It's winter now, cold biting winter. Elfwine writes to me, his letters are eloquent and flirtatious, yet still hold the honesty and boyish charm I knew him for. Haldir and I are strained, we have moments I feel we are so close then it's like a switch goes off and he's guarded and separated from me again. I love him, I don't think I realized it until now what it was I felt, but it's love. I am in love with Haldir and I don't know how to feel about that. I know he doesn't feel the same for me; it's his duty to be around me, if it were his choosing he would not choose me that's clear. I yearned to confess the depth of my affection, to let him know that he occupied every corner of my thoughts, that my heart beat for him and him alone. How could I marry Elfwine when I could never love him how I love my guard? Nothing has happened between us either to warrant such feelings, it isn't like Elfwine who did nothing but hold my hand and compliment me. Haldir was rude and brash, often what physical touch we shared were shoves and yanks, but in those moments those few moments he held me when I cried I think that's perhaps when I fell.

Mother's visits have become more frequent and welcomed even. My opinion of her has shifted into a new light; I'm beginning to see her how others see her, as the Evenstar. Before it wasn't so much that she was cold, as it was that she was simply distant, we had no common ground. But now, as I'm about to get sent off into a new world, our relationship is mending. Just the other day I opened my eyes to find my mother standing by the bedside, a tray in her hands, adorned with a steaming teapot and delicate porcelain cups.

Her warm smile greeted me, and I couldn't help but return it, grateful for her presence. It was strange, not being afraid of her reaction or disappointment. "Good morning, little princess," she said, her voice carrying a soothing tone. "I thought we could share a cup of tea together."

I sat up, my gaze shifting from my mother to the inviting tray before us. The aroma of freshly brewed tea filled the air, offering a sense of comfort and familiarity. I moved to make space on the bed, inviting my mother to join me, she didn't mind I was still in my chemise, or that my hair wasn't brushed and I still stank of sleep. Those things she normally cared about, but lately she didn't. It was freeing, I wasn't able to be myself around her though, I still had to put on a show with polite laughter and just the right amount of formality, but she didn't seem to pay mind to my appearance and that was a start.

As the conversation continued to swirl around us, my mother's eyes twinkled. She set her tea cup aside and rose gracefully from her spot on the bed, motioning for me to follow. Curiosity danced within me as I stood and trailed behind her, eager to discover the secret she held.

We entered a room adorned with the soft glow of sunlight filtering through sheer curtains. In the center of the room, a chair stood, with a breathtaking gown draped over it. Its ethereal beauty took my breath away as I beheld its intricate details, delicate lace, and shimmering embroidery, it was everything I dreamed of when I dreamed of my wedding. Mother didn't frown either when seeing me in nothing but my chemise as I stared at the dress.

"This," my mother whispered, her voice filled with a mix of pride and tenderness, "is the wedding dress that has been carefully crafted for you, "

My eyes widened as I approached the dress, my fingers trembling. The fabric seemed to whisper secrets of its own, stories of love and devotion spun into its very threads. As my gaze lingered upon the dress, I could not help but imagine myself adorned in its splendor. The layers of fabric cascading around me, the intricate embellishments sparkling in the light, and the ethereal veil that would crown my head. It was a vision of beauty and grace, an embodiment of the foreboding occasion that awaited me.

My mother stood beside me, her eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and tenderness. "My dear," she said softly, "this dress is not merely a symbol of tradition or grandeur. It is a reflection of your inner radiance, a canvas upon which your love story will unfold." She never complimented me so freely before. How could she call me radiant when I still stunk of sleep? I felt a deep pit of dread within me as I continued looking at the dress. It was truly the most beautiful dress I have ever seen. The wedding dress was more than just an exquisite garment; it represented the journey I was about to embark upon, the vows I would exchange, and the commitment I would make to another soul. I would be sealed, this dress was a ball and chain.

I reached out, gently tracing the exquisite patterns, feeling the smoothness of the satin against my fingertips. It was a masterpiece, a work of art it was made my elven hands mother said.

Father too has become less protective and more doting in his regard for me, in several council meetings I attended he asked me to speak in his place, which was only ever done by my brother.

