Star-Crossed Lovers

Something in me felt almost as trapped as in the cells of the Woodland Realm as we followed the innkeeper up the steep stairs to the rooms of the inn. After Gimli had burned the letter, he had explained to us that although his contact had been able to track down the source, the woman had died some time ago. Her family was anything but talkative and Gimli's contact himself had to buy this information for quite a sum. It looked like a good piece of work, if we could get it out of them at all. In any case, it would take longer than a day and we would have to find a place to stay - something we had wanted to avoid, given the boatman's tales.

"Here is the lady's room," the innkeeper handed me a key, which I reluctantly accepted. I nodded to the others: We had arranged to freshen up first and then meet downstairs in the taproom. Twenty minutes, no more.

When I unlocked the door, I was met by a musty smell. As many windows as there had been downstairs, there were few up here. Someone had thought it a good idea to hang a heavy curtain, long past its best days, in front of the one tiny window. There was no fireplace and light only shone through a narrow gap between the curtains.

With a sigh, I closed the door behind me and took three steps over to the window. After pulling the curtain aside and opening the lever of the window with some effort, fresh air flowed into the room.

I looked around. With the exception of a bed, which consisted of a roughly cobbled together frame with a straw sack and a blanket made of thin fabric on top, the only things left in the room were a trunk for clothes and a table with a wash bowl.

The innkeeper had demanded an outrageously large amount of Castars for our lodging, which I could never have afforded. The elves had accepted the sum without bargaining - probably to get the man on our side. Which I doubted would stop him from betraying us if he got the chance and the pay was good.

A knock made me spin around. I quickly rushed to the door, but before I could even put my hand on the handle, it was already opening. Legolas slipped into the room as if he didn't want to be seen. "You should lock it," he said instead of a greeting or explanation of why he had considered it necessary to come here, using the polite form to address me.

I frowned. "We're back to speaking fair?"

With his gaze lowered, he surveyed the room until he stood at the window. Only now did I notice that he had not put down his knife. "Gimli will make contact with the woman's family on his own. He thinks it best if we don't appear there as a group. Besides, it's more discreet - a single dwarf, similar to last time, is likely to draw less attention to us."

"Okay."

"As soon as he finds out more, he'll give us a sign. Until then, we must stay here." He broke off, staring out the window at the rooftops of Esgaroth shimmering in the light of the morning sun. The silhouette of the elf stood out dark against the bright square. "Besides, you should tell Galadhon only what is absolutely necessary. He is a trusted adviser of my father."

"What about Beleg?"

"He is... under my command."

"So he is trustworthy."

"I'm sure you've already figured that out for yourself."

Had I imagined it, or had his last sentence been passive-aggressive? I crossed my arms in front of my chest, "I think I deserve an explanation." And when he made no move to speak on, even after a few seconds, I added, "Why were Gimli and I held captive for so long?" It wasn't the question that was most pressing on my heart, but I sensed that if I asked Legolas too much at once, he would cut the conversation short.

He took a moment longer before replying, "My father thought it best."

I couldn't help a dismissive snort escaping me. "That's it?"

"Yes."

I would have loved to force him to look me in the eyes, but he still had his back to me. What was going on here? What had happened since the night of the Autumn Feast that we were now facing each other like this? "Like you thought it best to tell him my secret?" I refused to use the polite form the way he had. I wouldn't be on formal terms with someone I'd kissed. Damn it.

Now he did turn around. "So he was right."

"What?" Something in me suspected we were talking past each other, but I couldn't see a loose end I could grab to unravel the tangled mess. "With what?"

"I think we should leave it at this." He tried to get past me, but I stepped in his way. The feeling of having been the victims of a misunderstanding was so great that I just couldn't let him go. "Who's right about what, Legolas?"

He was so close to me I could scent him. Like a forest on a stormy day. I turned my head away because the smell reminded me of our kiss. "That the voyage is what's important to you," he said softly. His voice sounded strained.

I frowned. "But... why is that a problem? Our whole journey was designed for me to find out about the Sil... about the stones. You said yourself that you wouldn't recognize me if I gave up the search. The purpose of the quest is to solve the riddle!"

"That's not what I mean." He tried to get past me again, but I positioned myself in front of the door. "What then?"

"Aspen." He sounded pained. "We should never have let it get this far. My father's words may have sounded harsh, but to me... to us, you're just a little while. He reminded me of what's at stake for me - especially if you decide to leave Middle Earth for good."

I pressed my lips together, trying to put everything in an order that made sense. Legolas' reluctance was comprehensible; I had always been able to understand his point of view on the subject of relationships between elves and us mortals. But I remembered our conversation on the wallwalk of Helm's Deep very clearly. "What about: You appreciate the way of life how we live it? What about your other mortal friends? Will you send Gimli from your side too? And Aragorn?"

"That is something else."

"Is it?" Why couldn't I shake the feeling that he had double standards? "Why?"

"Because they are friends. My bond with them is close, but it doesn't compare to romantic love."

