A Body's A Barren Wasteland

by ravengabrielle

[oneshot] A pregnant friend is found on the edge of the world with very little to survive on, and even less knowledge surrounding their disappearance. When Legolas and Gimli set out to find their own friend of Rohan, they discover just the reason why she'd fled. And why she could not return. What happens then is up to them and their past.

A small farm on the edge of The Wold, land of Rohan, semi-shaded in the long trees of Fangorn was all there was for miles. The barren land was once home to many. Now few were in that stretch of the country. It laid too close to the unknown. Beneath the trees of Fangorn forest were shifting shadows.

Four pigs squealed as their caregiver emerged from the simple farmhouse. Two long braids of flaxen gold blew in the breeze as she marched to the pig pen with a pail of kitchen scraps. Her lips tilted in smile as she observed the swollen creatures lined at the fencing, begging for their breakfast.

"Shush, you. I hear you." Her tongue clicked. "I can only walk so fast."

Her belly protruded her body like a winter's melon. It was soon ripe with child.

The woman sang a gentle song through her morning chores. The chickens emerged their small hutch. The clucking gave a steady music to the rest of the home. Horses, too, added their brays for morning feed. A blanket of content sprinkled amongst the animals whose home lived in feared territory. It was the reason it was chosen as safety. A place to reside in peace, without interruption.

She found a haven away from the mess of Meduseld and its family drama. A place where it's king may not find her.

It was days spent in green grasses with blowing winds against her face and breathtaking whispers through the leaves of Fangorn trees. Golden rays of sunlight were beautiful shimmers against the small windows of her cottage.

Her disappearance from Edoras was a larger question, as to where she went. There was no doubt she'd be sought. Only a select few knew where she could be found.

Visitors were seldom and planned.

On this day, however, a few figures emerged in the distance. A steed of Rohan making – chestnut brown with a thick strong body – bearing a pair of bodies on its back. It moved with haste across the empty expanse of land between her farmstead and the hill of which they emerged.

The closer they galloped, the more recognition she saw in the face. Two friends in a life that was long ago.

Not long enough to have been forgotten. Just long enough to be shocked by their smiling faces.

"Legolas." The corners of her mouth lifted. "Master Gimili. What winds bring you this way? How did you come by my stead?"

She gathered the bundle of long skirts beneath her feet – bare from days alone on the Wold – and rushed to greet two friends from court. They were a daydream, a vision for yearning eyes. Dear friends. A blessing to a lonesome heart.

The young elf looked to her with visible joy stretched across his face. A lightness to his eye that regarded her with warmth, until it drifted down to the unmistakable swell of her body. Question split the icy blue of his eye.

His hands dropped the reins of his horse.

"Ah ha ha," came from the dwarf's mouth. "Greetings, young lass."

The ground shook when the dwarf dropped down from the height of the horse's back. His low legs crouched in recoil and straightened to his full height of her waist.

A cherry red blush bloomed at the top of his plump cheeks. It grew in joy as he beheld her.

"I've searched since our return," Legolas answered. "You were not in Minas Tirth. I – we." He looked to his short companion. "We worried of the health of our friend. The halls of the horse lords shine of lesser gold with your absence."

Her face gave a sad smile. Golden Hall. Her home for the many years that she was guest in its court.

It was far from her now.

"Not that the country air does you ill!" Gimli added in his cheerful baritone. "The sun has kissed your flesh with its golden light."

He gave his friend an elbow to the side. His eyes deepened their stare until the idea melted away from the elf's face. "Yes. It has served you kindly." He put his palm against his chest. "I have missed you so, my beloved friend."

Legolas came to her life when all darkness weighed heaviest. Theodred passed away in darkness, without notice it felt, as King Theoden's mind was lost to the slippery words of a twisted ghoul of a man. Eowyn grew familiar with shadows. Eomer gone more than present, often to duties that felt certain death.

When she met him in Meduseld, her soul was a slip of a grim fog. Nothing was in place. The young elf drew to her, in her pitch black, and milked from her shell the light that remained. He dragged Gimli along as he nursed the woman he did not know back to strength.

She blinked fiercely when the elf's timid embrace slipped around her. It was the most comfort she'd felt in so long. Tears threatened to surface. She forced them out of sight and permitted the weight of her body to lax in his hold.

"You are far from home, Merewina."

The sharp cutting smell of pine and eucalyptus split the air with his earthen perfume. It broke through the congested space of her nostril and brought a slight dripping to the end of her nose.

She sniffed. "Let us not speak of it now." Her arms held him at arm's length. "You are most welcome. Come. I'll start us a pot of tea. Gim, I've got a bit of tobacco for that pipe of yours. It is not the best there is."

"Oh. I couldn't."

"Please. Who else to better use it?" She waved them after her.

The farm cottage was small. The upstairs was lofted in open space. It held a small supply of dried meats and herbs foraged from the lands around. The first floor was centered around a brilliant large hearth in the middle of the home. It filled the rooms with thick sweet smoky scent.

A long metal rod held a kettle over the flames. It took no time to bring it steaming from its spout.

Nothing was said as tea was made. She felt their eyes on her the entire time. No doubt their minds questioned the state of her mind with her abandoning a position in Rohan's court for the life in the wilderness. She, too, wondered what would become of her in the empty countryside, but when the twist in her heart reminded her of what would happen should she return, she felt content in her decision to remain a figment on the horizon, a distant memory.

The evening continued in a quiet fashion. There was nothing said of her condition.

Legolas and Gimli took it upon themselves to assist in her chores the next morning. The animals were tended and cared for, fed and chirping with happiness as she arose in the soft haze of morning. She quickly slipped on wool stockings and an ill-fitting robe to tumble down the steep ladder.

Breakfast of eggs was prepared, steaming and warm, just waiting for her on the table. There was a small bowl of blueberries along its side.

"I am sorry." She pulled the messy hair from her face, attempting to regain her confidence. "I do not usually sleep so late."

"You need your rest," Legolas replied.

His hand gestured to the plate on the wooden table. It was built simply with flat boards that poked her thighs when she sat. The table was small, but it fit a company of three just fine. She was grateful for that.

Legolas wore a simple cream-colored tunic. His pale ivory hair was brushed straight, left in its length, absent his typical braid. It was far plainer than she was accustomed to.

He lingered near, in silence, as she ate her food. She felt his eyes watch her every move.

A booming chortle entered the air not long after. Heavy steps moved up her front step into the open doorway. Warmth of the day still had to reach potential; fresh air wafted comfortably inside. The taste of fresh dew on grass and growing flowers at her gate sweetened the very smoky tension within the cottage.

"That rooster is a rowdy one." The dwarf chuckled heartily. "Thought he could scare me off with his strutting."

"He's entirely too confident." She smiled beneath a warm cup of tea that happened to appear near her fingertips a second after she looked away.

She eyed her friend curiously. Something about him was strange. She was uncertain, but she felt that his act was just that – an act. It was not genuine. As she caught sight of Gimli's sharp eye, she understood why.

Her throat cleared suddenly. "Listen, before I drive the pair of you mad, I must say. It is his, and no," she glanced at Legolas with a stern glint to her eye, "I will not go back. It must be this way."

It was instant. Legolas dropped to the other side of the bench.

"Your reasoning does not follow my line of understanding."

Gimli threw up his hands. "It does not matter. It is not our business to what she does. It is her life." It was said as reminder to Legolas than it was to support her. Still, he looked on with nothing but joy. "We are happy that you have found whatever peace it is you seek. Far from the rowdy battles of horse lords."

"Peace is in many places," Legolas countered.

"Many places it may be, yes, but she has found it. So what more must be said?"

It was not the end of it, as Gimli thought it was. There was the flicker of rebellion throughout her friend when he heard the tone of their friend's statement. He sat and stewed in his silence a while longer before he slipped his fingers to his quiver of arrows and declared it a good day to hunt.

She leaned against the door frame as he melted to the distance.

"Ever the hunter," she murmured.

"Come, lass. Let him go." Gimli settled down on the step of her porch. His legs swung back and forth as he pulled from his pipe. Tobacco smoke clouded many memories, joy tainted with sourness. She leaned far back away from its plume of memory. "It is not in his heart to be cross. It will shake free of it…eventually."

"I do not understand." Her lips gave life to her inner thoughts.

She tilted her head at the jovial man alongside her.

Legolas was carefree before. She thought him a child at times, how innocent and observational he was, free of the weight of subtlety. The man did not give heed to what others did. Should she wish to lay in bed all day long, he made it an experience with hot cocoa and flowers and open windows for as much air as possible. Every choice was taken in stride, no question to motivation.

He was changed.

"Hm?"

The weight shifted in her pelvis; she adjusted to a more comfortable sitting position with her legs swinging next to his. "His frustration with me. He's never cared what I've done before."

"Ah. That." The dwarf marked his words with sharp clarity.

"Well?"

"Middle Earth is a hard journey, lass. The one we set out on left many of us with a heart broken in some way. Our elf friend here has learned to hold the ones he loves close. And it gives him discomfort to have someone all the way out here, alone, with no one to defend all that is held dear. We all feel that way. We wish peoples closer. Enjoy the ones we have left. Too much has happened now, that our souls are scarred with the sorrow of survival. Elves are sensitive beings, you know." His warm eyes looked to hers. Their corner crinkles hidden amongst the wiry hairs of his head. "They hold the future with delicate hands. I'd say, a wee baby, is a delicate thing, in an elf's eyes."

The war of the ring left open scars on everyone. She included. It had stolen her hopes for a future, happiness, a family. It rendered a once thriving city to a barren wasteland of discontent. Her home was brought to its knees by evil.

Thus, it was not evil that stole it from her. It played its part, as all things do, but ultimately the betrayal came from someone adored without end.

The pigs grunted. The rising sun left their pen too hot. They ran back to cooler shade for their daily naps in dirt.

Whispers of breeze moved through the porch. It toyed with the ends of Gimli's braided beard and the hairs of his head. The frayed mess of curls at her back was tossed more than once against her at the air played happily among the lands.

"It is not his responsibility," she said with a tinge of regret. Perhaps if it was, she wouldn't feel broken on the inner flesh of herself. The one that bled every moment she endured.

"Aye, it is not." Gimli agreed. "But it does not change the love of our hearts over little matters."