My brother's relationship has been the same, albeit perhaps I see him less now since he has taken on more roles to cover fathers slack with regard to wedding preparation. I cry often now, I have no one to talk to about my inner turmoil, when Haldir sees me cry I can never tell if he's annoyed or upset by my outbursts by the way he clenches his jaw. He never asks what's wrong or why I cry, I don't think he knows; at least I hope he doesn't know for my own embarrassments sake. Uncle Legolas has come back once briefly, he did not stay for dinner.

I was seated in the library when he came; he had apparently been looking to speak with Haldir about something. I was writing Elfwine a reply letter to the one he wrote me, there was a pile of ripped and crumpled parchment next to me at the table as I tried to figure out what exactly to say. I couldn't flirt back, he was handsome that was true, but something shifted and even the nervous bubbles I felt for him at his compliments didn't feel the same on paper, they felt bland. It frustrated me I couldn't return his sentiments; every reply I sent him was a long string of formalities and rambles about different things that happened throughout my day.

The doors to the library opened and I glanced up wiping an inky hand against my brow, as soon as I recognized who strode towards my table I jumped to my feet and ran to him. I couldn't contain my joy and relief at seeing him, and without hesitation, I threw my arms around him in a tight embrace.

His strong arms enveloped me, and he spun me around in a playful twirl, eliciting laughter and a sense of lightheartedness that momentarily pushed away the weight of my tangled emotions. My uncle had always been there for me, a pillar of strength and support, and in his embrace, I found solace from the turbulent emotions that consumed me. I often wish he were my father sometimes, I love father, I do but Legolas understands me in a way neither of my parents do.

"Hello Dreamer," He greeted me with a smile, turning his attention to Haldir who stood behind me. He set me down gently, and the words began pouring out of me quickly before he could even speak to Haldir. "Uncle how long are you staying? I have much to talk to you about; please can you come up for tea?" He gave me an apologetic look, holding me at the shoulders, "I cannot stay long little Dreamer, I must speak with Haldir then we may have tea."

My heart skipped a beat, a mixture of curiosity and apprehension filling my mind. What could they be discussing? My eyes followed their retreating figures as they moved to a corner of the room. They spoke in an elvish tongue I wasn't quite familiar with, I want to glare at them, it's not like they would even need to change the language. They were speaking so softly I had no hope of distinguishing their words; I had human hearing after all. Haldir's demeanor was guarded, his posture tense, as he stood before my uncle. There was a heaviness in the air, an unspoken tension that seemed to hang between them. Every few hisses between them one of them would cast a look over their shoulder at me as if I were the conversation topic.

My uncle, ever composed and perceptive, listened intently, his brow furrowing at certain moments. His body language was open, his palms held outward as he spoke. Uncle was always like that, very diplomatic. As their conversation continued, I felt a knot of anticipation and anxiety tightening in my chest. Each passing moment seemed to stretch out, as if time itself had slowed down, amplifying the weight of the words being exchanged. I craned my neck trying to hear them, Haldir was getting visibly more flustered, his hands clenched and unclenched against his thighs. He shifted his weight between his feet and I could see his nostrils flaring from where I sat. As I craned, my chair tipped back. With bated breath, I strained my ears, hoping to catch fragments of their conversation that might offer some insight into whatever they spoke of. It was hopeless.

As I leaned back in my chair, the precarious balance proved to be my downfall. The chair teetered, threatening to send me tumbling backward. Panic surged through me, my heart pounding in my chest as I flailed trying to compensate my weight.

But just as I felt myself losing control, strong arms wrapped around me, catching me. The arms held me at my back and at the thighs; I was still in a seated position just within a set of arms. The chair clanked noisily to the ground. I found myself cradled in Haldir's embrace; he adjusted me within his arms, holding me bridal style. He could have put me down then, but for some reason he did not.

I peered up at him, his face, etched with concern, showed a flicker of relief as he steadied me in his arms. He was so handsome. His previously clenched hands now gripped me tightly; I could feel the strength of his grip, the warmth of his touch. Time seemed to slow down, our gazes locked in a deep connection that surpassed words. I felt that feeling again; the one I only felt when he touched me. I could feel his steady heartbeat, the rise and fall of his chest, he looked so handsome, his lips were parted ever so slightly as he looked down at me.

