21 / 1 / 25 ~ And in which Eleanor let's herself be vulnerable again
Disclaimer:"The Lord of the Rings" is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien. I only claim ownership over Eleanor Dace, Rávamë (aka "Tink"), and the subsequent plot of their story.
A/N: It's official, this is the longest RB chapter I've ever written. Just a heads up, there will be a brief mention of why Eleanor reacted so violently to being cornered in that ally later in this chapter. If you feel that subject matter around attempted assault might be too triggering for you, I'd suggest skipping the section where Mark is mentioned.
Otherwise, I hope you enjoy this unreasonably long chapter (almost the longest I've ever written for RB).
Part III : Chapter 24
-The Mysterious & The Mundane-
A few hours after mine and Tink's talk, the preparations for the night had finished and we had all been called to congregate in the same hall where Saruman had been cast from the king's mind.
The throne room of Meduseld had been filled with as many tables and benches as could reasonably fit, all of which were now absolutely packed with what seemed about half the residents of Edoras. I didn't know how on earth she'd done it. But in the preceding hours, Ilda and her small army of kitchen staff had managed to prepare and present a victory feast that could have sustained a Mongol Hoard. She and the servers had all stormed into the hall not a few minutes ago, carrying a dizzying array of platters and setting them down between us all. Now each long table had been filled from nose to tail with everything from steaming stews, roasted vegetables, spiced meats, and at least eight platters of honey cakes.
No one had touched any of them yet though, not even Merry and Pippin.
Every single person had their attention entirely on the king who now stood at the table set before the carved throne of Rohan.
"Please stand my friends," Theoden said from the head of the hall, his deep voice carrying over the heads of all the soldiers, women and elders who'd all gathered.
I rose from where I was sat with Aragorn, Gimli and Boromir near the head of one of the long tables. Gandalf, Merry and Pippin had been seated nearby at the foot of the king's dais, and Legolas one bench over with a group of elven soldiers. As the entire room stood from their seats, Eowyn — every inch the regal lady of Rohan in a deep green gown in a similar style to mine — stepped forward from between the guests carrying a ceremonial silver goblet and presented it to her uncle. Theoden took the chalice with a warm smile which she returned with bright affection, before stepping back to stand with Éomer and Gamling at his side.
"Tonight we remember all who gave their blood to protect this country. We remember the allies who came to our aid and sacrificed their lives in defence of our home. And we remember those whose lives are now forever changed with the loss of loved ones who fell." Theoden raised the goblet to the hall. "Hail to the victorious dead."
Every single person in the hall — men and elves both — raised their own drinks in a sombre salute.
"Hail."
I touched my own goblet to my lips along with my companions, tasting the rich sweetness of spiced mead. It was wonderful, though tinged with bitterness of what we'd lost to get here. My memory still painted images of the bodies of those who had been killed during the siege on the Deeping Wall, the bodies of those wounded I hadn't been able to save, their faces covered with whatever I'd been able to find to give them some dignity.
My heart ached despite the relief we of the Fellowship had somehow all survived, and Merry and Pippin were safe again.
"Take heart, my friends," Theoden continued far more softly, looking around at us all as we lowered our goblets — as though he was not a king speaking to subjects, but a brother comforting siblings. "Even as we honour all those who gave their lives to save ours, let us not squander the peace their victory has brought. Drink. Eat. Rest. May your hearts be more filled with joy than grief for a little longer this night."
And despite the grief and weight of all that had happened and all we'd witnessed, we all did just that.
The sombre atmosphere that had lingered during the kings speech didn't stay. It wasn't long before everyone in the hall had begun jovially conversing, drinking, and digging into the mountains of excellent food Ilda had produced.
"So, lass," Gimli asked me a few minutes in, heaping what looked like an entire half a roast pheasant onto his plate. "Did you find that friend you owed a favour in the end?"
I smiled around a mouthful of rabbit stew, recalling my visit to Etain and her children earlier that day after my bath. "I did."
Back at Helms Deep, shortly after Aragorn and I had arrived, Etain had promised me that if there was anything she could do for me in return for saving her children, I had only to ask. She clearly hadn't been expecting me to a) cash in that dept so soon, and b) ask her for what I had in mind. She'd looked genuinely baffled when I'd voiced my request, asking me if I was sure that was what I wanted. When I insisted it was, she'd laughed and didn't question me any further. Five minutes later I'd walked out of her small temporary house towards the stables with a pail in my hand. I'd run into Gimli on the way, and he'd taken one look down at my prize and his eyebrows had furrowed just like Etains had.
"Lass… why are you carrying a bucket of apples?" He'd asked me.
"I owe a friend for getting Aragorn and me to Helms Deep," I'd said by way of non-explanation and then shuffled off to find Benvolio.
"He was very pleased with the repayment of the debt," I confirmed to a still somewhat bemused Gimli. Aragorn gave a low chuckle into his stew but said nothing more, and eventually, Gimli shrugged and went back to demolishing most of the food within reach of our end of the table. I reached for another bread roll before they could all disappear via dwarf, and Boromir snatched up and offered me the basket along with a conspiratorial smile. I returned it, thanking him.
"Have you looked in on Sarra at all since we returned?" He asked quietly once I'd got myself set up.
I peered at him to see real curiosity he wasn't bothering to mask. He wasn't just making polite small talk about my patients. He genuinely wanted to know.
I grinned, nodding happily.
After gifting the extremely pleased warhorse his well-earned due, I'd sought out Sarra to see how she and little Nesta were doing. I'd found her resting in Gamling's quarters just off the main Meduseld hall. She had returned my clean Lothlórien cloak to me with ample thanks, but I had only agreed to take it back if it meant I was allowed to hold baby Nesta for a bit. She agreed, and I had, and it was wonderful. Nesta had barely fussed at all while I held her against my shoulder, chatting quietly with Sarra about our respective journeys home until I'd had to leave — promising to return the next morning to check on them.
Very little on the face of Middle Earth had a chance of spoiling my mood after that.
"She's doing really well. Nesta as well," I told Boromir softly, answering his original question. "Not much energy left for victory feasts after the journey home though. Ilda brought her some dinner earlier."
He nodded. "Understandable, the last few days alone have been an ordeal for her."
"She asked after you too, by the way. Told me to pass on her and her daughter's deepest gratitudes, and that she's relieved to hear you survived the siege unscathed." I gave him a knowing look over my mead goblet. "She also asked me to say she hopes you didn't damage your back carrying her down all those stairs in the caverns."
Boromir laughed heartily, shaking his head as he took up his own drink.
"I will have to tell her that it was actually an excellent warmup for the siege."
I snorted, clinking my goblet against his tankard.
A few pockets of laughter drew my attention to the other tables and the groups of Rohirrim men and Meduseld guards revelling in the feast. Haldir and his battalion of elven warriors looked almost comically elegant dotted among the swaths of bearded, shaggy-haired men of Edoras. Many of them, much like myself, had been loaned clothes while theirs were cleaned, and it only compounded the effect.
My gaze caught on Legolas who was sitting further down the table with a few of them, speaking with Haldir and his brothers. We'd already caught each other's eyes several times through dinner, exchanging quietly fond smiles. This time though, he held my gaze and raised his own goblet to me very slightly, warmth filling his gaze. I returned the gesture with a smile of my own.
I didn't mind that we'd been sat apart.
There would be plenty of time for us to speak properly later.
"So…" said Pippin's voice abruptly.
"Eleanor…" said Merry's voice, close on his heels.
I turned back to my friends to find the two hobbits had apparently rejected the idea of sitting anywhere else but at Boromir's side. They'd taken their overflowing plates from the other table and parked themselves firmly at the end of our bench — Pippin perched beside Boromir, and Merry beside Aragorn.
And all of them — two men, two hobbits and one dwarf — were watching me with varying degrees of amusement and smugness.
I took another swig of mead, eyeing them all suspiciously.
"That sounded devious. Should I be afraid?"