They fell to silence as they listened to the day's motions. Wind blew through the leaves of Fangorn. It gave the dwarf discomfort. More than once, his eyes scanned the tree line in the distance. The man shifted. His pipe then replaced at his lips when the day turned to its quiet.

Merewina found simple joy in those moments. The air, the fresh taste of sun with each breath, heat at her cheeks, the sound of happy chickens clucking, and the swinging of her legs off the edge of her porch. A simple smile emerged. The first in a long time that she felt light enough to do so.

The visitors brought more than just their company; they came with reminder of who she was.

Her wool stockings caught a jagged edge the first morning she moved into the cottage. It tore a large hole right beneath her big toe. Time wore it larger until the entire toe showed through its grey fabric.

She wiggled it with a smile. "Tell me. About what's happened since we parted. Tell me tales of the grand adventure across Middle Earth."

His pipe paused in smoking. "Tis not all victory."

Victory. It was only for the legends. Not the days.

Her lips gave a sad hum. "I have an ear for grief. Should you need it."

Gimli told her the story of their start in Rivendell. He spoke of the tension throughout all those whom were dear to him now. They all came from different walks of life without hint of the other's lives. Admiration was in his tone as he spoke of their hobbit friends: Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin. Then he told of the great loss of Moria.

There were tears in his eyes as he lamented visions of a glittering dwarf city with roasting meat and laughs and song late into the night and overflowing mugs of beer. The happiness of his people, families protected in the safety beneath the ground. Cheer. A love of parties and grand times spent together.

It was not all that different than what Rohan loved. Song and food, and ale by the barrel full.

Legolas appeared with two hares in tow just as Gimli reached part of the story she knew well: when they freed King Theoden from his rotten spell.

"Who's hungry?" Legolas asked. He held his bounty for all to marvel.

"I have some carrots and potatoes that will be perfect for your game." She hopped to her feet and rummaged through her crates. Most were empty. "My stores are run low. Any day now a delivery should be coming. A friend brings me some wares every few weeks."

Legolas viewed the handfuls of root vegetables with a nod of approval. "We can make do."

They set to preparing for a feast that evening. Bread loaves were made. Merewina took one; Legolas took the other. He worked at it gently, with fingers that only smoothed the surface further. She laughed as she pounded her dough with vigor. He watched as a young child would, repeating the actions harder and harder until it made a dent.

There was much laughter as Gimli sang songs of his home. She tried to recite as many as she could. Without addition of melody, it felt strange.

None the less, their faces were red with cheer. Mouths never stopped their smiles as they ate their fill until bellies were bursting. Legolas kept adding more food to his friend's plate until the dwarf had to remove himself from the table. Gimli groaned as he smoked his last pipe of the night, half asleep in between pulls. A snore would awaken him. Back to his mouth the pipe would go, and his heavy eyelids would fall once more.

Legolas and Merewina curled up near the fire. It warmed their toes from the fallen cool of the night.

The animals settled in their nightly beds. Noise of the world ceased to exist.

Her cheek rested against her folded knee. The warm flame breathed hot against the other cheek.

"You have not asked," Legolas murmured sometime late in the night.

She felt tightness grip the sides of her chest. Her body ached as it stayed rigid and still. Part of her wondered if he'd planned to ask when there was no hope Gimli might stop him.

"No."

"Do you not care?"

"I do," she answered softly. "I just don't know if I can bear to hear it."

Legolas gave a long pause. She refused to meet the longing gaze she knew waited for her.

Her eyes shuttered. She swallowed. "Is he alive?"

"Yes."

"Wh-what about Eowyn?"

"She near met her fate on the battlefield. Grace granted her another chance. She took it."

Her head nodded. A pair of tears appeared suddenly and dribbled down her face. Relief took her quickly. It slithered down her spine into the base of her gut that burst forth with exciting flutters, only to catch a memory that he was never coming back to her.

Legolas' hand gracefully traveled down her arm and grasped hers. He gave a squeeze through his fingers. It took all her strength to return it without sobbing.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"He searches for you."

She shook her head. "No. No. He cannot know. He cannot." The urgency in her voice startled him. His eyes went wide. Her lungs expanded with a deep breath. It rattled out her panic, but not all the sorrow. "It would disgrace him. I would be a humiliation on him, at court, in every court. His legacy would be whittled down to nothing if I were to come back now."

It was all too painful to remember. The stinging embarrassment at the center of her soul.

To be told she was not good enough. For him, the man she'd loved for years.

The squeeze at her hand saved a few more tears from trickling.

"You doubt his love?"

"No." She shook her head. It was not his love that forced them apart. "King Theoden broke off our engagement almost as soon as he learned of Theodred's death. Once you freed him from Grima. He said Eomer needed someone better suited for the crown. 'Better suited for the kingdom' is how he phrased it." The pity in Legolas' eye was too much to bear. Tears trickled in silent streams down her cheeks. "We'd been engaged for so long! Everyone already knew as much. It was going to happen when Theoden got better. Quick and short. Married and with child. No one would have said a word to oppose it."

The reasoning did not matter. The fact was, they were unmarried. An unmarried woman, not his wife, bearing a king's child made a bastard, a threat to the crown and all the heirs that came next.

"I had no choice but to leave," she explained once her throat was able to make sound not tainted with shudders.

King Theoden had agreed to their match when it was made two years before. Eomer doted on his uncle. He never did a thing without the permission of his king.

There was a celebration that night of their engagement. Theoden welcomed her to his family with open arms. He had known – or so he said – that they were meant to be together from the moment they met. She was lavished with attention and gifts and all the love the king poured into his two beloved adopted children just as he did his own son.

The sharp warmth of her friend's shoulder as he pulled her against his side, holding her close in a silent hug, a shared sorrow.

She fell against the crook of his arm that smelled of nothing but pine and eucalyptus. He was untouched by the heat of the day, the stink of his own body and the exertion of hunting and cooking like the unbelievable person he was.

Her experience with elves was very little. In fact, before she'd met Legolas, she was frightened of their unnatural abilities.

"I do not wish to see you live this way," her friend said in a soft tone. "A child of yours should have more. You deserve more."

She sighed. "There is nowhere else to go now. For I am alone in the world."

"You are not alone." The faint touch of his cheek brushed the top of her head. "You are with friends."

Legolas and Gimli gave no indication of their plans to leave. They spent many days in her company, feasting and aiding her around her small farm. Legolas collected eggs and prepared breakfast every morning. He gave her every opportunity to sit and rest. Snacks were given, provided on his little forage hunts. There would be flowers left on the table in the morning if he went out before she woke. There was a brighter shine in her eye when she spied them.

Once a shiny rock with a leaf was set next to her breakfast plate. It was brilliant forest green with waves of sage banded around. It caught the morning light with a sparkle.

A piece of her remembered what it meant to be cared for.

Nights were filled with laughter and tune. Legolas gave her a foot massage once that near had her asleep on the floor. It alleviated every ache.

There was some time before a nearby family appeared with the next batch of supplies for her, sent from Edoras. It was done under their name to save her location from being known. The stable master hid it well.

They were a large family of multiple living children working on their own farm. There were many farmhouses on their land with horses and cows in fields larger than her own plot of land.

Legolas went out to meet them and grab the supplies. He refused to let her to lift a thing.

The crate was handed down off their wagon. He did not falter under the weight. His lips moved. She squinted against the afternoon sun to decipher what they was said.

He hurriedly ran back to the cottage.

"Pleasant news. We've received news from our friends in Hobbiton. They've asked for a visit. Gimli?" The dwarf nodded in resigned agreement. The overstuffed crate was set against the worn boards of the porch. "And you?"

Her eyes bulged. "Me? In Hobbiton? I couldn't."

"Our Sam would not mind. Would he, Gimli?"

"The hobbits have a love of drink and food. Good green earth. Some knowledge could be gained from their wisdom."

She thought on the fact she knew very little about the land and how to live off it. Even less on how to survive a winter. It was her belief that deliveries could be made through the cold months. But what if they were delayed by weather? A child's warmth would depend on her.

"What about my farm? My animals. They have to be cared for."

"A friend may lend an offer. Hucca has a grown son that may be capable of remaining on your land to care after your livestock."

Hucca waved from the bench of her wagon. Her string grey hair was knotted atop her head. The dark brown head next to her was the son in question. His eyes bore a strong resemblance to his mother. The difference being his shoulders, wide and broad, as Eorlingas in Rohan were.

She glanced down at the dwarf with his ankles crossed on the edge of the table.

"Are the hobbits a teaching sort?"

"Once they get used to you," Gimli replied.

Legolas stepped forward. "Sam is a gardener. His love of all things green may benefit you."

There was little resistance in her at the start. With the urging of both of her friends, she jumped at the opportunity to see others. Desperate for conversation, she went under the guise of learning. However, it was not a total farce. She did need to learn how to care for her own on the land.

Hucca left her son on the property. Gimli went about showing him the chores. All were duties he tended to on his family farmstead in greater number. It was a vacation for him, too.

Legolas loaded the saddles with her belongings. Her buckskin mare was ready at the conclusion of the tour. He waited patiently out the front door with the horse's reins in hand.

She took a couple of tries to hoist her body up over the large animal. Once a skilled horse rider, the effort she made gave her a twinge of embarrassment. A shifted center of gravity was no excuse to lose all skill of mounting a horse.

Gimli took the seat behind Legolas on their chestnut gelding. The large creature bore both bodies with ease.

Her mare kept a good pace with theirs. The ride only made her sore in the thighs with a slight twinge.

"Are you well?" Legolas asked. He noticed the twinge on her face as she swung her leg back over the beast.

They made their camp down in a creek bank. The trickling water had her feel a sudden hot sting at the base of her body. It made a stronger pain split upward.

"Uh. Yeah. I've got to – go."

"Go?"

"Um." She chuckled. "My bladder isn't what it used to be."

When she emerged from the dense thicket, her mare was eating alongside the other horse and devoid of a saddle.

Her boots crunched in the rocky soil of the bank. "You needn't do everything for me. I can manage."

"We don't mind lassy." Gimli patted a nearby log. It was tilted on its side.

She took the seat they intended her to use. Legolas pulled out a pair of sticks. His skilled hands spun them together so fast that smoke formed in a blink. An orange flame grew from nothing. It was as if it grew from his fingers. He handed it dried pieces of leaf and twig until it was hungry enough for larger ones.

