Chapter Twelve: Yulmë

Azshar learned from Galion that there was to be a feast the next day. It was the feast of starlight, mereth nuin giliath, for which the woodland elves had been preparing for a week. It was the reason they'd been feasting outside in the woods, the night the Company had found them.

Galion said, as he removed the bandages from Azshar's neck, that every year the celebration culminated in one final, exorbitant feast under the starlight.

'All the best of the harvest will be brought out, as well as the King's finest wines,' he said. 'It is the best night of the year.'

'If only I weren't locked away,' Azshar said, running a finger over her neck where one of the spider bites had been. The skin felt smooth.

'They've healed well,' Galion told her with a hint of pride. 'The salve I use works wonders. And I wouldn't be so sure you'll stay imprisoned in here. You've been summoned to speak with King Thranduil.'

Azshar stood up straighter. 'Today?'

'In a few hours,' Galion said, sending her a look that was almost pitying. 'You will be fine, if you are honest and forthcoming.'

'We shall see,' Azshar said tightly, recalling what Legolas had said before. Be on your guard.

'Let's see if we can't get you up and about,' Galion said, holding out a hand.

Azshar surprised herself with how quickly she was able to stand. Walking still made her head swim a little, but the weakness had disappeared from her limbs. She supposed Galion's disgusting red potion was to thank for that.

Galion brought her back her clothes – the tunic and boots from Rivendell, and her locket – and advised her to change out of her paper-thin hospital gown. Azshar was left alone when Galion left to tend to his other duties. After she'd changed, her thoughts began to stray back to the cave she'd awoken in, and the memories that had risen to light when she'd smelled the river water.

She could have been in that cave for a few days or a few years. There was no way for her to tell, but she was beginning to suspect it had been a very significant period of time. Bombur had slept for days and awoken with no memory of the past few months, and he'd merely touched the water. Azshar had drunk a significant amount.

The memory of the warm numbness that had spread through her body made her shiver with revulsion.

More frightening was the confirmation that there had been something that had happened, something terrible that had made her want to drink it, to want to lose her memory. Was it worth getting her memory back, if remembering the past would bring her that much pain?

Part of her knew the wisest decision would be to end her journey here, return to Rivendell and live there in safety and blissful ignorance of her own history. That would be the decision a patient person would make, Azshar though. She didn't feel very patient.

Living without memory, the hollow feeling of something missing, chafed at her constantly. It felt debilitating in a way she couldn't describe. She couldn't stand to suffer it patiently. She wouldn't. She would simply deal with the consequences if – when – they arose.

Her train of thought was interrupted when there was a sharp knock at the door. It opened to reveal a new elf, tall with steely green eyes and long, auburn hair. She looked vaguely familiar to Azshar, who stood quickly.

The two women sized each other up for a moment before the stranger nodded once.

'I am Tauriel.'

'Well met. My name is Azshar.'

'I've heard,' Tauriel said, her eyes flicking down to Azshar's waist. 'I see you have been given your weapons.'

'It seems I am only semi-imprisoned here,' Azshar said, her hand drifting to her sword. She hoped it wouldn't be taken from her. 'I suppose I am lucky to be an elf, and not a dwarf.'

'You are a dwarf-friend,' Tauriel said evenly. 'In my books, that is enough to merit the confiscation of weapons. You are lucky that the prince likes you.'

'The prince?' Azshar frowned.

'Legolas,' Tauriel said shortly. Azshar raised an eyebrow.

'Did you come so we could mildly threaten each other, or was there something else you wanted?' she asked.

Tauriel's mouth quirked upwards. 'I volunteered to escort you to the King's chamber.'

Azshar suddenly realised why Tauriel's face seemed familiar. 'You were the one who rescued me,' she said. 'From the spiders. I remember you.'

'It was a group effort,' Tauriel said, 'but I was there, yes. I've never seen anyone take as much venom as you did, and survive it.'

'Thank you,' Azshar said, smiling. 'For saving me, and bringing me here to be healed. Even if I have dwarves for friends.'

Tauriel's lips twitched again. 'You're welcome. Now, divest yourself of your weapons and follow me.'