"We hear some congratulations are in order," Merry chirped, in the tones of some in gleeful possession of fresh gossip.
"Congratulations?" I asked, my mind drifting back to Sarra, Nesta and the first live birth I'd ever preformed. It rather felt like the congratulations should be directed to her…
"We hear through the… um, Rohirrim grapevine that you and another elven member of our Fellowship shared a… moment at Helms Deep." Merry's smile turned vulpine as he explained.
"A noteworthy moment," Pippin added gleefully.
"In full view of most of the gate guards and those manning the walls," Gimli chipped in with a gleam in his eye — the traitor.
Boromir had told me once that in his experience, soldiers were even bigger on gossiping than bored laundresses. If you wanted a secret or rumour to spread faster than a plague, all you had to do was mention it once in a barracks mess hall and watch the chaos unfold.
Turns out he was right, damn him.
I felt my ears beginning to grow hot as I realised what they were talking about.
"I- I just…we—"
"You needn't be embarrassed, Eleanor," Aragorn told me gently, but I could hear the repressed smirk. "We all knew for a while."
I knew they all had to have learned about us by now — we hadn't exactly been trying to hide it since the end of the battle. I just hadn't banked on them all hearing about the dramatic spectacle we'd made up on the battlements. I just stared at Aragorn, at them all, with my face flooding with colour as I glanced to my side to make sure no one else was listening. Especially any of the elves.
"What do you mean you all knew?" I hissed, leaning close to them all. "For how long?"
Boromir cleared his throat somewhat awkwardly, but he also sounded suspiciously like he was smothering a grin.
"Honestly, ever since Lothlórien. We had begun to wonder how long it was going to take you both to recognise it and do something about it," he said with an apologetic wince.
"Aye," Pippin chimed in again, amplifying my embarrassment tenfold even as I tried to hide it in my drink. "Some of us lost quite a lot betting on it happening far sooner."
I almost spat out my mouthful of mead.
"You took bets on it?!" I squeaked, loud enough that a few people turned to peer at us. I pretended not to notice, scrutinising each of my friends with narrowed eyes. "…Who won?"
Every one of them turned to look at Aragorn of all people.
He was taking another long swig from his tankard to cover what was clearly a self-satisfied smirk. I narrowed my eyes, calmly reached for the last bread roll, and bounced it off his forehead. It landed halfway down the next table in a half-drunk soldier's half-empty stew bowl, and he roared in delight at the sudden appearance of more food.
Despite my flaming cheeks and my friend's continued good-natured ribbing, it did feel wonderful to just be together again and not running or fighting for our lives.
The rest of the meal passed with increasingly animated conversation coming from all as more and more alcohol was consumed — a shocking amount of it by the two resident hobbits alone. By the time much of the food was gone and the platters had all been cleared, about two-thirds of the hall were well on their way to drunk. The tables were pushed back to clear some space in the centre of the hall, and a few of the less inebriated and more musical members of the court produced instruments.
A dance I didn't recognise quickly began to pick up, and before I could object, Merry and Pippin had insisted on each having a turn swinging me around the makeshift dance floor among the other revellers. Given how much they'd already managed to drink throughout the feast it was less dancing and more spinning in wobbly figure-eights around the central hearth fire until we were almost falling over laughing. Eventually, Boromir came to my rescue, the pair of us cutting a much more subdued improvised waltz until I'd got my breath back.
Midway through I caught sight of Gimli, Legolas and a pack of the Rohirrim together by a stack of ale barrels that had been brought in. They all seemed to have started up some sort of competitive drinking game with Éomer arbitrating. Haldir along with several of the elves had (very sensibly) bowed out to rest after the dinner had ended, and Aragorn was in quiet conversation with Gandalf by one of the hearths, smoke rising from both their pipes.
I'd spoken briefly with the old wizard during our return to Edoras, but neither of us had seemed to hold much mental energy for a long chat after what we'd witnessed at Isengard. In regards to Saruman's taunts and Tink's recollection of his true name, Gandalf had promised we'd speak properly back at Edoras when there was more time and fewer ears to overhear.
I had promised to hold him to that and intended to collect before anything else could figuratively explode in our faces as a convenient distraction.
I danced a few more songs with a laughing Boromir before one of the young women of Theoden's court approached and asked if she might have a turn for the next song. I handed my friend over to the lady with a comment about keeping him out of trouble for me while I got another drink.
Boromir had chuckled amiably. The girl just looked confused.
By the time I'd found another refill of mead and meandered my way over to where I'd seen Aragorn and Gandalf, the wizard seemed to have wandered off and Eowyn had replaced him. She was speaking with Aragorn with a worryingly wistful look in her eyes despite his well-mannered stoicism. It was the same look I'd seen from her when she'd spoken to him during our long walk to Helms Deep, only amplified by the atmosphere of the celebration. I recognised that look for what it was, and couldn't help but feel a pang of sorrow for her. I was all too aware of that — kind as I knew Aragorn would be about it — he was well and truly already spoken for.
Even if what he and Arwen had was… complicated.
I decided to give him a way out, catching his eye and gesturing him over. I caught the finest flicker of relief in his eye as he excused himself, making his way through the crowds of revellers to stand at my side by the roasting fire.
"You looked like you needed an escape hatch," I said with a small smile when he was close enough to hear.
"Not so much an escape hatch as a legitimate reason to step away," he sighed, taking a long drag from his pipe and letting it out slowly. "The Lady of Meduseld wished to personally convey her gratitude for all our help."
I took a long sip from my goblet and peered past him at where Eowyn was now in quiet but fond conversation with her uncle.
"She seems… quite taken with you," I noted with as much tact as I reasonably could. Aragorn's facial expressions were a bit tricky to tell apart at the best of times, but I'd become quite good at differentiating them by now. His lip twitched ever so slightly downward in an uncomfortable grimace, but he didn't say anything.
I gave him a long stare that I hoped came across as quietly caring rather than accusing.
"Try not to lead her on if you can. She's kind and has a strong spine, but learning that you're not someone's choice is always painful."
Aragorn really did grimace this time, taking his pipe from his mouth in order to talk.
"Eleanor—" He started, but I put my hands up in preemptive surrender.
"I'm done. I've said my piece. No more pseudo-wisdom from me tonight, I promise."
Aragorn exhaled a heavy sigh, still slightly tinged with the smoke from his pipe. He looked truly pained now, not even bothering to try and mask it.
"No, they are wiser words than you give yourself credit for," he murmured, putting out his pipe and turning a small, weary smile on me. "You are right, and thank you for having a care."
I returned the smile with a tired, ironic one of my own.
"I picked it up from the best," I said, earning a soft chuckle from him. I took another long swig from my goblet, casting my gaze around the room and deciding to ask a question that had been preying on my mind ever since we'd reunited with Merry and Pippin. "Has Gandalf heard any news about Frodo and Sam at all?"
Aragorn's momentarily relaxed expression sobered again.
"None so far. But that is not so worrisome. No word means they are still hidden, from us and from the Enemy," he told me softly enough that only I could hear. "Every day more should take them closer to Mordor."
It was honestly something I had avoided thinking about for a long time; Frodo and Sam finding their way into Sauron's domain itself, then through the most hostile place in Middle Earth completely alone.
"You really think they'll be ok?" I asked, unable to hide the quiet worry in my voice.
Aragorn considered the question silently before answering.
"I do. They are hardier folk than I first believed, those of the Shire."
As if to emphasise the point, a loud cheer boomed from the other side of the hall. We both peered over to see Merry and Pippin dancing on one of the tables, arms linked together, overflowing tankards in hand and singing a hobbit drinking ballad about The Man In The Moon. The soldiers and guards of Rohan all around were absolutely loving it, cheering and clapping and stomping along. Most of the remaining elves just looked politely intrigued, but a few were tipsy enough by now to be smiling along in amusement.
"Stout hearts and stouter stomaches as well," Aragorn chuckled with a bright smile at the two halflings.
"They are a rare and prestigious breed of drunks to be able to dance and sing on key while utterly smashed," I agreed, grinning.
