What's this? Another chapter in the span of 12 hours? Sweet! Enjoy lovelies!
Apologies for any spelling or grammar mistakes!

Also, I understand that a lot of you wished I had started at the beginning. I simply wanted to try something new. Obviously the story will visit the beginning in the form of flashbacks, but not everything MUST start at the beginning.

As they approached the gate of Edoras, Anolindë felt as though something was wrong. Out of the corner of her eye, a shred of a royal banner flew from over the wall and landed not far from the companions as they spurred their horses forward through the wooden gate. As they traveled upwards through the city, the people of Rohan eyed them warily. Dressed all in black, Anolindë could see sadness in their eyes.

How ill WAS the king?

"You'd find more cheer in a graveyard," Gimli muttered.

Anolindë nodded solemnly. Upon reaching the palace, several men offered to take their horses. They dismounted in silence, Legolas grasping Anolindë's hand as they ascended the stairs to the Golden Hall. They were greeted by another group of men, these more heavily armed.

"Ah, Háma," Gandalf greeted one with a small smile.

"I cannot allow you before Theoden King so heavily armed, Gandalf Greyhame. By the order of Grima Wormtongue," he said, his voice laced with disgust as he spoke the last name.

Gandalf looked to the companions, nodding to them to surrender their weapons. With a sigh, Anolindë reached behind her, unbuckling the quiver filled with arrows and placed it, along with her bow, into the hands of one of the men. Legolas twirled his knives before handing them over. Once they were properly disarmed, Háma turned to Gandalf.

"Your staff," he said, motioned to the elegant white staff in Gandalf's hands.

"You wouldn't part an old man from his walking stick?" he asked innocently.

Háma rolled his eyes and nodded, motioning them to follow him. They entered the Golden Hall, Háma bowing before stepping off to the side. Anolindë cringed at the sight before her. An old man, presumably the king, sat slumped over on his throne. Next to him, a man dressed in all black stared angrily at the companions. They assumed he was Grima. He leaned over to the king and whispered in his ear. A small group of men menacingly followed the four as they walked down the middle of the hall towards the king. Anolindë walked closer to her lover, ever so gently letting her arm glide against his hip.

"The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late, Theoden King!" Gandalf called out.

"Why…should I…welcome you…Gandalf Stormcrowe?" the king asked in labored breaths, raising his head.

"A just question my liege," Grima agreed, standing and walking over to the companions.

"Late is the hour in which this conjurer chooses to appear," he continued, glaring at them. "Lathspell I name him. Ill news is an ill guest."

"Be silent!" Gandalf commanded sternly. "Keep your forked tongue behind your teeth. I have not passed through fire and death to bandy crooked words with a witless worm."

Anolindë moved to strike the slimy man but Legolas caught her wrist in his finger.

"Not yet my love," he whispered.

Gandalf raised his staff. Visibly shaken, Grima stumbled backwards.

"His staff!" he cried. "I told you to take the wizard's staff!"

The group of men who had followed them immediately came rushing forward. Standing back to back with Legolas, Anolindë threw her fist into the first face she saw, feeling bone crunch under her knuckles.

"Theoden, son of Thengel," she heard Gandalf say. "Too long have you sat in the shadows."

Blood covered her hands as she threw the last man to come at her to the side. Legolas ran his eyes over her, checking for injuries.

"I am alright," she said quietly.

"Hearken to me!" Gandalf cried. "I release you from this spell."

The Wizard held out his hand, closing his eyes in concentration. Theoden began to laugh, a hollow sound emitting from him.

"You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey!" the king snarled.

Gandalf threw back his grey robes, revealing the white ones underneath. The king was taken aback, his whitish eyes growing in fright.

"I will draw you, Saruman, as poison is drawn from a wound," Gandalf stated, thrusting his staff in the king's direction.

Theoden was flung back into the throne. Gandalf moved closer, still holding out his staff. From the corner of the room, a woman with long blonde locks came rushing forward. Aragorn slung his arm out, stopping her.

