I'm baaaacccckkkkk! Happy almost spooky season! Thank you for your patience, and thank you all for the reviews and comments you've offered!
Life has been chaotic, as usual. Depression has been up and down. This has been a really stressful year. Hopefully it's been a bit more kind to all of you.
As ever, I greatly appreciate feedback, constructive criticism, reviews help keep me motivated, so feel free to comment/review with your thoughts, questions, concerns, or miscellaneous musings.
If anyone feels the desire to create art, you're absolutely welcome, I'd love to see it and post it (with permission), but no pressure, I absolutely understand making things just for your own enjoyment. I'm also happy to message and collaborate.
Happy reading!
Despite that not everyone attended the Hall of Fire in the evening -and therefore there were surely still a few people in the Main House- we didn't run into anyone between the gardens and my bedroom.
Legolas waited graciously outside the mostly closed door as I stepped in to collect the cloak that went along with the dress.
It was a much darker green velvet, nearly black unless in the right lighting, had similar embroidery as the hem of the dress, and was lined with a smooth matte black finely woven fabric, soft against scarred skin. It was a full circle style cloak, just barely shorter than the dress, so once it was pulled on properly, the dress was almost entirely hidden from view, which made Arwen's comment from earlier that morning about hiding the dress make sense. This would definitely be enough to keep me warm through the chill of the night, though, and I made a mental note that I'd have to thank Athae the next time I saw her for the thoughtful touch of making a cloak to go along with the dress.
Hopefully she would still be in the Hall of Fire when we arrived.
Before exiting my room, -with the door still mostly closed between us-, I lingered for a long moment to retrieve and hold up the hand mirror that Arwen had left behind earlier so that I could see what the diadem looked like on me. It was a delicate thing, light and swirling. Not exactly the same as I remembered him wearing in the big coronation scene in the movie, but a similar style, woven and looping in decorative patterns before it met at the center in the slightest downward point. It had no gems or embellishments, just the simple elegance of the silver metal as it twisted and twined with itself. Sitting properly, it came to a point just below the edge of my hairline, resting slightly on my forehead. Elrohir must have put it on me a bit skewed so that the metal didn't touch me, otherwise I had to think I would have felt it, naturally cool as it was against my skin.
The person in the mirror was still a small shock, even having tried to refamiliarize myself this morning with newly cleared eyes. The addition of the diadem only increased the strange fae-like quality that the pattern of scarring seemed to give me. For a long eerie moment, my eyes caught themselves in the mirrored surface, drawn in by a glint of sourceless light that seemed to turn them to gold, and the creature in the mirror turned their head slightly to match my movement.
With an intentionally even exhale, I tore my eyes away from the mirror and let my hand lower slightly, facing the mirrored surface away from myself.
I was suddenly glad that we hadn't run into anyone with me wearing it. Was I really comfortable wearing this in front of others? What would the reaction be if I wore this into the Hall of Fire? Would it be enough of an indicator for everyone to assume we were courting? What sorts of cultural rules would apply? Perhaps it would be offensive that I was wearing a prince's circlet? He'd brushed it off pretty quickly when I'd asked earlier that afternoon, but was it reasonable to expect everyone to do that? Would he be offended if I tried to give it back?
I couldn't remember ever seeing anyone act deferential to him, so maybe being a prince didn't mean the same thing here as I was more used to it meaning in my own world and time?
My eyes slid to the door thoughtfully. Well, a source was right there…
With care, I set the mirror down in its place inside the wardrobe and noticed the pair of gloves rolled up next to where the mirror lived. The dark green velvet fabric was soft against my skin, not catching or tugging on any of the scarring, and I couldn't help but breathe out a slow breath of relief when I could no longer see most of the scars that traced along my hands, wrists, and arms. The gloves were the perfect fit, not bulging or bunching, too tight or too loose, they extended a bit past my elbows, halfway up my upper arm towards my shoulder, reminding me of elegant opera gloves I had seen in my own world a few times around Halloween.
Taking the few steps between it and the door, I pulled the door open the rest of the way, eyeing Legolas in contemplation where he leaned idly against the wall with his head tipped back to rest against the wall, eyes half lidded and face peaceful.