"Let us hope they handle the morning hangovers with as much good cheer," he sighed, sounding somewhat pained. "Tomorrow we must begin to plan our next steps."
"I figured as much," I sighed too, glancing at him. "Any ideas on those next steps?"
"We will need to determine via word from our allies where Sauron's forces will attempt to strike next."
"A tall order."
"Indeed."
I made a pensive 'mmm' sound, looked at the remains of my mead, and promptly downed the last of it.
"Well," I coughed, the alcohol burning pleasantly as it went down, "that sounds like a problem for tomorrow. For now, the night's still young, and I haven't had a chance to try any of this Rohan ale everyone's getting buzzed on."
I deposited my empty goblet on the edge of a table beside a pair of soldiers in the midst of an arm wrestle. Then I turned away towards where I could still hear the drinking game in full swing.
Before I could take more than a step Aragorn's hand on my shoulder stopped me, and I twisted back to find him looking at me with something very close to quiet affection. It wasn't a look I'd seen from him before, least of all aimed in my direction. In that moment it somehow reminded me both of Var and Theo at the same time…
"Eleanor, the bet aside, I am very pleased for you both," he told me with a tiny, almost older brotherly smile. "He is a good man and an even better friend."
I hadn't the faintest idea what I could reasonably say to that, and thankfully Aragorn didn't seem to expect me to say anything at all. He gave my shoulder a slight squeeze and turned, disappearing into the crowd towards the guest quarters.
I immediately fled in the direction of the roaring drinking game, trying to convince myself that the warm feeling rising in my face was just the alcohol…
When I got there I found that Legolas had apparently bowed out gracefully after already winning several rounds. That had left Gimli and a considerably more sober Boromir to rep the Fellowship all on their own. From the amount of tankards surrounding them both, they were holding their own against the Rohirrim men admirably. That said, Gimli looked as if he'd already imbibed enough to float a battleship, and I made a mental note to prep some hangover herbs for the morning.
"He stepped outside just a few minutes ago," Boromir murmured to me soto voce, noticing my eyes tracking around the crowds for someone who wasn't there. My cheeks went warm again, but I smiled shyly at him and mouthed a silent 'thank you'.
"Feel like joining in the game, lass?" Gimli boomed a little too loudly, clapping me on the shoulder so hard my knees almost buckled the wrong way. "I'd wager you have the heart and stomach of a halfling beneath the she-elf facade."
I coughed out a laugh, nudging one of the empty tankards so it didn't roll off the table and smash on the floor.
"Tempting, but I think at least one of us needs to remain sober enough to hand out hangover cures come tomorrow."
"Aye," Éomer agreed, filling another tankard from the barrel tap. "And ale is hardly the drink of women, my lady. Especially dainty elven maidens like yourself."
I gave him a gimlet look and he grinned merrily back, letting me know it was meant in jest. Even so, Gimli spluttered a choking laugh into his next ale and Boromir had to literally wipe the smile from his mouth. I narrowed my eyes dangerously at the pair of them, wondering idly if this was part of the reason Eowyn had such a chip on her shoulder about proving herself.
Joke or not, no self-respecting former barmaid could let a challenge like that go.
The moment it was full, I reached past the surrounding men and plucked the flagon out of Éomer's hands. Before he could object, I tossed back my head and downed the rich hoppy brew in six long gulps while breathing through my nose. Boromir exploded with thunderous laughter and Gimli gave a drunken cheer. The rest of the men and even some of the nearby elves just stared at me in open-mouthed shock. I wiped my mouth on the back of my sleeve, handing the empty flagon back to a rather impressed-looking Éomer with a self-satisfied smile before turning to go. Both my friends' belly laughs followed me the entire way as I strode outside into the night, trying as hard as I could to keep from swaying as the mixed alcohol went straight to my head.
The cool evening air helped with that problem instantly the moment I stepped outside. Even so, I still took a moment to lean against a nearby arch, hands braced on my legs until my head had cleared a bit…
And a familiar scent found me, faint on the still air as if he'd only just passed by.
Pine. Rain. A forest after a storm.
I turned my face towards the scent trail as if pulled in the direction he'd gone by instinct; off around the quieter side of the hall that faced the mountains…
'Tink… any chance you could—?'
'Go,' Tink urged with an audible smirk before I could even finish. 'Go find him. I'll give you both some privacy.'
And I felt her presence vanish deep into the vaults of my mind as if she'd stepped through a door and closed it softly behind her.
A little smile curved my lips, gratitude for her warming my chest as I pushed myself from the wall and followed the invisible path through the carved wooden arches that encircled the hall.
I found Legolas leaning against one of those arches, arms crossed, watching the night sky.
Much like the other elves at the celebration, he'd been loaned a fine but plain tunic and breeches while the rest of his clothes were being cleaned. But unlike the other elves, I had to admit, he made them look effortless instead of out of place. His gold blond hair had been pulled back into a low tail at the base of his neck, and it wasn't until I was a little closer that I realised he was humming a quiet tune to himself.
I hadn't been trying to hide my footsteps as I approached his stargazing spot, but even several feet away he heard me coming. A smile appeared on his face before he'd seen it was me, and even after an entire evening of shooting each other meaningful gazes, my heart skipped a little when he turned and aimed that smile directly at me.
Sappy fool that I was turning into, I wasn't convinced I'd ever get tired of being under the full beam of that look.
"Hi," I said softly, coming to a slow stop barely a few steps from him.
His smile warmed further still, creasing the corners of his winter sky eyes.
"Hello."
We just took each other in for a few long heartbeats, soft smiles and gentle gazes, and for some reason, it didn't feel awkward in the slightest. The fair skin on his cheekbones and neck was a bit pink from the cool air, but he still somehow managed to make it look effortlessly elegant.
Despite my high mood and a generous dose of quality booze, I felt a sudden unwelcome twinge of self-consciousness at my own appearance in the face of his. Even after weeks of running, fighting, healing, three (3) near-death experiences, a thorough bath, some liquid courage and now wearing a rather nice loaned gown...
I still somehow in that moment felt painfully like the same wind-swept, out-of-her-depth woman I'd left Rivendell as. Unsteady, scared, not quite sure I truly knew what I was doing, or if I was good enough…
But then, looking at my more-than-just-a-friend's offensively handsome face a bit closer, I realised the cool evening air (and our soppy looks) weren't the only reason his eyes were a bit glazed and his neck was flushed with colour…
"Legolas… are you drunk?"I asked, unable to hold back a breathy laugh.
Legolas gave me what might have been a mock-offended glare as he turned to lean an arm against the wall. He'd forgotten to stop smiling though, which rather spoiled the effect.
"No," he told me seriously.
Then his hand slipped off the wall and he almost went over sideways, barely catching himself on the arch. A burst of giggles came out of my mouth, my hand coming up in a vain effort to hold them back. In my defence, I was also bordering on tipsy.
"Oh, I think you are. Smashed even," I snorted, my moment of self-consciousness evaporating. "I've never seen a sloshed elf before."
"Savour the experience, mîr nín. It is a rare thing to see outside our own realms," he chuckled, giving up any further attempt to look serious.
"Our realms is it?" I teased, though the inclusion of me as one of his people warmed something deep in my chest. "Nice to know you're a happy drunk."
"It will burn off soon enough. Just give me a minute…" He tried to straighten but swayed dangerously. I lunged forward and caught his shoulders just in time to steady him. "Or… perhaps two."
I laughed again, not bothering to (or wanting to) move my hands.
"Looks like you're going to need a hangover remedy come the morning as well."
He beamed with a conspiratorial twinkle in his grey-blue eye. One of his hands hand landed on my shoulder to steady himself, but the other had come up to cover my hand on his upper chest. I could feel his heartbeat faintly from under my palm. At the same time, from inside the hall, the sounds of the celebratory singing and dancing were in full swing again. One of the musicians had apparently got hold of a fiddle, and the muffled ring of Merry and Pippin singing another drinking song had started echoing from inside.
