Sorry about the missed update--things have been busy. I've finally gotten more than four hours of sleep, though, and I don't have an exam that I have to be up by five for, so I remembered I was in the middle of updating two stories. And, here it is--the next chapter that at least a few of you wanted.

Iluvenis: It's hard to respond to you're review, because to explain would be to give far too much of the story away. Ashes has her reasons for being distant, and is hurting at least as much as he is, if not a lot more.

LJP: She's not exactly in love with him, no. It's difficult... So, I guess I'll just have to say ask again several chapters from now if things still don't make sense. Yes, he has a lover. That's all she is.

Swasti: Close! Just about Ashes, and what it's about is what the entire story is about.

eyes of the sky: Sort of. With this many confused readers, I'm starting to think I've screwed up somewhere. Ashes was hurt badly in the past. Legolas reminds her of that. That's all I'm saying for now. ;-)

Animir: I was thinking you'd said you were getting the others out, but it wasn't in the other story I just posted a chapter for, so I was wondering if I was confused. I would ask if you can laugh yet, but there's no real need for this chapter. Well, Ashes and Glorfindel share a mutual respect, but tinged sort of to an uncle/niece relationship.

RockFee: Thank you! Your review definitely made me smile. I know what you mean about the stories coming up--I've found the same thing happening to me with HP fanfics. I've just given up and read things from the author's bio, rather than scrolling through. It saves time looking for decent fics, because the quality only improves over time. Oh, and Ashes does in fact have an elven name (or my equivalent), she just doesn't go by it.

Chapter 11 Close to his heart

She can take care of herself.

He had been thinking so hard for so long, even his reassurances were beginning to sound like someone else.

Glorfindel's words now echoed hollowly in his head, but he couldn't shake the feeling that the elder lord was wrong. She couldn't always take care of herself, clearly, or she wouldn't have had to run from Mirkwood in the first place.

He glanced up sharply when the human entered.

The man—whatever name he was going by today—shook his head.

Legolas let out a tense breath and began pacing.

"Legolas."

He glanced over his shoulder in irritation, lips tightening against an automatic command that wasn't proper, here, even if it would accomplish his purpose.

"She has wandered for years… centuries on her own. Why should this week be any different?"

"I don't know," he ground out, for what had to be the thousandth time. He pressed a hand to his chest, and let his head fall. "I just know."

Strider dropped gracelessly into a chair, and watched the unconscious elegance as Legolas absently brushed his silvery-blond hair back from his face, turning to gaze out the window once more. "What is it you know, prince?" he asked, having long since grown accustomed to feeling like the clumsy child who would never fully grow up when around the elves.

"That…" he paused, letting out a breath. "That though she has run from something in her past, I believe she wouldn't shirk her duty. Right now it is to be here." But she wasn't here.

Strider inclined his head slightly. "You're right about that much, at least. She's probably just wandering the mountains."

"For a week? Without taking food or water?"

"She knows how to find what she needs without carrying it."

"What about her weapons? Her bow, sword, long knives, daggers… all are in her room."

When Strider sighed, Legolas paused, looking at him.

After a long moment he dropped into a chair, lifting a hand to cover his eyes. "Am I that transparent?"

"You're worried about her… as am I," the man admitted aloud what the elf had just realized. "But I've checked all the places I've known her to be. Elladan returned not long ago, but Glorfindel and Elrohir are still looking."

Legolas nodded distractedly. "It's all so hopeless," he murmured after a fair silence.

"What?" Strider started from his own thoughts.

"This," Legolas murmured, indicating the room. "I should be furious that a soldier, any soldier, here to accompany me, has gone missing without a word. I should be considering how to dismiss her from service for desertion. Instead, I'm pacing the floors, so worried about her that my chest aches." He pressed a palm to the center of his chest again.

Silence.

"It isn't a pretty thing, is it?"

"What?"

"Seeing an elf so overcome with emotion?" Without waiting for a reply he got to his feet, pacing once more.

