the same thing she had wondered. "Can you tell?"

"Not yet, impatient man. It is possible, but the shadows of her cloak defeat me." But she was pretty sure. After all, a woman is a woman even when with the elves. "I think it is," she confided softly.

"Is who?" their children chorused together.

"Legolas is the prince of Greenwood, isn't that so?" Eldarion asked softly.

Arwen took a deep breath, pained her children were so unknowing of the elven ways and people. They had only known her, with an occasional visit from her family, but they had passed to the undying lands many years ago. "Yes," she agreed as Aragorn sent orders for the visitors to be brought into the hall at once.

The royal family gathered by the throne, taking their places or standing by, waiting for their visitors with undisguised curiosity. First visible were two tall, male elves with silvery blond hair, quivers on their backs and swords at their sides. Next came the couple. The male drew the eye in the way all things so beautiful tend to do, his stature proud, light clinging to his hair and eyes as if he exuded it himself. In comparison, the female seemed dull and almost lifeless. On her own, she would have been deemed a lady, or even a princess by men, for she had that assured bearing, the confidence of knowledge, but her plumage simply was not as bright. Dark gold hair, her shorter stature, and eyes that seemed not to have decided on a color only added to the illusion. He had a longbow of the Galadhrim, a quiver of gold-feathered arrows, and twin daggers strapped to his back. She had a plain, dark brown bow and matching arrows. After the couple, two more guards came in, tall and proud, perhaps disapproving, with bows, quivers, and daggers. The male waved the guards away as they made their way to the throne.

"Aragorn! You are looking well," Legolas exclaimed, coming forward to embrace the king to the annoyance of all guards in the hall.

Arwen smiled sadly, for she knew what he hadn't added. For your age. Aragorn was graying, his skin had wrinkles, but he was still strong. "It has been too long, Legolas," she murmured, greeting him with a touch to his cheek.

He smiled and returned the greeting. "A short while, for some," he replied, his eyes somewhat downcast for an instant. Then he looked at her offspring, his eyes lighting with amusement as he glanced around the group. "Quite prolific, aren't you?" he chuckled softly, sweeping back his hood.

Arwen moved forward to the woman. "Shy, Lunian?" she asked, pushing the hood back with a flick of her wrist. She studied the woman before her, the slight aging that had become apparent, some more maturity lent to the face. No wrinkles, no creases in her skin which was still youthfully soft, no silver touches in her golden hair. But she had aged, her eyes a little more solemn, less on the verge of laughter than when Lunian had last come to Gondor. Silently Arwen asked the powers that be to give her a sign it was more the passing of the elves that caused this change, or the mere passing of time, instead of the way Lunian had been treated the first time she had come. She had been back, on occasion, of course, but Arwen had found little time alone with her, with the demands of both mother and queen.

"Of course not, my sister," Lunian murmured quietly, reaching out to touch her cheek. "A bit surprised, since I had thought your choice would have you aging with the rest of us mere mortals, but not shy." Then she turned to the king, and her eyes lit up with laughter once more. "You look awful, Estel!" she laughed, leaping forward to hug her brother while the royal guards stiffened at the sudden proximity.

He laughed and set her feet back on the ground. Brushing some hair from her face, he teased her right back. "And you look like a woman."

"I am," she said softly, her eyes darkening for a moment as she looked around. She blinked when she gazed upon Eldarion. "Is this the little prince I recall?"

"It is. Eldarion, do you remember Lunian?"

Eldarion blinked and frowned, studying the woman intently. Slowly he shook his head. "I am afraid I do not."

"It has been twenty-five years since I was here last, you have no call to remember me."

He blinked in surprise, looking first at her youthful face and then at her ears. Then he glanced at his father, and back. "You are of our line?" he asked quietly, wonder in his voice as he assumed he was correct.

However, Lunian shook her head. "No. I am half-elven, as your grandfather. I was not given the choice he was, though."

"So you are mortal?"

"Yes," she agreed, bowing her head slightly to emphasis her point.

Arwen knew the touchiness of that subject, undoubtedly not only in her household but that of the entire Mirkwood realm. "You have not visited in many years, little sister. How have you found the former Mirkwood?"