Neither asked, but she knew it needed done.

"I'll gather some firewood."

The weight to her toes gave reason for blood to travel through her legs. An entire day on the back of a horse had little circulation in her lower extremities.

Their manly protests were only to be polite. She waved them off with a quick motion.

If she was unable to collect sticks, there were larger problems.

Her arms were full when she returned to the campfire. Legolas took the weight with haste. She shot him a sour look. Every other word out of her mouth was thank you. It was exhausting.

Not to mention irritating.

Gimli was nestled up against his pack. His back reclined. Head lulled to the side, barely awake.

The ride was long and tiring. It only wore on her body. The mind was wide awake. The stimulation of their presence gave more life to thoughts beyond what to eat and what chore needed done.

She looked across the fire at her dear friend. A skilled fighter. His skill with a bow was unmatched. It was difficult to imagine him a famed killer. How many lives had ended at his hand? Was the war as brutal as she imagined it, or worse? Were there scars she could not see?

Legolas found her look confusing. His head tilted with a slight narrowing in his eyelids. "You wish to ask me something."

Should she dare ask?

For the first time in her life since leaving the protection of Edoras, Merewina was untouched by foulness. She seldom felt fear or anguish. Her heart did not tremble at the impeding future, their deaths more evident with every passing day.

True joy replaced her fright.

She sighed. "Get over here and let me braid your hair." The elf obliged. He crossed his legs on the ground in front of her seat. "It has driven me crazy to see you without."

He chuckled. "Gimli's fingers struggle to braid. They are thick and slow."

It was second nature to braid hair. Eowyn spent many hours curled in front of Merewina's lap with lengthy pale hair not too different from his. The young shieldmaiden preferred a messier style. It was less regal, more fitting the wilderness of her soul.

Legolas was different; he was delicate and fine. She liked to take the time to make every section perfect.

"Legolas."

He knew better than to turn his head. She heard a soft hum in acknowledgement.

"You have been a better friend to me than most Eorlingas are in a lifetime. How has that come to pass?" She asked.

"I only know a single way to be a friend."

"You treat me with love," she observed. "Not every friend does that."

The fine hairs were like smooth waters. They parted for her fingers with no complaint. Pale like moonlight, flat and direct. Much like the elf in front of her.

She leaned over his shoulder. "Is that how all elves are? I should like them very much if they are."

"No. I assume not," he answered. His eyes tilted upward at the starry sky. "I just found you intriguing. Elf maidens are quite different."

There was motion in his hands. From behind his back, she could not see just what preoccupied his fingers.

"I only emerged out of a long darkness when you came to Meduseld. My self was not one you could recognize. Those were the days where sun lost its warmth and all its light was a dull shadow than a feeling of true day."

"It was your emotion that struck me."

It was so offhand, casual that her fingers stopped moving.

He sensed the change. His eyes flickered over his shoulder. "Mer?"

She swallowed. A fleeting breath whispered from between her lips.

Legolas' shoulders raised. His head turned further, pulling the small intricate strands from her fingers. Edges of his elven cloak brushed the coarse fabric of her dress.

"I have offended you, mellon. It was done without intention. Accept my apology."

Her eyes quickly blinked away the watery haze. The star shine glittered in the watercolors of night, blue of sleeping sky, orange of happy fire, and pale white of her dear friend.

There was no reason to mourn. The time was passed.

Eomer was gone.

"It is not your fault. I find my heart still sore at the thought of when our friendship started," she revealed slowly, through ragged breaths that bordered on cries. "When we first spoke, I had come from an audience with Theoden king. That was when – when he told me that I would never be with Eomer. I could not hardly focus on the words out of your mouth. It just collapsed in the world around me. My hands grabbed ahold of your shoulders, when I ripped your beautiful tunic, all feeling left my body."

His eyes twisted in their wide sockets, flickering across the features of her face. "You did not say."

She shook her head. "You went through so much trouble to care for me. Then we were forced to flee for Helm's Deep. There were things that got in the way."

A twisted crown of vines and green stems popped into view. It rested between two slender fingers of his like a proud display of talent. His eyes were soft, rounder and almost swirling, as she took his gift with a trembling smile.

"What have I done to be so blessed with a friendship as yours," she murmured.

The elf gave her a wry smile as he took the intricate woven crown and placed it atop her head. He gave a look over before he gave a nod of approval that it was to his liking.

"Elves are not so easily expressive," his lips began to talk. "They do not show their discomfort nor pain. It is as if they do not feel it at all, though I know they do. All is done to endure. A moment is one of millions, an infinity to feel, so it is as though a single moment is lost to mattering."

She shifted. The log was not the most comfortable for her hips. It was hard. The weight against her pelvis was pushing against her sore muscles and tendons.

Her fascination with elves was new acquired. Eomer was afraid of elves. He spoke of magic and spells, deceiving and trickery that he could not fathom. It gave her a strange distrust once.

But Legolas opened his eyes, and hers. They both realized how little they understood of the other race that they had only heard of, through tales of travelers and olden times where life was so different than the one they faced together.

"I find that Man lives their lives within each moment." He took her hand with the gentlest of holds. It was cool and soft. She was held with the upmost care by his hand that it warmed the blood in her body. Her baby kicked at the change. "The moments I have experienced with you have opened my eyes to the range there is. To feel and remain unchanged, to be alive and live with intention through every emotion."

Her eyes were bubbled with a line of tears.

It happened so easy that her cheeks turned red as she wiped her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I keep doing that. It-it must be the hormones. This." Her hands circled the swell of her body. "There are times when I think of all that has been lost for my future child, and I weep for them. I weep for the people they will not know, the things they will not see. My home, a place it will never know."

Edoras was her beloved home. A happy childhood in spite of the growing wildness of the world outside its wall was found inside that city. She lived as a cherished child of noble parents. There was not a time that she was without. It was luckier than most. Her status granted her many opportunities to meet the king and his son and his nephew and dine within the Golden Hall and ride impressive horses and live as those in the Mark did.

Her child would know none of it. They will not see the state of their family name; only the poor existence on the edge of their known world.

She fought to survive each day with as little thought to the child as possible. It broke her heart to think of a baby and not be brought to thoughts to it's father. How it came to be hers. And it sent her into darkness as fast as it had the first time.

Days were spent in ignorance. The state of her growing body and the impending birth did not latch as truth. A mere imagination of her bored mind.

Legolas made it impossible to forget: a child would soon be born. From her.

She would be a mother.

"Why not return to Edoras?" His pale eyes searched hers in desperation. "Eomer would not turn you away. Go to him. Be as you should."

"I know you would ask it of me," she said with a total of sorrow. "Legolas. Eomer is no longer obligated to me." Why did her heart clench so tight as the words left her lips? Tears threatened to rise again. "It will never be."

"King Theoden -."

"Eomer would not go against the word of his uncle. And I know better than to ask it. The man is second in Eomer's heart, only to his sister."

"What about you? Do you not belong in high regard?"

"A person of my station understands my position at court. I am not of royal blood," she answered flatly. "I will never be first concern."

Legolas sat back on his heels and thought long before he spoke. His line were in a thin line. "Lord Eomer should have made your position at court secure."

Those days were so long ago. A distant, so distant in her mind.

She put her forehead into her hands and just held it in front of her body for many minutes of silence.

"Eomer has not the mind for court or its political subtlety. He was convinced it would not affect things. His mind did not have the foresight to understand that there was a thin line to his freedom as nephew to the king. And now it has left me awash in its oversight."

The elf was quiet, contemplative the rest of the night. She grew sleepy later into the night. Her saddle was tossed against Gimli's and it startled his snoring. The rough ground was difficult to settle against. Her hips ached woefully.

Morning came with a harsh light. Her eyes burned as they opened to the soft glow of a rising sun.

A pile of firewood sat stacked five times higher than it was when she went to bed. It sat near the ring of their glowing coals.

Legolas' bow was missing. She suspected a hunt at dawn preoccupied him.

Gimli rose later, asking to her sleep. He was ignorant of her tossing and turning as he remained still the whole night, sleeping in a death-like slumber.

"Oh to wake to the smell of smoke again!" He exclaimed.

She wrapped her cloak tight around her shoulders. The deep chill of the night had yet to wear off so its icy breath tortured her flesh. "Do Hobbits enjoy smoking pipes?"

"Our friends do, yes, but I long for a morning beneath the ground. Just as the ones in my home."

"Oh." Her brows jumped. "Hobbits live under the ground. I did not know."

The dwarf marched around with the outer layers of his gear missing. Rolls of steam wafted off his shoulders and bare head.

His hands dipped a leather bladder into the moving water. It swelled as it was fed more and more until he was satisfied with its size.

It reminded her to take a drink of her own water bladder. Hydration was paramount on a long journey. Water, a refreshment to the body and the soul.

The baby in her womb needed lots of it, too.

She forgot. Her hand absently squeezed the water through her lips, warm from the night in her saddle, but refreshing none the less. It brought back feeling to her lips.

"They live in mounds in the ground. They call them hobbit holes," Gimli explained. "Beautiful, earthy, and they smell of the smoke of fire in the morning. It lingers within the walls."

"Sounds lovely."

"Oh, they are. You will enjoy it, fair lass. The food and drink. Their love for fresh tilled earth."

"They are little, yes? Short people?" Her head tilted. "Everything of theirs must be so small."

"Oh, aye. They are not accustomed to big people in their homeland. We will have to make ourselves small."

She looked down at her stomach, the largest of the three.

A big person in a little land would be a silly feeling. She imagined feeling out of place, too large for an entire world of people, like a dream where she grew too tall for the others around her.

"Do not fret," Gimli assured her in his cheery baritone. "Our friends will make you feel all the welcome."

Legolas returned later with a wild bird in one hand. A collection of eggs produced of his pockets.

"Come, Gimli. Your favorite."

"Where did you get off to, lad?" The dwarf asked as he approached the fire. "Not off looking at a field of wildflowers again, were you? There be nothing here you've not seen grow."

Merewina found herself again smiling at the idea of the beautiful man looking at a field of flowers with a bow on his back that he'd used to kill many. It was strange the combination of man he was: innocent and trained.