Azshar reluctantly laid her sword and her dagger on the bed before following Tauriel out. There were two guards posted outside her door; neither of them made eye contact with her as she walked out, but she could feel their eyes on her as she walked away.

The caves of the Woodland Realm were stunning. It was a web of dark stone pathways, all interlinked and lit by soft silver lanterns. Elves stopped to watch her as she passed. Azshar looked down, ignoring their stares.

They reached a pathway that was wider than the others, at the end of which two guards were standing in full armour.

'Is this it?' Azshar asked in a half-whisper. Tauriel nodded once.

'Good luck,' she muttered.

They came to a stop before an imposing throne, upon which was sat an even more imposing figure. It was clear that Thranduil was tall, even though he was sitting down. His hair was long, perfectly straight and pale as moonlight. His eyes were dark and piercing, and on his brow sat an intricate circlet. Every inch of him oozed self-assured authority.

To his right, in the shadows behind the throne, stood Legolas. He was standing straight and tall, his hands behind his back. Azshar could see the clear resemblance between him and his father, but there was something a little warmer, a little more alive about Legolas. He met her eyes, but there was no smile or sign of recognition from him.

'My King,' Tauriel said, stopping and bowing. 'Here is the prisoner.' She stepped back, leaving Azshar to stand on her own. Thranduil didn't move, looking her up and down with a slow, critical eye. Azshar inclined her head.

'I see you decided not to dress up for the occasion,' he said at last. Azshar glanced down at herself. Her clothing was dirty, a mixture of elf- and man-made.

'I apologise,' she said, a moment before she realised Thranduil was probably the one who had ordered her old clothes to be returned to her. A play for power, designed to throw her off. She squared her shoulders.

'Tell me, what motivated you and your insubordinate friends to invade my land?' Thranduil asked, as though he was questioning her about the weather.

'We didn't intend to disturb you,' Azshar said evenly. If he wanted to play games, he would find her ready. 'We were lost in the woods, and trying to find the Old Forest Road.'

'So you call it luck, that brought you to our gathering three times in a night?' the King drawled, raising an eyebrow.

'Perhaps fate, if you prefer,' Azshar said.

Thranduil smiled down at her. It didn't reach his eyes. 'Fate… Why so?'

'We were starving and needed help. Perhaps it was fate that brought us into your feast, so you might later find us and save us from the spiders.'

Thranduil leaned back in his chair. 'If only your little friends were as filled with gratitude at their rescue as you seem to be.'

'I have been lucky enough to have better lodging than them,' Azshar remarked, smiling humourlessly. Thranduil raised an eyebrow.

'Depending on your tone,' he said, his own tone silky smooth and edged with warning, 'you may find your accommodation changes in the near future.'

Azshar looked down. Tread carefully, Legolas had said. His eyes were on her now, from beside his father's throne. They flickered a little when she caught his gaze. Tread carefully.

'What is the purpose of your journey through the Greenwood?' Thranduil asked. Azshar looked back up at him.

'I am accompanying the dwarves eastward.'

'And what,' Thranduil said, his voice growing icy at her obvious evasion, 'is the purpose of their journey eastward?'

'They have come from the Blue Mountains, near the Shire,' Azshar said. 'They have kin in the Iron Hills, north of Lake-town.'

'So say the dwarves.'

'Then I wonder why you would ask me,' Azshar said archly. Thranduil fixed her with a hard stare.

'I believe you are all lying.'

'Why should it concern you, if we are?' Azshar asked. 'I can assure you, upon my honour, that our journey has nothing whatsoever to do with you or your people, and it is an unfortunate accident that Thorin and his Company are now locked in your dungeons.'

'If they did not lie, they would be free,' Thranduil said coldly.

'They do not lie, they simply keep their own business to themselves.'

'So you admit you have been lying.'

'No. I am simply explaining why they have not been as forthcoming as you would have liked.'

Thranduil pursed his lips, staring down at her. 'I do not like you.'

She smiled again. 'I am sorry to hear that. I do not mean you or anyone here any harm.'