"Legolas, What is the significance of me wearing…", I motioned vaguely at the silver circlet on my head, "this?", while simultaneously combing my eyes across his beautiful features to see if I could find any small tells or emotions to decipher. It was much easier to do in the light of the halls than it was in the darkness of the gardens, though the visibility created new and different difficulties that distracted from focus, primary of which being how utterly gorgeous he was and how my attention kept moving from trying to find tells to admiring his jawline or cheekbones.
Gray eyes were fully open by the time I gestured, and they flickered first to meet my hazel eyes -effortlessly capturing them from their quest for visual queues-, then to the diadem resting on my hair, to my new cloak, and finally back to catch my eyes again. His answering smile was warm, and his voice pleased. "That is a very fine cloak. Will it be warm enough for you?"
I nodded, but did not speak or even move otherwise -partially still catching my breath from how it seemed to be so easily stolen from me every time he caught my eyes and partially because I wanted my question answered-, save for a slight shift in expression from curious to pointed at his lack of answer. His smile gentled, and he tilted his head softly to acknowledge me before speaking. "You mean, what will the response be to you wearing my diadem?"
With an answering nod, I continued to watch him expectantly from my doorway, raising a single eyebrow.
A laugh sparked out of him, and he took a few steps forward to offer a hand -palm up, long, lovely fingers outstretched and inviting-, his voice tinged with unspoken amusement. "You needn't dig your heels in, kit. I shall answer as best I may, though I sadly have no foresight to aid in confirming my thoughts, and even then, who can truly foresee how a person will feel or react when so many factors are at play in the outcome? I digress, they are assumptions at best, take them as such, if you will."
My lips quivered upwards as I accepted his offered hand, letting gloved fingers brush slowly, softly, across his palm. He gave a soft inhale at the light touch, his slender fingers curling ever so slightly at the contact. I traced up his sleeve and looped my hand around the crook of his elbow. Were his hands just sensitive to light touches, or was he surprised about the texture of the glove? Further discovery was necessary.
He paused, taking in the amused smile I was giving him with curiosity. "...what has made you smile so?"
Fondness was clear in my expression when I responded, dry humor and affection apparent in my voice. "That was a very beautiful and lengthy way of saying 'I can't be sure, but here's my best guess', and it just amuses me a little bit when you do that. Say things in a long and lovely manner. You have the time, so why not speak beautifully and lengthily? I think it's cute. It's just a really interesting quirk that I've noticed in my time here."
The more I explained myself, the more self conscious I became of what a strange thing it was to point out. "It's not a criticism, It's just a difference that I find amusing. In a good way. I didn't mean to stop you from answering. Please go ahead, as verbosely as you like. Your voice is beautiful and I enjoy listening to you."
My eyes dropped to the ground for a moment as I sidled beside him, wishing desperately that I hadn't said anything.
Despite the shy feeling I got from giving the random explanation, I couldn't resist peeking up to see how he would react, and I was intensely glad that I did.
His expression was an adorable mix of feelings, ranging from mild surprise, to innocent bewilderment, to a curiously bashful expression, as if he hadn't really had something like that pointed out before.
Hesitation colored his voice slightly, "Ah… Yes, well... I suppose that is something I might do on occasion…?", which drew a light sound of mirth from me.
Running one hand through his hair as if he needed a moment to catch his balance, he nodded and stepped to the side to allow me to close my bedroom door, murmuring "Right, your question.." before starting us at a slow walk down the hall towards the kitchen with a slightly less bashful tone of voice as he focused in on answering.
"There are no major traditions regarding the practice of wearing another's diadem, though it is not usually done, out of respect for the owners of said items. The sharing of unique items, -such as jewelry, or other things that are sentimental or personally valued-, is not an uncommon way to show a developing bond or relationship, though it does not necessitate that it be romantic in nature. It could be that those who have bonded in battle may share weapons, traveling gear, or even personal armor, should it fit properly. Others may be bonded through creation, working on a particular craft together or learning from one another, they may exchange tools or equipment engraved with some signature or marking to denote its original owner. Of course, that is not to say that such things are not regularly an indication of romance, simply that it is not the only thing such a display may mean. More frequently, 'tis some form of jewel, gem, or bit of jewelry, in any shape or form that the giver or receiver feels is pleasing, from a pendant on a necklace to being inset on a ring, even to being fixed to weapons or embroidered in clothes."