How he kept his mind open to the beauty of the world despite all he'd seen was a secret she wished to learn. For all the world of Rohan was spoiled for her, in memories that brought such anguish and anger.

"I found a tree. You should have seen it. It was pristine. Branches perfect and strong." Legolas said it with a puff to his chest. "Not one blemish to a single leaf."

He spoke at length of the grove of trees he found and the impressive height of a select few.

The ride was easier that day. Her body ached, especially at the base where it met the saddle. Pressure pressed against her pelvis as if the baby rode that saddle on its head. The long stretch of her thighs was remembered. They were easier to keep from aching.

Camp was much the same. Gimli was exhausted from riding cross country. His large body ached at the bounce on a horse's back. He went straight to bed and left Legolas and her to speak freely, of themselves. Whatever came to mind.

Seriousness lifted from Legolas' mood. He emerged as goofy and joking, anything to make her laugh. His eyes never tired. If she stayed awake long into wee hours of the morning, so did he, never giving hint that he was in need of rest.

One night she asked to be taught how to weave a crown of green foliage.

"If you desire one, you need only ask. My fingers would not hesitate."

His bent knees straightened; at his full height he towered over her sitting body.

She shook her head. "It is not I who desires one."

The elf became confused. "Who? Gimli?"

A startled snort erupted from her nose. It was so loud that Legolas went wide-eyed and blinked quickly before they both fell into a fit of giggles.

"Not Gimli." She chuckled. "I've been considering my future since you won't let me forget it." Truly, he mentioned it often enough that she began to think of an infant before he said it now. "Wouldn't a little baby be so precious in a green crown? Flowers and leaves and vines of the wilderness. Can't you just picture it?"

He tilted his head. A haze clouded his eyes a moment as the thought rippled through his mind.

"I cannot. I've not seen a baby before."

She stopped fiddling with the strand of grass between her fingers. "What?"

"I have not seen one," he repeated. "There are no elf children."

"What do you mean there are no elf children? H-how?"

"The world turned dark. No one had any more," the elf explained with great confusion at her confusion. "I was the last."

Merewina was reminded that elves were not humans. They did not wax and wane as mortals did.

Legolas was an immortal creature with nothing but time. As were all elves. They could forgo children because they would not run out of time to conceive.

Her mind still struggled with the abstract thought of it all but made her best effort to never shame him for his heritage as long as he did not tease her when she wrinkled and turned grey.

"I have seen children, babies. It will be new to hold one, and care for one. My own will be the first."

The blonde gave a soft smile. "So many skills to learn. It would ease your stress if you left the crowns to me. Should you ever need one, I will gladly make it."

The gesture was kind. Not that it did her any good.

He lived miles away, in a different kingdom, somewhere. How would he learn of her need at all? It was an impossible gesture, but a nice one.

It probably rotated to the truth of immortality. That the idea of years passing would be so large in her child's life as it was nothing in his.

The last leg of their journey was exciting. She knew it neared. Gimli would not stop his talking for miles. He asked of names she'd considered. Legolas and her shared a look and she shied away. There was no name she called it, nor gender she preferred. It was largely put out of her mind until her friend's arrival.

It embarrassed her. She deflected the question with common names of dwarves. "Perhaps there will be something I like" was the explanation given.

Gimli took the bait eagerly. He spoke of many dwarves and their family names. Then, it led to speak of his own home.

"Oh, what kind blessing a child is given growing up in Blue Mountains. An underground city for miles in solid rock of glittering metal and beauty. It is a shame you should not see it, for you would want no other place to raise a child than there."

Legolas listened closely. A strange furrow of his brow crossed his features.

A dwarf's idea of perfection was different than elf. Different than man, too, as they were all of races different.

Gimli's description of hobbits as short, hard-working, drink-loving, hairy-toed people ended up being truer than she believed possible. Their hair was curled in every color, long and natural curls in the wind, as their fingernails were stained with the dark coloring of earth as if they all lived with hands in the ground.

The land was speckled with their mounded homes. Their little windows and doors required quite a bend to her back to enter.

Sam was a lovely man. He had a great many little children round his house as he welcomed his company in a parlor. His eyes were gentle, as was his voice when he asked after her.

"Rosie's got one on the way, too. Any day now."

Her eyes glanced around for surprise in her companions, but there came none.

She forced herself calm. "This one's my first. Likely, only."

A sinking of his features awakened a strange feeling – remorse, regret? – inside her chest. "Oh. I am sorry to hear that. There is no better love than for one's children. I've been blessed to know each and every one of them, and excited for the kind of people they'll be." Somehow the man, who was gardener by trade, could read deeper with his soft eyes. "You know, the first is the hardest. I do not envy you for only having that experience to align with your children. It is wholly unfair."

They sipped through small teacups with even tiniest saucers. The porcelain clattered each time a pack of his children ran through the room with their booming laughter, chasing puppies and one another, still with a smile on their face.

Gimli helped himself to the salted pork Sam offered. He chomped it happily. His lips drew long breaths from the small end of his pipe, content to rest his eyes as he rocked in his chair.

Legolas and her were far longer people. Their bodies folded into smaller, less comfortable pieces of furniture. Of course, discomfort did not show on the elf's face. He looked just as content to Gimli to be there.

It was she who was a giant amongst hobbits, and awkward and feeling strange. Her legs burned from hovering over her seat, afraid her weight would break against it, if she truly sat down.

An obvious clattering came from her hand as she lowered the tea down. "H-how do you mean?"

"The fear of what will come haunts the first. Since you do not know. A future without color, it feels, seeing as you have no idea what will be at the end of it all. It is all but unknown to you now," he said in his calming way. She felt relaxed enough to set more weight against her chair. There was an intimate knowledge to the man of half her size that calmed her soul. "The first is the best and the hardest. Do not judge its journey for ones after. The trek alight then. It makes it all the easier to walk that path."

She thanked him for the advice and asked for some fresh air. Her body burst forth into the world in need of a clear thought.

Gimli was right. Smoke and earth was the smell of a hobbit hole.

Her hands held her face, breathing deep.

She hadn't heard him emerge after her or the many moments he must have watched her before he put his hands through her hair and began to braid silently as she let the feelings run through her.

"Every morn when I rise, there is a moment, a single moment, where I've forgotten it all. What is, is all lost to me. And I feel so calm," she murmured. Her lips brushed her fingers as she spoke. "I found peace in my soul when I left Edoras, but not because I've made my peace with it." Her hands lowered. They traveled down her torso so the bulge of her stomach, too obvious now to hide. "I've wished it wasn't so. I've pretended it wasn't there. That it's existence would not be, so that my heart would not be haunted by all the things I've done wrong."

Legolas' fingers were heaven between the strands of her hair. The way they pulled and twisted, with pressure but not pain. It tingled every inch of her scalp.

Oh, how she loved her friends. They'd brought back parts of herself she pronounced dead.

"I am not strong enough to do it alone." The words rushed out her lips. "And I am sad that I will not get another chance to do it right. The way it should be. Loved and blessed and full of people who adore it."

Gimli spoke with fondness of his home. All the children he adored there. Dwarves cherished their children with a home so unlike any above the ground and offered a self-made beauty within the protection of the earth. They took great care to protect their young ones, give them a better life.

The hobbits – or Sam – made a point to give a place in the world that was so safe and content for their precious little ones to roam without fear. He, an impressive dad, in love with fatherhood. The home was lived in, not pristine, but worn with the playtime of their kids drawings and chipped boards from their accidents and the utter chaos of their play given freedom to roam without a second look to its happening.

She would have loved to be born in a land just so.

Her fingers went to the growing slender sapling near the front yard. She swept her fingers through the leaves.

"Even their young trees are well loved," she muttered.

"Yes." Legolas finally breathed audibly. His hands dropped free of her hair. "They take care of the precious things in their world."

Her chest tightened at the ready to hear once again his asking for her to go home. In that moment where the world felt unjust and cruel, she would do it.

The elf surprised her. He took his arm around the back of her shoulders and held her other arm with his, squishing her against his side. At first it was stiff, as if he was unsure of the motion, but she felt his arms relax.

"Come. Sam has a large berry patch outside of town that he needs help picking."

She nodded. "Perhaps he has some seeds I might take back to the farm. Plant some of my own."

"I shall ask."

The afternoon beneath the sun did her mood well. It lifted her spirits with its teasing warmth. She was heavy with the weight of her thicker dress. They were warmer fibers made for winter that she bought before she fled her home. Now, it pulled her shoulders down and caused a thick moisture to cling around her neck and shoulders.

The berry patch was massive surrounded by a green field of growing alfalfa.

She went to unbuttoning the top pieces of the dress and tossing them into the greenery. Then the bottom most skirts were removed. Her body was left in an ankle-length, cream-colored linen underdress. The air cut through its thin fabric. It cooled her instantly.

Her chest freed, took a breath of crisp clean air, and all was well.

She found herself skipping around, plucking berries from their vines and bushes, overfilling her basket with their sweet juicy goodness.

She hummed a melody absently as she worked through her section of patch.

"My song," a voice said suddenly behind her back.

"Leggy! You startled me."

She dusted her hands against the soft billow of her underdress. Her hair fell at the sides of her face and shoulders. A wild woman.

His lips pursed together with a suspicious stare. The state of her undress did not escape his notice. A single brow raised.

"I was hot and it does not matter if I have my virtue now. So." She shrugged. "Why not?"

He shifted. A shake of his head escaped her vision as she gave into the temptation of the bounty she'd spent her time plucking. She raised a plump blackberry to her lips.

"The song. It was of my creation," Legolas stated.

"In Edoras when you took care of me." Her head bobbed. "I know."

"Why that song?"

The tart sweetness welcomed itself against her tastebuds. The flavor of hot summer. It made a smile rise through her. "It is like this berry."

The elf blinked.

"I am fond of the memories it brings. This berry is like all the berries of summer: a long awaited treat in the height of the heat," she explained. The wind rustled through her braided hair. It blew them back over her shoulders. "I don't know, that song just felt right. I was happy and it came to mind."

There was a sudden change to him. It was not a soft pleasure that gave him a small smile not large enough to part his lips. No.

He grinned so happily that his teeth showed. His body jittered and side-stepped nearly knocking over her berry basket.