He lounged back in his throne. 'I don't think I can be very sure of that.'

She frowned. 'Pardon?'

'The prince tells me you have lost your memory.'

She glanced at Legolas and resisted the urge to sigh. 'I have.'

'Please do explain – though, of course, this might not be considered my business.'

She ignored his hostile tone. 'It's true, yes. I have only pieces of my memory. I neither know who I am, nor where I come from.'

Genuine curiosity shone through Thranduil's haughty countenance. 'Did you touch the water of the Forest River on your journey here? Drink it?'

Azshar shook her head. 'Wouldn't I still be asleep if I had?' He shrugged his agreement, and she looked down. 'But – I don't think you're far off. I recognise the smell of the river water, and I think someone made me drink it to put me to sleep, a long while ago.'

Thranduil sat forward again. 'To put you to sleep?'

'If you can call it sleep,' she said. 'My memories were taken on purpose. I've been trying to get them back, to find out why someone would do that to me.' Or why I would do it to myself, she left unsaid.

Thranduil's brow creased in thought. 'Memory… is something with which not many people are brave enough to play,' he said.

'So I have been told,' Azshar said. 'But I believe the decision of whether or not to pursue my memories should be mine. And I want to remember who I am.'

'I suppose I can understand that,' the King said. 'But my decision would not be the same, considering the risk. Think of it this way: your lost memories are like stones stacked on a steep mountainside. One or two of them may tumble to you, if they are disturbed. But if something bigger happens to dislodge the stones, they will all fall at once, and the weight of their return will crush you.'

'I know the risk,' Azshar said quietly. 'I understand what might happen. But you don't know the constant bewilderment, the terror of not knowing who or what you are when you feel that you should. I refuse to live with that any longer than I must.'

Thranduil stared at her for a second before crossing one leg over the other. 'There is no known cure to the effects of the river water except time, and even that is not kind. One of your dwarven friends learned that the hard way.'

'Bombur,' Azshar breathed. 'Is – is he alright?'

'His memories returned all at once, and he was severely unwell,' Thranduil said. His voice was uncaring. 'He is recovered now – but he merely touched the water. You drank it.'

It sounded like a threat. From the shadows Legolas was watching her, his lips pressed in a hard line. There was a hint of pity in his eyes.

'I understand the risks,' Azshar said again, looking back up at Thranduil. She was growing tired of this.

'Very well,' he said, shrugging. 'I have only one more question to put to you.'

'Be my guest,' she said wryly.

'A week ago, our friend Glorfindel came to visit from Rivendell. He assured me he would be leaving before the sun rose this morning, but… after a late-night visit to your room, he informed me this morning that he will be extending his stay another week.'

Azshar schooled her expression into one of polite interest, but inside she was shocked. He was staying. She'd asked him to stay, and he was staying. She thought he'd ignored her – but he'd listened. Her heart clenched in her chest. 'What do you want to ask?'

'What is the relationship between you, a memoryless stranger, and Glorfindel, the notoriously disagreeable, cold-hearted warrior, that your appearance would convince him to extend his stay?'

Azshar looked down. 'I met him in Imladris. We have known each other only a short time, and by chance our paths have crossed again here.'

'By chance?'

'Like I said.'

Thranduil smirked. 'You still haven't answered my question.'

She pursed her lips. 'There is no answer, and no relationship. Glorfindel doesn't have friends.'

'If you say so,' Thranduil said. Then he waved a hand. 'You may go.'

Azshar blinked, turning to look back the way she'd come. She wasn't sure if guards would reappear to escort her, or if Thranduil meant that she was now free – and she suspected he was waiting for her to ask.

But then Legolas stepped forward and nodded at the walkway. She fell into step beside him, and she could feel Thranduil's gaze on the back of her head as they walked away. When they were finally out of earshot, Legolas glanced at her.

'You told me you and Glorfindel weren't even friends, and now he's delaying his journey for you.'

She shrugged. 'Perhaps he just wants to make sure I recover fully, so he can report it to Lord Elrond.'

'That sounds like a lie,' Legolas said, and she looked over at him.

'Why does it matter to you?'