He was silent a moment before giving another bashful smile, "More simply, it is normal for those who are bonding to enjoy sharing their items with their companion, no matter the context. There is no implicit meaning. In this case, it is widely known by the inhabitants here that I choose not to wear the diadem except for special occasions because I would prefer to be treated not as a prince, but merely as myself, so it is not an intensely personal or officially important item. I have had it throughout the majority of my life, so it does still have some sentimental value, but that is the extent of its importance. It is a recognition of my ancestry, primarily, and the visible sharing of it will mean at the very least that I am acknowledging you as a trusted individual and marking you as having the protection of myself and my people. I believe most would view you wearing it as an indication that we are publicly acknowledging that we have grown closer, but would not immediately assume anything else of the nature of the relationship without some confirmation as such from either of us."
Gaining the slightest touch of fond exasperation in his voice, he continued, "Those who I've spoken to of my interest for you may jump to conclusions, though I would hope they attempt to confirm before assuming anything as fact."
A soft noise of surprise burst from me as I impulsively gripped his elbow tighter and stood on my tiptoes to lean closer in a conspiratorial way, giving a curious, encouraging, and downright coquettish smile while simultaneously whispering with the provoking tone one might use when a friend says they have a crush and one desperately wants to know who it is. "Who did you talk to about your interest? How long has this been going on?"
Bafflement stole across his features briefly at the abrupt change in energy, and there was a short pause -both in walking and speech- while his eyes scanned my face, before he seemed to come to some kind of understanding. He leaned down to my level -resuming our walk-, huddling up with me as if what we were about to discuss was top secret, though his voice was ever so slightly tentative when he spoke, he still matched the same hushed and conspiratorial tone that I had used.
"Primarily, Arwen and Aragorn, for they are the only I felt could truly see my perspective and empathize. However, I have also conversed a fair amount with Elladan and Elrohir, as well as Elrond, Glorfindel, Erestor, Gandalf, and a little bit with Maeben, and Athae. Ah, as well as a few of my companions that traveled with me from home. I have been speaking of you with them since our initial meeting outside of Rivendell -as you are quite an interesting individual- though I believe if I had to name when I began to realize my feelings… The first time I heard you perform. The things I could feel from your music moved me. I have been moved to tears by music many times, but the depth of those tears surprised me. It felt as if I was hearing a song I'd been longing to hear for so long. Would you not normally speak to your loved ones about matters such as these?"
His voice was sure and unapologetic about having talked to people, expression holding curiosity about my perspective, but no judgment or discontent.
I was surprised at how defensive such an innocently curious question made me feel, as if my first inclination was to take it that he somehow meant that not talking to loved ones was wrong. Open tone and expression conveyed that he wanted to know my thoughts, not that he thought either opinion was incorrect. I took a moment to let the defensive feeling pass and really considered the question.
It stung a little bit that I was a world away from everyone that I would have normally talked to about things like this, and that I was struggling to be honest about things with the friends I now had here. Still, surely a large part of why I didn't confide was because of Saruman's influence?
Some of the secrecy was for good reason, as the fewer people who were aware of my knowledge the less likely it would be to fall into the wrong hands.
Or perhaps I was really just inclined to distrust? Had I confided in people in my life before Middle Earth?
A few, but not many.
I'd been an honest person in general, but many of the people in my life had a tendency to lead with judgment instead of understanding, so I wasn't often inclined to confide in them and tended towards keeping my privacy. My primary confidant was my best friend, and also the person I was missing the most. I tried not to let the line of thought make me sad, focusing instead on the fact that I surely had a few people now that I could confide in.
Arwen would likely be happy to listen, and like Legolas had said, she was one of the few people who could really empathize with the situation. I wasn't really friends with Aragorn yet, but hopefully we'd be able to develop a friendship, since we'd ideally be spending a lot of time together for the travels. Remembering the interaction I'd had with Elrond in the morning when he told me about the dream -which I desperately needed some alone time to fully consider-, I noted to myself that I'd have to be careful not to be too friendly, just in case. There was no knowing what the context was for Elrond's dream, though, so I wasn't too worried.
Besides, anything resulting in Aragorn and Arwen not being together was definitely too big of a change, so it's not like I'd allow myself to be involved in a change of that magnitude.
Perhaps the twins would be receptive to listening? My memory was still a bit fuzzy, but they had seemed generally supportive of Legolas and I becoming friends.
Maeben and Athae? They'd probably tolerate it, at the very least.
Would any of the Hobbits want to listen to this kind of conversation? Bilbo would probably have a passing interest, simply because he seemed to have a passing interest in most things.