That made sense to me, but it didn't change the outcome. "They will die, just like me. And you will have to deal with the pain their deaths will cause. If you choose to enter into any kind of relationship with a mortal, you will have to come to terms with that end." I knew my words were cruel, but that was the way of truth sometimes. It stung like a needle - right beneath the skin.

This time he made no move to leave the room. Instead, he turned around and started pacing around like a trapped animal in a cell. "You don't understand."

"Then explain it to me." My initial angry disappointment at the way he had handled the situation had faded. Something else had taken its place: The inkling that our cultural differences might be greater than I had anticipated.

Legolas nodded, briefly, as if still finding it difficult. "You know that we are bound to this world, and you know that your spirit leaves it after you die."

"Yes."

"Once we become attached to a partner, through marriage, separation is no longer an option. Many of us lose the will to live, in this world, to see our partner again in Valinor. We would not even be left with that hope."

Slowly I understood his point, even though he should have been aware of it in the first place. Apparently, however, he had chosen to ignore this fact until the conversation with his father. So I said, "It's nothing you didn't know before. Where did this sudden change of heart come from?"

Legolas lowered his eyes. "My father reminded me of my mother."

"Your mother?"

"She died a long time ago and the only thought that kept my father going for a long while was the awareness that they would meet again. Someday."

"So he hasn't lost the will to live." More a conclusion than a question.

"No, because he had a kingdom to rule. And that task will pass to me in the near future, not too long from now, when he sails to Valinor. To my mother. He revealed that... to me before he dealt with the delegation from Lothlórien."

Oh. Oh. "And you think you wouldn't be able to do that after I died and therefore you deny your father the only opportunity to see your mother again?"

"I could not abide lingering in Middle Earth." He paused. "His change of heart on that subject surprised me. He had never hinted to me that he had any desire at all to ever go to Aman, but... I cannot refuse it to him."

So it was a matter of a sense of duty and loyalty to his family or rather his father. That was something I couldn't say anything against. Didn't want to say a word against. Because I would probably have acted the same way in his place. And I also realized something else: whether consciously or unconsciously, Legolas had just confessed his feelings to me. In a roundabout way, as was his nature, but nevertheless. He had thought our relationship through to marriage. That was more than I had done.

I looked past him, outside. "If that's what you want." My head felt like it was wrapped in wool, not quite grasping the situation yet. This had all escalated so quickly and become so serious in such a short time. "Then I'll let you go."

When I took my eyes off the window, I noticed him looking at me. "It's not what I want," he said under his breath. "It's what I owe my father and my kin."

"It comes down to the same thing, doesn't it?" Perhaps that was the more important difference between us: I was more willing to take risks because I was young. Compared to him, I was impulsive, had not yet lost faith in the hand of fate. I had not seen ages pass me by in which everything that had once been learned was lost time and again. My light was burning bright and hot and would just as quickly be extinguished again. I had nothing to lose, whereas he had an infinity. By elvish standards, I was a leaf in the wind, tumbling uncontrollably back and forth on its way to eternal autumn until it eventually hit the ground. To chain himself as an immortal to such a leaf was not only unreasonable, but foolish. Perhaps the glow of my light had captivated him for a moment, but in the long run we were too different.

"Aspen..."

I shook my head. "No, I understand. You're scared..."

"I'm not scared," he interrupted me, but I raised my hand. "You're scared of taking a risk that will not only affect your life, but the lives of many others. I respect your sense of duty. That is something I have always admired in all the people of Middle Earth: Their sense of principles. Here, a word is still worth something and who am I to ask you to abandon your kin - for fifty good years?"

He flinched barely noticeable under my words. I had not meant to sound bitter, but I had failed at that. I had never before considered my own mortality an obstacle. But now the time had come.

I could have said so much more. Wanted to say so much more. But if there was one thing I had learned, it was that affection could not be forced. And even if it felt like that moment in the library: like a hot iron pressing into my chest and barely letting me breathe, I had to accept his decision.

So I turned away and headed for the door. "I'll wait downstairs. I'm sure Gimli will be back soon."

"Aspen…"

I wrapped my fingers around the door handle and pushed it down. Thranduil had really used a whole handful of aces to try and kill the tenuous connection that had developed between me and Legolas. I wondered if he was really only concerned about reuniting with his wife or if something else played into his vehement actions. Because if he had been sure that his son would act in his interest, he would not have had to take me aside.

But in the end, it didn't matter. It was over.

Out of my thoughts I said, "There is something else you should know."

"Yes?" His voice sounded hollow, but I didn't turn around. Instead, I eyed the grain of the wooden door. Very closely. To keep the burning in my throat at bay. "Your father has made it quite clear that he will have me thrown back into his cells if I do not end our relationship. I would appreciate it if you let him know that is no longer necessary." With that, I left the room and hurried down the stairs to the taproom. I could only hold back the tears by biting the inside of my cheek bloody.

It looked like the decision to stay in Middle Earth had been taken away from me. Because I had to admit that the prospect of doing so without him by my side seemed just as impossible as it had four years ago.

At least... I had a mission to complete.

To return to a world that no longer felt like mine.

But did this one?