"You have been busy," he proclaimed. He looked to her with still a joy within his eyes.

She shrugged. "Things are easier when I'm happy. What about you?"

"I am always happy. There is joy in every thing. Do you not see?"

The elf stopped at trees and wildflowers with glee. His eyes absorbed every ounce of landscape, living creature, happily weaving crowns of nothing but vine and grass, whistling songs the birds sang. The world was a place filled with goodness as he saw it.

His notice gave her notice, too. "I'm starting to."

They spent the rest of their time picking berries together. He would move so fast and pluck the berry just as she was about to pick it. Every time, it surprised her that she burst into a fit of giggles.

Magic spells be damned, Eomer. Elves were pranksters, silly happy beings.

Legolas kept her laughing until her sides hurt. She had to hold them to ease the pain.

Sam's gaggle of children rounded them up for the walk home. Legolas carried her heavy dress declaring that he liked her better happy and the dress was the clear culprit of her mood. He refused to return it. It had her giddy to feel so free in her skin. The warm rays of light tickled her endless as they walked beneath trees.

Legolas kept her laughing, pulling her along when she walked slow just to annoy him. Why did he have to walk so fast?

They were entering Hobbiton on the road, distracted by the joke Gimli told, when a man near the same size as them blocked there path rather suddenly. Legolas was quick on his feet. She, not so much. Her body spun around, eye wide at the full grown man in front of her.

He wore a calm stoic manner across his face. A gentle nod of his head gave his apology.

The brown curls kept short at the back of his head and navy blue velvet tunic were all signs of a Gondorian farther from home than she was.

"Faramir," Legolas said in surprise. His arm extended, subtly blocking her body from the man's eyes.

She'd forgotten the state of her undress. It did not embarrass her. There was no virtue to protect. She was flushed hot even with the thin piece of fabric to cover her. A full lady's dress would have her exhausted under the weight of perspiration.

"My apologies," Faramir replied in a steady tone. "The road runs thin."

Just then, a really curly headed hobbit popped up at Faramir's side. "Legolas! No one told me you were comin'. Got old Faramir here down for a visit. Showing him way to the Green Dragon. I've a bet with the old Gaffer Faramir can drink him under the table."

"What," Faramir murmured in surprise. He looked down at his friend with an unassuming face.

"What a fun time," Legolas said, in a forced tone. "Enjoy!"

His arm kept her half hidden from the man's view. It was only the top-half of her body that showed her existence at all.

The state of the man's clothes were too good for a commoner. Even that of a noble, it was highest if that was he. His manners, too, reeked of education.

Legolas' behavior to friends was often warm and receptive. This encounter rang of something else.

Faramir bowed his head in acknowledgement at her. "You've a new friend, I see."

Gimli, then, stepped in notice of the man. "Ah! Faramir. What brings you this way to the Shire?"

"I've been on a weeks visit," he told. "You've reached me at my end. I depart tomorrow."

"Ah," the dwarf said. "Where haps will you go next?"

"I hope to make to Edoras in three days time."

Edoras. Her breath caught. Home.

Legolas let his arm linger in front of her. It leaned against her chest, his open hand gripped her arm slight. The heavy dress draped down his shoulder and arm without show of their weight. Instead, he gave her flesh a gentle squeeze as they stood there. Which completely baffled her.

"That is no leisurely ride. That distance."

"No." Faramir shook his head. "But my presence is long expected."

Who was this man? Expected at Edoras? Was he cousin or friend of the king?

"We shant keep you," Legolas said.

"Oh. No. Please." He bowed. "I shall not keep you. Seems you've had a marvelous day. The sun's bounty is good to us all in these blessed times."

Pippin waved back excitedly as they strolled down the lane. Down to shenanigans as it seemed there was a devious glint in that hobbit's eye.

They marched back to Sam's hobbit hole as a group. Legolas behind her now as they walked. The air was quiet. She felt tension between some of her party. There were glances back from Gimli that she caught. They were not meant for her.

She cleared her throat. "Say Sam. Do you know that man? Faramir."

"Oh, aye. He's the prince of Gondor. Or he was, see, before King Aragorn took the throne."

Aragorn she'd met in Meduseld when Legolas befriended her. He was a serious man, solemn. But pleasant when he had a drink or two.

The throne of Gondor was surprising. He did not dress as any royal she'd seen.

"Aragorn is a friend of yours, Gimli, is he not?" She asked.

"That is he, lass. That he is."

The dwarf did not ramble on at length to his dear friend.

Her body was tense and rigid. Thoughts swirled her mind at to what he was. He was kind enough. Quiet, perhaps a forlorn tone to his voice, but it was not said with a sorrowful look.

Sam gave them the rest of their day to freedom as the sun had given him cause for rest. As he napped, the friends departed to their own activities. Gimli went down to the pub in chase of a good smoke and some ale. He dragged Legolas with him, though the elf did not seem jumping to go.

"Get some rest," Legolas told her. His two hands gathered hers between them. He placed a flower blossom at the center of her palm. She swirled with joy and confusion. Why did she feel secrets around her? "I'll be back later. We can catch the cool evening air. It is beneficial."

He meant for the baby.

Rosie waddled through the round archway from the kitchen with a hand on each hip. "Would you like a spot of tea, Merewina? You hungry. I've all these berries and a good cobbler needs making."

She spent time with Rose in the kitchen, helping with the small toddlers as their mother bustled about, kneading dough and peeling potatoes. The hobbit woman pushed a mug in her direction. Steam wafted from its body as she poured from the kettle into the mug.

"This will be easier than those little cups," Rosie hummed. Her cheeks were the color of a rose at all times. The golden curls were bouncy as she turned back to the stove. A single hand on her hip as she stirred.

Merewina grabbed the mug. The steam clouded above it, slipping within her nostrils as she put the rim of the glass to her lips. It was set easier to the table than those teacups with saucers were. It did not tremble in fear of being broken.

"How has your visit found you so far?"

She nodded. "Wonderful. This place is incredible. I just love your homes. And all your children are angels."

Rosie grinned. "Why, thank you. It is a small place. We are busting out the seams most days."

"But they're happy."

"That they are." The woman took a large colander of berries and spilled it out onto towels. Her fingers dabbed so light that the juices did not burst from the skins. "It is not too hard to do. Children are happy beings. By nature. Untouched by troubles and curious. It is not their way to be discontent."

She thought long on the observation.

A paradise to have children did not illicit ideas of her own home. Darkness was common enough. Loss, a daily thing. There were children within Edoras and the Riddermark who knew true sorrow. It lived in all their lives for so long. Death was like the change of the wind: unexpected and sharp.

The Shire was untouched by the woes of Mordor. Evil left the place alone for its entirety was unscorched earth, unblemished sky, and the pleasant splendor of hope alive with each happy face encountered. There was joy in laughter. The produce refreshed the tastebuds rather than sustained the body. A life of green, brown and orange. It was alive, hopping.

In its height, Rohan might have been the same.

Alas, it was not.

"You'll see." A soft, kind smile curled Rosie's mouth. It was that all too knowing look that had her shying away. "It doesn't feel like it now, but you'll not envy a moment you were without them. Happiness shall find you easily, If you let it."

They spent a time together in the kitchen, chatting more and baking. Rose had a knack for pig raising, as her family home was a farm, and she gave grand advice on the hogs back on Merewina's humble farmstead. Her knowledge of animal husbandry was extensive. The little woman knew almost everything it came to raising livestock. She gave what advice she could. It was difficult without knowing the terrain.

Rose retired to a cup of tea and some picking around her garden before supper. Sam took the children out to a pond for some fishing. One of their daughters stayed behind to plunge inside a book.

Merewina felt very much an outsider, uncertain where she belonged. Her large body bumped everything inside the hobbit hole. The sound of cracking, creaking, and groaning at her movement had her shoulders tense – figuratively since doing so would surely crack the ceiling.

She stepped out in the dim of evening. The hills were spotted with glowing orbs. Each home held round windows that were alight with the flame of their hearth roaring. The falling dusk highlighted the glow of happy homes as her feet wandered down the lanes of the town. She was distracted by the beauty of it. Her chest rose and fell with ease as the gentle cool brushed her in places that were once slick with sweat.

The lane diverged. She followed to the right. A hum filled the air the further she walked. It was alive with talk – voices one over the other.

A hobbit hole twice the size of a normal size home sat with windows open. Sound flowed out as music to the quiet town. There was cheers and the clinking of mugs. Cheer for the ears.

It could have been the tavern Gimli dragged Legolas to. It sounded the part.

She lingered to enjoy the sounds a little longer. There was no one to see her lurk in the shadows of the falling day.

A figure emerged out of the rounded entrance. It ducked low before its head stood tall.

His silhouette was backlit by the light of the tavern behind. He chuckled and shook his head as he closed the door.

Tension filled her stomach. The sight of him brought back the eeriness of the man's existence. A fact she would never release until she understood it: either by Legolas' own mouth or his.

Faramir started to walk. The crunch of his boots against the gravel lane were a chorus to his location. It was only when he was a safe distance from the tavern that she felt comfortable to make her presence known.

"You there," she said. Her tone echoed throughout the rolling hills around.

Faramir slowed. He was too calm for her liking.

The cloud of mystery around him, as put there by her friends, made him a frightening force, yet the man did not react to her in the slightest. He merely ducked his head in acknowledgement. Only clearing his throat a little.

"I beg your apologies. I did not see you there…"

He did not know her name.

Should she give it? Her palms rushed with tingles at the thought of being caught off guard.

She breathed long and even through her nose before she answered. "You can call me…Win."

"Win. Very well." The man bowed his head. "Pleased to make acquaintanceship with friend of Legolas and Gimli. It is no small honor to be in their trust."

"You make haste for Edoras. Yes?"

Faramir did show a small falter. His footing slipped.

"On the morrow," he confirmed.

"Are you friend of its king?"

She could not help herself. The curiosity tempted her too strongly.

He gave her a curious glance. "Yes." His tone was slow, considerate. "I see. You are of Rohan. Yes, I see it now." A crinkle turned at the corner of his eyes. "You are outside your homeland. Are you refugee?"

She swallowed. Refugee.

The battle of King Theoden's mind had left her without a home, without a place in the world.

"Yes. I am without place," she answered. "Legolas and Gimli have taken me in. For a time."