He smiled sidelong at her. 'I am curious about you, I suppose.'

She shook her head, returning his smile. 'Me too. If I find out anything, I'll let you know.'

He huffed a laugh. 'You're too kind.'

'Am I free to move about, now that I've spoken to the King?' she asked, changing the subject.

'That was the agreement,' Legolas said. 'Just… stay away from the dungeons. Otherwise, I'd be happy to show you around.'

'You're being kind to me,' Azshar blurted out. When Legolas shot her a strange look, she laughed and shook her head. 'I just mean – you're the prince of this kingdom. I'm sure you have better things to do than coddle me.'

'Maybe you're right,' Legolas said. 'But truth be told, things from the outside world intrigue me. I have done a good sight less travel and exploration than I would like, so when someone comes along who has seen something of the world, I am interested.'

'Ask me anything,' Azshar said. 'Any time.'

'Be careful what you wish for,' Legolas said with a grin. They turned a corner and Azshar realised they were already back at her room. The two guards had disappeared from the door. 'Tonight is the last night of mereth nuin giliath,' Legolas said. 'Most of us will be heading out to the forest to celebrate.'

'Is that an invitation?'

'It is. Shall I come by tonight to show you the way?'

'I'd be grateful,' Azshar said, smiling.

'You should rest until then,' he advised as they stopped outside the door. 'You aren't fully recovered yet, and it could be a long night.'

'I'll count on it,' she said. He nodded, and glanced around before turning back to her earnestly.

'If you need something, or you get any… unwanted visitors, just call. Someone will be nearby.'


Glorfindel didn't come to visit her, unwanted or otherwise. The only knock at her door before nightfall was an elf delivering her a dark green dress with long, fitted sleeves. It was simple and pretty, and the elf told her it came with regards from the prince.

She was wearing it when Legolas knocked later, and he smiled when he saw her.

'Very elegant. The woodland colours suit you.'

She smiled, brushing her hands over her skirt. 'So, where are you taking me?'

'Outside!' Legolas said, his smile widening. 'Follow me.'

He led her along a less familiar route, climbing higher and higher through the caves, until they came to a great set of gates. They were open, though guarded, and Azshar could see in the sky outside that the sun was near setting.

They joined a convoy of elves who were walking together out into the trees. Many of them carried lanterns, platters of food, or bottles. Most of them, Azshar noticed, were armed. She almost regretted leaving her sword in her room, but she still had her dagger at her side. She wasn't completely defenceless.

The elves spoke and laughed amongst themselves, but Azshar didn't miss their wary glances and whispered remarks.

'Don't mind it,' Legolas said quietly. 'We are a cautious people, and you are still a stranger here. That is all.'

Azshar thought back to her welcome in Rivendell. The people there had been kinder, more open, and significantly less armed. She supposed the danger of their homeland made it a necessity here. She smiled at Legolas. 'I don't mind it.'

'Here we are,' he said. The path had taken them through the woods until the trees had thinned enough into a kind of clearing, where the stars could be seen appearing in the sky. There was a huge fire lit in the middle of the clearing, and some elves had already begun singing together. Their songs were livelier, more rhythmic and stirring than the ones Azshar had heard in Rivendell. She liked it.

'First thing's first,' Legolas said, picking up a bottle and two goblets. He poured a good amount of wine into each of them and passed one to her. 'The wine we drink here in the Greenwood is famous.'

'Famous for what?' she asked, sniffing it. It was dark red, and smelled sweet and heady.

'For being stronger than you think it is,' Legolas replied with a grin, drinking from his cup. 'No matter how many times you drink it.'

She laughed and took a sip. It was delicious.

'I see you two are starting right away,' said a voice, and Azshar looked up to see Tauriel before them.

'Tauriel,' said Legolas, suddenly standing straighter and growing more serious. Azshar raised an eyebrow.

'Meren mereth nuin giliath,' Tauriel said, smiling slightly. 'Happy feast day.'

'And to you,' Legolas said earnestly. There was a short silence, and Azshar wondered whether she was interrupting something, but then Tauriel spoke again.

'I thought I would let you know your father has been watching you since you arrived.'

