Will of the Valar.

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but the original characters and their adventures. The Tolkien Estate and New Line Cinema own Middle Earth and its regular denizens.

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They made their way back through the Elven tents. Legolas paused to speak with different warriors along the way, getting a feel for their mood, their fatigue level, their outlook on the war. Alex stayed in the background and followed him at a distance. She watched, admiring his easy manner; his genuine care for those who had chosen to follow him. None of these Elves were forced to remain in Middle Earth: they all had the opportunity to sail into the West. But they had chosen to travel to Ithilien and help the land recover from the centuries of desolation brought about by Sauron and his master, Morgoth.

They did not have to go with Legolas when he chose to support Aragorn and Eomer in their battles against eastern aggressors. Yet, each had followed him and was defending the men of the west without question. These beautiful, brave beings broke her heart and, pulling Orophin’s cloak up to hide her face, she made her way to the Elven armory.

She was not paying attention to her route; she just knew the general direction. She was moving quickly and when a pair of strong arms caught her as she almost stepped off of a short, but potentially painful drop, she gasped. Looking up she saw one of the striking, dark-haired smiths, Balewith. He smiled, and her heartache boiled over. He was shocked to see tears welling up in her eyes.

“My lady, are you alright?” He put his arm around her and led her to a quiet spot where his fellow smith, Morhir, was putting the finishing touches on a sword he was sharpening. Looking up, he frowned in consternation.

“What is wrong? Alexandra, are you injured?” He joined them, kneeling next to Balewith as she sat on a small stool.

“I’m fine,” she said as she caught her breath. What was wrong with her? She’d never been so emotional---except when she heard Elf-song. Thank God the Elves were not singing like they usually did. That was one good thing to come of being in this war: they were typically quiet in their camps. The heart-rending music of the Elves, no matter what they were singing about, always caused her to feel intense emotion that invariably resulted in tears. Her melancholic thoughts would have driven her back into despair had they been combined with the pure voices of the Firstborn.

So, why was she so upset now? She looked up at her friends---the two of them had made swords and other blades for her and a comfortable friendship had developed almost immediately. She also found their beauty touching because, unlike many of their brethren, they did not carry a perpetual air of arrogance, and they awoke an almost maternal feeling in her. Thinking of them being in danger brought a new round of tears.

The two Elves looked at each other helplessly. Alexandra was usually so serene---except when she first woke up; but then, she had been through a trying ordeal recently, so perhaps she was still emotionally fragile. Whatever the reason for her distress, they simply sat with her, Morhir with his arm around her shoulder, Balewith holding her hand.

When her crying jag ended, she accepted a cloth from Balewith and wiped her eyes and, to her shame, her nose. Seeing their concern, she laughed. “I don’t suppose Elves get runny noses when they cry, do they?”

Morhir shook his head. “I am afraid not, my lady.” If it would have made her happy, he would have gladly blown his nose just to make her feel better. But, he had never sneezed, never had his nose drip, never had the hiccups.

Alex laughed again, and stood. “Thank you for your kindness. Please, Legolas is coming; don’t tell him about my little episode.”

“Your secret is safe with us,” Balewith smiled. “I suppose you would like your dagger back? And the Easterling sword? It is unlike any I have seen the Easterlings or Haradrim carry. The design definitely shows Elvish influence, and the workmanship is superb.” He handed her the dagger along with a new belt on which she could put both the knife and the scabbard for the sword.

“I am sorry, but we have no throwing daggers,” Morhir sighed.

“That’s alright. I doubt I’ll need even these. But you never know; I may have to use them on myself if things go badly.” At their shocked expressions, she shook her head. “I’m just kidding. You Elves take things so seriously!”

Catching the sympathy in their eyes, she knew they had heard about what had happened to her. She looked away and Morhir reached out to touch her shoulder.

“Going with Lord Faramir’s son to protect him was a very brave and noble act, my lady. You should know, everyone is quite proud of you and many prayers were sent to the Valar for your protection.”

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t feel very brave or noble at the time, and I still don’t. I … thank you.” She couldn’t say any more, but their directness helped her feelings tremendously.

“You left so quickly, my love. Were you that anxious to retrieve your weapons?” Though his tone was pleasant, there was a hint of reprimand in his words. She looked at her husband and for a moment, caught something in his gaze, a hardness she’d never seen before.

