By the end of the night, many Elves had taken their leave of the Fall Festival. I had stuck around, if not solely to get my rather shaky hands on more wine, then for humor's sake; sometimes, I kept my eyes on Aragorn, who would suddenly dart under a table or hide behind a nearby tree to escape the giggling 'ladies' from the halls. Sometimes, I watched Malian, who (to my chagrin) also seemed to be watching me. Sometimes I glanced at Legolas, who was tripping over himself and stuttering like an idiot whenever Kaethe came near him. I even saw Thranduil a few times; one of the times I thought I saw him hurry away as Kaethe approached him, but I dispelled this concept as selective vision and thought on it no more. I could see many things from where I perched the rest of the night (near the wine table), and kindly disregarded any cheeky looks I received from the male sex in general. I was seriously reconsidering ever having put on the gorgeous dress.

"Excuse me, milady, I don't mean to interrupt—"

"Yes, well, if you didn't mean to then you wouldn't have," I answered shortly before flicking my eyes up at the perpetrator. I saw from the top corner of my eye a rather tall Elf (taller than usual, I mean) with long, sawdust-blonde hair and grey eyes. I had to admit to myself that he was not hard to look at, but I doubted even a Dwarf was hard to look at in such an intoxicated state. "Well?" I prodded, as he had taken to staring doubtfully at me.

"I had noticed you earlier and I—well, I thought you looked lonely. I wanted to keep you company, I suppose," he answered, shuffling his feet a bit and talking to the ground rather than my face. Seeing as that was possibly the sweetest thing I had heard since reaching Mirkwood, I patted the bench beside me. He obliged thankfully, taking his seat.

"What's your name?" I inquired.

"I am Féoras, son of Fáolan."

"Well Féoras-son-of-Fáolan, my name's Laina," I replied, tipping my wine glass toward him and accidentally spilling a bit of wine on his lap. I immediately thought to wipe it off, but Féoras quickly stood and did so himself, his ear tips turning a dark shade of red. "Sorry," I said after a moment. "I'm a little…"

"It's fine, milady," he said quickly, taking his seat again.

"Laina."

"Laina." I stared at him for a moment before he noticed and he asked hurriedly, "Do you need an escort back to the halls? I could take you." What a gentle-Elf.

"Thanks Féoras, but no thanks. You see, I'm waiting on a couple of dolts—" I motioned to Aragorn, Legolas, and Malian in turn, "—to see me back to my room. Someone has to keep an eye on them or they'll wind up walking all the way Mordor before they noticed where they were." Féoras gave a nervous sort of laugh and said no more. I leaned my head against him after a moment, and I was certain he almost died of sudden female-contact overload, but I kept my head where I had laid it and surveyed what remained of the Festival. Many of the tables had been brought back by a group of volunteers to the castle. The only tables that remained were the one Féoras and I were seated at and the one that held what wine glasses were left un-drunk. Pity. As I looked around, I noticed Malian glaring sourly at me and Féoras. Not wanting poor Féoras to get his head chopped off by any nobles, I decided enough was enough and I lifted my head. "Féoras, I see my party is leaving. It was nice to meet you." We stood simultaneously and Féoras took my hand, planting a rather frightened and hasty kiss on my knuckles before dropping the hand unceremoniously back at my side.

"Thank you for letting me sit with you," Féoras answered before turning and walking toward a rather old-looking female Elf who had a delighted look on her face. I made a mental note to find him later and ask what exactly that had been about.

"Oi, Greenleaf!" I yelled, turning back to my party of ridiculous morons. Legolas turned his head slightly to look at me before stumbling over his own feet and nearly falling to the ground. At any normal point in time, I would have laughed uncontrollably, but for some reason or another (I guessed it was the alcohol), I hurried to him and grabbed his arm to keep him steady. "You'll want to watch where you're going, eh?"

