Dedication: This one is for linnea23, thank you for your thoughts! And welcome to the amazing world of FF!


Two: Prestannen


Legolas watched. He felt the blood drain from his face and the breath freeze in his chest. For ten years he had pushed it all back, but the emotions he had reigned in suddenly washed upon him like the droplets of water, seeping through even the tightest woven barriers he could raise. The hurt and betrayal and attachment in his heart returned as fresh as the moment he had realized she had left him waiting for nothing. But his companions exclaimed in gleeful surprise at the unforeseen, but largely vital, aid.

She moved like liquid, her hair trailing wisps as she wielded two unfamiliar daggers. Around him, other elves clad in grey capes massacred the remaining spiders. Thumps resounded as the great bulks fell one by one until all the spiders around them were either dead or departing. Still, Legolas could not move his feet. He tried to look away but she was like a light in a room with no other illumination—his eyes were glued on her.

Only when he heard a panicked shout was he reminded of the much larger task at hand.

Aegnir was shouting Falael's name, as he held the elf in his arms. Like pulling a great weight with his legs, Legolas willed his feet to move. With what seemed too much of an effort, he made his way to his injured comrade. At a close distance, he saw the paleness of Falael's face and the large gaping wound on his leg.

Aegnir held a bloodied hand to the elf's forehead. He stroke Falael's cheeks lightly, but still he remained unmoving. "He's not breathing," Aegnir looked up to Legolas with wide eyes.

Before Legolas could answer, a voice spoke behind him. "Let me see." She was nearer than he had thought, but this time, he did not freeze. Instead, he made way for her stiffly. She hurried past him, and he was almost sure he smelled the familiar scent of flowers and wind in her hair.

"Tauriel?" Aegnir gasped out in astonishment as recognition registered on his face. She neared him, and the solemnity in her face wiped any traces of surprise in his. When she kneeled beside him, he hurriedly passed Falael's body to her.

She held Falael's head and placed two fingers on his neck, closing her eyes as she felt his pulse.

"What has happened to him?" Aegnir asked, watching her.

"Poison," she whispered. Then her eyes snapped open, and smiled at Aegnir. "He lives," she declared, as the other elves murmured in relief. "He has merely been paralyzed. He will wake in a few hours, but we will have to carry him back now. I cannot administer to him here. We have to leave this place. We saw another troupe of orcs approaching from the South."

"Of course," Aegnir nodded. He then rose and took Falael on his back. The other elves recovered from the battle and recalled the weapons that had fallen. From the corner of his eye, Legolas could see Tauriel walk back to the spider she had first slain, take the dagger buried deep in its eyes and reattach it to her belt.

As they headed back to the kingdom, Legolas remained at the back of their pack. Aegnir and Meginor led the way, while Tauriel conversed with them. He knew she had seen him by now, but she had not yet spoken a word to him. She did not meet his eyes, did not acknowledge him. But he could see her speaking with Aegnir, their voices hushed but urgent.

But Legolas... he, she was clearly avoiding.

He clenched his fists at the thought. Yet again he questioned her presence in his life. As they neared the realm, many of the elves broke into conversation but he stayed silent and kept to himself. He was unable to comprehend the fact that she really was here again. He felt the urge to pull her aside and ask her what had gone wrong. He needed to know why she had left him as she did. Was everything they had gone through truly that disposable to her? His thoughts made his stomach twist unpleasantly. Was it because she had somehow figured out his feelings for her, and could not reject them directly? He himself had not realized his affections for her until the end, but might they have been palpable to her?

He glared at her form. He had thought that the questions had gone, yet now they were resurfacing with her return, and overwhelmingly so.

More than that, he questioned her very presence in Mirkwood. He suspected that she and her group might be the exact reinforcements his father spoke about, but he could not bear to accept it. It only reaffirmed her nonchalance about what happened. How else could she have the gall to come to Mirkwood and tell him she was now going to live here? Secretly, he wished that they had just passed the forest and were travelling someplace else.

His suffering did not end when they returned to Thranduil's Halls. Aegnir and his companions led Falael to the healing room, but he had the responsibility to lead the new group into an audience with his father.

"Please follow me," he said tersely.

He led the way, walking briskly to the very same room he had just visited earlier that day. They followed behind him, and he counted quickly that there were more than a dozen of them. However bothered he was by Tauriel's appearance, he felt relieved that there were more reinforcements than he had hoped. Perhaps it would not be so difficult now to protect the castle, and injuries, like the one Falael just suffered could be prevented.