“Actually, yes, I was,” she replied with a smile. “Plus, I haven’t seen Morhir and Balewith in months, and you were so busy, I thought I’d just get out of your way and come on ahead.” She didn’t like the way his eyes coolly assessed the two Elves standing behind her. It was almost as if he were suspicious of them … or her.

Then, the moment passed and he gave his open, dazzling smile. “I see you sharpened her blades. Thank you, my friends.” Turning to his wife, he continued, “Did you wish to keep that sword for use or would you like another?”

“I think I’ll keep this one for now,” she replied. “It’s actually quite comfortable and Balewith assures me the workmanship is good.”

“Then, let us return to our tent. You look weary, my sweet, and I would have you well-rested.” He took her arm and guided her back toward the center of the camp. His grip was tight and he did not realize he was holding onto her so firmly until she gave a small hiss of pain.

“Legolas, you are hurting me. Please, what’s wrong?”

“We will discuss it later.” She was shocked by his cold tone. What had happened in the few moments between their leaving the waterside and his arrival at the armory?

Legolas was furious. He had seen her slip away while he was talking with his people. When he caught up with her, she was sitting with the two smiths, one of them embracing her and the other holding her hand. They spoke to her and she laughed, then she retrieved her weapons. He could not blame her---Elves were beautiful and she was only mortal---of course she could be easily seduced; and she seemed to prefer the dark-haired members of his kin, those of Noldor descent. Elladan and Elrohir, Balewith and Morhir---apparently it took two of the Noldor to do the job of one Sinda.

When they arrived at their tent, they found a several tunics and pairs of legging as well as a couple of undertunics and, unexpectedly, a set of Elven armor, complete with helmet. Alex gave the items a cursory glance, then turned to her husband. Legolas’ eyes were distant and he seemed preoccupied.

“Are you going to tell me what I’ve done to offend you?” Her own anger was rising in the face of his seemingly irrational behavior toward her. “Please, Legolas. I don’t know why you’re angry with me.” She felt an icy fear in her heart. Their bond was strong, and she could feel his love, but there was an undercurrent of … something else. Jealousy?

The gaze he turned on her was shockingly cold. “You should remember your place, lady. Do not think your mortality excludes you from the expectations of proper behavior. Twice, you have been taken from me; there are some who would say I cannot keep my own wife.” He’d never spoken to her in such a cruel tone. She could only stare at him.

“Truly, Legolas, I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you. Are you angry because I went on to the armory? You were busy and I didn’t want to get in the way.” She reached out and tentatively touched his arm. “Please, my love, don’t be angry with me. I’m sorry. I’d have stayed right there with you if I’d known it was so important.”

He fought for self-control. He knew he was hurting her and that was the last thing he wanted to do. But he was a whirl of conflicting emotions. He loved her desperately, wanted nothing more than to protect her, love her and keep her safe with him; still, he could not get over the nagging little thoughts that kept coming to his mind. She had been forced to accompany the Rhunians and, after having been kidnapped previously by Lord Karandun, it made it look as though Legolas was not taking care of her, as if he did not care about her. And who of his kin then would not think it his duty to protect and comfort the neglected wife of an Elven prince?

He had never been one to think much on the differences between the various divisions and cultures of the Elves. Sindar, Noldor, Teleri, Vanyar, Silvan---in the end, all were Elves. His own people of Mirkwood were Silvan, although he, his parents and grandparents were Sindarin. When his grandfather, Oropher, had founded the kingdom of Greenwood the Great, he and his family had embraced the Silvan Elves they ruled and Legolas even considered himself Silvan.

Still, the Noldor had always felt themselves superior to the Teleri. He knew the so-called “Deep Elves” thought themselves the wisest and best examples of Elven culture, and they always seemed to hold themselves as superior to all others in Middle Earth. Besides the twins, Balewith, Morhir and Glorfindel were all Noldor, though Glorfindel also had Vanyar blood. The Galadhrim, the Lorien Elves: Haldir, Orophin and Rumil were Silvan Elves like Legolas’ people. Saelbeth was Sindarin, like the prince.

It would be in keeping with the Noldor attitude to think they knew better how to tend to his business, including the business of his wife, since it seemed he could not do it himself. And Alexandra was emotionally fragile right now---she had been through a terrible ordeal and was it not convenient that the twins, Glorfindel and even the smiths, just happened to be close at hand to give her the support that she should be receiving from her husband? They made him appear weak in her eyes, as if he could not protect her and see to her needs.