"You are blessed in friendship."

In the darkness of eve, she allowed a smile. It was through their friendship she'd become alive again. "That I am." Her heartbeat faltered. There was once a time where she looked to Eomer with that feeling inside. He was kind and protective. The man became what she needed as a young girl. And so became bewitched with him in love. So in love that she overlooked her guard, and paid for that mistake now.

She sniffed and dragged a sleeve below her eyes. "Please, sir. I won't take up anymore of your night."

Faramir gave a mumblings of parting words as she passed. Her nonstop nose running became harder to sniff back. As did the tears in her eyes.

Once upon a time, the Mark was her home. It was the haven in which she grew and learned of the world. There was no other place meant for her, so she thought.

Time told a story twisted. It became the source of her pain.

She would never look to the Golden Hall with admiring eyes still burned by the golden rays across the Kingstead nor feel the thrill of mighty horse foot on the ground.

Merewina spun. "Ride hard, Faramir. Ride hard for the home of horse lords and let it be known that it was beloved to me, for a time. In all hopes you find the honor of those mightiest of Eorlingas within its walls. True sacrifice in the blood of our people. Lest in time, it succumb to those mighty tombs more noble in name than in memory. Ride hard before all that is good within the Riddermark is lost."

It was the goodbye her lips dared betray before she left Edoras. She yearned for that moment when she told Eomer that their time was done. King Theoden had no care whether it was by her or him that Eomer was informed of the dissolution of their upcoming union. It was awful to leave that heartbreak to an old man on a throne of higher honor that he could achieve.

Selfish in her final moment, it was left unsaid.

She retreated to Sam's home and tucked herself deep into bed, head hidden below its cover, without concern of her friend's return. Her hands pulled the blankets over her each ear to prevent the voices of guilt from finding their way inside.

The morning arrived after a night of contention. Her mind battled with awful nightmares: a rerun of every bad decision and horrible emotion she felt. It gave a beautiful pair of purple matching bags below her eyes. The accompanying dry eyes were also an unwelcome side effect.

Gimli still snored on the floor beside her bed as she emerged. The rest of the house was wide awake. Half the children were gathered around the table eating oatmeal while the others played with toys on the windowsills.

She rubbed her eyes. They started to burn harder.

"Mornin' there." Sam greeted her with a teacup of tea.

Disregard for its size, she pulled it to her face and felt the warmth seep through her flesh. "Good morning, Sam."

"Hopin' the bed in there is good for you. It hasn't seen many big peoples. Only hobbits, see."

She assured him that the bed was proper for a person of her size, only the ills of her own mind that did her slumber harm. He smiled and offered some toast and preserves and beans and a filet of fish. "Oh! The bacon. I've got crisp bacon. Fresh. Just made no more than a minute ago."

Hobbits were a food loving people. They ate and ate and ate all with a joy on their face as their bellies rounded and smiles were not so heavy to lift. Their love of food and growing food made them proper hosts for a woman eating for two. There was no guilt in eating a larger portion. Rather, it was a compliment.

He pushed more cooked tomatoes onto her plate after she helped herself to a mouthful.

The man spoke of kindly folks. His adventure – the same as Gimli spoke of once – led him in the company of many in middle earth. "There is no fairer realm than the elves. I should ever like to go back. See their beauty a final time. In my day."

"I find the Shire fairest of all, for it surely avoided the torch of evil's scorn."

He chuckled. "The Shire saw its scorn enough, but none like the elves, and their kingdoms are incapable of my most intricate dreams. It is as though light comes from within their hands, and all things they touch turned to blessed glow."

Her lips puckered in thought. "All things? Like a blade of grass."

Sam shook his head softly and chuckled. "It is beyond words that I know. Too fancy than ones that suit me. All I know is how it felt. Their hands have a power that turns simple into ethereal."

Knowledge of elves was relatively new in her life. Legolas spoke fondly of her childhood, but did not describe the place in which he lived. She knew it was wooded.

Eomer spoke of witches and spells and elves powers inside Lothlorien. He said an evil cunning sorceress lived there. She entered minds with dark power.

That description did not match what was said of Sam's lips.

Just then, the door opened. A flood of sunlight illuminated the doorway until two shadows blocked its path. Rosie and Legolas stepped through quickly. In their hands were baskets of fresh picked garden grown vegetables and herbs. There was a faint shimmer in the last moment before the sunlight was blocked by the wood door when Legolas' figure was ignited with a pale glow. It faded fast.

She glanced at Sam. He gave a simple shrug.

"You're awake." Legolas beamed at the sight of her. He set the woven basket at the table's top. "My time was longer than I thought. My heart's intent was to prepare a meal before you woke."

"Ah. Already done." Sam leaned back in his seat. "She done me the favor and ate a Hobbit's breakfast."

A touch of color happened at the top of the elf's cheeks. "Yes, well." He said it soft. His eyes flickered to his shoes at the floor before they raised in confidence once more. "There was an egregious outsight to atone for." Legolas turned to her. "I returned for that walk the earliest I could, but you were fast asleep. You did not wait up for me long, my friend. Please say that it is so." His palm pressed against his chest.

"It is not like you to be forgetful," Sam pointed out.

"Gimli kept making challenges with patrons at the bar," Legolas stated. "I was in charge of ensuring it was fairly done. It would seem hobbits can be competitive when their ale is involved." He bent at the knee and lowered to her level. "If you've finished breakfast, I'll gladly make up that walk."

His hair slipped over his shoulder onto his chest. The ends were in a perfect line. Not a stray hair or jagged edge to be found.

How on earth did he do that?

She brushed the little hairs out of her face suddenly aware of how wild she must look at a breakfast table with a tired face and knotted mess of hair. "Please. This is your visit. I don't want to keep you from your dear Sam. I can occupy myself for a time."

A twisted sorrow came to his eye as he looked at her. She felt a tinge of guilt tug at her chest. Her mouth opened to amend her statement to supply that if he really wanted to go for a stroll, she'd accompany him.

Sam was faster with his suggestion of visiting Frodo and Merry that day. "Pippin will be there, too, whenever he decides to show up."

Legolas nodded his head. "Delightful."

There was no sure judge of elves as their expressions were so subtle they were almost unreadable, but she could have sworn there was a forced cheer in his tone.

The elf hastily awoke his dwarf companion. Since he was dragged along to the tavern all night, Legolas ensured that Gimli was dragged off somewhere, too. As Gimli grumpily readied himself and ate his morning meal, Legolas offered to braid her hair since it had fallen loose.

His fingers toyed with the ends of her hair.

"I am a mere tagalong to your visit. Please. It would do me ill to think Sam's friendship was stolen of time on my account." She gave his bicep a gentle pinch to bring a smile to his face. "One day I'll have to look after myself and I'll be too spoiled by your attention to do so if you keep it up."

"Alright." Gimli stood up. His chair noisily scraped against the floorboards. A growl bit at the back of his throat. "You've got me up. Now are we going to go or not?"

The day was long without her friends there to entertain the minutes. It passed slow.

She explored Hobbiton after enjoying all the quiet contentment of Sam and Rosie's home she could endure, sticking to the lanes to avoid disrupting their gardening, and enjoyed the splendors of their daily labors. Colors of every flora grew in the rich black soil. Flowers were in neat rows in front of hobbit holes. Vines lovingly creeped along fence posts, decorating with their leaves, until nothing of the original fence was left, just a metal latch at its gate.

Ponds laid in the many valleys inside town. Ducklings floated on the surface of one pond. Their little chirps were a loving sound as she passed by. Another pond fed the thirst of a handful of white and brown goats. The bells on their necks clinked each time they dipped down to taste the water.

She marched through town's center where a group of young boys surrounded her with their giggles. They ran in circles around her as she tried to keep up with them. Little hands dragged across her skirts as they avoided sight of their friends. Sticks in their hands were weapons of imagination.

She giggled at their laughter. It was childish fun. Total innocence that she envied and adored.

A pair of the boys stopped. Their hands raised with bright colored ribbons flickering in the wind.

Her body gave pause. They pushed their offerings higher. Cheery smiles curled the boy's mouths at her surprise. She took each ribbon with great care. Then she knelt down to their level – quite the feat with the belly at the base of her – and looked in their eyes as she said her thanks. She kissed two of her fingers and ghosted them against their cheeks.

The ribbons were yellow and orange. Colors of summer. Of sun.

For all the beauty of the Shire, there was seldom wilderness left. It was farmed and tended as a paradise for its people.

Wilderness was not safe. It was untamed with shadows, distrust and deep waters. It was guarded steps.

In a distance she spied a thickness of trees. She found herself wandering in their direction with no thought as to what she intended to do, but the moment she breached the trees it became clear what she sought. The sound guided her forth. Through thistle patches and wild growing grasses up to her knee, she walked until cool smooth stone met her bare feet.

A river cut through the green rolling hillside as reminder of the dangerous world outside of The Shire.

She sat down and enjoyed its bubbling. It battled across small stones barely peaked from the water's surface.

Even for a river, it was not very wild. A Shire's version of a river reflected most of the Shire itself, in that true dangers were far off, and their tea-sipping way of life was all very safe.

How those lonely moments had her heart longing for Eomer. He was a warm body. He'd hug around her back, pull her against his chest, and they'd sit for hours just in each other's breath. The exhale of his just straight to hers.

The way their hearts aligned to a single beat. Nothing amiss between the pair. Of one breath, one heart.

Eorl, she wished he wasn't happy. A sorrow answered in her heart that she did not wish him unhappy either. It was selfish to presume a king's heir wouldn't take another in her absence. But there was a thought that pleaded to know just how he could exchange a lifetime together for a person he barely knew? An entire life of friendship and intimacy all gone from his heart?

Tears of her loss bled into that river. They were carried away, off of her heart, to a place where her sadness would live forever but couldn't remain intact.

If she carried Eomer forever, she'd never find happiness in a piece of the world without him.

Merewina lost sense of time as she stared at that moving water. She felt a cool come through the air. Her skin puckered from the chill against bare forearms. Her arms hugged around her chest. Thin fabric of her underdress did little to keep her warm.

A while later, a calm voice emerged through atmosphere. It did little to disturb even the rustling of the leaves.

She was surprised herself how unsurprised she was.

"The rivers calm does you well," the voice said.