"Wait," he whispered, pulling her to him.

"If I go, Theoden dies!" the king rasped.

It was obvious that this was Saruman speaking now.

"You did not kill me, you will not kill him!" Gandalf said sternly.

"Rohan is mine!"

The king lunged forward as Gandalf flung his staff forward, some sort of power throwing the king back into his throne. After several agonizing moments, the king moaned and began to fall from the throne. The woman Aragorn was restraining broke free and ran to him, catching him before he hit the floor. And suddenly, the king began to grow more youthful, grey hair changing back to a golden brown and the white film over his eyes disappearing to reveal soft brown eyes. He looked up to the woman holding him.

"I know your face," he said, reaching up to her. "Eowyn."

The woman smiled, tears in her eyes. Theoden looked up to see Gandalf before him.

"Gandalf?" he asked in confusion.

"Breathe the free air again, my friend," the Wizard said.

"Dark have been my dreams of late," Theoden almost whispered as he studied his Hall and then turning to look at his hands.

"Your fingers would remember their strength better if they grasped your sword," Gandalf said.

At his words, Háma came over to them with the king's sword, offering it to Theoden. He grasped the hilt and slowly unsheathed it from its scabbard. He stared at it in awe before turning his gaze angrily to Grima Wormtongue, who was trapped beneath Gimli's heavy boot. Grima stared wide with fright. Háma and another man grasped the man by his collar and dragged him out of the Hall. Theoden followed them, a fire blazing in his eyes. Anolindë went to follow the rest of the party but Legolas kept her from moving.

"Stay, meleth nîn," he said. "Do not concern yourself with mortal affairs."

Anolindë sighed and fell into her lover's chest. He held her tightly to him, resting his chin on her head. She breathed in his woodland scent, a calm descending over her. Slowly she ran her hand up and down his abdomen, feeling the hard muscles underneath his tunic.

"All hail Theoden King!" they heard the cry from outside.

~:✿:~

The sun filtered through the leaves above the small clearing in the forest of Mirkwood. It was still within the Elvenking's realm so it was well protected from the spiders that plagued the woods. Two Elves lay upon each other in the middle of the clearing, lips locked tightly together, completely unaware of the eyes that watched them from the cover of the thick brush. Anolindë laughed happily as she pulled herself from Legolas' mouth.

"Your father would not be so happy to know you were courting me," she said to the prince.

"I do not care," he replied, running his hands up her face and fisting them into her hair as he assaulted her with kisses.

Pushing his hips upwards with her hands, she managed to break free of his grasp, rolling out from under him. The prince sat up, watching the elleth in front of him as she brushed out bits of leaves and grass from her hair with her fingers. The Valar had graced him with the most beautiful elleth he could have asked for. His eyes were filled with love as she paid him no mind, sitting on her knees and finishing with her hair. Once all the leafy bits were gone, she turned to look at the handsome prince. Blue eyes were watching her every move.

"What is it meleth nîn?" she asked.

As quick and as graceful as a cat, he pounced on her, pinning her to the ground.

"Legolas!" she yelled, playfully swatting his arms that were propped on either side of her head.

"I am not done with you yet," he murmured, leaning down to capture her lips again.

Anger flared up in the eyes of the Elf that was watching the two lovers. Anger and jealousy as Legolas removed his tunic. Anolindë stopped breathing for a moment as her eyes were met with flawless skin rippling with muscles. She took a moment to trace every curve and ridge with her fingers, trailing them lightly over his skin. Legolas closed his eyes as he enjoyed the feeling of her soft fingers on him. Opening them, he went to pull her tunic off as well. Hesitantly, Anolindë let him. No one had seen her without her garments on. Tossing her tunic to the side, Legolas studied the unmarred flesh below him, following the gentle curve of her breasts down to a flat stomach. He lowered his head, placing a kiss on both breasts as they rose and fell with her breath.

"You are beautiful, meleth nîn," he whispered, grazing his lips over the center of her chest.

"I love you Legolas Thranduilion," she said.

And she meant every word.

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