"We bid you welcome," Thranduil announced as soon as he opened the doors to his father's throne room.

He strode inside, the elves close behind him.

"I have heard that you have saved my people—and my son—from possible ruin," the king continued as Legolas stood to the side, and the new group walked past him, nearing Thranduil. He lowered his gaze when she walked by.

"We merely finished off the remaining adversaries, dear king," an elf answered, bowing as he stepped forward. He had dark brown hair falling to his back, and a soft expression now graced his stern face.

"Filarion. It has been years," Thranduil gave a small smile.

"Yes indeed it has," Filarion smiled back.

"I am glad you have seen it fit to visit us again. Yet I think your assistance was very much needed. I have heard of the injury Falael sustained," Thranduil said in return, as he gazed over the large crowd.

"It seems word travels fast enough. Yes. He was lucky it was only the poison. His paralysis will fade in a matter of hours, but he will need to rest to regain his strength."

Thranduil nodded. "Too many of my kin have already met the numbing bite of the lienti."

Filarion raised his eyes in curiosity. "You speak as though they have long been troubling your kingdom, hîr nín."

"Indeed," Thranduil frowned. "They grow by the day. It seems the dark creatures have an interest in the kingdom. Day by day they get closer to our lands."

"Not only yours, my king," he heard Tauriel speak out, and Thranduil raised a brow as he regarded her. Legolas saw how Filarion sent her a disapproving look. Still, he remained quiet as Tauriel spoke on. "We have passed by herds of spiders and orcs on our travel here. It is as we have long feared. The dark creatures have grown populous. Something is stroking them on," she continued, stepping forward.

Legolas turned his attention to his father, wondering how he would take the abrupt statement. Thranduil was watching her unblinkingly, but he had nothing but curiosity in his eyes. "You must be the Lady Tauriel," he commented. "The Lady Galadriel has written about you. She hails your skills in the battle, and told me that you have been one of the best warriors in Lothlorien. She is proud of her granddaughter's kin," he said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips.

Tauriel bowed, red hair falling to cover her face, yet Legolas could almost see the proud smile on her lips. He clenched his fists to his side, trembling to control his anger. So was this truly what had spurred her choice of leaving him?

"The Lady is too kind. I could only wish to prove worthy of her praises," she said.

"You will prove that here," Thranduil told her. "Pray, tell me, they say the elves of Imladris have also gone to Lothlorien?" he asked.

"Yes. My mother is a part of the group," Tauriel said. "There has been a new poison discovered in one of the guards of Lorien, and they were hoping my mother would be able to inspect it. Lord Elrond was not able to make the journey, as he also needs to tend to the matters in the valley."

"The healers in Lothlorien could not decipher the poison?" Thranduil frowned.

"No, hîr nín. I worked with the healers there, and the wound had properties we have not recognized in others."

Thranduil nodded, but Legolas knew he would speak to her of the wounds at a later time. It was worrisome news. "But I hope I do not disappoint you if I keep you from the healing quarters and request you join the guard instead? Your brave kin will join you, of course," he gestured to the elves behind her, and Filarion also bowed, respecting the king's wishes. "The others may serve in the castle. But of course no one who wishes to join the guard will be prevented from doing so. I hope that you would assist them, Lady Tauriel. I'm sure my son will need your skills," he finally lifted her gaze from her and met Legolas' eyes. "I am unsure if you are acquainted with each other yet. Legolas come," he called out.

Legolas slowly walked forward. However he felt about what was happening, he could not deny his father's orders. The elves turned to regard him. She, however, stood rooted and unmoving.

But she spoke, before he had a chance to. "I am familiar with the prince of Mirkwood," Tauriel said, her back still to him. "We have met years ago, at a gathering here on this very same day," she explained.

Legolas narrowed his eyes, heart hammering in his chest. Prince of Mirkwood? It seemed that was all he was to her now. He felt his whole body grow hot, and he swerved in place, walking to the exit as his father spoke pleasantries of how introductions would be easier now that they had already known each other. But he was deaf to the words, all he knew was that he needed to go out. Prince of Mirkwood. He could not stay anymore. The room suffocated him.

But the king called his name again, robbing him of any plans to depart. "Bring our guests to their quarters so they may bathe and rest," he instructed, with a voice that left no space for discussion.

So it was that he found himself leading the elves to their quarters, bringing them to their rooms one by one. Even when half of them were already in their chambers, she still had not spoken with him, and he was too angry with her to start a conversation. When finally they had reached her sleeping chambers, he forced his suddenly dry throat to speak. "Lady Tauriel," he called out, eyes firmly on the door as he pulled it open for her to walk in.