He was beyond rational thought at this point. When Alex touched him he could not restrain himself and, quicker than her eye could follow he turned on her and grabbed her upper arms with an unbreakable grip, pulling her to him so her face was close to his.

“Take care, lady. You do not wish to find yourself the victim of deceit. You are my wife, my bond-mate, my responsibility---none other’s.” His eyes, which had never looked upon her with anything but love and kindness, were now like shards of blue ice and she was struck by an unfamiliar emotion: at this moment, she was almost afraid of her husband.

Sweet Mary and Joseph. He thought something improper had occurred between her and … someone. The only people she’d spoken to were Balewith and Morhir---surely, he didn’t suspect them; Elladan and Elrohir---but he’d been there when they’d come in. He knew nothing was going on there. The only other people she’d had any interaction with, besides Eomer and Gilraen, were Orophin and Glorfindel. Had he seen or heard her exchange with Orophin this morning and taken it the wrong way? And she’d only discussed the war with Glorfindel.

Summoning her courage she returned his hard look with one of her own.

“Release me, Legolas. You are hurting me and, since you seem to be so worried about what others think of us, I’m sure you don’t want bruises on my arms. It could cause questions because, I believe, spouse abuse is frowned upon by Elves.”

Her words seemed to reach him and she saw horror and shame melt the ice in his eyes. He immediately released her arms and turned away.

“Forgive me, Alex. I … I do not know why I reacted as I did. I have been prey to fears and uncertainties I have never known before.”

Alex reached out and turned him so she could look into his eyes. “You are under a lot of pressure, my love. Even Elves get tired. And I know I haven’t helped things---I should’ve been more careful when Karandun’s people took me, and none of that would’ve happened. And I should’ve killed the Rhunians at Minas Tirith so the aftermath would’ve been moot.” She raised her hand to stay his objections. “I could’ve at least taken out the ones in the room, and I think, without their leader, they’d have abandoned their plan. There were choices I could’ve made that might have changed the outcomes.”

She put her arms around him and he slipped his around her waist, holding her close. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. No one thinks you can’t take care of me---where would I be now without you? Likely, dead before a week in Middle Earth. If anything, they think you have a fool-hardy wife.”

Her words tore at his heart. He did not want her to blame herself for being a victim of circumstance. It was just another of his failures as her husband. “No, Alex. I simply … I do not know how to put it into words. A great dread is building inside of me and a shadow grows in my mind. I fear I will not be able to control them …”

“Legolas, it’s only normal that you have some doubts. And you can’t control events, usually. You just respond to what’s thrown at you.” She looked into his eyes. “You are strong and your heart is true. Your people love you and follow you wherever you lead. They don’t doubt you. You shouldn’t doubt yourself.”

“Perhaps they would feel better if Glorfindel were their leader,” he said looking down at where his hands were holding hers between them. “He is one of the wisest and greatest of the Eldar left in Middle Earth. He is of the Noldor and is a mighty Elf-Lord. It should be him, not me, who makes the decisions for our people.”

Alex didn’t know much about the different Elven cultures or classes or clans or whatever they were called, so being a Noldor or whatever they were, meant nothing to her. “So? You’re the one who decided to help rebuild Ithilien. These Elves followed you because they agreed with you and didn’t want to leave yet. I don’t see Glorfindel trying to run things. He supports you---they all do. And I don’t think mortals look at Elves and see differences. We all see you as one group---beautiful, wise, strong, brave---Elves. Even if there were divisions in the past, you’re now all here together. Legolas, everyone here is your friend---even me.” He laughed in spite of himself at her words.

Pulling her close, he once again begged her forgiveness for his earlier behavior. “I am not myself. Please, remind me when needed.” She kissed him softly and any remaining doubts melted away at the touch of her lips.

The clothes were a perfect fit and he insisted she try on the armor. She felt rather foolish in the beautiful, elaborate, yet practical get-up. She could see amusement in his eyes as he fitted the helmet atop her head. To her horror, as he was adjusting it so she could see, they heard the voices of his captains at the opening of the tent and, to make matters worse, he invited them in.