His blonde hair tickled my cheek as a few strands fell over his shoulder. With a trembling hand, I reached up, my fingertips grazing against the soft strands of his hair. I marveled at the texture, my fingers acted on their own accord, twirling and playing with the soft blonde hair. I felt a blush creep onto my cheeks, as I fiddled with his hair, but he didn't pull away, he didn't mind and I couldn't stop myself. I've wanted to touch his hair for weeks, touch him in general for weeks. His hair was soft, nothing like his hard countenance.

Then the sound of uncle talking quickly in that strange Elvish tongue rang out, and my spell my broken. I pulled my hands away in horror, refusing to look Haldir in the eye as he gently put me down. I stared at the ground trying to control my breathing, as the two Elves walked back to the other side of the room to continue their conversation. I was too flustered to try to sit down again, when they were finally finished Legolas was the last person I wanted to see. I visibly grimaced when he brought up having tea, but I knew I would get over it quickly. He sat across from me on a settee by my bedroom window as a servant brought the tray in setting it down on the table before us. Haldir stood just outside the door; I held a quill and parchment in my hand nervously. Uncle only smiled, he had a playful glint about him.

"Come on Dreamer, I know you have something you wish to say," I nodded, writing down my words for him, too afraid Haldir would hear. I wrote only one word gesturing to the page. It read, 'Haldir' He rose an eyebrow at me but nodded for me to continue. I took a glance at the door; I tugged on his sleeve pulling him close so I could whisper it into his ear.

"I love him Legolas," When I pulled away from his ear, a knowing smile graced his lips that he quickly hid into a blank expression, I wonder if blank expressions are a trait all Elves have. He nodded ever so slightly for me to continue. I couldn't tell what he was thinking; from his expression he didn't seem chastising. I took a shaky breath in as I grabbed the quill pen once more, 'He does not love me,' I pointed to my writing almost embarrassed Legolas was comforting me with my schoolgirl crush. He placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, his touch conveying a sense of reassurance. "You know this as fact?" My head shook, I don't know if I was trying to nod or shake my head and my confliction shown. I shrugged my shoulders, " Yes, it's fact. Besides I will be married soon anyway." I heard a cough from the hallway, it almost sounded like a choke, it sounded strangled. He sighed deeply setting his cup down on the table. The noises in the hallway seemed to cease.

"Is that what you wish?" I ran a hand through my hair, grabbing the pen again and writing my response down. 'Do you think I can learn to love him?' He gave me an apologetic look, "I was in your place once Lurin," he pulled at my side so I rested my head against his shoulder; it was a position I often found myself in when he was around. He so often lulled me to sleep with his voice I would fight it, and then my head would wobbly and rest against his shoulder, it was familiar and comforting. I felt another pang in my chest as I wished again he were my father instead. His voice was low as he spoke to me of the War of the Ring. As a prince himself he wasn't even supposed to join the fellowship, but he did despite his duty he followed his heart. And after the war, when his father and people bade him to come home he couldn't, it wasn't where his heart was, his heart was with his comrades, my father, uncle Gimli. So he stayed and helped rebuild the city and now he lives close by in Ithilien with the remaining Woodelves that haven't sailed West. He was scared of joining the fellowship, terrified of leaving his duty behind, terrified of what his father would think. He was scared of not returning to the Mirkwood, he felt like a failure of a prince even though he was one of the nine.

"Those that love you will love you for more than what you can do for them. I would have missed out on meeting my dearest friends and you had I not followed my hearts call." I pulled my head off his shoulder feeling dejected. I pointed at the paper, 'He does not love me.' Then before he could reply I wrote more quickly, 'Rohan might rage war with Gondor, what would the fallout be? Mother is just now speaking to me with love in her voice.' He sighed, his brows knit together as he read and reread what I wrote.

I shook my head at him, "Elfwine loves me-" he cut me off with a soft voice, "Elfwine does not love you, he loves the look of you." My mouth hung open, and tears welled in my eyes. "He loves me, he told me as such!" I argued back, he frowned softly. "Am I so unworthy of love Uncle? That you would disregard his feelings for me, you would assume they're not genuine?" He rested a hand against my shoulder, "Lurin," I shook my head, "No, my life is good now! I speak on father's behalf, mother smiles at me, and Elfwine loves me. He does," His frowned deepened, "are you happy?" My eyes widened and I refused to meet his gaze.

"Thank you for having tea with me, " I stood up abruptly wanting to dismiss him. He stayed seated giving me a stern look, "it is getting late." He made no argument and gave me one last hug before he left again for his home.