That conspiratorial look on Legolas's face turned to mischief.
"Come, dance with me. It will burn off the drink faster."
I sputtered a nervous laugh and shook my head, assuming he was joking. When he continued to look at me in earnest question I realised he was serious.
"Didn't you see me earlier with Merry and Pip? I can do many things, most of them involving scalpels, but dancing isn't one of them."
Legolas made a dismissive tisking sound.
"Nonsense, I've seen how you can move when you try. If you can evade the swords of Uruk-hai, you are more than capable of dancing with me." I opened my mouth to argue that I'd barely survived my last direct encounter with those monsters, but he met my eye with the most earnest of smiles. "Please?"
Well, dammit. He said please.
I hadn't been joking when I said I wasn't much of a dancer. Even after Boromir's extremely brief crash course, I had no clue where to put my hands and had to rely on Legolas to guide me entirely. He took the palm I'd used to stop him toppling over and rested it properly on his shoulder while taking the other from his chest and cradling it tenderly in his. The warmth of his palm braced gently against my mid back as he began to slowly lead me through a similar but notably more graceful set of steps than Boromir had walked me through.
Turns out, trying to dance while one party is drunk and the other had no practice is a chaotic mix — but it was the height difference that really got us.
Legolas took a little too large of a step backwards at one point and I almost tripped and fell into him. At another point, I stood on his foot and it caused us both to stumble and catch each other.
In the end, we both just wound up laughing like idiots.
"Looks like neither of us can dance," I said with a grin I couldn't hold back.
"I'll have you know I am an exceptionally fine dancer," he informed me, then immediately almost tripped over backwards on an uneven stone in the floor, nearly pulling me down with him. "Usually."
I snorted, dimly realising we'd ended up in a much closer embrace than when we'd first started. "When you're not three sheets to the wind from out-drinking a room full of roaring men."
"And one Dwarf."
We ended up settling for just swaying gently in an embrace, turning slowly on the spot, and smiling shyly at each other. It wasn't until I felt his breath against my brow that I realised exactly how close we were now, and despite being very happy there, I had to avert my gaze as a renewed flush crept up the back of my neck. I somehow ended up staring at the open night sky he'd been observing before I'd found him, not a cloud in sight and the air so clear you could clearly see even the dimmest stars.
"Huh…" I heard myself breathe, realising something with a little pang in my heart.
"What?" Legolas asked softly, his breath warm against my ear and sending distracting shivers up my spine.
"The stars, all the constellations…" I murmured, recognising the outlines of Orions Belt, Ursa Major and Leo. I instantly felt a twinge of sudden homesickness twist my chest and tighten my throat. "They're… exactly the same here as they are back home. I can't believe I've never noticed before…"
Legolas was quiet for a few breaths, and I wasn't able to meet his eyes. Partly because I wasn't sure I was ready to see his reaction, but mostly because I wasn't certain I wouldn't start tearing up if I looked away from the sky. Instead of speaking, his arm around my lower back tightened a little, pulling me gently against his chest in a hug I didn't know I'd needed. He rested his chin against the top of my head while I rested my cheek against his tunic, closing my eyes and drawing in his comfortingly familiar scent in slow deliberate breaths.
"Tell me of it," he whispered eventually, his breath ruffling the fine hair at my temple. "Of your home. Your life before. Everything. I wish to know more of you beyond the mysterious."
God, where could I even start?
I opened my mouth to say something in answer — anything really — but nothing came. Or rather, too much came. A thousand and one memories of my life before I'd come here all flooded me at once. I tried to speak again but still couldn't get any words out. Legolas could clearly feel my struggle even if he couldn't see it, because he leaned away and looked down at me gently.
"If you would rather not speak of—"
I shook my head, forcing down the lump that had grown into a knot in my throat.
"No… no, I do want to. And we did promise we'd talk about it after Helms Deep. I just… don't know where to begin." I searched my head for a place to start that wouldn't be too heavy or too confusing, but then an idea stuck me. I raised my head from his shoulder and looked up at him with what might have been a playful smile, had I been feeling a bit less emotional. "How do you feel about playing a game?"
Legolas looked confused but also interested.
"A game?"
I nodded. "Twenty questions."
"Only twenty?"
"Or as many as you'd like. It's usually just a deductive reasoning game where you try to figure out a word someone is thinking by asking them questions, but Tink and I used it to figure out some of the gaps in our memory," I explained, warming to the idea. I smiled up at him, readjusting my hold on his shoulder. "Pick anything you want to know about me, anything at all and ask me a question about it. The only catch is we both answer, then I get to ask you something."
He considered this.
"Seems like a fair exchange." He cleared his throat, suddenly appearing a bit uncertain. "Speaking of: your… passenger won't mind this, will she?"
The hand on my mid back flexed as if in question. I knew what he meant, but the sensation still sent a distracting flood of butterflies through me — part excitement and part nerves.
With Tink's blessing I'd given all the Fellowship an abridged summary of what had happened between her and Saruman when we were camped on the journey back to Edoras. It had required filling a very baffled Merry and Pippin in on who Tink really was (Rávamë with most of her memories missing), what she was (a Maia of Valinor partially possessing my body) and how she got there (we didn't know). Overall they were pretty stunned to find out that I was carrying a disembodied spirit of creation around in my head. But not nearly as stunned as Aragorn, Legolas, Boromir and Gimli were to learn that I'd trusted Merry, Pippin, Frodo and Sam with my big 'I'm from another world' secret long before any of them. The upside had been that, in the process of explaining all those details, they had come to understand — with Aragorn backing me up — that Tink was firmly on our side.
And in a lot more ways than they realised.
"She's…" I started, my cheeks heating a little at the memory of her mercilessly teasing me post-kiss during the ride to Isengard. "I suppose you could say she's stepped into a different room for a while. For some privacy."
He looked slightly reassured but still a bit perturbed. I gave the hand that still cradled mine a little squeeze.
"Please. I said I'd answer anything you wanted to know at Helms Deep, but I'd like to know you more as well. The mysterious as well as the mundane."
That crooked smile I had grown so fond of turned up the corner of his lip.
"The mundane hm?" He murmured, taking a moment to think before saying: "Tell me your favourite food."
I couldn't help but laugh.
"Really? You want to know that first?"
"I wish to know the mundane too," he grinned cheekily. "And you promised."
I returned the grin with equal mischief.
"Fine. Mmm… too many to list really, but you know what I missed most during my training with Master Elrond? Lemon tarts. All the rare herbs, flowers and grasses you can imagine grown in the Rivendell gardens, but not a single lemon tree."
He let out a breathy chuckle that I felt through my chest.
"Given how fond you are of bacon and stews, I must admit I wasn't expecting that."
I shrugged. "My mum used to make them during summer when my brother and I were home. I haven't had one in a long time…" A sharp little pang of that all too familiar homesickness made its home in my chest again, but it wasn't as biting this time. "Now your turn to answer. Tell me your favourite."
With barely any hesitation to think he said; "Figs with honey."
I blinked.
"Very quick answer there."
"A favourite snack from adolescence I never truly grew out of," he shrugged.
"Perfectly fair, and endearing. Ok, my turn to ask now." I gave him the same mirthful smirk he'd offered me. "Favourite colour? No, wait, let me guess… leaf green?"
He gave me a look of masterful deadpan, betrayed by the sparkle of amusement in his eyes.
"Hilarious, mîr nín." He considered a little longer this time. "…Yellow."
"Unexpected. Tell me why?"
His hand on my back shifted slightly. We were in a relaxed sort of half-hug now, his arm across my spine and my free arm curled across the top of his shoulder.
"My mother…" he said slowly, a wistful slightly sad note to his voice. "She used to keep these rare, sweet-smelling wildflowers outside her dressing room window. They always looked as if they were dead during winter, but they were always the very first to start blooming when Spring was on its way."
The loving but mournful tone with which he spoke of his mother told me all I needed to of what their relationship had been like. And to guess at where she likely was now. I leaned into that half-hug a little more, daring to rest my head under his chin.