She thanked Heaven for the Elves’ self-discipline since none of them laughed outright. The twins gave it a good half a minute before they started to chuckle. Rumil and the newly-arrived Haldir and Saelbeth looked uncertain of the appropriate reaction while Glorfindel and Orophin bit back smiles, but managed to contain any laughter.

Legolas turned to them with a mischievous expression. “So, what do you think, my friends?” His barely contained humor made Alex roll her eyes and mutter a curse none of them understood.

“Actually, the lady makes quite an impressive Elven warrior,” Glorfindel pronounced. “If I did not know who she was already, I would certainly take her for a she-Elf.”

“Believe me, I didn’t ask for this,” she said disdainfully. “Legolas asked that someone bring me some clothes and this was in the pile. Then, he insisted I try it on and, not knowing any better, I agreed.”

“Ah. I feared we had interrupted an intimate moment of some sort best left between an Elf and his partner,” Haldir replied. Looking Alex over with a critical eye, he made a couple of adjustments to the armor, corrected her stance and finally stepped back, surveying her as he would one of his wardens. “Passable,” he pronounced.

Legolas’ eyes sparkled with mirth as his wife suffered Haldir’s corrections. He could see the mortification in her face.

“Is everyone finished dressing me up like a doll? May I please get out of this incredibly uncomfortable … stuff now?”

“Oh, I think it looks rather good on you,” Saelbeth said guilelessly. “Glorfindel is correct. You do make a convincing and formidable Elven warrior. Especially when your eyes are so angry. I would hate to face you on the field of battle.”

“Well, those of you who laughed---and I know who you are---are going to hate to face me anywhere you meet me as soon as I can get this off.” She managed to pull the helmet from her head and tossed it to Rumil.

Taking pity on her, Orophin and Legolas helped loosen the many intricate fastenings and released her from the beautiful prison. She took a deep breath.

“Well, I see now why Elves are so vicious on the battlefield. That stuff is damned uncomfortable. I’d be in a bad mood all the time too, if I was stuck in it for longer than a minute.” She had to admit her admiration for her husband’s kin grew with each new thing she learned---how they managed to be so graceful and uncomplaining while wearing what felt like a medieval torture device was a testament to their self-discipline and strength.

“With all due respect, my lady,” Glorfindel said, after she was free and the others had finished teasing her gently, “I would recommend that you become accustomed to wearing it. We are at war, and you may find yourself in the midst of a battle. We all know you are quite able to defend yourself, but I, for one, would feel better knowing you were protected somewhat.”

The others voiced their agreement. Legolas gave her a look that said his point was proven.

“See, my wife? It was not simply my desire to ‘dress you up’ as you claim. That was an added benefit,” he said with a twinkle. “You need to wear it for a bit and learn to move in it; then it will not seem so uncomfortable or foreign to you.”

“But you were a warrior in your land, were you not?” Rumil asked. “Did you not wear armor in battle?”

She glanced at Legolas. “We had a different kind of armor, nothing like this. Our battles were fought quite differently from the way they are done here. We were often on ships.”

Naval battles were something they could relate to, so she left it at that. Smiling, she welcomed Haldir and Saelbeth and talk turned quickly to events in Minas Tirith and on the battlefield. The Elves had returned earlier than expected. They hastened to assure her Elboron had been returned to his mother safely and Eowyn and her child had chosen to return to Ithilien. The Elven warriors protecting Legolas’ domain had promised the Steward they would be watchful of the Lady and the child.

“Faramir has left half of his men to guard the city, including a company in Osgiliath,” Saelbeth told them. Turning to Legolas he continued, “We also received a message from your father and Lord Celeborn; they have dispatched some of our kin to reinforce the northern and northeastern borders of Gondor and Rohan.”

Legolas heart was lifted by the actions of the king and the Lord of East Lorien. They had seemed far removed from the troubles of men in Middle Earth, but apparently they were not as distant as it had first appeared.

“What has been decided here, Legolas?” Haldir had seen the strain the people of Gondor were under and feared the Rhunian tactics had been successful. The people were afraid of everything now. There was even a rumor that the Rhunians had been shadowed Elves, so stealthy had their attack been. Who knew what evil the Firstborn were capable of, especially those who might have chosen to remain in the barbaric east? When he told the others of these mutterings among the people of Gondor, the news was greeted with varying degrees of disbelief and disgust.