After that day I was awkward around Haldir for about a week, I avoided all interactions with him, locking myself in my room if I did not have council meetings or other business to attend too. That all changed when the nightmares started.

The first night I woke to him violently shaking me at the shoulders, I thrashed in his hold, clawing at him. "Lurin, stop."- "Lurin, it was a dream."-"Lurin please,"

I shook with sobs as he held me; it was several minutes before I could gather myself to form a sentence. "Something evil, it wanted to hurt me." I stuttered out as he rubbed my back with his thick hands. With each word, his touch grew more soothing, his fingers tracing ghost patterns along my back. "I saw it, eyes of red; it said it's coming for me." His hand, which had been gently rubbing my back, paused for a brief moment before resuming its comforting motion though now they pressed harder, no longer ghosts of fingers he was giving me a deep tissue massage. I could sense the tension radiating from him, as if he was wrestling with something within himself. It felt like he knew something, something he wasn't telling me. His jaw clenched, and his gaze became slightly distant, lost in his own thoughts. He comforted me until I fell asleep that night, staying my bedside all the night.

I get them almost nightly now, always the same variation of the dream. Evil eyes that are coming for me.

He doesn't stand outside of my room now at night, bringing a book with him to read while he guards my sleep at my bedside. Sometimes he reads to me, in the same dialect of Elvish he spoke to uncle in. I didn't understand his words but his voice was soothing, and the way his face would animate and his tone would change I could tell when he reached the happy parts of his story. Tonight though it didn't feel like enough, I was restless and exhausted, most of my wake had been spent crying either from fear of my dreams or letting my family down.

"Lurin I'm here, nothing will come to you." Haldir assured, that didn't stop my trembling. My body shook so violently I felt like I was vibrating with fear. "Can I feel your heart?" I asked as my teeth began to chatter, he leaned forward his face was a blank stone; he didn't even raise a brow. I placed a shaky hand against his tunic trying to ground myself with the pulse I felt underneath. It wasn't working, it wasn't working at all. I gripped onto the collar in desperation pulling him closer in my trembling.

He didn't fight against my tugging, "I'm scared," I stuttered out like a foolish child. "I'm here Lurin, nothing will come to you." He repeated the same sentiment. I pulled his collar again, pulling him until he was now on the bed too. His eyes widened, and he brought a hand up to remove my grip from his collar, "No please! Please stay Haldir, you feel like the sunshine, you feel like home. Please just until I fall asleep then you may go," I begged bringing my other hand up to his collar for good measure. I could see the struggle playing out across his face, his jaw clenching tightly as if trying to suppress the torrent of thoughts and feelings within him. It was wrong, it was inappropriate. I shouldn't ask him to lay in bed with me, I was betrothed and he was my guard. It might not be inappropriate if it weren't for my feelings. His hand encircled mine that grasped his collar; his eyes were squeezed tightly shut as he did, a pained expression on his face.

"No please," He gently pried my fingers from his collar and laid my deflated form onto the bed. But instead of retreating back to the chair he laid next to me. I didn't ask permission as I curled around him, resting my head against his chest. I needed to hear his heartbeat, it grounded me. He ran a hand through my hair as my trembling turned into the occasional tremor. His presence under my ear brought a sense of security and calm, as if he had become my steadfast anchor in the midst of a turbulent sea. As I nestled closer, I could feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest; his body was no longer tensed. It was so relaxed as if his entire body exhaled and stretched, he felt like the sunshine, he felt like home, and all I wanted to do was feel him.

When I awoke, Haldir was still underneath me, one hand absentmindedly stroking my hair the other holding a book. He felt me stirring and smiled down at me, not a smirk but an actual smile. I knew he wasn't asleep from the book he held and the way his hand stroked my hair, but for a moment it felt like a dream. Like that period of time when you first wake up and you don't put your mask on right away, that groggy blissfully unaware state. And he was smiling at me, an actual smile. I immediately felt shame and regret wash over me and scrambled away from him.

"Forgive me, that was inappropriate to ask of you." He said nothing in reply his face returning to his cold stone facade, and we went on with the day as if nothing had happened that night. Anytime he would brush against me or I would happen to touch him I would feel heat creep up my neck and stumble away from him. When the night came once more and I emerged from the bathroom clad in my chemise Haldir was already laying in the bed atop the covers with his book in his hand.