And so I find myself on the road to Minas Tirith. A place I never wanted to visit.
Legolas and I do not mention the angry words of the day before, we ignore it, pretend it didn't happen. But they are there, between us, and I cannot let them go.
Where is the Maewen I used to love... It echoes in my mind step after step after step. Does this mean he loves me no longer? I am too scared to ask.
We approach the city, it looms above us from the road ahead. It is beautiful, yes, but also cold, foreign and intimidating. I wish I was anywhere but here.
"It is not as bad as you think."
Legolas pulls his horse abreast of me, and I assume he is trying to comfort but I am having none of it. Anxiety makes me difficult.
"What makes you believe you have any idea what I think?" The words spill out of me in a bitter rush.
"I used to." He says quietly, and I turn to look at him.
He is tired and it is stark upon his face. He was not fit for this journey and he has paid a heavy price but he refused to let us slow our pace though Faramir and I watch him with concern. He seems terribly vulnerable now and my heart twists within me. Can I not even throw him a bone of kindness? I resolve to try harder.
"Forgive me." I say, although my voice is stilted. "It is so different. It makes me uneasy, I am sorry." I am not sure if I am apologising for my words of before, or the mess of last night, or perhaps every single cross word and misunderstanding that lies between us since he has returned from the war.
He reaches across the gap between us and his fingers brush lightly against my arm.
They burn. He can still light me on fire.
"I will be here," he says although he sounds as if he doubts that will be a comfort to me.
It makes me want to cry, thinking on the wreckage that is left of us.
Sometimes I think the kindest thing I could do for both of us would be to retreat, back to the Greenwood so it was not so obvious, always, how far we have fallen. So we could move on and be free. But I cannot bear to be apart from him, no matter how miserable I am.
For now I turn my face towards the city.
"Well let us get this over with" I say as I urge my horse onwards, and he follows. His words of comfort left behind, ignored, as if I have no use for them.
They take us to a room where we must wait for the King. This annoys me. Do they not know who we are? Faramir is their steward, Legolas, the son of the Elvenking, but they would make us wait? Can they not see he is unwell? Can they not see the weariness upon his face?
I pace the small room in annoyance.
"Peace, Maewen, Aragorn will be here soon enough."
Legolas has lowered himself into a chair and now he seeks to calm me.
"How can you bear this place?" I snap. "How do you breathe? Have they never heard of windows? Surely I will choke in here!"
"You get used to it. You will not choke." He says wearily and the tiredness on his voice snaps me out of my cantankerous mood. I am supposed to be here watching out for him.
"We should call a healer for you. Do they have anybody who will know of elves?" I ask Faramir anxiously and he smiles.
"Aragorn," he replies, "Believe me, he will not leave Legolas alone when he sees him like this."
And Legolas scowls.
"I do not need a healer-" but he is interrupted in his attempt to convince us of his wellness by the opening door.
It is the King-of course.
"Faramir!"
It is Faramir he sees first and his face lights up, it shines. He is handsome I will give him that. Not beautiful like Legolas but still there is something about him. I can see why Men hold him in such high esteem.
"Forgive me the wait," he continues, "They should have taken you straight to your rooms and I would have met you there. They are so bound up in protocol."
And he isn't? That confuses me for our King is a stickler for protocol. Isn't that what Kings do?
"Never mind Aragorn," Faramir smiles, "We have survived it. If it keeps them happy who are we to argue." He basks in the Kings aura. He seems...quite unlike Faramir, quite unlike the unassuming Faramir I know.
Elessar then moves his gaze to Legolas, who has dragged himself to his feet. If he seeks to cover his exhaustion he is failing for he is pale, dark eyed, and haggard. The King notices it instantly.
"What has happened to you?" He asks in alarm and he crosses to the room to Legolas' side.
"What have you done?" He places his hand on Legolas' shoulder as if to steady him.
"It is nothing," Legolas mumbles ungraciously, "Lingering poison from a minor wound that is all."
A minor wound? I wonder if he has lost his mind. It was not minor by any stretch of the imagination.
"And yet you decided to ride here in this condition? Are you mad? Are you both mad?" His gaze sweeps round to include Faramir in that last statement,
"You asked for me to come." Legolas says stubbonly, eyes flashing.
"Not like this and you know it. Seriously Legolas do you have the brains you were born with?"
I do not know how to feel about him, he is confusing me. Should I be angry he is insulting my Prince or grateful he upbraids him for his foolish behaviour.