“Why are they always so quick to believe the worst of our race?” Orophin asked, shaking his head. “Has not enough Elven blood been shed in their defense that it might wipe away their fears and suspicions?”

Legolas related Faramir’s observations of the Firstborn when they had traveled east in pursuit of Alex and Elboron. “He did not sound as if they feared us, but the ideas about our kind were not accurate.”

“The men of the north do not share these feelings,” Elrohir replied. He and Elladan had spent centuries among the Dunedain Rangers, of whom Aragorn was a representative. “It seems to be the people of the south that fear our kind the most.”

“And the east,” Rumil added. “Charika has told me of the tales told of Elves among her people in Harad and among the Easterlings. We are seen as some sort of dark, demonic beings and believed to be evil, lustful, murderers.”

“And they believe these stories?” Glorfindel shook his head. “In all my life, I have never truly understood these fears.”

“It’s because you’re different,” Alex said from the pallet where she’d seated herself to give the Elves room to talk. She looked up from the tunic she was folding and found eight sets of stunning blue eyes of varying shades focused on her.

“I can’t speak specifically for the people here in Middle Earth, but as a mortal, I can tell you that Elves, as a concept, are pretty intimidating. You don’t get old or sick and die; you’re all terribly beautiful; you’re stronger, have more stamina, have keener senses than mortals; you’ve all been around for a very long time and, although you may not be inherently wiser, you at least have more experience than any mortal will ever hope to have. And probably, most of all, you have a connection to another plain of existence that mortals can never have---you have powers that seem like magic to mortals. People inherently fear that which they don’t understand. Very few Men understand Elves. It makes us fear you.”

Her use of the word “us” was not lost on her listeners, although she didn’t notice it herself.

She went back to folding her newly acquired clothes, her thoughts turned inward as she tried to think how best to keep herself from being a distraction or pest to her husband and his friends. She only became aware that Legolas was speaking to her when he took the newly folded leggings out her hand and lifted her chin so he could look into her eyes.

“Do you fear Elves, Alexandra?”

Although he spoke softly and she could hear the concern and confusion in his tone, for some reason she felt an inexplicable shudder run through her. She looked at the others who were waiting for her response with expressions in varying degrees of bemusement, confusion and concern.

“I …” She was uncomfortably conscious of being the only mortal surrounded by eight Elven warriors, in the midst of an Elven army over 1700 strong. She looked into her husband’s eyes and knew what he was really asking: did she fear him?

“No,” she answered firmly. “I am sometimes uncomfortable, but fear? No.” The relief in his eyes touched her heart and she smiled. “But, my people are widely traveled and we encountered a great many different races. Some were intimidating, but when we learned about them, we no longer really feared them---unless there was something there to fear. The people here are superstitious and many have never left their homes and have not encountered Elves except from a distance or through stories. So you are a mystery to them. And you know how stories become twisted or elaborated upon with each retelling.” She laughed. “If I’d suddenly found myself in the midst of a bunch of Elves, I probably would’ve been quite distraught. As it was, luckily, Legolas found me and I became accustomed to him first, then the rest gradually came. Except,” she glanced at Rumil and his brothers, “in Lothlorien. I was a bit overwhelmed for a while.”

“Indeed,” Haldir raised a brow and smiled with undisguised satisfaction.

Elladan snickered. “Yes, Haldir. No one in the entire Elven race has perpetuated the image of Elves as frightening and crafty killers like the Galadhrim. Look at Legolas’ people: even though Thranduil keeps his borders closed out of necessity, the Mirkwood Elves are probably the most popular of our kin because they at least smile and talk with their opponents before they shoot them.” The others laughed along with him.

“And what of your kin in Rivendell?” countered Orophin. “Imaldris was not known for its hospitality to mortals.”

“Us?” Elrohir sighed. “No one fears us. We are too busy thinking and talking about things and making weighty decisions to actually do anything.”

“Really?” Glorfindel pretended to be offended. “I thought we were rather fearsome.”

Saelbeth smiled knowingly. “You are fearsome. The rest of us knew we did not need to do anything simply because we had the great Balrog Slayer in Rivendell. You were intimidating enough for us all.”

“Yes, our father always looked as though his head hurt when you would go out ‘hunting’. Notice, he never asked what you found,” Elladan added.