"If you hadn't called my name…I would…I'm fine," Legolas replied, trying to wrench his arm from my grasp but failing miserably. He had had called my name…I would…I'm fine," Legolas replied, trying to wrench his arm from my grasp but failing miserably. He had had far too much to drink.

"Sure you are, Leaf, sure you are," I consoled him. "Mal, Aragorn, get your stupid drunk backsides over here, will you? I think it's about time to go," I called to them over my shoulder. Malian instantly appeared at my side and we walked a few paces before Aragorn caught up with us, taking Legolas' other arm and putting it around his shoulder.

"I do not need…help…yours," Legolas muttered as Aragorn held his arm, but from what I could tell, Legolas had made no struggle to release himself from Aragorn's hold. Malian offered me his arm to hook mine into and I accepted, letting my left hand slide down Legolas' arm to his hand. To my surprise, Legolas suddenly clutched my hand forcefully, intertwining his fingers in mine. I looked at him inquisitorially but he was not looking at me; instead his eyes were fixed on his feet, his eyelids drooping dangerously, so I brushed the act off as simply drunken stupor and continued up the path to the castle, Legolas on one side and Malian on the other (one of whom was trying to get a good luck at my left hand without bending so far over so as to trip himself).

We finally reached the halls and Aragorn took his leave, dropping Legolas' arm to kiss me on the cheek before heading toward his room. I had made a mental note not to look at Malian as Aragorn did so, and Malian and I walked in the direction of Legolas' room. We passed a familiar-looking corridor and I recognized them as the steps leading down to the second floor.

"Malian, I can handle Legolas the rest of the way," I offered, stopping and unhooking my arm.

"No, I would rather make sure, he seems awfully intoxicated—" Malian started, clearly having no intention of letting me walk Legolas to his room alone.

"You're in no way helping me carry him anyway, and he's walking fine. He is only holding my hand," I replied. Malian's eyes flashed briefly before his head lowered itself in a bow.

"See you tomorrow, then," Malian said through gritted teeth.

"Don't be so silly, Malian; this crush you have on me is getting quite annoying, to tell you the truth," I answered before walking away briskly and pulling Legolas forcefully behind me, leaving Malian standing at the top of the stairs in shock (and was it slight embarrassment?).

A moment later, we reached what I recognized as Legolas' room. I pushed open the door with my foot and pulled Legolas inside. He was busy mumbling something about not wanting to sleep in his own room, but I refused to let him go to Kaethe's room (if she had one, and I was quite sure she did, and I wondered briefly where she had disappeared to far earlier than her fiancé), because he would surely embarrass himself and try to seduce the bedpost instead of Kaethe herself. I sat down on Legolas' bed, hoping Legolas would follow suit. He did. Damn, I knew this Elf too well, and after five hundred years he had not changed much.

"Okay Leaf, this is where I leave you," I said soothingly, trying to free my hand from his, but to my astonishment, he was holding on too tightly.

"Do not leave," Legolas whispered, sounding a bit suggestive. I raised one inquiring eyebrow at him and noticed that he was staring unabashedly into my eyes, his honey browns gently caressing mine. I was so close to his face I could smell the wine on his breath, and I nearly choked on my own breath as his face inched closer to mine.

"Greenleaf, what in Arda do you think you are doing?" I nearly yelled, tying desperately to jerk my hand away. This was getting a little strange.

"I just don't want to be alone," he replied softly, moving his head back a few spaces.

"Well I am quite sure I could call someone in here to take care of you if need be, but as for me, I would like to get a little bit of sleep tonight so if you could just let go—"

"I let go five hundred years ago. I never want to have to again," Legolas said softly. Well, besides the comment from Féoras, that was the sweetest statement I had heard since returning to Mirkwood.

"That's quite adorable of you, but I'm afraid we will see one another tomorrow morning, Legolas. Now let go of my hand before I clout you," I threatened very seriously. Legolas looked into my eyes for a few more moments before obliging. "Thank you, now sleep well O Prince." With that, I stood and exited, determined not to look back at him before shutting the door behind me. Honestly.