I couldn't imagine the rest of them taking much interest. They'd been mildly teasing in regards to Sam's interest in Rosie, but otherwise seemed generally supportive. Would they behave similarly in regards to me and Legolas? Were they familiar enough with us to do that?
Was this the sort of thing I should talk about with Elrond? Surely he and the rest of my little council wouldn't be interested in such indulgently fanciful things with how much else of greater import there was to discuss? Legolas had mentioned that Elrond had helped in raising him, so maybe he would have the kind of interest a parent has with their grown child's relationships?
Elrond had said I could talk to him about anything. The only way to find out if he actually meant 'anything' would be to test the boundaries and see how he reacted.
Initially I thought Erestor would be the least interested out of all of them, but the more I thought, the more I realized that he had always engaged very genuinely with me whenever I told him about things I had done with the twins or Arwen, and later with the Hobbits and Legolas, after they all arrived. He'd interacted with curiosity and asked questions, he'd remembered and referred to things later, and he'd acknowledged receiving his own positive emotions just from listening to me having fun.
Glorfindel, as the most dramatic and exuberant of them, would surely be accepting of conversing about these sorts of things.
Taking a brief moment, I acknowledged to myself the wild and almost unbelievable nature of the situation I was in. In Middle Earth, changing things, now apparently engaged? Betrothed? Dating? Courting? I didn't even know what to call it, but something romantic with Legolas.
More than that, I was thinking about talking about my feelings with any variety of thousands of years old, extremely wise and experienced creatures that I now interacted with on a daily basis…for dating advice and to, what, talk about Legolas or my feelings for him?
It seemed too implausible to be anything but a fever dream, and I briefly considered again the idea that I might be back in my own world actively dying, or in a coma, or something equally unfortunate.
For now, though, I focused back on responding to Legolas, doing my best not to let either the earlier defensive feeling or the more recent 'this is impossible' feeling come through in my voice.
"I had a few people I would sometimes confide in. Mostly just one or two. A lot of people in my world weren't generally as… accepting? Understanding? Positive? Not all of them, of course, but the people in my life didn't usually make me feel safe to confide my thoughts. I haven't really had the opportunity to feel safe confiding in people here yet. Not that I've received negative reactions, but more that up until our conversation this afternoon, I was absolutely convinced that there was no possibility you would ever reciprocate my feelings, and I was okay with that. It didn't seem like the sort of topic to bring up with others because it didn't seem plausible. I'm not unhappy that you trust people and seek them out for support. I need to work on doing that more."
I hesitated briefly before continuing in a slightly softer tone of voice.
"I'm not used to relationship changes being decided so quickly. This morning, we weren't romantically entwined, and I felt sure that we never would be. Now, this evening, such a short time later.. I'm sure it doesn't help that I wasn't expecting you to reciprocate in the slightest, so in every interaction we had, I excused your attention as simple friendliness. It's not unheard of where I'm from for people to be impulsive about relationships, and some of them do actually succeed long term, but it's less common. I've never really been in any major romantic relationships like what we're talking about, because I have a tendency to want lifelong commitment from people early in the relationship and a lot of the people that I encountered were flighty or afraid of commitment."
Shaking my head with a sardonic smile, I tilted my head down, allowing some of my hair to fall along the sides of my face and create a little barrier between our eyes. A moment of reprieve from his absurd beauty so I could think clearly.
"The irony, that here you are giving me this open ended offer of a lifelong commitment because that's just how you are, that's just how Elves are -which is exactly what I've always wanted- and now I'm feeling like it's too impulsive and too good to be true."
He leaned down briefly, one long fingered hand moving to smooth my hair out of my face so he could look me earnestly in the eyes as he asked, "Are you sure of your feelings for me?"
Caught by his eyes and how close our faces were, I gave the barest nod of my head, whispering "Yes."
Smiling, he bonked our foreheads together, gaining a soft giggle from me. Some of his hair fell over his shoulder and brushed feather light against my cheek with the way he bent down to share my space. The tips of our noses brushed together, a hint of breath caressed my lips, and he whispered back "I am sure of my feelings for you, as well.", lingering for a few heart pounding moments before pulling away.
Seemingly content with the resolution of his random straightforward question, he straightened back to his appropriate height and posture and continued down the hall as if that was an entirely normal, everyday occurrence.