"I guess that makes Spring your favourite season too then?"
He nodded against my hair.
"Well guessed. And you?"
"Turquoise," I said immediately.
"Turquoise?"
"Um-hm," I smiled, multiple memories of the ocean coming to mind — the one of Var and swimming off the cliffs, but also ones from back on Earth from when Theo and I had learned to sail as teenagers. "The same shade as the sea in midsummer."
"Summer for you then. And I suppose I'll have to take your word on the colour."
I blinked, not sure I quite understood what he meant. When I glanced up at him in question, the tips of his ears coloured very slightly and he shrugged.
"I have never seen the ocean. Not in person anyhow."
I fully expected the tell-tale smirk of a joke to appear.
When it didn't, I just gaped. "You're over a thousand years old. How have you never seen the sea before?"
"I grew up in a forest hundreds of miles across, at the foot of a continent-spanning mountain range," he explained a little defensively, the colour in his ears deepening a few shades. "I hardly ever got the chance to travel outside our borders, let alone far enough to see anything larger than a lake. Why do you think I volunteered to act as an envoy for Lord Elrond's council?"
I shook my head in disbelief. It made sense, but even so, it was difficult to process the fact that for all his years on me, I still had experiences and first-hand knowledge he simply didn't.
"If we live through this mess, I swear, I'm taking you to visit a beach," I promised, and meant it. His answering laugh rumbled pleasantly through my entire body, making my toes curl in my boots.
"It's a deal," he said softly. "It's also my turn again… hmm, what was your favourite place? From your home world, I mean."
"Funny you should mention that," I giggled, feeling that little jab of homesickness again. But this time it was tinged with the warmth of memories of summer sunshine and the sound of waves. "There was this small beach with light red sand near where my grandma lived. It wasn't well known by anyone who didn't live in the town, so it was rarely busy and we often had it to ourselves. My brother, Theo and I used to walk her dogs down there during summer whenever we went to visit. We'd let the dogs off their leads and they'd swim in the sea with us until we all got tired enough to sit on the rocks and eat whatever we'd thought to bring with us."
"You appear to deeply love the ocean."
"I do. Seems like I also did in my former life here, if my few memories are anything to go by." I tapped a finger against his shoulder. "What about you?"
"Hmm… I have to say Lothlórien still lingers in my mind even now. But if I were to give an answer from home as you did." He thought for a moment. "There is a place I discovered with a few friends as an adolescent, right on the edge of the Greenwood. Much like the beach you visited with your brother, it is not well known and difficult to find. There is a view from the top of one of the waterfalls that allows for a perfect view of Laketown, the edge of the forest and the mountain beyond. In spring it would become a riot of colourful wildflowers. I'd often escape there whenever I wished for some peace and quiet away from my father's halls and all the responsibilities within."
The smile I'd been wearing only grew wider as I listened to him describe it, his words painting a picture in my mind of a teenage Legolas hidden away out there with an old history book and a wonderful view stretching into the distance.
"I'd love to see that someday," I said without thinking.
His arm tightened against my back ever so slightly.
"And I would love to show you," he murmured with another soft smile, only this time his gaze continued to linger on mine long enough to set my heartbeat racing. He leaned down and whispered as if to remind me; "Your turn again."
I swallowed, unsure anymore whether the fluttery feeling in my stomach was anticipation or nerves at the thought of asking the deeper questions I wanted to. With all the memories of my own family — both from Earth and Arda — brought to the surface again, I had the insatiable urge to know more of his. But I also knew from our talks back in Golden Wood that the subject wasn't a completely happy one.
"What… were your parents like?" I asked quietly, deciding to take the plunge. "You mentioned your father a few times in Lothlórien, but you never really talked about him much. Or your mother."
The quietly happy expression on his face faded to melancholy for just a moment, and when he didn't immediately answer I felt dread that maybe I had overstepped after all.
"We don't have to talk about that if you'd rather—"
"No… you asked honestly and I promised to answer," he gently interrupted me, closing his eyes and seeming to collect himself with a breath. He released after a moment, adjusting our embrace again before answering. "My mother died during the war with Angmar when I was just a child. My memories of her are likely coloured by youth, but I always knew her as… witty, deeply kind, and had a great love of the arts and creativity. She was also one of the rare few with the nerve to stand up to my father — which she did often."
I drew him a bit closer, my arm still on his shoulder in our makeshift embrace.
"What was her name?" I asked quietly.
"Vanarien," He told me. "My father, Thranduil, by comparison, was — and still is — stern, serious and found it difficult to show his emotions. But he was also wise and caring in his own way, especially with my mother. It wasn't so much that she made him better, so much as she gave him the space to be gentle in a way that ruling a kingdom never did. Even as a very young elfling, it was easy to understand how much they loved and supported each other, different as they were. When she passed I think it shattered something in him. He took a long time to recover from the loss. By the time he was himself again, or as close as he ever came, I had grown from an adolescent to an adult."
I stared at him, my lips parting in shock. I knew from my studies that it took approximately a hundred years for an elf child to physically go from infant to adult, and even after that, true mental and emotional maturity took even longer.
"Your father was in mourning for that long?"
He nodded simply, eyes downcast. I felt my heart break just a little for that lonely little boy he must have once been — effectively losing both parents in the same blow. I stepped further into his embrace and rested my head on his collarbone again, partly in a hug, but also to mask my own misting eyes.
"I'm sorry."
His arm around my waist enclosed me again, his free hand giving mine a gentle squeeze in answer as we just let the silence linger a while. The music was still coming from within the hall, though it was more subdued by now as if to match the mood...
"What of you?" he murmured eventually. "What are your mother and father like?"
"The mother and father I apparently had here in Arda? I have no idea. I still can't remember anything about them. But… my parents back on Earth where I was before three years ago…" I swallowed the sting of tears as I held the image of my home, my family, and my old life in my mind. "My mother was also creative, and kind, generous too, especially with her time. She used to make mosaics as her main hobby, but she was so interested in all art forms she picked up too many skills to count — everything from ceramics to artisan baking. Anything she learned she was happy to share too. No question was ever too silly.
"As for my dad, he was as colonel in the army before retiring a few years before I ended up here. His work meant we moved around the world a lot when I was little, so I ended up pretty close with both my parents and younger brother. Dad was busy a lot when he was still working, but he loved studying languages and local history whenever he had spare time. He could speak and read in so many I lost count. We'd spend hours talking about what books we'd been reading — good or bad — whenever I came home to visit. I really miss that."
I'd managed to keep my voice steady despite the sharp pain in my chest, but a couple of tears did escape all the same.
"And the rest of your family and friends?" He prompted gently after I'd taken a moment to wipe them away.
"Theo, my little brother," I sniffed after a minute. "He's only a few years younger than me but was already way taller by the time I got here — and frighteningly clever with sciences too. I had friends at the university I was studying at, but the closest of them by far was Katie. We've known each other since we were small, so we feel more like sisters than just friends. So when I first saw Sarra…"
I broke off, suddenly unsure of whether trying to explain that Katie and Sarra somehow shared the same face from worlds apart was a good idea. Legolas caught my hesitation immediately though.
"What is it?"
I breathed deeply, pulling back enough to look him in the face again.
"Sarra… the woman that gave birth during the siege… she looks identical to Katie."
He just stared at me, a frown knitting his brows for several heartbeats. I could all but hear the gears grinding as he processed what I'd just said.
"The daughter of Gamling you mean? She looks like your old friend?" A look of realisation made his eyebrows suddenly raise. "That is why you reacted so strangely when you first saw her."
"Yes," I confirmed.
"How is that possible?"
"I have no idea. It's not her though, not really. She might look just like Katie, but it's clear they're different people with different lives. I have no idea how or why though…" I trailed off, thinking back to some of my memories of Katie herself, then Sarra and her interaction with Boromir during the walk to Helms Deep. "Though I've got to admit, they have pretty similar belligerent temperaments…"
"A necessary requirement to be a close friend to you, I imagine."