"Does it matter what I think?"

Legolas glanced at him, paused for a moment. "No. It doesn't, does it?"

Strider shook his head. "Not at all."

With a nod he began pacing again. He heard Strider sigh, but didn't speak again, until he heard steps come in behind him. He turned, seeing one of Elrond's sons.

"We haven't found any sign of her… which doesn't necessarily mean she wasn't there at some point," Elrohir sighed, rubbing at the back of his neck. He considered the free chairs, the tense prince, and the rug's slightly altered position. "I'll keep an eye out for Glorfindel," he murmured at last, leaving the room.

Strider snorted and got up, straightening the rug. "You should stop pacing before you wear a hole through it," he advised.

"Maybe," Legolas agreed. He continued to pace.

Strider picked up a book, flipping it open, beginning to read.

After a while Legolas ceased his pacing and cast himself into the chair once more, resting his head on his hand.

Strider felt the glare and looked up, lifting a brow.

Legolas flushed slightly, but ceased the glare, his anger leaving. "You've shown yourself blunt and honest, with a fair amount of insight," he murmured at last, pinning Strider with a solemn look. "Can you tell me why I've developed feelings for an elf who hates me?" he snorted at his own words and looked out the window. "At least I don't love her…"

"Yet," Strider murmured.

Startled sapphire eyes flew to his, probing the light grey ones unconsciously as he considered the unexpected reply. "Yet," he admitted at long last, before groaning and covering his eyes. "What death wish have I?"

With a sigh, Strider pinched the bridge of his nose. "She doesn't hate you, Legolas."

"Doesn't she? She has admitted as much."

Strider shook his head slightly. "No. What she hates is having someone in a position of control over her. You're in that position. Is it so odd she sometimes hates you?"

Legolas lifted a brow. "I don't believe you," he stated at last. "And while I would normally let it pass, you have not caught me in the mood for such leniency. If what you say was true she would, by association, hate Elleri, Verine, Morsallien and Ada. Or Glorfindel, and Elrond. Yet I am the only one to be watched with such spite and anger, with hate."

"None of them are directly her commander," he countered.

"Ada is. He has commanded her. I've seen him do it. And she regards him… almost as a father. With respect, affection… even if she hides it fairly well, leaves it to lurk within guarded eyes."

Strider shrugged. "Perhaps it is only daily command that earns her displeasure?" he offered.

Something in his tone, his attitude, caught Legolas's ear and eye, keyed up as he was over her inexplicable disappearance. "You know," he stated. "You know why she hates me, why she fears me."

As Strider shifted uncomfortably, Legolas watched him, searching his eyes and face.

He tilted his head to the side, curious. "And yet you don't encourage me away from her. You try to reassure me, to convince me things might work out, given time."

"And so they might." Strider squirmed in his chair for a long moment, and then sighed, giving up on hiding from the prince. "She doesn't hate you, Legolas. Not truly."

"I've seen it in her eyes, and heard her admit it," he hissed, eyes narrowed.

"But at the end of the day, she doesn't hate you. Hates the power you have over her, certainly. Fears you hurting her with that power, especially as—" he broke off suddenly.

Legolas was not a captain nor a prince for nothing, and caught the falter. As he had said, he was in no mood for this. "Especially as what?" he asked, eyes narrowing, body tensed as if to spring upon the man if he failed to give a good answer in a short amount of time.

Strider was watching the prince with eyes far wider than in moments before, and he fell mute, trying to think himself a way away from this predator without revealing what he was pretty sure Ashes wouldn't thank him if he were to hint at, much less spell out… when he heard a shout. His ears were unable to decipher the words, but Legolas was out of his chair in an instant and at the door, peering into the night.

Slowly the sound of hooves caught his ears, and soon Glorfindel appeared, a limp bundle held tightly in his arms, close to his chest.