There was no noise as he moved through the foliage. His clothes coloring matched the natural colors of nature around them.

Her eyes stayed at the river's surface. "It is the only part not tailored to perfection here." She swallowed. "Though it is the tamest of rivers I've seen."

Legolas squatted at her side. "How long have you been in company of the stream?"

She shrugged. The day was dwindling. She'd left just at the midday meal. "A while, I suppose."

The elf effortlessly sank to the ground with his legs crossed below him. He was dressed without his outer layers of garb. Just his simple tunic and trouser leggings beneath. The braids of his hair were still intact. Her effort to pull them tight was worthwhile.

Thoughts went to her hair. It was still unkempt from disregard. She'd simply combed it, making it a frizzy mess that stuck in all directions. Her fingers pulled at the ends.

"I waited for you at Sam's," he said. His face turned to hers. "I grew worried when you did not return."

Her hand fell away from her split ends to the unsuspecting hand atop his knee. She curled her fingers around his. "It was a lovely place you brought me. I needed this, greatly."

His lips parted in an abrupt exhale. A faint – very faint – coloring came to his cheeks.

Fingers then curled into her own. Their hands knotted together.

"I brought you something."

Her brows raised. "For me?"

A small knapsack produced a peach, dried meat, a handful of nuts and some wild berries. Her face lit up.

"A snack!" she said excitedly.

The sight of it reminded her of hunger. SHE WAS SO HUNGRY.

"I thought you'd like something to eat," he said. "Rosie said you did not eat luncheon."

"You never miss a thing."

Her hands enjoyed the touch of the berries. They were plump and perfectly ripe just as the ones they'd picked the day before. Only, they weren't since Rosie used all the berries in her cobblers.

She suspected he foraged these himself. Perhaps on the way over.

Her chewing slowed. "How did you find me?"

"You left tracks in the grass. Too long for any hobbit."

Of course. That felt obvious now that she thought of it.

"It wasn't your elvish magic that led you here?"

He chuckled. "The only elvish magic I know is with playing cards…" He watched her a while with a timid smile, almost shy to appear too happy. "Would you like to see my disappearing card trick?"

She smiled as she popped a handful of nuts into her mouth. "Love to."

They went on for a while. Legolas did some tricks with a stack of cards he carried, seemingly for this bit. She wondered if he was well practiced or truly talented.

"Any old magician can make a card disappear."

"Oh really."

Her fingers produced a ribbon. "I'd like to see you make this disappear."

The elf looked down at the strip of ribbon. He took the fabric with careful hands.

"Where did you get this?"

"Some children in town." She shrugged.

"This is hair ribbon," Legolas explained.

Hair ribbon. "Oh."

Were those children suggesting that she needed to do something with her hair? Naughty buggers.

"Please." The ribbon fixed between his fingers. "Allow me."

Although it was embarrassing to even show Mister-Perfect-Hair her knotted tangled frizzy mess, she trusted him to tame it into an acceptable shape.

She gave a timid nod. Legolas slipped behind her back. Her knees tucked to her chest – although not all the way thanks to her baby belly. Focus drifted back to the water before her, moving slow, slipping only over rocks nearest the surface, rippling at the disturbance and then running flat down the river.

The moment his fingers slipped through the strands of her hair, she was in heaven.

The elf hummed a tune she knew well. It made her smile and hum along below her breath. He sang it so much nicer than she.

There came a strange feeling as he worked with her hair. Something so intimate about the way his fingers moved and slipped through her strands, meticulous and caring. It had not crossed her mind before. He'd braided her hair loads of times. Each, it was done without any other person around. Perhaps only Gimli present as he did so.

"I much prefer flowers in your hair than ribbons," Legolas expressed in a soft tone. "They better suit you."

He adored nature. Of course, he preferred flowers to something of design.

"Do elves all sit together and braid one another's hair?" She toyed with the image of people just like Legolas in circles with a light harp plucking in the background, and braids of smaller and smaller design being crafted at their fast-moving hands. "I bet they are all very skilled braiders. Better than my thick fingers can do."

There was pause to his work. She felt the tug of her strands stall.

"Not really," he answered.

"Oh."

The braiding resumed. An awkward quiet over them now.

Was it faux pas to assume they all wore braids?

She cleared her throat. "I did not mean to -."

"Mer," Legolas interrupted.

"Leggy," she replied.

The nickname faltered his words. It took a moment for him to grab them back.

"There is something I have intended to ask you, for its weighed on my heart with much agony." He cinched a knot tight at the end of her braid. The ribbon hung out of the end with her hair. Legolas guided her fingers down the smooth pattern to the end to feel all his handiwork. "It would fill me with great sadness to leave you alone on that open plain to raise a child. I'll admit, I find it hard to fathom my feet leaving you to a fate so lonely and difficult. For the trees would not provide in your darkest hour."

"You need not feel guilty of the choices I've made."

The elf moved from behind her back. "It is not guilt, Merewina. For it is sorrow to see one whom I love in a place devoid of worth she rightfully deserves."

His pale eyes swam with seriousness. They refused to leave her gaze.

The pair of his hands clasped both of hers.

"Come to Woodland realm. The land of my kin. There you will be safe under my father's protection. A childhood is a happy one, there. I remember mine fondly."

She blinked.

Any number of admissions and requests could have come from his mouth that would have shocked her less than that.

Her eyes searched for a give in his expression. A tell that showed his humor.

There was none.

"Oh. Legolas, I- I could not take advantage of your father's hospitality like that."

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. "If your concern is of space, there is plenty. We could house a number of your children without worry."

She coughed a little in surprise. More children. "Just how long do you intend me to stay?"

He shrugged. His eyes went to the corner of their sockets as he calculated the numbers apparently. At the conclusion, his face was blank of all emotion as he said, "You are a human, so it will not be long. Eighty years."

Forever. Eighty years was her entire lifetime. More than, probably.

"That is a generous offer."

It was the only thing that came to mind.

Legolas blinked. "Your words speak differently than your body does."

Her mind still reeled from shock. Words failed to come to her mouth. They were shaken and stirred unable to stick together. The thought behind them was just as so.

"You want me to move into your family home and raise my children there?"

Repeating it did not resolve the confusion as she thought it would.

He pressed his lips together. A great look of distress pulled his eyebrows. His focus came on their joined hands. Great care when into his touch. His lips crinkled and creased as he seemed to struggle with himself.

"I will be there with you…"

"It is not in opposition to you -."

"It's because I am not Eomer."

She shook her head. Her heart clenched tight. "No. Of course it isn't. Legolas."

The river babbled behind Legolas' back. The air was dark so that the waters looked mirky and threatening as it rippled, as if creatures lurked below its surface in wait to drag them to their watery depths. Light showed the shallow riverbed, but darkness allowed shadows to grow deep in the mind.

It would soon be pitch black. The lights of town were in the distance but did little to illuminate their spot within the trees.

Legolas was gifted in terrain, in total darkness, in everything. She did not worry about their safety. She trusted him.

"Braiding is quite an implied thing." Legolas spoke without meeting her gaze. His touch ran across her fingers and rubbed the backs of her hands. "We only choose someone we trust to touch our hair. It is apart of ourselves we hold dear. It is never cut. Long ago, it was a punishment for prisoners to have their locks cut. A great shame one can never escape from."

Merewina felt every touch of his fingers against her wrists and palms and knuckles. It was the only type of connection he offered. His eyes resisted hers with great discomfort to her stomach. A twisted seat of heaven in his touch and hell in his avoidance.

"Only our most beloved people are trusted with our most important thing."

The lateness of the hour brought them into Hobbiton. Legolas held her hand as he guided them away from the river back to the lane road that goes in (or out) of the town. She held a heavy heart. The invite racked her with indecision as to whom she should be loyal to.

In his limitless reach, Eomer kept entering her mind. Her stomach rolled with terrible guilt at the thought of betraying him.

But, when her eyes left the sight of her mind and viewed the person beside her, she saw friend and ally. Legolas did not stir up bad feelings. In fact, she felt the opposite. Her stomach stopped its churning and started fluttering.

Rosie and Gimli waited outside. Their faces were stretched with worry. The faded light of the gate lamp splashed against their faces as they stepped away from the fence as Legolas let them inside the front garden.

Rosie threw her in an embrace when they approached. "Even small places need maps."

"We thought a person as big as you couldn't find themselves lost, lass."

"Were you worried for me, Gimli?" She teased. Her fingers poked his shoulder.

"Legolas sooner than us," Rosie answered. Her arms pulled the edges of her shawl tighter against herself. "But as it got dark, we," her eyes went to the dwarf, "thought you'd be back if you could." Her lips gave a pressed smile, in relief rather than joy. "Sam went out to ask around, see if anyone seen you."

Merewina bowed her head. "It was not my intent to cause interruption."

"Theres yous are!" Sam rounded the hill on the lane road. He pulled the floppy hat off his sunny blonde waves. "Said I just missed you down the way. Figured you were headin' this way."

An incredible guilt pressed against her chest. "I've been a rude guest. I'm so sorry." She turned to Gimli. His face was tired and stretched with the wrinkles of frowning so low. "It was my own oversight of time. You've done a great job of familiarizing me with the town."

The ever content hobbit that he was, Sam bobbed his head. Two palms patted his wife's shoulders as he passed by. "See? It was all alright. Got distracted is all."

Rose swallowed and stiffly nodded. The cheery red of her cheeks was gone.

"Well come on in," she said. "I'll get you fed up. It's been ages. Aren't you starved you poor thing. Sam, start the kettle."

"Yes, love," answered from inside.

The dwarf walked toward the rounded door next. His hand reached up and grasped the tips of her fingers in a half-hand hold that swung back and forth. "You really is alright, dearie?"

"I lost myself exploring," she explained. "These are your friends. I did not expect to be missed."

Gimli pressed his lips together. The long stretch of his hair pulled at the edges of his bald spot. It was covered by a hat most of the time. Now, she saw it shine in the light of the fire from inside the hobbit hole.

The dwarf grumbled something about this group never forgetting the ones along the way and walked inside.

She felt like the admission made the man uncomfortable. It had her smiling all the more.

It was only Legolas and her that remained in that front garden without a word between them.

There was great tension.

