Status Quo

Shit.

I was such a fucking idiot.

And I had clearly gone too far. Even though I was still upset about Legolas' behavior, it hadn't been very nice of me to let the situation escalate like that. The Status Quo was clear: Whatever unspoken things stood between us, he refused to take it to the next level. No matter what he did in his weak moments. He had made that abundantly clear to both his father and me, and I had to accept that, no matter how it made me feel. I had to apologize, right now.

The guilty conscience had sobered me up a fair bit, which was why it wasn't hard for me to get up and stand. Taking a deep breath, I pulled open the door. I had no idea how long I had sat there leaning against the wood, but it had been long enough for Legolas no longer being there. Of course he wasn't. Still, a small part of me feared seeing him on the other of the door, and I wasn't ready to face him yet. I needed one more moment to think about what I was actually going to say.

Night had fallen over the Woodland Realm, yet it was not completely dark. I didn't know how the Elves managed it, but something that reminded me of lamps was attached to rock or wood every twenty meters. It couldn't be electricity.

After I got past the first set of stairs, I realized that my plan had bigger holes than Swiss cheese - after all, I didn't have a clue where Legolas would be spending the night, and even if I did: I would probably be stopped by guards. After all, he was the king's son and I was just a runaway human woman who had been drinking too much.

I almost turned back, but before I could finally decide to do so, the waterfall appeared in my field of vision, which I had already admired from my room window before the feast. This would be my last chance to see it up close, because tomorrow we would leave Thranduil's halls again - at least if everything went as planned and so far it all appeared that way. So I discarded the thought of my bed and walked in the direction in which the sound of water was directing me. It wasn't easy, because there didn't seem to be a direct path. I took several wrong turns and was just about to give up a second time when I discovered it after all: a narrow passage that led down to the waterfall via a more than daringly narrow bridge. And standing in front of it was... Legolas.

I stopped so abruptly that a stone I had bumped with my shoe fell down the bridge into the river, which was rushing violently under me.

Now that I had gotten both: a way to my destination and a chance to apologize to the elf, I felt my throat tighten. Was I getting cold feet? I bit my lower lip, but then kept walking. Heck, I had come here to do just that, I wasn't going to turn around now, no matter how fast my heart was beating.

Nervousness radiated into my arms and legs, making me so erratic that my hands started to shake. I hated apologizing. It meant admitting mistakes and that was something I found hard to do, especially when the other person had also done things wrong. Still, I would do it - because it was the right thing.

Arriving, I took a deep breath in and out for what felt like the hundredth time before stepping out onto the narrow grassy island that faced the waterfall. Its spray left little drops on my arms, face, and hair.

Legolas must have noticed me, but he said nothing, wasn't even looking at me. For a moment I let the silence linger, then I said, "I must apologize. I shouldn't have… it was inappropriate and I'm sorry."

Now it was out. Thank God. No matter what he might say or how he responded, I had gotten it over my lips and that was all that mattered.

"You don't have to apologize."

"Yes, of course I do. You made your position very clear and I was… I ignored that."

Again there was a long pause until he replied, "You were in the library." Not a question, more a statement, yet I answered, "Yes." And because I felt I had to justify myself, I added, "I was there before you and your father and then somehow didn't make the break... I didn't want to overhear you. Besides, I was worried that I shouldn't have been there. So I rather didn't want to make myself known."

"Even more so because my father was present, I understand," he said. "I warned you about him, so to a certain extent I am to blame for this myself."

"Does he have any suspicions?"

He raised his head. "When would my father not be suspicious? But I think the path he's chasing is better than the one we're trying to hide." I didn't dare look at him, instead I stared at the spray of the waterfall, struggling not to think about what he was trying to imply with his last sentence. "We've had some strange luck, but I'm afraid it won't last long. He's a hunter, he'll understand that..." He interrupted himself. "He has already begun to extract your secrets from you. You may have noticed that during the feast."

I frowned. "I thought I had a good poker face about the stones throughout the evening."

Legolas smirked.

"What?", I asked, confused.

"You're doing it again."

"I'm doing what again?"

"You are using words that have no meaning here in Middle Earth. Besides, I wasn't just referring to the stones."

Although the adrenaline rushing through my veins had made my mind half-clear, it took me a moment to understand what he was getting at. "Oh." And then, as the second sentence slowly seeped into my brain as well, I said, "What then?"