The smile and distant look that came to Glorfindel caused every one of his companions to wonder exactly what the great Elf had been ‘hunting’ when he would occasionally go out alone for weeks at a time. Sometimes he took warriors with him, but those solitary hunting trips held the promise of a good story.

Talk turned back to the matter at hand and all agreed the Elves were the best equipped to infiltrate the East. Legolas and Glorfindel glanced at Alex several times, though she remained silent, instead appearing intent on studying the maps of Harad, Mordor and Rhun. Not much was known about the east and it was quite likely there were cities, villages, and towns not indicated by cartographers.

“You are of the race of Men. What would you do?” Haldir’s question caught her off guard and she responded automatically, not bothering to look up from the map spread on the pallet in front of her.

“Two companies of Elves, one to the north of Mordor, one to the South, the rest remain along the borders. The company to the north is tasked with neutralizing the command and control for the Easterlings, the company to the south, the same objective for the Haradhrim. The Gondorian fleet blocks the river to all traffic except its own and the Gondorian and Rohirrim armies remain in Southern Gondor with the Elven artillery as support. When the first company achieves its objective, it rendezvous with the other company to provide assistance and then the objectives will be reassessed.”

She looked up to see her husband and his friends watching her with expressions of bewilderment. “What?”

“That is what you would do were you Aragorn or Eomer?” Glorfindel had to admit, she’d apparently thought it out.

“I suppose so,” she replied slowly. “But then, what do I know? I am neither Aragorn nor Eomer. I’m certainly not and Elf, so there are probably a million minor details I don’t know about that you do, having lived and fought in Middle Earth for thousands of years, that would affect the planning and execution of this mission. But, given the little I know right now, that’s where I’d start. Pay me no mind. I’m ignorant of this whole situation. Forget I said anything. Why did you even ask me?” She looked at Haldir in exasperation.

“Because I wished to know your opinion,” he replied.

She rolled her eyes and tossed the maps back onto the table. “Well, I gave it to you. Opinions are like a---.” She cut herself off. She took a breath and finished. “Everybody has one.”

Legolas, who had heard that particular idiom from his wife before, hid his smile. She was so protective of his kin---as if she thought they might be easily offended. After five years in the company of Elves, she still saw them as ethereal beings.

“I’m going back down to the river---stream---water place,” she said, standing. As she passed by Orophin, she handed him his cloak with a smile. “Thank you. I’m sorry I forgot to return it earlier.”

“Where is your sword?” Saelbeth stopped her at the entrance. “You cannot go about unarmed.” She closed her eyes and counted to five, before turning and smiling at the handsome, blonde Elf.

“Thank you. I’d almost forgotten.” She took the offered blade from Legolas who could barely contain his amusement. His beautiful wife was so easily exasperated sometimes and his friends had learned the fine art of irritating her, well. Looking at the warriors gathered in her husband’s tent, she continued. “Now, is there anything else anyone wants to say? More orders? Can I get you anything while I’m out?”

“If you can find any melons, I’d really like one,” Elladan called from the pallet where he’d taken her place and was reading over one of the discarded maps.

“And see if they have any of that brown bread that’s fresh, over near the Gondorian camp,” added Elrohir.

“You might wish to wear the armor so you can get used to it,” suggested Haldir with a straight face. She surveyed the group, then, making a gesture with both hands that was totally lost on all but Orophin and Legolas, she stalked out.

They waited until she had time to get out of earshot, then the laughter commenced. Legolas knew she was not truly angry, but, sweet Luthien, she could become irate quickly.

“What was the gesture with the fingers?” asked Glorfindel.

Orophin and Legolas exchanged glances. “I believe it is an obscene gesture among her people that basically tells the recipient to perform a physically impossible act of joining with oneself,” the prince replied, enjoying the looks of surprise on his fellow Elves.

“You mean she’s been insulting me all this time?” Elladan’s tone was, not hurt, but delighted.

Elrohir rolled his eyes. “You would try the patience of the Valar, brother.”

The Elves resumed their discussion. Alexandra’s comments had merit. True, she did not have all the facts---but then, neither did they; still it was a good opening point for planning the incursion should it fall to them.