He looked his years in those moments, his face a bit grey, perhaps tinged blue, hair streaming silver with or frozen by the water that had flooded away most scant traces of the quarry he'd been sent to seek. He glanced up, saw the two who waited for him, and slowly dismounted, swearing disjointedly under his breath when a lax arm escaped the warming confines of his cloak. He shifted carefully, gathering her close once more, the arm being jerked by the movements back under the faded grey material.

"Glorfindel?"

He looked up at Elrond's voice, and knew his helplessness shown in his eyes. "I… I-I found her," he managed at last, unconsciously holding her a bit closer.

"Was she attacked?" Elrond asked immediately, striding out into the freezing rain to study her. He had already cast the cloak aside when Glorfindel found his voice.

"I saw no signs of injury," he forced out, shivering.

Elrond looked up from her, noted the chilled water running over his features, and tightened his lips for a moment. "Bring her to the healing rooms. Quickly."

Elrohir moved forward, taking Ashes when Glorfindel was unable to move. Elladan propelled him inside, to the fire, and reappeared a bit later with a blanket and a change of clothes. They waited silently as he peeled his icy clothing from his body, as his stiff limbs managed to accept the new, relatively soft and warm ones. As he covered the clothing with the blanket, and sat numbly before the fire, watching it burn without thinking of things that had happened long before any present had been born, as he had not been able to since meeting Elrond.

It took some wine and several minutes before he was able to bring himself back to the room.

The goblet slipped from his fingers, spilling crimson on the stone. He watched it spread, and remembered…

Far too much.

"Glorfindel?"

He looked up, seeing Elrohir. He slowly quirked a brow.

"What happened to her?"

He shivered and shook his head. "I don't know."

"Is she…"

"She wasn't, when I found her," Glorfindel allowed softly to Elladan's question.

"Where did you find her?" So Estel was here as well.

Glorfindel heaved a large, weary sigh and rubbed his fingers against his temples. "In a clearing. Stretched out on the ground." Arms folded under her head as if she had cast herself down to weep. "Cold to the touch." Eyes closed. Blue lips. Only the faintest hint of life left deep within her. His attempts to keep her alive this far were telling on him—he felt closer to dead than alive himself. Even now, he couldn't feel the fire's warmth. He knew it was there, could feel the pain of his thawing body… but he couldn't yet feel it.

He heard someone leave, and a moment later felt warmth. It felt as if he'd been plunged into a fire, but the fire was before him, this warmth beside him, around his shoulder. He leaned into it, letting himself be held as if a child.

The child he had often warmed smiled faintly, tightening his arm around the ancient warrior. "Ada will bring her back."

"If anyone can," he countered, sighing as he closed his eyes, trying to heal.

Legolas looked at the odd pair, the young human holding the ancient elf, offering caring warmth where it had so desperately been needed. His ears were tuned to sounds from the rooms beyond, and glanced up when Elladan returned. He looked troubled.

"Ada… isn't sure what's wrong with her," he hedged.

Legolas's chest began aching again. "And?"

"And… you once trained with him for a time."

When he understood, he shook his head. "No, Elladan. It's no doubt my fault she's in this state," he muttered bitterly, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "It's best I stay far away right now. I certainly wouldn't be able to call her back."

Elladan frowned slightly, but rested a hand on Legolas's shoulder before calling his brother over. The twins left, returning to the healing rooms, ready to help their father in any way they could.

When Glorfindel opened his eyes, he could feel the night had nearly spent itself… at least once. He blinked a few times, and looked over to see Estel slumped in a chair, quiet snores escaping him. Legolas was standing by a window, watching the sky for hints of the dawn… or maybe just lost in thoughts. "Any word?"

"Not yet."

"How long has it been?"

"Over a day." Legolas glanced back. "She was already unconscious when you found her?"

He sighed. "Yes." He had a feeling she'd been like that for a good amount of time. "Where is she?"

Legolas shrugged. "As the twins and Elrond are with her, it shouldn't be hard to find her."