He lets his gaze drift over me and I see a question in his eyes. A question he soon gives voice to and it is then it all falls apart.
"Where is Taenor? Do not tell me he has let you out of his sight in this condition. Has he lost his mind?"
Legolas freezes, we all freeze.
His eyes are wide, I see the deadness creeping in, and I know what he sees. I know what memory accosts his mind. Taenor dead, white, still and staring, and the blood, the blood everywhere, so much blood.
I try, too late, to protect him. I do not want him to have to speak the words.
"He is dead." I say and my voice is cold, bitter...cruel.
As I say the words Legolas moves, he gasps, and pushes Elessar out of the way, so he can run blindly from the room.
"Legolas!" I cry, but before I can follow, Elessar and Faramir are gone after him in front of me.
He does not go far. We find him on his knees in the corridor, shoulders heaving as he is violently ill.
Oh, my Love. How can I help you?
I cannot reach him for Elessar is there, on his knees beside him, arm around those heaving shoulders, one hand holding the long hair of pale gold clear.
"Oh Legolas," he murmers, "Why did I not know this?"
"The death was quite...traumatic" Faramir says to him, his forehead creased with concern.
"And you did not see fit to tell me either." Aragorn replies to him and his words then have an edge of bitterness and anger but Faramir keeps his cool.
"It was not my place."
"Forgive me." Legolas says quietly as the spasms that wrack his body subside.
"This is hardly becoming."
I wonder why he thinks any of us care... When he is so distressed why would we care for appearances? It is Elessar who speaks my thoughts aloud.
"There is nothing to apologise for Legolas, unless it is keeping secrets. Do you think I am so shallow as to care about a mess in the hall in this situation?"
"No. I know you are not." Legolas' voice is barely a whisper, as if he does not even have the energy to breathe, let alone speak and Aragorn hauls him to his feet.
"Come with me." He says and it is the voice of a King, the voice of someone who will not be argued with. A voice that will make even someone as recalcitrant as Legolas obey.
"Let me clean you up and make you decent, and we will see exactly how minor this wound actually is."
He marches him down the corridor and Legolas does not look back, his eyes do not search for me. He leaves me standing there, surrounded by stone...alone.
Well not completely alone, for Faramir is there and he takes my hand as I stand forlornly gazing after the two of them.
"He will look after him." He smiles at me, "Come, I will find Arwen. She will know the best place to put you."
"The best place to put me?"
"Your room," he replies, "You can hardly go in Taenor's for it is next to Legolas."
"I would like to be next to Legolas." I say. Where else do they think I would want to be?
"I am sure you would," his smile becomes a grin, "but as you heard, they are very uptight here and that would not do at all. Arwen will find you a room in the woman's wing."
"Why?" I cannot understand his reasoning, "What do they think we would do?"
"Exactly what you would do, I presume." He laughs, and I am left wondering what he means for what could we possibly do that would bother them so?
Arwen Undómiel is as beautiful as they say she is. She shines, she glows, she is luminous.
She greets me warmly with no hint of superiority, as if I am a long lost friend and it is quite normal for her to associate with wood elves. I, however, am overawed and tongue-tied and I hate myself for it. I stumble over my words and keep my gaze to the floor. She must think I am half wit. She is no better than me, I keep telling myself, but somehow I cannot convince myself to believe it.
She shows me to a beautiful room but it is far away from Legolas. I have no idea where he is and I am lost without him.
"How can I find Legolas?" I ask her.
"I will let him know where you are." She smiles, "Do not worry, Estel is with him and we will guard him well. He is quite safe without his elven guard while he is here. I know Taenor insisted he be next to him, but really there is no need."
I realise then that is all she thinks I am, a guard, a solider doing her duty. Not a loved one, someone precious, a beloved. Perhaps she is right. Perhaps that is all I am.
"We will have dinner in the study," she continues, "I will send someone to fetch you. Rest well while you can."
And with a smile she leaves.
I am left on my own, in this strange and alien place and without Legolas I feel vulnerable, almost frightened. It is silly I know, no harm will come to me here but this place is so strange, the people so different and I don't know where he is.
I want him, I want to go to him, to have him hold me and tell me all is well. But I cannot find him, and as his words from our argument the night before come back to haunt me I wonder...would he want me even if I could?
I am so alone. It is as I thought it would be.
I hate this place.