He had expected her to walk in and keep the game of silence that they had been so far playing. Instead, she stopped as she reached the door, so close from him that he could again smell the scent of flowers from her hair. "Legolas," she called out softly, almost that nobody else but him heard her.

He lifted his eyes, finally, finally, looking at her face. Not the first time, his breath stopped as he took in her whole image. She had not changed—she had the same forest-green eyes, the same soft clear skin, the same downturn of her brows as she watched him carefully, almost as if she was scared.

The perfect replica was of course, nothing new to their race, but that did not mean that he had not seen changes. He had seen them, from his father, from his friends, from his own reflection in the mirror. He had seen the traces of weariness on the faces, traces of senescence and melancholy. The brewing darkness had changed their light into an ashen coldness. But Tauriel—she looked like the day he had seen her in the glade, so many years before. She had not changed. Almost, he could hear in his head the times they had just told stories to each other as they walked through Imladris. It is difficult for one in my situation, to handle weapons, she had told him, long before. Almost, he could feel the warmth of her body as he held her, that night before they separated. Almost, he could feel the touch of her skin, and wondered if it was just as soft now.

But also, he remembered the hollowness he had felt when she did not appear to even wave him a goodbye. To even take the dagger he had left for her—one of a pair, the dagger that was now in her belt.

The betrayal overtook him and he steeled his heart and he gazed at her dispassionately. "Rest well, lady Tauriel," he bowed stiffly.

By the time he lifted his gaze, she was already inside the door, and he closed it behind her, feeling as if a new weight had been added upon all that he carried.


In the days that followed, he desperately tried to take her off his mind.

Legolas frowned as he stood at the main gate, blankly staring off at the forest just a few moments ago. Even the simple act of standing guard was interrupted by the rumbling of his emotions.

It hadn't been as easy as he had thought. It seemed the more he tried to erase her face, the more the vividness of the picture would meld into his mind. It did not help that she had seemed to found the company she was looking for in Aegnir. He had seen them walking around the halls, days on end, speaking as if they had never been separated.

He remembered again what he and Aegnir had talked about years before. With a clench in his heart Legolas wondered if Aegnir still felt the same as he had then.

It did not matter.

In fact, maybe it would even be better if Aegnir loved her. And who could tell? Maybe it was to him that Tauriel returned her feelings. It would be better that way.

A throbbing sensation erupted in the back of his head and his hand leapt to his temples, rubbing the area, hoping that the massage would somewhat lessen the pain. He closed his eyes.

"You seem troubled," Meginor said beside him.

Without opening his eyes he answered, "Shouldn't everyone be, with the attacks that are happening?"

He heard Meginor laugh, which somehow even made his blood turn warmer. "Before yesterday, you weren't one of them. If I remember correctly, you even told me that the voraciousness of the spiders was a good exercise for our dull living."

Legolas frowned, angry that the elf had pinpointed his inconsistency. "What is it you want from me, Meginor?"

Again, Meginor laughed, placing a heavy hand on Legolas shoulders. "I want you to rest and have a peace of mind, my prince. There will be no need for two elves on guard tonight. No one will come, and even if they will, I'm not sure you will be of much use at the current state you are now," he answered.

Legolas' eyes snapped open, but he frowned at the jest. Still, he inclined his head in gratitude as he stepped into the heavy gold doors.

"They are serving dinner. Maybe sating your stomach would also sate your worries," Meginor commented.

"Unlikely," Legolas answered him with a single word.

When he entered the halls, he went immediately to the stairs, and not to the dining halls, as Meginor had suggested. He did not feel like eating, and besides, he did not want to spend his dinner watching Tauriel and Aegnir whispering in front of him. Instead, he climbed step after step, until he reached the highest room in the entire realm. It was a wide chamber with white walls and white floors, empty but for the torches that lit his way. There were only three windows, each on the north, east, and west, while in the south of the room stood a single door.

He walked to the door, and when he opened it, whistling wind met his ears.

He breathed in deeply as he stepped outside, closing the door behind him. He was on the flat roof of the highest tier. It was an open space long before used as a watchtower, but was now long abandoned. Ever since they had built the small gate and fort at the river, they had not found any use for the old ones. There were white columns here and there, wider than three men standing side by side and higher than the trees of the forest, they served as higher vantage points for the watchers. But even they were riddled with age and neglect, vines grew in their sides like snakes coiling upwards. It was here that Legolas would come to clear his mind. No one could disturb him here, or no one was willing to. The hundreds of steps leading to it was hindrance enough.

