Every fiber of my being responded to the sound of that voice. I knew its owner, somewhere in my heart. "You cannot leave just yet, at least not before saying goodbye."

I heard the voice and its owner draw closer and slowly closed my eyes, my heart in my throat.

"Legolas, my dear elf," Gandalf said, "I only came to bring you a message."

"Message?" His voice was soft and sweet to my ears. I opened my eyes and my painting came to life. He was beautiful; tall and fair, with pail silvery blond hair, delicate features and eyes the color of the sea at dusk. His hair was in slight disarray, and he held a beautifully carved bow in his hands. He turned, following Gandalf's eyes, and looked at me. He blinked several times, as if seeing a mirage, and the bow slipped from his grasp.

"Linwe?" He whispered, his eyes wide. "Is it truly you? Or have I strayed into a dream?" He came closer, "If so, it is a most glorious dream, and by the valor, I pray never to awaken."

"It is no dream, I am Linwe," I said, not able to tear my eyes away. Inside, my heart was bursting, my nerves tangled in knots.

"Melamin," he took my hands, kneeling at my feet, "it has been too long for us, Linwe of Mirkwood. " He kissed both of my hands, then looked up into my eyes.

"I've seen you in my dreams, Legolas, I only wish that I could remember you." I smiled sadly; again my heart was desperate to remember my past.

"You-remember nothing?" He asked softly, standing upright.

" …my heart remembers."

"Then there is hope," he said, all light returning to his face.

"Where…did everyone go?" I asked, looking around in shock; Gandalf, King Thranduil, and my father had left us alone.

"I think they wanted to give us time alone. What has Gandalf told you?" He picked up his bow, strapping it to his back. We began walking, and I shrugged, carrying my art supplies.

"Only that I am your wife, an elf, and nothing else."

"Is that a painting?" He asked, eyeing what I had covered with a sheet.

"Yes."

"May I see it?"

"Um…okay." He took it from my hands, as if it were a breakable object; his fingers brushing mine gently. His blue eyes widened with visible pleasure, upon seeing that it was him.

"You have me utterly. How? You must remember something." He gently placed the cover over it. "Come, we will return to the palace, where this may be unharmed." He looked at me again, his eyes tender under the glow of the sun.

"There, there's a lot I don't know…I have so many questions." I looked away from his eyes; they made my stomach flutter, and my heart beat swiftly.

"I shall answer your questions to the best of my ability Melamin." Melamin? I scrunched my brow.

"What does that mean?" I asked, following him into the palace.

"What does what mean?" He led me up the stairs.

"The name you keep calling me." the palace was beautiful.

"Melamin?"

"That's the one."

"My love…my life. That is what you are." He opened an ornate wooden door, to reveal a vast library. "We shall place your painting here for now until I can find an attendant to hang it on my wall." He lay it against the wall in the library.

"You would have my work in your room?" I raised my eyebrows.

"Why not?" He asked tucking a tendril of hair behind my ear. As he did so, his fingers brushed its sensitive tip, and I shuddered involuntarily at his cool touch. The door to the library, which was slightly ajar, was pushed aside suddenly by palace attendants who had just obviously been told of my arrival.

------------

The female attendants, whose names where Tinuel and Lutherian, were quite characters I learned. They led me out of the library away from my rather…unnerving husband. I was assaulted from all sides with questions.

"Where were you?"

"How old are you?"

"We've missed a princess in these parts," Tinueil said, "and so exotic to behold you are." She touched my arm, "your skin."

"Yeah, it's brown." I said, slightly annoyed.

"It's lovely," said Lutherain, "and the prince, did you behold his face?"

"Yes," said Tinuel, "he has returned to us."

"I wasn't under the impression that he'd…left," I gazed all around me, at what was to be my chambers.

There was a large ornate king-sized bed dressed in white with sheer curtains surrounding it. There was a polished wooden vanity by a door that led to what looked like a bathroom. Adorned with many perfumes, brushes, and hair ornaments it resembled something out of a dream. I slowly explored the room, to the amusement of my watchful attendants.