My cheeks burned. The spot on my face that his hair had been in contact with practically tingled, reminding me of the sensitive feeling my skin got when I had goosebumps or chills.
How dare he. The nerve of some people, being so attractive and comfortable in close quarters.
Flopping my head to the side to rest against his shoulder as we walked, I breathed in, slowly, deeply, as much as my lungs could hold, followed by another sharp inhale to fully inflate my lungs, then let out a slow gusty sigh, trying to settle the overwhelming burst of feelings that such a small moment of closeness brought.
Maybe it would be better not to talk about these sorts of feelings with other people. If I really needed to, I could get an extra journal and write things out. They probably had lemons here, right? Nature's invisible ink! It wasn't completely foolproof, I'd lose the benefit of the invisible ink if I ended up wanting to re-read my thoughts, but keeping it on my person as often as plausible would hopefully help it from being discovered as well.
Okay, so, maybe I was secretive by nature. Uhg. It still felt wrong to admire his beauty. Objectifying. Shameful. Clearly, that was why I was inclined towards secrecy.
He responded to my big breath by withdrawing his arm from where it twined with mine and wrapping it around my shoulders with a light comforting squeeze, letting me naturally tuck against his side.
This was dangerous. He was dangerous. I would need to be very, very careful that I didn't let this.. Him.. distract me from the main quest. There were a few months to get this under control before the Fellowship started traveling together, hopefully that would be enough to get a handle on things. I acknowledged to myself that dismissing this wasn't an option I wanted to choose, so that option was obviously last in priority unless it became absolutely necessary.
Was it too convenient to consider the idea that part of how I could try to get a handle on things was exposure therapy? Maybe the more I was around him, the less reactionary I would be?
I'd have some extra time to spend with him until I was more recovered, but I would have some responsibilities as well. I was on a healing break from physical training, and I hadn't been back to the forge since Raithon sent me away, but I would probably have Sindarin lessons again, at the very least, as well as meetings to continue planning. Would he be willing to follow me around if I asked to spend extra time together? Would it be weird for him to be there during Sindarin lessons? Would Erestor even allow that? He allowed the twins to be in the same area, and they disturbed our lessons all the time.
Would he be welcome during planning meetings? He wasn't quite as up to date with things as the rest of my little council were, but he was semi-informed.
Drawing myself from my thoughts, I reached up slightly and captured the hand that was over my shoulder so that I could toy with his fingers, bending and straightening them and noting their length against the comparatively shorter length of my own fingers. These would be perfect piano hands. Did I know enough about the mechanics and measurements required to build a piano? It seemed like something the Elves would be capable of accomplishing from a standpoint of quality and precision of craftsmanship, if they had plans or designs to work from.
I made a mental note to try to sketch out what I could remember so that I could take the information to some of the crafters and musicians that lived here. There was so much I needed to write down before it faded from my already foggy memory.
Would that be considered meddling with time? If I tried my best to bring some of the things I knew into this point in the timeline? Even though, if we were assuming that Middle Earth was just past Earth, they weren't necessarily supposed to be discovered or invented for a long time yet?
That was for another time, though, far too large a thing to consider at this moment, so I set aside the mental note and focused back on what had prompted the conversation, following it to my next thought.
Tentative curiosity woven into my voice, I asked the question that was now burning in my mind. "So, if those you've spoken to might make assumptions, but you're hoping they'll hold off on assuming until you confirm things as true… is that something you were intending to do this evening?"
He paused briefly, looking a bit like he had to take a moment and decipher what I meant before he spoke, voice silken and ever so slightly hesitant.
"I see no reason to wait. 'Tis not unheard of for a preliminary interest to be announced before a proper betrothal -which is what this eve would be- for this eve will not be our official betrothal. Though rings are not mandatory for a betrothal -especially in times of danger such as this-, and it is not unusual for folk to skip public declarations, I had thought we could follow them, as we already intend to follow the tradition of waiting a year to be wed so that we can focus on the impending dangers."
He hesitated briefly, expression becoming slightly uncertain. "To make a betrothal publicly official is to share it with your loved ones in celebration and exchange rings in a display of intent. The design of the rings is negligible. Some simply use plain bands, some choose more intricate designs, but 'tis not uncommon for betrothed to design each other's rings, or take part in the designing of both together. You indicated your feelings while injured, and I hoped..", he trailed off for a moment before seeming to resolve himself, "I had hoped, if you were favorable towards the idea, that we could create our rings together."