I scowled and gave his shoulder a hard flick and his face lifted with a smile again, though he still looked thoughtful. "I suppose it is another mystery to add to the pile."
"I suppose so."
"In all seriousness, however," he said, inclining his head to me. "It is a true blessing to have so many that close to your heart."
I smiled in return, the edge tinged with sadness.
"I know." I settled back into the embrace again, though we weren't really keeping up the steps anymore. "Do you have any family beyond your father?"
He shook his head, his eyes turning a bit sad again. "I have no siblings, though I wished for them sorely when I was young. I have close friends who I left behind when I came to Lord Elrond's council. Celemir and Rȋnwen are companions I knew well from my time serving alongside the guard. But I've known Orelion the longest, since childhood. Much like you and your friend Katie, he feels the closest to a brother I know of." His brows pinched in thought, eyeing me with a quirk of the lip. "You and he have similar senses of humour now that I think on it."
I laughed lightly. "Someone I'd like to meet then. All of them honestly."
He gave me a long, fond look before he began to look pensive again.
"May I ask something else potentially far less mundane than all else up until now?"
"Of course. It's your turn after all."
"Elves have near-perfect memories, and yet you chose to carry a reminder of your family around with you as if it is a lifeline. Why?"
I took another deep breath through my nose before answering, bracing myself for the wave of feelings I knew were about to come.
"It's true, I can remember everything that's happened since I woke up in Arda perfectly if I want to, but…" I swallowed, feeling the sting of tears again, but managing to keep them back despite it being harder this time. "About a year ago I woke up from a dream and I… I realised that I couldn't remember what my parents looked like. That was… really difficult. So I keep them with me now. So that no matter how long I'm here, even if I forget their faces, I'll never forget what they meant to me. What they will always mean to me."
I didn't get the chance to hide my stinging eyes in his tunic this time. He stopped our aimless turning and broke our embrace in order to bring both arms around me. I didn't object or pretend I didn't need it. I just allowed him to press me to him, his strong arms around my back, hands pressing into my spine while my arms were curled against his chest.
"I am sorry," he whispered against my temple. "For that unimaginable hardship, but also for how I treated you in response to your honesty."
I gave a confused frown against his borrowed shirt.
"What do you mean 'in response to my honesty'?"
"I mean my reaction to you sharing both your condition with your passenger and where you were truly from for the first time."
"Oh," I sniffed, shaking my head awkwardly. "Legolas, you don't need to apologise for that."
He pulled back again, this time looking down at me seriously.
"Yes I do," he insisted quietly. "It is true I was hurt by the lie of omission, but it was still not fair of me to project my fears so harshly onto you."
My confused frown deepened. I wasn't sure I understood what he meant now.
"Fears?"
He inclined his head, his expression shifting from serious to almost… ashamed.
"When you shared the truth of your circumstances with Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli and myself, that you were not truly from this reality at all… it explained a lot. About your behaviour, your speech, your mannerisms. But it also brought to the surface the memories of losses and pains I'd… hoped never to experience again." That look of shame somehow deepened as he went on. "Whatever outcome I thought might come from your situation, I wasn't in any way prepared for one that involved growing… deeply bound to someone who was neither native to this world. Let alone one who ultimately didn't wish to remain in it forever. That alone was enough of a shock. But then there was the revelation that you were technically carrying two souls within your body this whole time, and one of them was one of the lost servants of the Valar…" he trailed off, which was fair. Because really what could you say in the face of all that?
I forced myself to remain quiet despite all the questions simmering up in my mind.
"I will not lie, given what had begun to grow between us… at first all I could think was that it all had to be some cruel trick. Some heartless irony that after all that had occurred, and all we'd shared, once the mystery of you and your passenger was resolved, you would leave… and never return. I'm not proud of it, but given the pull between us... certainly on my part at least." He paused, seeming to struggle to find the right words. "It wasn't until much later that I realised that, when put into harsh perspective, all my misgivings… none of them truly mattered. I'd used them as justification for hiding. I didn't want to face the reality that I'd found the beginnings of something — or rather someone — I'd hoped for centuries, only to face the reality that I might have to lose them entirely…"
I'd so rarely seen Legolas look truly flustered, fumbling and uncertain of himself that it took me far longer than it should have to recognise that was what was happening. I didn't immediately respond (I wasn't even sure I was still breathing honestly), only continued to stare up at him with my ears and cheeks a bit hot.
He winced.
"Ah, I forget. You are likely unfamiliar with how Eldar discover their—"
"Actually," I interrupted in a rush, finally finding my voice again. He looked a bit surprised, but I hurried on before I could lose my courage. "Merileth explained it… a bit, sort of. She and Haldir have it, but they were keeping it secret from each other before I started meddling."
He was watching my expression so closely now. "And what did she tell you of it?"
I cleared my throat awkwardly.
"That… it's some elf-exclusive, mystical predetermined bonding instinct that uses your dominant sense as a homing beacon." Now it was my turn to go red. "And she said that it's supposed to show you… who your other half is."
His neck flushed too, but he nodded minutely.
"She spoke true, mostly, but it's not as simple as that. It isn't a set, predestined outcome, neither is it always romantic. The instinct acts only as a guide to whose temperaments are best suited to each other, be it in close platonic friendships… or something more." He cleared his throat, the colour spreading into his cheeks slightly. "The choices made as a result are what are important."
I felt the butterflies in my stomach returning again. "Meaning…?"
"Meaning, I do not care for you because of some 'mystical predetermined bonding instinct'," he smirked, fondly tossing my own words back at me. Then his expression softened and he said; "I care for you because I choose to."
Well, if I wasn't red-faced a butterfly-riddled before, I certainly was now. But it didn't stop me returning the smile with equal parts affection and warmth — and just a little bit of mischief.
"You do hmm?"
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you questioning my word?"
"Not at all," I told him, holding his gaze. "I'm reciprocating it."
Another lingering but comforting silence fell between us as we just smiled at each other. It dawned on me that we must look like the sappiest pair of idiots, just repeatedly blushing, grinning, and staring into each other's eyes like that. I had to avert my gaze to keep from letting out an embarrassing snort giggle.
"I think… I've quite lost track of whose turn it is to ask a question," I said instead, my voice coming out a bit hoarse.
"Did you have another one in mind?" he asked, voice equally rough.
"So many still," I chuckled. But after what he'd just confessed, one was sticking at the front of my mind now; "When did you first realise?"
"Realise?"
"The… pull I think you called it? Merileth said it takes the form of your dominant sense. When did you first realise?"
Legolas' sheepish expression returned.
"Ah… on the slopes of the Misty Mountains, shortly after the Crebain found us. I helped you to your feet and… well…" He lifted his hand from my back and flexed his fingers as if to illustrate the point.
"So your dominant sense is touch then," I concluded, aiming a small, sly smile at him. "That explains the ticklishness."
His ears went fully red this time. Right to his hairline.
"And you?"
I pinched my lips together in a half wince. "Swear you won't laugh?"
He inclined his head.
"Scent," I told him quietly. "You smell perfect. All the time. Even covered in dirt and blood. It's a bit creepy actually."
I felt his chest vibrate with suppressed mirth before he was unable to hold it back any longer, exploding with unrestrained laughter. I swatted his arm, trying to scowl.
"You promised you wouldn't laugh!"
"I promised nothing, mîr nín,"he chortled with no shame whatsoever. I huffed with faux offence.
"Fine behaviour for a prince."
He offered me his all too familiar crooked smirk, likely knowing the effect it was starting to have on me swiftly forgiving him.
"Forgive me, I was simply not expecting that to be your answer. Would you forgive me if I allowed you to ask me a deliberately embarrassing question in return?"
"I would," I sniffed regally, immediately scouring my mental list for a good one. It didn't take me long: "The first time you called me mîr nín was back in Lothlórien when Haldir was taking the goblin arrowhead out of me. You said it was a slip of the tongue."