Legolas glanced to his left, and Azshar caught sight of Thranduil, standing at the edge of the clearing with a few guards. His piercing gaze, sure enough, was fixed on them.

'No doubt he doesn't approve of us keeping company with the memoryless dwarf-friend,' Tauriel went on in a low voice, shrugging apologetically at Azshar.

'You know I don't care much for what my father does or doesn't approve of,' Legolas said quietly, his eyes fixed on Tauriel. The elf looked down briefly, then back up. She remained serious and unsmiling.

'Just be aware, Legolas. That is all.'

Azshar suddenly felt the familiar sense of eyes upon her, and casually, she surveyed the clearing to see if anyone other than Thranduil was watching her. The elves were all mostly keeping to themselves but there was one with dark eyes fixed on her, standing alone in the shadows of the trees.

Glorfindel.

He held her gaze for only a second before looking away, his face nearly indistinguishable in the gathering dusk. Azshar pursed her lips. Thranduil, Legolas and Galion had all been suspicious of the nature of her relationship with Glorfindel, so approaching him to talk in front of them all was hardly her best move if she wanted them to stop making assumptions.

Then she decided she didn't really care. She turned back to Legolas and Tauriel, who were still speaking in low voices, and smiled. 'Excuse me,' she said, and walked away.

Glorfindel didn't acknowledge her when she came to a stop beside him, and for a minute they both watched the celebration before them in silence. It was Azshar who broke it.

'You're still here,' she said quietly. He didn't reply, so she pressed him. 'Why?'

'I decided to stay a little longer,' he said, still not looking at her.

She wanted to hear him say it. 'You haven't answered the question. Why?' He was silent, refusing to tell her what she wanted to hear. I stayed because you asked me to. She sighed. 'It seems like most people here are afraid of you. Even the King.'

'Thranduil isn't afraid of me,' Glorfindel said. 'He strongly dislikes me.'

She hummed thoughtfully. 'Perhaps.'

'Why are you here, Azshar?' he asked, finally turning to her. 'You should be resting.'

'I was invited,' she said simply. 'But besides, just because you refused the healers' help doesn't mean I did.'

He pursed his lips and looked away. 'That's neither their business nor yours.'

Azshar sighed and took a long drink of her wine. He was clearly in a bad mood tonight, and she wished he wasn't. She wished he was in whatever mood it was that made his lips quirk upwards, and his eyes fix thoughtfully on her face. 'What are you doing here?' she asked. 'It doesn't seem like you want to be.'

'It's the feast of starlight,' he said quietly. 'Of course I'm here.'

She softened a little and looked up. 'The stars are coming out.'

'Same as they look every other night,' he said, but when she looked down she saw there was a shadow of a smirk on his face. She hid her own smile. 'We used to have a festival in Gondolin called the Gates of Summer.'

'Oh?'

'We would stand in the starlight, the night before the first day of summer, not making a sound. Then when the sun came up over the mountains, everyone would start singing.'

'Did you sing?' Azshar asked sceptically. Glorfindel neither confirmed nor denied it, and she laughed. 'Give us a song then, Glorfindel!'

'This is why I don't like telling people things,' he muttered.

'Right. Let's get you a drink.'

Glorfindel raised an eyebrow and shook his head. 'I don't go near that stuff.'

'Specifically wine from Mirkwood, or alcohol in general?'

'Specifically Dorwinion wines.'

'Don't be a coward, or I'll be forced to drink alone.'

'You could drink with your new friend, the prince,' Glorfindel said. There was a challenging light in his eye, and Azshar frowned, suddenly bewildered. In what world would her friendliness with Legolas matter to Glorfindel? Why did he even care?

'I'm asking you,' she said slowly.

'I already said no,' he answered blankly. She gritted her teeth and turned away. If he was determined to hurt her feelings, she wouldn't wait around for him to do it.

'Azshar –' he caught her arm and pulled her back around, his face repentant. His hand stayed on her arm for a moment, and she noticed that it trembled slightly. He dropped it and looked down. 'I'll get a drink.'

She couldn't help but smile. 'Come on then.'