I smiled fondly, twining our fingers together again and giving his hand a light squeeze. "That sounds lovely."
Feeling much more emotionally balanced, at least for the moment, I tugged his fingers lightly as we turned a corner, lifted the arm that was around my shoulders and ducked under, silently delighting in how easily he accepted my wordless directions
His silken voice chimed softly as I repositioned us, "I would be happy to learn more about your traditions so that we can incorporate them into our courtship and betrothal."
That drew another slightly melancholic smile from me at the reminder of traditions that would be impossible to truly follow due to the absence of key family and friends, and I had to force my breathing to remain even, trying to brush off the surge of sorrow with a joking tone. "I'll happily discuss that some other time. We're already going to be late to the Hall of Fire. I shan't let you distract me more than you already have."
Reaching across with the arm not currently twined with mine, his fingers brushed across the back of my gloved hand, feather soft and warm through the fabric, until they encircled my wrist to give a gentle pressure, a silent acknowledgement, before he returned his arm to his side, accepting the dismissal without complaint and letting the topic fade for the moment.
Determined to focus on anything else than the welling sadness inside me, and now in the relatively even floored and well lit halls of the main house, the impulsive thought occurred to me that I could fulfill a lifelong dream right now. To run dramatically through a castle in a beautiful dress, hair flowing behind me. The halls we were in weren't exactly the same as a castle, but it was still beautiful architecture, well worthy of being run through dramatically. My hair was loose and untethered, pouring in gentle waves along my back to my knees, tamed earlier that day by Arwen's attentive care to hold perfect light curls and waves.
I was even wearing a pretty dress, made specifically for me, with its own matching cloak and gloves. Legolas would probably think it strange, but I'd seen Elves move through the halls very quickly a few days prior when they were preparing for the celebration of Glorfindel's return, so there probably wasn't a 'no running inside' rule. Elrond had said light activity, but it wasn't like I was going to be all out sprinting or anything, just a refreshing and theatrical jog down the halls! Seeing no reason not to do so, I withdrew my arm from Legolas', -gaining a curious look from him after so recently re-twining them-, caught my skirts so they wouldn't trip me, and took off running dramatically through the halls towards the kitchen, smiling gleefully the entire time.
Surely, the entertainment factor of running through beautiful hallways in pretty dresses wouldn't last very long, -what with those things both being quite prevalent in Middle Earth-, but I was going to do my best to ride that wave as long as I could. It was only when I stopped marveling at the things around me that they would lose their entertainment value.
Behind me, Legolas made a noise of surprise, which was basically the only warning I got for him catching up to me a moment later with absolutely no difficulty. It was almost humorous how easily he kept up, trotting beside me as if this was hardly even a light jog for him. Though, I wasn't a particularly fast person to start with, and the skirts slowed me down a little bit further, so perhaps him being able to keep up really wasn't all that impressive.
His voice was curious, and not at all impacted by the movement when he wondered, "Is it really this urgent that we get to the Hall of Fire?", making me laugh lightly and shake my head mid-run.
Coming to a stop a few steps from the entryway to the kitchens, slightly breathless and extremely delighted from getting to do such a random and fun thing, I laughed and twirled once, causing my cloak, skirts, sleeves, and hair to flare around me with the motion. My ankle didn't even hurt after any of that. Elven healing was awesome.
When I stilled from the spin, it was to find Legolas standing a few steps away with what could only be described as absolutely perplexed mirth.
Wearing a satisfied smile, I took a moment to neaten my hair and clothes before turning my attention to him with the simple explanation, "Sometimes when one wears a pretty dress, one gets the urge to run dramatically through hallways.", which only seemed to increase the adorably baffled expression he wore.
I squinted at him for a moment, trying to think of a good way to re-word the sentiment. "Occasionally there are opportunities to be dramatic just for the sake of fun and enjoyment. You should understand that, mister 'oh no, I'm falling off the bed, what ever shall I do, how tragic, let me just steal your pillow'"
He laughed, and guided me into the kitchen, a thread of amused curiosity weaving its way into his voice. "Fair enough. Is that something I should expect on a regular basis?"
Moving to get myself a few pieces of fruit as a light dinner for expediency with the intent that I'd likely come back for a second dinner after my time in the hall of fire, I shrugged. "Probably not all the time. It's partially dependent on how I'm dressed, and where I am. Fancy halls, fancy clothes, minimal danger, maybe yes."