"Why haven't you gone? It was because of you we were looking for her."

The prince tensed, and then released a tight breath in a troubled sigh. "I think… it may, somehow, be my fault that she's like this. I don't know why I think that, as she's shown too much strength to be so harmed by an offer to let her serve under one of the captains she doesn't hate… but I think it, all the same." He frowned. "No. That's not true. I know it, though I don't know how, or why."

It took a few minutes, but once Glorfindel felt his full strength returning he leapt from the chair, grabbed the prince by the arm, and led him down the halls until he heard Elrond and Elladan speaking in low voices. He entered the room, pulling Legolas behind him.

The prince didn't object, and was so subdued that Glorfindel could almost feel pity for him.

Almost.

"Elrond?"

Elrond sighed, looking up at him. He managed a weak smile. "Glad to see you're awake, Glorfindel."

"How is she?" he asked, after inclining his head slightly.

With another sigh Elrond shook his head. "Alive," he murmured. "But showing no signs of being willing to awaken. She has been like this since dusk," he added, motioning at her.

She was dressed, for the first time that he'd seen her, in clothing fitting of her gender. A pale nightgown, without sleeves. Several scars—mostly faded nearly into memory alone—decorated her arms, including one rather nasty one from slightly above her elbow to the first knuckle of her middle finger. Between her long sleeves and mostly finger-less gloves, he'd never noticed it.

She tossed her head slightly, revealing another scar on the side of her neck, a faint murmur leaving her as sweat broke out on her skin.

As if he'd done it a thousand times before, Elrohir mopped her skin, removing the sweat, cooling her flushed flesh.

"Since dusk?" he repeated softly.

"Yes."

He closed his eyes for a long moment, then sat down beside her. "Child," he murmured.

She murmured faintly and tossed her head the other way, her hand jerking slightly before falling limp at her side.

He picked up her hands, twined her fingers with his own, and bent his head. Child, he called, and received no answer. "Child," he repeated. "Daughter long lost and yet well loved, listen and answer—return to your trials! Do not shirk them for fear of pain or failure!"

For a moment her eyes slit open, and to all ears except his her words were but gibberish. "Cannot… please… sorry…" She slipped back into the fevered state, pain touching her face too often for his liking.

He got up, turning his back to the others, and ran a hand through his hair. Then he whirled. "Bring her back, prince," he snarled.

Legolas swallowed, eyes dark and pained. "If I am the cause of this, then my attempts might drive her too far away for any to reach her!"

"She is already too far away, Legolas," Elrond murmured wearily. "Glorfindel almost touched her."

With slow, hesitant steps, Legolas stepped forward. Her thrashing increased when he was nearly beside her—instantly he stopped. "See?"

"Try!" Elrond commanded.

Wincing, Legolas sat beside her, and reached out a shaking hand to her sweating brow. She twisted away before he could touch her, but after a bracing breath, he rested his hand over her forehead.

At once she stilled, and Legolas's head dropped.

"Elrond?"

"It would seem he's reached her," Elrond answered dryly. It was very rare for a patient to be reached so easily. Very rare. He had never before seen it done. And while Legolas had the gift to a degree slightly greater than most of the masses, it was very slightly, and far from developed. The prince had little patience for learning the art of healing.

Glorfindel shifted uncomfortably. "How long will he be looking for her?"

Elrond shrugged, and was about to give a guess when Legolas slowly lifted his head, blinking as if just returning from the edge of death himself. In the next instant his eyes widened and he jerked away from the bed, storming out of the room.

They looked curiously back at her, seeing her eyes were open, watching the door. She turned away from the dark-haired elves, and curled up into a ball on her side, before her entire body shook once before silent tears fell. She didn't respond to any words, any pleas, and shook off all hands… except for two.

Glorfindel picked her up and found a comfortable chair, cradling her close as she clung to him and cried like a child as she hadn't since long before she was no longer considered one.