They found him a cup of his own, and an elf with a bottle filled it, and topped up Azshar's. 'Welcome to the Greenwood,' he told her with a knowing smile, before disappearing back into the crowd. Azshar and Glorfindel made their way back to the edge of the clearing and sat down beside each other, their backs against a wide-based tree.

'The elves told me you come through Mirkwood every few years,' Azshar said. 'Why?'

'You're full of questions tonight.'

'I know next to nothing about you, how else will I learn?'

'Why would you want to learn?' said Glorfindel, a little darkly. She sighed and backed off.

'I know nothing about myself, so I thought I might as well try with someone else.'

He drank deeply from his chalice, before clearing his throat. 'I travel through many places across northern Middle-earth. Mirkwood is one of them.' She glanced sidelong at him. He'd downed a cupful of wine just to tell her that.

'Where do you live, then?' Azshar asked quietly. 'Where is your home? Rivendell?'

'I've had a few homes over the years,' Glorfindel said. 'Middle-earth first. Then across the seas in Aman, Valinor. Then back in Arda, in Gondolin.'

'You mentioned it before. That's where Thorin's sword was forged.'

'Yes. It was a city that is nearly forgotten now,' he said. His voice was flat, emotionless. 'Perhaps it's underwater. I don't know.'

'And now?'

'And now Rivendell, I suppose. My loyalty is to Elrond.'

'And you like it there?'

He shrugged. 'What does it matter whether or not I like it?'

'Do you?'

'Well enough, I suppose.'

Azshar pursed her lips and drank again. She was starting to feel the effects of the wine. 'You are just a bundle of joy.'

Glorfindel smiled – or at least, she thought he did. 'I'm sorry for my unsatisfactory answers.'

The sun had fully set by then, and there was no moon. The stars were visible in their hundreds and thousands. By their pale silver light, and the red light of the bonfire, Azshar studied Glorfindel. He looked much the same as he had early that morning when she'd last seen him. He seemed exhausted, almost to the point of looking sick.

'Maybe the wine will help you sleep,' she said quietly. Glorfindel looked away and ran a hand over his face.

'I told you I'm fine,' he muttered.

Azshar's brow creased. She wished he would admit to her that something was wrong. She wished he would trust her, but then again, he didn't seem to be the trusting type. 'I wish I could help you,' she murmured instead. Glorfindel's eyes found hers, and he stared down at her with something akin to bewilderment – and something else Azshar didn't yet want to name. Her heart was in her throat. She wasn't imagining it, and this was proof – it had to be proof. There was something between them. Someone who felt nothing for her wouldn't look at her like that.

'Why did you stay?' she whispered, and Glorfindel jerked back. He looked away, and downed his cup.

'If this is going to help me sleep, I'm going to need a lot more of it,' he muttered, and then he was gone.

Azshar got to her feet with him, but he had disappeared into the crowd before she knew what had happened. She sighed, shaking her head at herself. He was impossible to talk to, and she managed to scare him away every time. She wanted to know him, really talk to him, bring down his guard, but he seemed quite intent on not letting her. It irritated her endlessly.

'Top-up?' came a voice, and she turned to see Tauriel, offering her a bottle. She accepted it, pouring a generous helping into her goblet and rolling her eyes when the other elf raised an eyebrow.

'You seem to have a habit of sneaking up on people,' she said.

'Some find it charming.'

'Do those few charmed people include a certain prince?'

The faint smirk slid from Tauriel's face like water from a duck's back. 'Don't go there. Please.'

'I'm sorry,' Azshar said, and she drank, grimacing a little. 'Legolas wasn't lying when he said this was strong.'

'Strong enough to deal with your little romantic problem?' Tauriel asked. Azshar shot her a sharp look, and Tauriel shrugged. 'Blow for blow. Fair's fair.'

'If we aren't talking about yours, why should we talk about mine?'

'Because I am very curious,' Tauriel said.

Azshar sighed, scanning the crowd fruitlessly for Glorfindel. 'It isn't romantic.'

'It looked romantic.'

'We're friends. Of a sort. If that.'

