If I thought things would be better once we arrived home I could not have been more wrong.

Legolas has always been changeable; sometimes it can be difficult to keep up with him as his moods emerge and disappear seemingly on a whim. Some, who would be less than kind, call him flighty, fickle, erratic, but I love him for it. He is never boring, always honest, and if you listen, truly listen to the emotions behind his words then he is not that unpredictable, not if you know him. And until now I would have said it was not possible to know him better than I.

But now, now he is a whirlwind of chaos. He vacillates wildly between euphoric highs and heartbreakingly desperate lows for seemingly no reason. Talking to him is a minefield and I find myself always holding my breath waiting for the next explosion. It is exhausting.

Legolas and Erynion are close. They have been friends for a long time, since childhood, since before I knew either of them. Erynion is the steady ballast that keeps Legolas upright and in one place when he needs to be. But now, since Legolas' explosion on our return, all is awkward between them. Erynion is wary. He watches his words carefully and the friendly spontaneity they had is gone. They circle each other like ships in the night never quite meeting in the middle.

Now, when Legolas most needs Erynion's calmness to keep him on his feet he has lost it.

It pains me to watch them as they fail to connect, as their friendship drifts upon the wind.

The first letter from Elessar arrives the day after our return. He must have begun writing it almost the moment we left I think. Legolas reads it and casts it aside. After that they come daily. Every single day a messenger will arrive from Minas Tirith, a letter from the King in hand.

Legolas reads them all. He answers none of them.

I wish I knew what the King wrote. I am sure the letters hold the key to helping Legolas but he does not show me and I do not ask. But I burn with curiosity to know. If I could just see them...if I could just read them with him I could convince him to listen...and to respond.

And so it is when I find myself alone in our rooms and Elessar's latest letter lies open upon the desk where Legolas has thrown it I cannot resist.

I know I should not look. It is not addressed to me and he does not wish me to see it. I have no right to help myself to his personal correspondence. It is a breach of trust of the worst kind. I have never done anything like this before and Legolas trusts me completely. Why else would he have left the letter there? He is confident I will not look.

But I can use the contents of that letter to help him, to help heal this scism between him and the King. I look only for his benefit. I have his best wishes at heart. It is all for Legolas, only for Legolas. That is how I justify it to myself anyway.

The letter is beautiful in its simplicity, the language eloquent. Elessar has a way with words, that much is obvious. He speaks of his love for Legolas and it is so apparent it breaks my heart, but not only that, also his need for his support. The things Legolas has helped him achieve. The high regard he holds him in. He talks of their time on the quest, and how without Legolas he could not have achieved his victory, of his courage and his compassion. I do not know how Legolas can read these letters and not be moved. How can he resist this?

"Put that down."

His voice washes over me like ice and I freeze.

"I do not believe that was addressed to you. Can you explain yourself Maewen?"

I cannot and he knows it but I have to face him. I turn around and he is there, staring, arms folded. His beautiful face is hard and cold.

"Legolas...forgive me, I just thought-"

"You thought betraying my trust would be helpful for us? Do we not already have enough problems Maewen?"

And he is right, we do..we have so many problems I can no longer keep track of them all.

"I thought I could help." I can feel him slipping through my fingers. I have made a fatal error.

"Well this does not help!" He leans forward and snatches the letter from my hands tearing it as he does so.

"Legolas, can you not see—in the letter—how much he loves you?"

I am wasting my breath for he is not listening.

"His love is conditional."

"I think you are not seeing things clearly," I reach for him tentatively, anything to calm him.

"You should be happy about this!" He backs away. He will not let me touch him.

"How many years have I listened to you tell me he was bad for me, that he would hurt me, that I should shed my mortal friends like they meant nothing? Now you change your mind? This is what you have wished for."

"I was wrong Legolas. I admit that, I see it now. I can see how important Elessar is to you, and you to him."

"I am not important to him. I am a convenience"

"How can you read that letter and still say that?" The warping of his reasoning frightens me.

"How can you read this letter at all? Because you want to help? Destroying us does not help!"

"I do not want to destroy us!" I cry.

"You already have!" Legolas replies and I flinch as the words hit me.

And with that he spins around and storms out the of door. Leaving me alone, bereft, a victim of my own foolishness.