Alex walked through the tents of the Elves in the direction she and Legolas had taken that morning. The sun was low on the horizon and the slanting rays gave the rock where they’d sought seclusion a silvery cast. She climbed to the top and sat facing the setting sun. Closing her eyes, she let her thoughts become calm, then began to pray. First, she gave thanks for the blessings of her life and those she loved, and those who loved her. Then, she asked for protection for her husband and his kin should they be tasked with the missions to the East. She asked for protection for the others in the armies of the west, and that the injured be healed and comforted, and for the families of the fallen. She even asked that their enemies be guided away from the folly of this war, and that they find peace for themselves and their land. Lastly, she asked that those she had left behind when she was brought to Middle Earth, find peace and safety.

She seldom thought of the life she’d left. Sometimes, though, it was as if she were still doing the same job, just in a different environment. When she’d examined the maps today, she couldn’t help but imagine it as a problem in a class at the Academy on ancient battle strategy. Her answer had been fairly textbook, which was why she was so disgusted with it. It didn’t take into consideration all the variables unique to this situation. She rested her chin on her knees, her hands clasped around her legs. She was slipping. She’d once been good at puzzle solving, but since coming to Middle Earth, it was as though the layers of her previous life were being shed, like the diaphanous layered gowns Charika made for her.

She smiled at the thought of her friend and seamstress. Charika was a woman of Harad, but had some Easterling blood as well. They had met several months after Alex had arrived in Middle Earth, as she and Legolas journeyed east in search of Sauron’s palantir. When they’d met, the Southron woman had been the victim of prejudice and abuse from a group of men in her village. She’d learned to take care of herself, with a slight nudge from Alex, who had remained in the village as Legolas went off on a side quest. When the troubles started with the Easterlings and Haradrim, Alex had asked a group of the Elven warriors who were going to be traveling in that area, to ask Charika to come to Ithilien. She worried about the safety of the Eastern border towns. The woman agreed and was now happily ensconced in her own house a little away from the most populated parts of the colony---she’d been raised in fear of Elves and so was not too comfortable living in the midst of them.

Alex only saw her about twice a month, but found the woman seemed to have adapted to her new home quite well. From what Alex had gathered, Rumil had taken quite an interest in her and the two spent a lot of time together when he was not away fighting the war. She laughed to herself. Apparently, Charika was overcoming her fear of Elves.

She had closed her eyes as she’d thought about her friend. The warmth of the sun was giving way to the chill of the evening. She shivered slightly and felt warmth envelop her. She smelled Legolas’ scent on the cloak and opened her eyes. He was kneeling before her, the sun shining behind him turning his hair into a golden halo and his smile was so pure, she almost thought, for a moment, she was being visited by an angel.

She reached up slowly to touch his face tentatively; as if afraid he was only a vision. When she came in contact with his smooth cheek, he covered her hand with his and kissed the tips of her fingers before entwining them with his own.

“You’ve been gone for a while, my love,” he said. “What were you doing?”

“I was saying my prayers and thinking of my life here and how much I love you.”

“I love you even more,” he replied. He sat next to her and drew her close so her head rested against his shoulder. Together they sat watching the sun as it sank below the western horizon.

“Sing to me,” she said softly.

“What would you like to hear?” She usually preferred the songs of his Silvan kin.

“Sing to me a happy song about the Undying Lands.”

He hid his surprise. She was always brought to tears by Elf-song and usually any songs about Valinor were to be avoided. Still, he would do as she asked. He began a song about the awakening of the Elves in the east and how they were called into the west to Aman by the light of the Two Trees.

He could feel her tears as they fell on his tunic and feel the sadness in her heart. But she had asked for the song and when he finished she looked up into his eyes and smiled. “Thank you,” she whispered and kissed him softly.

That night, they lay together after joining and he could feel her heart beating against his chest as she slept in his arms. There were times when the intensity of his love for her was almost frightening. He thought back to his irrational behavior of the day. What had come over him? It was as though his thoughts were not his own. He knew his wife was true to him, and that his friends were honorable. He knew he had the loyalty of the Elves of Ithilien. It was as if some fell voice were filling his head with evil thoughts---.

He felt a chill. Morgoth had tempted him before. Was the Evil One again trying to lure him into darkness? He drew Alex closer, taking comfort from her warm body, and finally slept the sleep of the Eldar.