Lunian smiled faintly and glanced back at Legolas, who wound his arms about her waist in a very definite display of possessiveness. "That is a hard determination to make, Arwen. It would take a lot of time, and thought. Instead, why not introduce me to your children, and then allow us a brief time before the meal for rest?"

Arwen managed to smile even as she felt like kicking herself. She had been too long with humans, to have forgotten the protocol elves would prefer. "Of course, little sister. The rooms used before are free, if you would wish to choose some."

Legolas bowed his head slightly and left the room with Lunian's hand in his, the guards that had undoubtedly been 'provided' by his father following. When the elves left, Arwen followed, intending to speak privately with Lunian. Legolas waved the elves into their rooms, and entered the one he had used before, with Lunian still trailing behind.

Arwen started to lift her hand to knock on the door, but Lunian's voice stopped her. "Come on in," she called, laughter threading through the words.

Arwen entered, closing the door behind her before looking for the couple in the room. She blinked when she found them. Legolas was half sitting and half laying on the bed, the pillows propped up behind him, his weapons and travel cloak discarded on the chair, along with Lunian's cloak, and her bow and quiver. Lunian was stretched out beside Legolas, her head on his abdomen, her hair spread over his chest where his long fingers kept drawing it back as gravity tried to pull it down. One small hand was laid lightly at his side, and one of her legs was between his. They looked like they had just awakened from a deep and peaceful slumber, or had just returned from the pleasurable exertion of a physical union.

Neither of which was possible, since they had barely had time to drop their things to the chair. Still, it told her a few things she had been wanting to ask. While giving her others. Since Legolas was in the room and not showing any signs of planning on going away, Arwen settled on one of the most obvious and discussable issues. "You are an archer now?"

The couple laughed softly, Lunian turning her head slightly towards Arwen as Arwen found herself some room to sit at the edge of the bed. "Not exactly," she hedged.

When Arwen lifted a brow for elaboration, Legolas took up the conversation. "Lunian has managed to hit the target most of the time."

"As long as it is stationary, of a reasonable size, and not too far away," she added, glancing up at him with a teasing light dancing in her eyes.

He sighed theatrically and shrugged the shoulder she wasn't leaning against. "What can I say? I'm nearly a failure at teaching archery."

"Just at teaching me. I've seen some of your other students. They do very well."

Arwen grinned. "Who did you shoot this time?"

Lunian looked at her indignantly. "No one." Then she smiled, giving in. "Barely."

Legolas chuckled softly and kissed Lunian's crown before shifting slightly. Lunian took her leg from between his and sat up, allowing him to leave. He touched her hair in a tender caress, then picked up his cloak and drew it about himself once more, the hood used to help hide his status as elf and prince from the humans in the palace who still had no idea what to do around any elf that was not at the same time their queen. His quick wink when he glanced back from the doorway was evidence enough he knew they wished to speak alone.

As soon as the door closed Lunian and Arwen both moved forward to lay on the bed as they used to when speaking of such things. It having been a while, they were definitely out of practice. They both sat back up, rubbing their foreheads. Lunian's already displayed a bump. She gingerly moved forward, making Arwen smile as she did the same.

"I thought we would receive word when Legolas took a wife," Arwen murmured in way of a question.

Lunian looked up at her, her eyes so solemn Arwen again felt the loss of the girl she had once known. "You would," she stated plainly.

As Arwen looked into Lunian, she found a lot of answers to questions she could not politely ask. They had been lovers for many years, which had been obvious by their casually intimate position when Arwen entered their room, but they had never married. "Why do you refuse him?"

Lunian smiled faintly, lowering her eyes. "I want him to have hope."

Arwen flinched, but Lunian didn't look up, probably expecting and certainly accepting such a response. All the pieces fell into place for Arwen then—Lunian's reasoning, and she could probably come up with Legolas's objections, too. Still, parallel thoughts swamped her for the first minute, forcing her to face once more that she was no longer an elf, that she had chosen a mortal life. Facing death with a certainty made her more sympathetic to Lunian's position than she imagined Legolas was. "That may be a lot to ask."

Lunian looked up then, her eyes clear, solemn, and full of sorrow. "I know."

Arwen nodded, and the two elf-like mortal females stared at each other until a knock came on the door, announcing dinner was awaiting their presence. Together they went to the hall, and found their places besides the ones they loved. Arwen made a mental note to speak with Legolas some time privately before they left.