Legolas and I have a secret place. Outside the settlement, and yet near. Deep in the forest and yet accessible. I go there now. He first bought me here soon after we arrived in Ithilien, when I was sad and heartsick for my home. I did not want to leave the Greenwood. I raged against it but his mind was set and after long months of separation I could not be apart from him any longer. I gave in.

But I was unhappy. I could not settle and I did not want to. Then one day Legolas led me through the trees to this glade that is now ours and ours alone. In it he had planted wildflowers galore from our home, from seeds he had collected carefully and carried with him all this way—for me. It was a riot of colour, and scents, oh it smells of the Greenwood!

We come here when we wish to be alone, when he needs breathing space just to be Legolas, not Legolas the Prince. And I come, when he is away with dwarf, or in Minas Tirith with the Men, and I am lonely for his company. It comforts me to know he created this place of wonder just for me.

But now I come on my own, I come with his words of our destruction ringing in my ears. I come for comfort and I find none, for this place, without Legolas, is cold and empty. Still I stay, I stay and sit until darkness falls, thinking of all the mistakes I have made and all I stand to lose.

When it is dark and the stars light the sky he comes looking for me. I think I was always hoping he would, that he would know I came here. Proof, perhaps that we are not so far apart after all. He appears out of the night, his soft glow lighting the glade as he walks across it towards me and he stops in front of me.

"May I join you?" His voice is soft and gentle with no trace of the coldness that hurt so much before.

"Of course." I have wanted him to join me all evening. In the past he would not have had to ask.

We sit together shoulder to shoulder in silence, the heat of his body where we touch, burns through my tunic and warms the skin beneath. He says nothing.

In the end I cannot stand it, I have to speak...to say something, anything, and so I turn to him but I see then he is not with me. His head is tilted sideways as if he listens to something I cannot hear. His face is lifted to the stars. Their light iluminates his beauty. His eyes are unfocused. He may be next to me but he is not with me. I have seen this before and I know what distracts him. It is the sea.

"Legolas..."

I place a hand firm on his shoulder to jolt him free of it's clutches and it works for he blinks once, twice, three times before he stares at me properly, shaking his head as if to shake himself free of the last remants of the sea that cling to him.

"I am sorry," he says eventually, "The sea was calling me."

"I know," I say softly. To my surprise he continues to speak of it.

"It has been bad," he says dropping his head to stare at his hands in his lap, "since Taenor...since before Taenor if I am honest."

I remember then that it was the sea which distracted him before Taenor fell and I am filled with a rush of compassion for him.

"What can I do?" I ask. "Can I help?"

He shakes his head and I expected as much anyway.

"I have been thinking Maewen..."

I watch as he fiddles with his hands, twisting them in the hem of his tunic and I realise suddenly, he is nervous. Why?

A cold block of ice begins to form in my stomach. A sudden rush of apprehension overwhelms me.

"It is becoming too much, the sea—it wears me down— It is harder and harder to ignore it."

He is not saying this, he is not. I will not listen.

But not listening will not make what he says next any less real. Not listening does not stop his mouth moving and the words spilling out.

"Maewen...I think I will sail."

I have counselled Legolas to sail many times, in fact I have begged it of him. I imagined that the two of us could go, together, and there would be no mortals, no subjects, no problems across the sea. We could be together and happy and he would be the Legolas I remembered not the Legolas he had become.

I no longer believe that.

As he says the words, I know, I know with all my heart that this is wrong. This is not the right decision for him and he will regret it, oh so much regret, when he leaves behind the dwarf and Elessar. Especially Elessar if he goes now when they are so much at odds.

I know also that I can not go with him.

I love the land, I am entwined with it. It is my heart. I am not ready to let it go, I do not hear even so much as a whisper of the sea. And most of all, I no longer believe Legolas and I will be free of our problems simply by running to Valinor. It is not the right thing for us and it is not the right thing for me.

Legolas has not noticed my silence, he has not seen the terror in my eyes. Instead he takes my hands and holds them within his.

"Will you come with me?" He whispers.

"I do not want to do this without you. All will be well in Valinor and we can fix all that is wrong between us."

"Legolas..." I am breathless with anxiety. I feel sick with it. How do I say this?

How do I tell him I do not want to go?