'That's even less believable,' Tauriel said bluntly. 'You, a homeless and nameless elf without a memory, and him, probably the oldest elf left alive in Middle-earth? Friends would be a stretch.'

Azshar frowned. 'He's – older than Elrond? Than Thranduil?'

'He was born before the sun and moon even existed,' Tauriel said, sipping her wine. 'Not to mention the being killed and coming back to life part.'

Azshar choked on her wine, bringing tears to her eyes. 'The what?'

Tauriel hesitated. 'You… haven't heard?'

'No! Heard what?'

The auburn-haired elf looked down. 'Perhaps I assumed you were closer to him than you really are,' she said. 'I'm sorry, I should have kept my mouth shut. I think… if anyone is to tell you that story, it should be him. I doubt the version I've heard is entirely truthful.'

Azshar sighed, searching the crowd again. She spotted Glorfindel suddenly; he was standing beside Thranduil, and it looked like the two of them were about to fight. Thranduil was brimming with barely-contained fury, and Glorfindel looked completely unbothered. 'You're right. There's really nothing between us.'

'But you wish there was.'

'I wish I had my memories back,' Azshar said sourly. 'That is all.'

'It's probably for the best that there is nothing between you,' Tauriel said. 'They say –'

Azshar frowned. 'What?'

'You know, all the rumours. They say he doesn't feel,' Tauriel said quietly. 'Not really. He doesn't dislike, he hates. He doesn't love, he lusts. They say he has never known what it is to fear.'

'That sounds… exaggerated,' Azshar said, hating how uncertain her own voice sounded.

'Take it how you will,' Tauriel said. 'But he hasn't been close to anyone for more than a thousand years, and there must be a reason for that.'

Azshar pursed her lips, but suddenly her view of Glorfindel and the King was suddenly interrupted by Legolas.

'You two look much too sombre,' he said with a grin. 'And sober.'

'I'm not sober,' Tauriel volunteered, finishing her cup. Azshar laughed.

'I'm getting further and further away from sober,' she promised, but Legolas shook his head.

'Not good enough,' he said. 'Finish the cup, and then another. Then we'll dance.'

'Have fun,' Tauriel said, and disappeared into the crowd.

'Don't mind her, she doesn't like the dancing part of parties,' said Legolas, glancing after her. 'Now, come on. Drink up.'

Dancing was fun. It was fast and wild, exhilarating, and it took Azshar's breath away. She wasn't really sure what the steps were, but Legolas pulled her and spun her this way and that way, and she was drunk enough by now that it didn't really matter.

Through the blur brought by the alcohol, she was aware of something knitting back together – another tiny piece of her returning, provoked by the action of dancing. Dancing was something she'd done before. She thought of the memory of her brother reluctantly agreeing to a dance with her at their sister's wedding. Dancing was something she'd loved.

They danced and drank and danced some more as the hours passed, and Azshar couldn't stop laughing. She felt light and breathless. Just for a moment, she supposed it wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if Thorin refused to tell Thranduil about their quest, and they had to stay in Mirkwood for a while.

Then she shook her head at herself. Her friends were imprisoned in the dungeons, and she was out here dancing. She needed to be less selfish.

She dropped Legolas' hand and smiled apologetically, breathing hard. 'That's enough for me, I think.'

'That's enough for anyone in their right mind,' he laughed. 'I'll get us more wine before everyone leaves.'

'I think I've had enough,' she said, but he was already gone. She blinked at the spot where he'd been standing, the world spinning a little bit. He was right, people had started to leave. She looked up at the sky; through the trees, she could see the faintest hint of light. The stars were beginning to fade.

'I think it's time you went home,' said a hard voice. She looked down to see Glorfindel in front of her, his face secure behind its emotionless mask.

'Wonderful,' she said sarcastically, the usual sense that stopped her saying exactly what she thought gone. 'You're talking to me again.' His jaw tightened.

'Come on,' he said, gesturing towards the path, but she took a step back.

'Legolas won't know where I've gone.'

Glorfindel snorted derisively. 'He's been following you around the whole night, I'm sure he can do without you for a moment.'