Legolas, who had been looking at me until just now, turned away. Was I mistaken, or was he somewhat taken aback? "It's not important," he said, sounding clearly in too much of a hurry. But I didn't want to press the issue again, having just apologized for crossing a boundary. "I hope it's all... good. Between us, I mean," I said a little awkwardly. "I value your friendship."

"Yes," he said quietly.

"Thank you," I replied, then pointed to the waterfall. "I think I should go back to my room, I'm all wet. Would you mind accompanying me this time?"

"Of course." Pause. "You don't have to do that."

I raised my head. "What do you mean?"

"You don't have to make up for nothing."

This time it didn't take me long to understand what he meant. "That wasn't a question out of politeness," I said, shrugging my shoulders. "You know that's not what I was brought up to be."

A brief smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "So not an elaborate plan to ease your guilty conscience?" he asked provocatively, and I felt terribly caught. Because of course I had a guilty conscience. A huge one.

"If it were my intention to keep you away from me, I wouldn't ask you to do it," I shot back. "I'm afraid I only found my way here because I followed the sound of the water. I really need your help, or do you want me to accidentally fall into the river?"

"I wouldn't put it past you," he replied dryly, and I had to grin. Then I turned my back on the waterfall and started walking towards the bridge - past the stone pillars that were so high that I couldn't see their end. Or at least I wanted to, but no sooner had I taken the first steps than Legolas asked behind me, "If your plan isn't to keep me away from you, then what is it?"

Again I frowned, pausing. If our exchange of words had felt light a moment ago, I now sensed quite clearly that the question carried far more weight than the Elf was willing to admit. "I don't know what you are referring to," I replied, though I had an inkling of what he was getting at.

He closed in on me, now standing maybe a stride away. "If you had wanted me near you, earlier, you wouldn't have..." He interrupted himself again, as if he had remembered that he didn't actually want to have this conversation.

With a jolt, I turned around, looking at him. "I thought we'd worked this out."

"We did."

"Liar."

"You leave me no choice."

"I leave you no choice?" I had so many retorts on the tip of my tongue, so much anger and disappointment, but also so much longing that I'd spent the last weeks and months locking away in a part of me that never saw the sun. All of it I could have hurled at him. And would have only widened the rift between us. The misunderstandings. The half-truths.

So I decided at that moment, when we were facing each other like two opponents, that enough was enough. I was tired of it. If this was going to be the breaking point, here in the Woodland Realm, then I was going to accomplish a bloody ending that neither he nor I would ever forget.

I didn't know who moved first, or we both decided to close the distance that still separated us at the same time. In the end, it didn't matter, because before I knew what I was doing, my hand closed around the fabric of his tunic, pulling him so close I could feel his breath on my skin. The second time that evening.

His fingers settled under my chin as if they had always belonged there. With his thumb, he gently stroked my cheek, like he feared I would pull back again.

But not this time.

For another quick heartbeat he hesitated, then he leaned down to me, took my face in both hands, and placed his lips on mine.

The moment it happened, I forgot my doubts, my concerns, my uncertainty. I forgot where I was and that any misstep, no matter how small, could result not only in me ending up in the cells of the Woodland Realm, but also in me never returning home. Because at that moment I felt that I no longer wanted to. And I knew that I was lost. I had spent months pretending that I wasn't - to no avail. He seemed to feel the same way, because after the first few seconds he lifted one hand from my face and put it around my waist instead. After that he held me so tightly as if he never wanted to let go of me again.

When shouts were carried down to us from a distance, I put some space between us. I slowly, very slowly, became aware of what we were doing right now. "They'll see us," I whispered quietly, breathlessly. "Are you sure that…"

"Yes," he said, and before I could throw in another objection, he pulled me close to him again. All coherent thought faded as Legolas pressed me against the nearest stone pillar, his hands in my hair, our bodies so close that I could feel the beating of his heart. We deepened our kiss, me almost sinking into it, not wanting it to stop, my arms wrapped around his neck. He felt so good. It felt so good, so real.

The shouts grew louder, horns echoing. Much closer now than before. This time it was he who broke away from me. His gaze lingered on my lips for a moment longer as if to return to them, then he said in a husky voice, "We have to go."

"Why?" It took me a second to come back to reality, too. "What was that?"

"The gate guards," he replied, and I felt him tense. "I'm afraid our breather is over."