I most certainly would not be running dramatically through anywhere in Lothlorien, I noted silently to myself, else I might end up falling out of a tree. Specific flat and even floored areas of Minas Tirith might be acceptable, but the bulk of it was an accident waiting to happen.
Briefly, my mind conjured a cartoonish scene where I tried to run dramatically near the top of the spiraling ramp, only to trip, fall, and roll all the way down and out the gates.
Having acquired my small pre-dinner serving of fruit and gotten it cut into small pieces for ease of eating, I turned, finding that Legolas had acquired a bowl of soup for himself in the time I spent cutting up the fruit. He had just finished ladling it into a bowl when he noticed my attention and motioned with the ladle bearing hand towards the stew, spilling a few drops on the counter in the process as he offered with an inquisitive smile "I can get you a bowl if you like?"
I shook my head, holding up my bowl of mixed cut up fruit to happily chirp "fruit salad!".
Expression torn between delighted fascination and uncertainty, he tilted his head slightly and asked with mild hesitation in his voice, "Are you certain you don't want more than that? We've been together nearly the entire day and we shared no meals. When did you last eat?"
It was only then that I realized I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday evening, and that he probably wasn't going to be thrilled with that as an answer. Maybe I could just answer the first question, and strategically forget to answer the second?
Indicating my bowl of fruit, I reassured "This is going to be perfect, and I can always come back later if I want more." and held my breath as I turned away from him and towards the table.
Silence reigned as I moved away from him, and for a moment I optimistically thought the topic was closed, only to find his gaze astute and perceptive when I finally selected my seat -one of the ones facing the entryway- thus putting him back in my field of vision.
He waited until I sat to finish collecting his bowl of soup, using a miscellaneous cleaning cloth to wipe up the spilled soup before he moved alongside to settle in the companion seat to the one that I'd chosen at the table, placing the bowl of soup gently before him. As soon as his hands were free, he reached across to capture one of mine, drawing my attention with it as he softly, almost resignedly, stated "You haven't eaten today, have you?"
In tone, it was a question, but in expression, it was a statement.
I made a face, chagrined, and whispered "I forgot.. I'm sorry. It wasn't on purpose, I just kept getting distracted."
He exhaled sharply as his suspicion was confirmed, and his eyes briefly closed, expression morphing into one of dissatisfaction. His tone was a bit sad, tinged with disappointment, but not overtly scolding. "One would think you would be more likely to prioritize meals after what you've been through, yet it seems the opposite is true."
His eyes sought mine, and though I tried to avoid them -focusing instead on the colorful combination of fruits in my bowl- I found my eyes drawn to his only moments later as he leaned one arm partially on the table, turning towards me and angling down slightly to align and catch my gaze. Seeing words start to form on his lips, I rushed to offer an explanation. "I don't feel hungry very often anymore. I promise, I did not intentionally skip meals."
Eyes still caught to his, I sighed and chose honesty. "Yesterday evening, to answer your question."
Expression softening, he squeezed my hand lightly before releasing it, voice filled with exasperated amusement. "You confound me. Eat your fruit."
We settled into silence as I picked at my fruit, and though at first I felt chastened, it faded into a comfortable feeling of being cared for as he offered a sweetly compassionate and understanding smile before moving to begin eating his soup.
It was a comfortable silence.
The quiet crunch of fruit being chewed, and the clink of his spoon against his bowl, each munching our respective meals. More than that, still, there was the soft crackle of the fire in the stove behind us, the pleasant mingling aroma of various foods, and in the distance I could just barely make out the echo of a song on the wind, carried over from the Hall of Fire. With that egging me on -and me driving us to action- we didn't linger long in the kitchens.
It was difficult at times to hold on to the feeling of urgency. I was still finding it disturbingly easy to fall into the timeless feeling of Rivendell, which made my usual lack of directable focus feel somehow worse and better at the same time.
We only stayed long enough to eat and rinse the dishes we'd used. Legolas insisted on washing mine for me, excusing that I would wet my voluminous sleeves if I attempted such a thing -nevermind that his own loose-fitted robe sleeves stopped at the wrist and got a bit damp in the process- before leaving to head back out through the dark of night to the Hall of Fire.