But tonight he was not alone.

Only when he had walked out did he see her. She was leaning on the thick, concrete balustrade. She had been covered by a column, so he had not seen her when he walked in. Her back was to him, and her head was turned to the sky. At the sound of his footsteps, she swerved around. "Legolas," she gasped, when their eyes met.

"What are you doing here?" he said, not kindly.

"I—I couldn't eat," she explained, looking down. "The halls seemed suffocating to me today. I am unaccustomed to this feeling, for you know that Mirkwood has always been a home to me, and I—,"

"It doesn't matter," Legolas swerved around. "I have to go," he said, already walking towards the door from where he had emerged from.

"Please... Legolas," she cried out. He slowed in his tracks, her voice shook with emotion, but he did not stop walking. "Why won't you speak with me?" she continued on, as he ignored her.

"Legolas," she cried out again, the distress in her voice apparent, but again he paid her no mind. When he was but a few paces from the door she spoke. Her voice was softer now, as if she had given up on trying to reach him and was now simply talking to herself. "I've missed you."

He halted, his hands almost rising to open the knob. He let her words wash over him, then finally turned around to face her. "You've missed me?" he said, his eyes flashing as he strode back to where she stood. "Do not think that in the length of our separation, I have grown stupid and dull," he said, his voice quiet, although he could feel his insides exploding in a wrath of years of wondering and betrayal. He walked towards her, stopping only when he was a few paces from where she stood. "Or maybe you have always thought me stupid and dull," he laughed hollowly.

Her eyes registered hurt and surprise, but she did not stand down. Instead, she raised her head to him, meeting his eyes. She shook her head viciously, and spoke in a louder voice. "You are my friend, my teacher. I would never think of you that way."

"Never?" he said. "Not even when you left me to search for you through crowds of elves, looking like a fool, expecting that you would come? Not even when you did not show up and left me there hanging?"

She broke her eye contact with him, and her eyebrows furrowed. She looked like she was fighting a battle with herself.

"I told you that day when we last spoke—I told you it did not matter if you did not want to come, I would have respected that. But I did not expect that you would leave me there, with no goodbyes. I did not expect you to have dismissed our friendship so easily. All I wanted was to see you there, and to say goodbye," he stopped. He breathed in, trying to keep his emotions down. But he knew it was far too late. Then, he asked, in a much softer voice. "Tauriel," he said, for the first time speaking her name since that day he had left Imladris. Her name rolled off his mouth so easily, such that it even hurt the more when he finally asked her, "Was that too much to ask?"

She raised her eyes to him, then, and her eyes were wide and panicked, as she took his hand. She spoke in a quivering voice, "I was not able to tell you, when we were there, Lord Elrond spoke with me, he—,"

"Told you you were invited to Lothlorien, I already know," he said. He remembered yet again, how she had made her choice. And with the fire of anger in his voice, he spoke "I heard what father told you earlier today. You are a healer now? And it seems the Lady Galadriel and your kin have seen you as the kind of elf you have always wanted. But it only shows me now that you were never who you thought you were—who I thought you were. I never knew that you were someone who simply cared of what others thought of you, such that you are willing to sacrifice everything else you have," he stopped, breathing heavily. But when she raised her face again, he could see clearly in the brim of the night light that her eyes were brimming with tears, and he knew that he had crossed the line. Still, he hardened his heart and watched her.

A single drop fell from her eyes, but she wiped them angrily. However, when she spoke, there was no anger in her tone, only a hush of sadness and regret. "What has happened to you?" she asked. "You have changed."

He smiled sardonically at her. "I have learned truths that made me think different towards the world," he turned around, but the imprint of her tear filled eyes still stayed in his mind. "Besides," he said, giving her one last look. "You are not that different."

END OF CHAPTER


To CrazyCats: It has been ten years since they last saw each other. And as for your other questions, they will be answered soon. :)

A/N: My Christmas present to all of you, a super-early update! :) A BIG THANK YOU to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter. It was so heartwarming to hear your words of encouragement, and really, they're what spurred me to update this early.

Do you know that there is no direct translation in Sindarin for "change"? Presta was the closest I could find. And Prestannen stands for "affected," or "changed," as I'd like to see it.

How's everyone's holidays? I hope you're all feeling homey and warm like I am. Your words would be the perfect Christmas gift for me (wink wink). But really, I'd love to hear from you all!

Love and warm hugs,

Vee