The Elves spent the next day preparing for what they knew they would be asked to do: taking stock of their supplies, choosing who to send where, strategies for communications. The fact that Elves were naturally organized made the tasks fairly simple. At Legolas’ insistence, Alex reluctantly allowed herself to be dressed in her new armor and spent most of the day with Glorfindel, Rumil, Orophin and Saelbeth learning how to maneuver in the uncomfortable get-up.

They were merciless and at one point, she was sparring with all four of them. It was no great problem for them; they fought with the skill and ease of millennia of experience. She, however, was exhausted. At first, she thought they were just torturing her because they got some sort of perverted Elf thrill from seeing her look ridiculous and in pain. But, she found the pain served a purpose. While she tried not to whine about the discomfort of the armor, she discovered they wanted her to tell them where it hurt. When she indicated pain in a certain area, or being unable to maneuver with full range of motion, they would adjust the armor, sometimes loosening it, sometimes tightening it, refastening it at times. The process went on until the perfect fit was found.

Once her armor was fitted properly, she was amazed that it was actually fairly comfortable. It was more flexible than she’d first thought and, although it forced her posture to remain perfect no matter how tired she was, the support felt good. She was rewarded by an approving nod from Haldir when he and Legolas joined them late in the afternoon.

“You know what I want,” she said as she took off the helmet---it was awfully hot in there.

“It is yours, my love,” Legolas replied as he helped her remove the armor. Haldir began unfastening it on the other side.

“I want one of those slashy-spear things.” The Elves looked at her blankly.

“You know. It’s the tall thing with the curvy blades on each end.” She sighed. “Never mind.”

Understanding dawned and Rumil said he would see if Balewith and Morhir had any of the bladed staffs in the armory and see that she got one if they did.

She thanked him and Haldir asked curiously, why she would want one of those. It was for close combat.

She shrugged. “I like it. I’ve liked it since I first saw one used. It’s something I think I can handle fairly well, and let’s face it: any kind of fighting will be close combat for me. Would you rather I got a bow and arrows?”

“No!” Legolas and Orophin spoke at once. She smiled smugly.

“I rest my case.”

She was about to ask Legolas if he would wait while she took a bath when she bit back her words. She had perspired---ok, sweated like a horse---in the armor and under the constant movement involved in trying to avoid the blows of four Elven warriors simultaneously; and the thought of sinking in the water held tremendous attraction. But movement caught her eyes and she saw her sparring partners, and Haldir, had stripped down and were in the process of bathing themselves.

She quickly looked away, but not before the image was burned into her brain. If she’d thought Legolas was an anomaly, she was certainly wrong. All five of them had the supple, muscular bodies that belied their seemingly delicate beauty. As much as she loved them, she did not want the picture of any of their naked bodies running through her mind. It was somehow … incestuous.

“Were you going to ask me something, my love?” His calm gaze held no guile. However, he had seen her glance at the water and turn away.

“No. I … um … will want to come back later tonight and take a bath,” she mumbled.

“You can take one now,” he said innocently and, to her horror, began removing his clothing. “In fact, I believe I shall do so as well. You are correct; armor is hot. Would you help me with these laces.” She did as he asked, but made no move to remove her own clothes.

He looked at her in askance. “Do you not wish to bathe, my sweet?” He was completely naked by this point and she could not stop herself from admiring her husband’s beautiful body.

“Oh, I’m fine,” she said. “I’ll wait until you guys finish.”

He laughed and pulled off her boots against her protests. “Come, wife. Do not be so modest. We will go to the other side of the rock if you wish.”

“No! I’m ok,” she hissed as, despite her kicks and twists, he managed to get her boots off and tossed them with his clothes. He leaned down and picked her up, throwing her over his shoulder and proceeded to wade into the water where the other Elves had been watching their little drama with amused interest.

“Your clothes will get wet,” Saelbeth said as Legolas shifted her into his arms and held her just above the water that was barely covering his hips.

She kept her face buried in her husband’s neck. “They’re dirty anyway,” she replied and the Elves all laughed good-naturedly.

“Shall I drop you in or do you prefer to stand,” Legolas teased.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. “Don’t you drop me, Legolas!”

He carried her a few feet away toward the rock that would effectively shield them from view of the others. “My wife is unaccustomed to traveling with an Elven army,” he called over his shoulder. “I am afraid you have shocked her delicate sensibilities.” The others looked at each other and burst into renewed laughter. Alexandra was many things, delicate was not one of them.