The walk went by without too much difficulty, -considering that it was now entirely dark-, though I did trip once with the result of Legolas catching me. He used it as an excuse to hug me briefly, sending us both into a fit of lighthearted giggles before he released me -upright once more- and we continued on our way, occasionally huddling together to whisper thoughts to each other, which was much more of a trial for him than it was for me.
As we neared, I paused, holding Legolas's arm to get his attention so that I could whisper a sudden thought to him. We ended up meeting halfway, me standing on tiptoes while propped against him for balance, him stooping down -thoughtlessly accommodating the height difference- so I could whisper next to his ear.
It hadn't occurred to me earlier, but the way he described the 'sharing of items' made it sound like it was supposed to be a two way thing. My voice was soft, and just a touch concerned.
"I don't have anything for you to wear, Legolas. Do you need to have something? If I have your diadem? All the examples you gave were exchanges."
I cast around for something to give him, cringing internally at the sad realization that since my clothes had been destroyed in the initial travel here, I didn't have anything from my world except myself. I reached a hand out of the warmth of my cloak to catch a strand of my hair, whispered words bursting out of me impulsively. "We could cut a little bit of my hair and braid it into a necklace or bracelet or something?"
He looked genuinely touched at that, but also somewhat horrified, as if the idea of cutting my hair was abhorrent. Somehow, his voice was grateful and dismayed simultaneously when he burst out a hurriedly whispered "Please, no." reaching between us to catch a loose strand that was over my shoulder above the cloak and twist it once through long slender fingers with a downright protective expression.
"It means a great deal that you'd be willing to do such a thing. Truly. Though I would treasure such a gift enormously, it would pain me to see such beautiful hair severed, even for such a thoughtful gesture."
Allowing my hair to slip out of his fingers, he set his hand lightly on my shoulder, trailing it down my arm so he could grasp our hands together as he leaned down further to briefly press his forehead to mine, whispering softly "May I braid your hair?"
Feeling my nod against his forehead, he straightened and circled around to stand at my back.
I was suddenly extremely grateful for the cloak covering my shoulders, as without it, and with the halter style of the dress, his fingers would have been brushing against the bare skin of my back. It was distracting enough with layers of cloth between us.
Gathering the hair from over my shoulders on both sides, he set it all nicely on my back, straightening and smoothing it gently as responded further while beginning to braid. "Equal exchange is not obligatory, though, it means a great deal that you considered it. This is less of an exchange and more of an open sharing, as I will still need the diadem later. I would hear no end of it from my father if I gave it away."
I could practically hear an impish grin in his voice at the last statement, as if the idea of his father being upset about such a thing was amusing to imagine.
Another moment passed as he skillfully wove bits and pieces of hair into the braid, accompanied by a soft, almost melancholy tone of voice as he finished. "My father taught me how to weave this braid. He told me stories about how he used to spend time helping my mother care for her hair, and this was one of her favorite ways to have it braided. He told me that she always said she could never manage to get it right on her own, so she always asked him to do it for her. He later confided that he once saw her do it by herself -prior to when he started helping braid her hair- but that he loved that it was something special that she always wanted his help with because it gave them so many moments to spend time together and gave him so many opportunities to take care of her."
Running one final hand over the braid, he stepped around to face me with a gentle smile, pulling some of the hair that was still loose -as it seemed to be a partially braided style- over the front of my shoulder.
"You may see it as me giving you something to braid your hair in such a way, but perhaps you could see it as you giving me the opportunity to care for you, and to show others that I've cared for you? It may not even end up being a hairstyle you appreciate or enjoy, and should that be the case it doesn't have to be this one, I'm happy to learn how you enjoy being cared for.
I would prefer that you do not view wearing my diadem as something that needs to be paid back or a situation that requires equal contribution on your part -or any contribution at all, really-, as I would hope you would feel about any situation where I may wish to give you gifts. 'Tis not a trade, 'tis not an exchange, merely sharing and giving for the sake of it, not to receive anything in return. Just for the joy of giving. I will gladly accept anything you may want to gift to me, should you wish to do so, but that would be just the same. For the sake of giving, not that I would have to reciprocate."
Emotions overwhelmed me for a moment, and all I could do was whisper "okay" in response.
He kept taking care of me, over and over, and it felt like I didn't know how to accept it. So much of my life had been surrounded by people who saw gifts as trades, as obligatory.
Clearly, he was going to correct that misconception.