He eyed me with suspicion. "I did."
"Was it?"
His ears, cheeks and neck all went instantly, impossibly even more red than before. He broke eye contact with me, clearing his throat and taking a hand from my back to run at the back of his neck — a nervous tic I'd noticed he only ever seemed to do around me.
"Technically yes," he allowed. When I continued to eye him, waiting on a more detailed answer, he grunted in defeat. "Very well, if you must know… it was the endearment my father used to call my mother. I heard it a lot as a child when they were together. After realising what you were starting to become to me, and that you were near death, it just sort of… slipped out in a panic."
I had to admit, that was a tad more romantic than I'd been entirely prepared for.
"And that was why you were hesitant to tell me when I first asked?" I asked softly.
"It was."
"So what changed? What made you… on the battlements at Helms Deep…?"
I didn't finish, and I didn't need to. I saw by the look on his face that he knew exactly what event I was referring to.
"Believing you've lost someone who has become important to you is a strong motivator," he told me with a small wry smile. "And it also seemed the height of cowardice to continue to hide and pretend otherwise when you had already willingly faced so many of your own fears during our journey."
I shook my head, more as a reflex than a dismissal.
"You make me sound far more brave than I actually am you know."
"I disagree."
The guilt mixed with the joy at his praise made it suddenly hard to talk again, my throat tightening around another knot of too many feelings all at once.
"It also… It also doesn't change the fact that you weren't wrong. You weren't wrong to shield your feelings," I whispered quietly, looking down, not trusting myself to meet his eyes without tearing up yet again. "You weren't wrong about… about what could happen if we continue like this and I eventually…go."
The last word barely came out at all. The picture of what the loss of Aragorn and I had done to him — and all the guilt that came with it — still absolutely refused to leave me.
I felt him take a hand from my waist and rest it against my jaw, forcing me to look up and meet his eyes again.
"I know. But that is also my choice to make now. And I choose to not sacrifice something precious and rare simply to avoid the pain of potentially losing it someday," he whispered leaning down to rest his brow to mine. "That is my decision. Assuming you also wish to… continue like this."
Too many feelings. Far too many feelings all at once.
I had to close my eyes again.
"I do wish to," I said almost silently and meant it more than the words could articulate. "You've become… deeply important to me too, Legolas. But I still don't know what's going to happen at the end of all this. I don't know how I got here… or even if there is a way home…"
His hand on my back stroked a light, comforting path up and down my spine, the sensation so familiar and loving it felt as if he'd been soothing me like that for years.
"Whatever does come, I will honour whatever choice to make," he murmured, his thumb feather-light across my cheek where he still held my face. "Just promise me no more lies of omission. Do not leave me in the dark again."
I gave a slightly watery smile, opening my eyes to see meet his again.
"That I can promise."
He mirrored my smile with all the tenderness of midsummer sunlight, wrapping his arm around my shoulder again and pulling me against him in a long, deep hug. I coiled my arms around his back, buried my face in his neck and held on tight, letting the warm scent of rain, pine and forests after a storm utterly engulf me.
Now I knew that sensation and accepted it for what it was, it felt less like a pleasant but baffling mystery to solve and more like a balm for all the emotional bruises on my heart. It didn't need to be anything more or less right now. Whatever it turned into from here — whatever we turned into from here — we'd figure it out together.
But for now, it made me feel a little lighter, a little less alone…
And that was enough.
We stayed like that for a very long time, Legolas and I. So long that I realised after a while that the music had faded completely, and the voices inside the hall had softened to the subdued murmurings of post-party chitchat. I didn't want to leave just yet though. I still had far too many questions and not enough tiredness to consider sleep.
Eventually, when we separated, he still held me close enough that the cooling evening breeze couldn't get anywhere near to give me a chill.
"Can I ask you yet another question?" I asked.
"Always," he smiled.
"This… pull towards another person… have you ever had this with anyone before? Merileth mentioned the feeling is rare but isn't limited to once in a lifetime."
He shook his head, a few stray strands of his hair escaping their tail and skimming my temple. "No, I've never experienced it before. Nor expressed interest in anyone before. At least, not in any meaningful sense."
"Not in any meaningful way?"
He sighed.
"I had someone I thought I wished for once, but… we were not what the other needed in the end."
He gave me a long look directly in the eyes, and while it wasn't uncomfortable, I did feel unnervingly like I was being seen far more deeply than before.
"You have though," he said gently, reading my expression like a book. He didn't sound upset or even surprised though.
I chewed my lip as a set of unpleasant feelings I hadn't felt in a long time surfaced along with the memories that had made them. I had to resist the urge to quash them down, not wanting to ruin this precious vulnerable moment between us. It had been so long since I'd even thought about Mark, let alone spoke about him…
"Sort of," I admitted reluctantly. "Courting — though we don't call it that — works a bit differently where I'm from. I'd been seeing someone for about a year before I came here, but… we weren't what the other needed either. Or at least I wasn't what he needed. It didn't end well. Actually, one of the last conversations I had before I came here was me telling him I never wanted to see him again."
I could see the sharp curiosity behind Legolas' eyes even as he tried to hide it behind a respectfully neutral mask.
"What did he do to earn such scorn?"
"He…"
My voice abandoned me.
A surge of those poisonous feelings and memories almost three-years-buried assaulted me just as I'd known they would. It wasn't as strong this time as when I'd been cornered in that alleyway a few days ago, but it was still enough to take the air from my lungs. Enough to bring all the anger, regret and self-loathing thoughts back even as I stood there in the arms of an entirely different man.
Thoughts that asked why I was being so stupid as the trust again so quickly. Ones that accused me of still being a silly, naive young woman; easily manipulated and coerced for her loneliness and inexperience—
'Stop.'
I closed my eyes for a moment and just breathed, forcing those thoughts to halt, and burying that cynical, jaded side of myself down where its poison couldn't reach me. It was true the idea of making myself that emotionally vulnerable like that to anyone again did terrify me, but everything I'd seen of Legolas from the moment we'd uttered our first barbed words at each other told me he was nothing if not honest, sometimes brutally so.
But he would never ever lie to me, not about this growing bond between us.
He wouldn't use that bond against me…
He wouldn't do to me what Mark had…
I felt one of his hands on my back shift onto my shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Eleanor, you do not have to tell me if you don't want to," he murmured so gently it almost made me cry on the spot.
Instead, I made myself take a few more breaths and open my eyes again.
"I don't want to," I admitted. "But I think I need to."
Legolas didn't speak, only gazed at me with a mix of concern and tenderness. Standing there together, he patiently allowed me the time I needed to find my words until I was finally ready to speak again.
"The last time… the last time I visited him, it was meant to be a surprise. I'd travelled from my college to his home for his birthday and was there waiting when he came back from a night out celebrating with his friends. He was happy to see me, but he'd also had way too much to drink. He was so smashed he could barely stand up when he came through the door. I tried to help him get to bed to sleep it off without hurting himself, but he… wanted something else from me."
It was silly, but I couldn't make myself look Legolas in the eyes as I told him my worst story. But I also couldn't stop the words now they were coming. It was like I'd opened a long-neglected wound and all the festering poison was finally being released.
"I said no," I went on. "I didn't want to. I wasn't ready for that. But he was so plastered he couldn't tell I was being serious. He tried to grab me, so I pushed him away. He got angry and took a swing at me. Got me across the cheek."
I instinctively raised a hand to brush my fingertips over where his knuckle had clipped me.
"I don't really remember exactly what happened next. I think I kicked him. He fell back and hit his head on the edge of a side table. Knocked himself out cold. I… I made sure he was still breathing, but after that, I was so spooked that I… I just left. Travelled all night to get home again. When I contacted him the next day — long distance, I should add — to check he was alright, he acted like nothing had happened. I think he must have been so drunk and hit his head so hard he didn't even remember I'd been there at all…"
All through my increasingly hurried monologue Legolas didn't say a word. His expression out of the corner of my eye didn't change at all. He didn't snarl, or spit curses, and his hands didn't clench into enraged fists like they did in those books Katie loved to read.