She took another step back and raised her eyebrows. 'Really? Really, Glorfindel? You avoided me because I asked you a simple question, and now you're offended that I spent my time with someone else? Does it aggravate you that I was happy for once?'

Glorfindel's fists clenched before he reached out and grabbed her arm, pulling her bodily down the path. 'We're going.'

'You're drunk,' she realised, and he snorted again.

'Not nearly as drunk as you.'

'This is ridiculous,' she said, feeling her own recklessness grow. 'Glorfindel, if you really hate me as much as your behaviour would indicate, you should just leave me alone.' Glorfindel didn't reply, but he caught her and pulled her upright when she stumbled over a fallen branch. His grip on her tightened, and Azshar gritted her teeth.

'You know, I've been hearing all these stories about you, and I didn't want to believe them. But perhaps they are right. You don't feel anything except anger and hatred. You don't have friends, only enemies. You threaten people and – and intimidate people so that you can feel powerful and strong, but it just makes you alone. You're lonelier than I am, and I don't even know who I am!'

Glorfindel had ignored her until now, still dragging her along by the wrist, but at this, he finally turned to face her. She felt a stab of triumph that she'd wounded him.

'Shut up,' he said unevenly. His jaw was ticking, and his eyes were hard.

'Let me be,' she snapped, trying to yank her hand from his grasp. It didn't work, and he didn't let go. It seemed to make him angrier still, and he turned and started walking again, faster. The gates into the caves came into view.

At the very least, Azshar registered dimly through her fury, the road was empty except for them. She was drunk, she knew she was, and it sharpened every emotion into frightening clarity. She was tired and dizzy, but her anger made her feel wide awake.

She was even more aware of the feeling of Glorfindel's hand around her wrist. The skin of his palm was rough and warm, and – and angry as she was, she didn't want him to let go. Gritting her teeth, and scolding herself for her weakness, she again tried to yank her hand free. It didn't work.

To her indignation and embarrassment, he marched her through the halls towards her room. She growled, trying to keep up with his strides.

'I know the way, damn it.'

'I don't care,' he muttered.

'This is not –'

'I don't care.'

She wanted to hit him. Punch him square in the jaw. The wine still keeping her inhibitions low as they arrived at her door, she decided to finally say what she was thinking. 'You have no right to – to ignore me, treat me with disdain, and then be jealous when I dance with Legolas.'

Glorfindel opened the door with so much force that it smacked against the stone wall of her room. 'Jealous?'

'I'm not stupid.'

'Yes, you are,' he said, and he pushed her inside. 'Good night.'

She shoved her foot against the door so he couldn't close it. 'Say it, then,' she said boldly, her voice low and hard. 'Out loud. Say you feel absolutely nothing for me. Tell me that all the rumours are true, that you're a monster.'

Glorfindel's jaw was ticking, and his fists clenched. He was near the edge, and drunk as she was, Azshar couldn't see a reason not to tip him over.

'Tell me why you stayed,' she hissed, staring up at him. 'If you hate me, tell me why you stayed!'

Because you asked me to stay.

She'd pushed him too far. Faster than she could blink, Glorfindel shoved her back, surged forward and slammed the door behind him. Before Azshar knew what was happening, he collided with her and forced her back against the cold stone wall, one hand like a vice on her waist and the other on her neck.

He stopped there, unmoving, his breath hot on her face and his lips only millimetres away from hers. Azshar's heart thundered in her chest, and she knew he could feel it; his whole torso was pressed to hers, leaving her no room for escape even if she had wanted to. His eyes were dark, and she held them, hypnotised by the pure want that was written in them.

'Draw your own conclusions,' Glorfindel breathed, his lips brushing against hers when they moved. His eyes bored into hers, and there was a moment of stillness when they flicked down to her lips. Then – suddenly – he stepped back. Air rushed in, and Azshar gasped at the sudden, cold emptiness before her. The door opened and closed. He was gone.

She didn't know how long it was that she stood there, paralysed by shock and disbelief and frustrated desire. She had thought she was in danger before, but she'd had no idea what she was dealing with.

This, though… this was danger.