I am still taking votes on whether he lives or dies. Current count, as of 1-09-94 is 8 die/14 live.

To 'i like this story' who reviewed… today, actually, I haven't added your vote to the count, because I can't tell which you voted for. If he sails west and is happy, I'd count it a live, but you said your vote was for him to die. Just let me know which, and I'll add it in.

OverCastDay: nice to hear from you again, and I have to agree with you on some points. Personally my interest has headed a little more towards Among the Brambles and Not A Word, but I'm almost done with this one, so I guess it's to be expected.

To my readers in general: thanks for sticking it out, and the end is coming! Compared to how long it's taken, it will probably be very soon. I'm not sure what's going to happen… which is part why I asked what you guys think should happen. I've got two endings in mind, but don't know which one to go ahead and write. Lunian is as stubborn as any mule (or dwarf), so don't count on children or marriage before she dies. Her mind is set… and Legolas may wish for it, but he loves her too much to push her to do what she feels would only cause him more pain.

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Bright blue eyes watched the storm come in, the cloud's underbelly darkening with increasing fury as the first cracks of lightning filled his ears. He sighed softly.

"Don't like storms?" Lunian asked softly, ducking under his arm as he turned slightly to face her.

He drew her to his side and turned his eyes back to the storm. "I like watching them," he murmured absently, "but the sound I don't enjoy." The sudden, extremely sharp and loud noise was something he could very well do without. In the midst of large, violent storms he sometimes got headaches, which only made it all the worse. It was one reason he liked being in Mirkwood at such times. The mountain insulated them from the worst of the noise.

Lunian winced in sympathy, and settled in to watch the storm for a while. As the slashing rain came closer, she got an idea and tugged him inside with her.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously as she pulled him down the hall, down some stairs, and down another hall into their room.

She smiled slightly but dropped his hand to reach the window, closing it up quickly to keep some of the outside noise outside. Then she turned to him, her smile growing wider, with a hint of playfulness. "Shut the door," she commanded.

Legolas blinked but kicked the door shut, his mind working to assimilate the look he found in her eyes. It was demanding, needy, driven, but above all… it was seductive. A shudder tripped down his spine as he waited for her next direction.

"Come here," she whispered, her voice failing her as she saw the answering drives in him. Lust, desire, possession, heat. Ah, the heat. Unending fire that reached into her core and would warm her up, first inside out, and then as he touched her, outside in.

When Legolas took his first step towards her, a shiver raced over her skin, and her eyes locked to his so she missed the rest of his approach, drowning in the blue flame of his desire. Fleetingly she wondered if human men were like this, so easy to rile up, so quick to accept such an offer, but she would never know and she simply did not really care to. Why should she, when her elven lover was standing just a hair's breadth away, his head tilted down so their gazes were yet locked, his lean, lithe body held perfectly poised like a predator cat about to pounce?

"Closer," she managed, trying to keep command in her voice since he had accepted her game. A sensual smile tilted the very corners of his mouth for an instant, but that couldn't compare to the look in his eyes, the heat which rolled off of his body and waved over hers. He leaned forward, bringing their bodies into perfect alignment, pausing with his mouth a whisper away from hers.

She lifted her limp hands, set them on his hips and slowly swept up, leaving his shirt as it was, but only because she momentarily had a higher aim. Over his sides, the muscles of his stomach rippling as he closed his eyes, trying to maintain enough control for her to give up the game, and then over his chest, the defined muscles she could feel beneath her fingers before they were on his shoulders, then moving around his hair to his neck, rising up until her fingers stopped, poised, just before touching his ears. "Closer," she insisted, sweeping her fingers to the points.

With a shudder his control was gone, a hungry growl erupting from his chest as his mouth took hers roughly, his hands clasping her waist to pick her up and hold her even closer as slight, uneven and hardly steady steps took them to the bed, where he more or less tossed her before crawling over her, pressing her down insistently.

She shivered and smiled, thinking idly she would have to play power games more often… before another kiss abolished thinking altogether.

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