But he did go utterly, inhumanly still.
Honestly, that might have been the more frightening reaction.
"Anyway," I pressed on, desperate to be done with it. "After that, I found excuses not to visit. I kept them up for months before he finally started to question why. We got into arguments. A lot. Or rather he'd try and guilt trip me, then snipe at me when I ignored him for it. It… wasn't good."
A colossal understatement if ever there was one.
It had been hands down one of the worst times of my life.
Legolas was quiet for a few agonisingly long breaths, clearly carefully managing his thoughts and/or temper before speaking again.
"That certainly explains why you reacted so strongly to what happened in that alleyway," he murmured, somehow with both painful gentleness and quiet fury. "I hope I do not need to tell you that it was not your fault. You told him no, and he would not accept it. You are not responsible for his actions."
"I know," I said honestly, but it still comforted me to hear him say it. I finally felt brave enough to meet his eyes again. They were gentle but not pitying, and I was relieved for that. "But I am responsible for my own. And that's just it: I never actually told him what had happened. Or why I never wanted to come back. I never told anyone. I was too much of a coward to admit I was scared of him. Of him ever trying it again. So I just ran away, and stayed away."
I sighed heavily, the weight of all that remembered sadness and isolation far heavier than I'd expected.
"He used to say that to me 'You'll never find another person who will love you more than I do.' I thought it was sweet at first, but it began to sound bitter the more he said it. It was like he was saying that I wasn't worth anyone else's care, that I was lucky to have him want me because no one else ever would."
"How long did you endure this?"
I shrugged.
"We were technically together for a year and a bit I think. Not long at all by elf standards, I know. But I was human, and barely twenty when I first met him — young and naive even by my world's standards."
Memories of standing in the snow, a phone pressed to my ear, listening to feeble excuses suddenly came back to me. My last night on Earth.
I abruptly wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.
"The night I came here, I… overheard him with someone else. He'd finally got bored waiting for me to come back. I was angry at first, but underneath that, there was also relief. I hadn't realised exactly how much I'd wanted him gone, but had just been too afraid to admit it."
"Why didn't you?" Legolas asked softly, and he sounded genuinely confused. "If he hurt and degraded you that much why did you remain with him?"
I thought about it, the truth coming out so easily that it shocked me.
"Because I believed him. Not immediately, but after all that time hearing it said over and over… it was like having an invisible leash slowly put around my neck, and I didn't even realise it. By the time it did finally end, the night I came here, the damage was already done." I said quietly, my eyes dropping to fixate on the fabric of his tunic again. "It's… taken a long time for me to stop thinking of myself as worthless."
It was that admission that brought the tears back.
I didn't try to stop them this time. I just let them silently come as they needed to along with the relief that it was finally over: my worst story spoken aloud. I hadn't realised how much that one not-so-little secret I'd never told anyone — not even Katie — had weighed on my heart.
And now it was finally gone.
I felt Legolas' body shift before I felt his arms tighten around my waist, turning our loose embrace into a painfully gentle hug. Far gentler than any of the several we'd shared that evening. A tiny sob escaped me before I could quiet it, and Legolas turned his head to press a whisper-soft kiss to my brow.
"I'm sorry," he breathed against my temple. There was no pity in it, or anger, or retroactive heroic outrage. Just tender-hearted understanding. "No one should ever be treated as you were."
"I know," I whispered against his shoulder.
"It was brave of you to share that truth with me."
I shook my head against his tunic. "I was just being—"
"No," he interrupted with stern gentleness. "That was a statement of reality, not an invitation for debate."
I laughed, though it came out as more of a hiccup because I was technically still crying.
"How are you even real?" I teased, turning my face enough to wipe my cheeks. "You know no one has any business being this good outside a fairytale."
"I could pretend to scowl in regal judgment if it would make you feel better," he smiled against my hair. "Maybe fold my arms and turn my nose up."
"Are you trying to make me melt as well as laugh?"
"Is it working?"
"A little."
A low laugh bubbled up in his chest, and the feel of it against my chest was enough to drive away any remaining dark clouds I had left.
"Well then, perhaps this might finish the job."
He half-released me from the embrace just enough to reach back and fish something small from one of the small pockets at his belt. Once he found it, he opened his hand to show me the delicate object resting in his palm. It was about the size of my thumbnail, inlaid with little flecks of gold filigree, and set with a cobweb fine gold chain.
"An acorn?" I realised, recognising it. I looked up at him, my mouth slightly open as I remembered where I'd seen that little seed before. "Is that from…?"
He nodded, the closest to sheepish I'd ever seen him.
"From Lothlórien. I'd been thinking of the tale you'd told us in Moria at the time when I stumbled across it and… I had one of the jewelsmiths preserve it and add the chain shortly before we departed…" He cleared his throat awkwardly, unable to meet my eye now. "Forgive me, it was a foolish idea."
I couldn't help but gape at him, staring between his colouring face and the delicate little hand-made pendant, a thousand feelings all fighting for control at once.
"You remembered that?" I asked so quietly. "I told you all the story of Peter Pan ages ago. Before Gandalf fell, before I got shot, before everything. And you remembered all this time?"
He gazed down at me with perfect seriousness.
"It was the first story I ever heard you tell. Of course I remembered."
My stomach fluttered, my face burned, and my open-mouthed surprise melted into a kind of delight I couldn't have masked even if I'd wanted to. I reached out and took up the chain, letting the little gold-inlaid acorn dangle in the air between us.
"I think it's safe to say this is the cheesiest and sweetest thing anyone's ever done for me," I informed him with an elated smile that made my cheeks hurt.
He laughed with what seemed like real relief, returning the grin with equal delight. "The first of more to come then, if you'll allow it."
I went to put the little pendant on myself, but Legolas immediately offered to do it instead. The chain was shorter than the one I was already wearing, and the clasp was tricky to reach, so I conceded and turned around. His fingers brushed the back of my neck as he pulled my hair to one side and to do up the claps. The only trouble was the alcohol still lingering in both our systems made him all thumbs with the tiny chain, and me unable to stay still long enough for him to get it closed. We both ended up dissolving into laughter again and again before finally, finally, he got it closed, leaving the little acorn settled on its chain just slightly higher on my chest than the little poison vial Galadriel gifted me.
"I think we finally found something you're actually bad at," I giggled, turning back around to find him grinning like a teenager at me.
"Choosing gifts?" He joked.
"Putting on jewellery while drunk," I corrected, still beaming. "The gift is perfect, and I love it. Thank you."
His gaze simultaneously warmed and darkened on me along with that summer sweet smile.
"You are welcome."
Then, with only the briefest glimmer of hesitation, he leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my cheek.
When he pulled back, I offered him a half-lidded smile of my own, even as my pulse thundered under my skin and my stomach filled with butterflies again.
"I think you missed," I whispered.
He looked confused, but only for a moment as I tapped a finger to my lips.
It earned me another one of my favourite crooked, boyish grins.
He didn't miss the second time.
A/N: I'm going to be real with you guys, this chapter was hard to write. Writing un-ironic/non-humorous romance is already quite tricky for me, and I had so much I wanted to get into this chapter. I was so worried at the length of it by the time I finally got to the end. I really thought I was going to need to cut out bits and find places for them later in Book 3…
Then I remembered this is a fanfiction and I can do whatever I like so… 13,000 words for a Rohan victory party and E having the "what are we" talk it is! Hope you all don't mind too much.
Also, just a reminder that I read absolutely every message and comment you all leave me on every platform. Every single one. And I love all of them, even though I so rarely have the time/headspace to reply to them these days. Thank you all so much for the support for so long. I still have a hard time wrapping my head around how beloved this series has become to so many people. Especially given that I started it so long ago when my writing style was far less developed.
Two more chapters to go before the end of CM. I'm sure nothing nefarious is going to happen with that palantir Gandalf brought back between now and then… :)
Until then much love,
Rella x