She felt it in the way her fingers twitched and the way her hair electrified near him. He said nothing, but gestured her forward into the home.

The rest of the night was spent with Gimli, Sam and Rosie atoning their guilt with attention to her. They asked some questions that neared mention of the secrets she was keeping. Her throat knotted some half-truths as she avoided Gimli's eye.

Her face was hot the entire night before Rosie gave her first yawn. She mimicked the action. It prompted the entire family wishing she would get some rest. They did not let up until she closed the door of her bedroom behind her.

She did as she was told. Her body slipped into the bed with great ease. Her joints did ache. But her mind was not tired. It flared awake as time slowed to a standstill. Hours must have passed before Sam and Rosie's footsteps retreated down the hall. Silence fell to the house. Legolas slipped inside the room. She heard him remove his boots, an effort that was made for her benefit seeing as he could move into total soundlessness.

The rest of the house went silent a little while longer. She stopped breathing to ensure every breath was accounted for.

She crept out into the parlor. The fire was but orange smokey embers in the fireplace. Its scent filled her mind with thoughts of the Golden Hall of Meduseld. It was the very taste of that hall. Smoke of the large burning fires in the center of the room so much that grit coated your tongue. That was home. Strong smells of horse and meat and smoke and sweat. It was the essence of Rohan.

"You should be resting," Gimli grumbled from behind her.

He was set against the opposite wall. The pipe in his hand billowed a slender line of smoke from its end. The armchair was wide, just wide enough to accommodate the dwarf's body with a comfortable placement. Not awkwardly squeezed between the two sides as she felt in it.

The long hair of his head and beard rested against his chest. The brown chestnut hue turned a copper colored in the light of the fire.

"Something on my mind keeps slumber away. A problem that I cannot riddle."

His lips pulled a long breath from the pipe's mouth. White smoke emerged from his nose and mouth on his exhale. There was no reply that he offered.

She could not help her mouth from spilling the thoughts straight from her mind. "Have I made a grave mistake, Gimli? Leaving Edoras."

He raised his hand. "No. No. It is not my business to say. It is your life, lass."

She sighed. Her body slipped to the floor just below his armchair. Her cheek pressed against the armrest. "Please, Gimli. I am asking. For the truth is clouded by too many emotions to recall it clear."

The dwarf switched the hand with his pipe. A warm palm touched the top of her head.

"I cannot say what path is best. It does not matter now, dearie. The past, we cannot change." He stroked the top of her head so gentle, as one would a sleeping babe. "You have been so resolute at your departure. What has prompted this distrust in yourself?"

Her cheek pressed harder into the chair. The fabric cooled the burning hot of shame.

"I've been torn in two. Of what was and what is. And I have started to question all I've known as fact."

"We are all torn by the burden of surviving to see the future. What was will always be, but what is changes."

She nodded. "That is the part that tortures me so." Her breath rattled from her chest. "Legolas -."

"Best be warned, lass. The elf's ears hear through walls."

"He's asked me to come to the Woodland Realm. To live," she told him quickly. "I don't know what to do. It feels wrong to betray Eomer, but I've come to feel things. Feelings I cannot give life through words." The words tumbled out of her lips before she could take another breath. All the pent up emotions spilled into Gimli's unsuspecting ears in a flood he could not escape if he tried. "They've me reeling in guilt and glee. How can I be happy without a man I've been told I'd marry? It is a lie to say I have been emotionally chaste. But…"

Words did not need said. Gimli knew of whom she spoke. He slept only down the hall.

The fire cackled lightly. It snapped its healthy ends at the edges of its confinement. All too greedy with the food given to its hunger.

Gimli took a good long inhale of his pipe before he asked, "Would you like us to return you to the Golden Hall of the horse lords?"

Her eyes squinted up at his face. The quiver in her throat gave rise to a small sob. She simply shook her head.

"That settles it then," the dwarf said simply.

They lingered out in the parlor for a long time. His hand remained on her head, patting it so often, but keeping his tongue to himself. It was when the fire was dwindling on its last bit of life that Gimli nudged her off to bed.

Her eyes hung so heavy. They burned with every effort to keep them open. She fell into bed and swore she was asleep before her body hit the mattress.

She awoke late in the morning that next day. Happy she was not the last to rise, she tiptoed past the dwarf on the floor. Not that it mattered; his snores vibrated the very walls.

The house was empty. The hobbits were absent.

The floorboards groaned as she walked into the open dining room. A faint shadow caught at the back of the room, just through the archway to the kitchen. It moved back and forth through her vision.

Legolas paced the length of the kitchen. In front of his chest was his hands, cupped together, with a small growing plant in a bit of soil. She saw the elf's lips murmuring to it as he paced.

"Good morning," she hummed on gentle lips.

His behavior was peculiar. It worried her.

The murmuring to plants was not surprising.

The pacing, however, reeked of discomfort.

She swallowed. "Would you like tea?"

He looked up from his plant. The sheer emptiness of his face send shards throughout her chest.

"It is past tea time."

"Come sit with me, then." She swallowed. Her skin alive with goosebumps. "Please."

He said nothing but followed her back to the table. It was warm wooden, a large slab, cut to fit the large ever-growing family of the Gamgees.

Legolas sat in a chair, hands still cupped in front of his chest.

The eerie tension crept through on silent wings. It washed over them in sticky hot and chilling cool.

His eyes did not drift toward her.

"What ails you, my friend?"

"It was an accident," he blurted. She tilted her head. "It has never happened before. I was walking too hastily and stepped too hard and…" he looked at the little green plant in his hand. His lips gave a faint slope at the corner of his mouth.

She put her hands on the table. "You mean you…" she was uncertain if she understood or just misunderstood his implication. "You stepped on it?"

"I broke its stem. The damage is done. I've placed inside a bit of earth to repair the damage but I fear it is too little to recover."

She frowned.

The distress this incident caused her friend was unlike his usual bounding demeanor. He liked to laugh and joke. He danced around some mornings just to rise a smile from her.

This Legolas was not the one she knew. And it hurt her to see it so plain.

What little green showed from the soil looked bright and healthy. It was not crumbled or the leaves crushed and defeated. There was hope for that little plant.

"It won't do it any good to be in your hands," she said. She grabbed her friend's elbow – how was he no heavier than a bundle of twigs? – and led him out to Rosie's garden. There was a freshly tilled spot of dirt that was recently harvested from. It was devoid of any planted seeds. "Put it where it belongs. It'll flourish there."

They planted the little thing and gave it a drink of water. "Just to help it get started," she assured him.

It seemed to calm her friend. He remained crouched near it for many moments.

"My mind was elsewhere when I stepped on it. I should have been more mindful."

She knelt awkwardly beside him. Her hand at the back of his shoulder.

"My dear Leggy." His lips toyed with a small smile at the sound of his ridiculous nickname. "What troubles you so? The happy light of you has almost faded from view."

"Nothing, mellon."

The opposite was true. He could hardly bear to look at her.

She touched the cool smooth flesh of his cheek with her cupped hand. "Something has fallen across your face. A shadow. A cloud."

"Tis no shadow. I am glad you've chosen to return to Edoras."

Her insides became tense. Her hand dropped away from his face.

"What," she said in a tone that was devoid of her joy. It was rather bland and rigid to come from her mouth.

Legolas pulled away from the ground. His knees straightened. Sunlight caught the pale of his hair. The sharp edges of his pale blue eyes cut through her to the bone, as if in accusation and hatred. They softened in the noise of her gaze and tucked away to his person. "Forgive me."

He went to retreat inside. Her body scrambled after.

"W-wait. Legolas!"

Albeit there was tension in his arm, his hand was curled around the handle of the door, it dropped back to his side.

"I've not chosen to return to Edoras," she said softly, almost out of breath at the admission. How often she'd yearned to return home to walls she knew. It was all a sour memory, an impossibility to ever give hope in her chest.

Eomer was long gone. The hope she might return as if nothing was changed was all washed away as Theodred's blood had been on that floor. So it was gone, banished from the palace, as was her place there.

In Eomer's place, something else grew. A hope to belong where love bloomed in bright light.

Legolas turned. "I thought I heard -." He shook his head. A reset to the indifference of his face. "Are you certain?"

"I need not know what will become of us," she said. "Only that I am willing to try."

"You'll come with me, to my kin?"

"To the Woodland Realm." She nodded. "I will."

It sent a great joy through that blonde elf who made a great effort to stow away the grow of his smile. Her friend returned to his happy self. He made her tea and breakfast, all while talking excitedly. She only took her last bite of food when he was pulling her out the front door for a walk.

He walked her around town, taking great care to guide her through, and even offered a piece of a coin for at a market for a peach she looked longingly at.

He led her down to the river once more. His smile faded, though the delight in his eye remained.

His hand held tenderly to hers. It remained clasped as they stood to watch the calm waters move. They kept quiet. The sound of the waters babbling in their little whispers was enough to keep them content.

Her head eventually fell to his shoulder, holding there, safe and happy, to watch the beauty before her.

"It was not my intention to overhear," he said gently. "But Gimli's voice does carry on in those halls." She felt his head move, as if he looked down at her, ready for whatever emotion she might expel. Her cheek stayed pressed against his shoulder. "You said you had feelings…"

Her lips hummed. "Yes."

"Feelings that gave you guilt."

The guilt had kept at bay before he gave them life. Legolas' presence prevented their growth, but they still tugged in the chest as little shards of ice through the hot flood of admiration for her dear friend.

The height of her pulse was ignored. "My heart has started beating for another, and it has given me great emotions of high and lows that have clouded my mind."

"Does it give you pain? These feelings."

"It did, before I understood what they were," she said.

"And now?" He questioned swiftly. "Now?"

A smile trickled across her face. "They have grown on me."

Life twitched through his fingers. They interlaced between hers. They were like the vines of his beloved flowers that grew in the ways they wished whether they were wanted or not. Grown were the emotions that she swore she would never feel again, for another, for a man that was not her rider. A man whom her heart had only known to love with her whole soul.

Legolas was not the man she expected. Nor did she believe a love could take the place of their friendship, but it had. She felt it now as it throbbed inside her chest.

Where her rugged rough passion died grew a tendril, like a vine, slow and creeping, alive and beating, it filled in the open space that was left in ash.

And in the growth of her heart space was the subtle curiosity of what bloomed inside.