The Warrior and the Poet(Extended Edition)

Part Two: Spark of Desire

Haldir and his brothers led us into the majestic elven city of Caras Galadhon. As we walked beneath the canopy of towering trees, the soft golden glow of the enormous leaves swaying in the gentle breeze took my breath away. Each one had to be the size of dinner plates. High in those glittering branches I heard a soft melody-a melancholy song that began like ‘hello’ and ended like ‘goodbye’. The lilting music brought all the angry despair back to the surface and it took every ounce of strength I possessed to hold back the tears that threatened to fall.

Trembling and blinded by the unshed tears I managed to grope my way up the long, winding stair. High above the loamy ground, Haldir escorted us into a magnificent anti-chamber. Even through tear-blurred vision, I marveled at the way the branches and leaves melded and blended to create the stunning architecture of the room. Branches trellised upward, intertwining like long time lover in a sensuous embrace, giving the impression of walls, all emitting an ethereal glow.

Suddenly, the glow intensified as two radiant beings descended from somewhere above. My breath caught in my throat, completely bedazzled by the awesome display, as the Lord and Lady alighted upon the bottom step with the same quiet stillness as a butterfly lands on a fragile orchid petal.

"The Enemy knows you have entered here. What hope you had in secrecy is now gone." The elf lord gazed at me with an intensity that seemed to accuse me yet also seemed curiously puzzled by my appearance. "Nine there are here yet one less there were set out from Rivendell. Who is this stranger you bring into our midst?"

"We came upon Lady Ithilin where the Nimrodel and the Celebrant meet, my lord," Aragorn said, laying a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "It would have been wrong to leave her to face an unknown fate."

Celeborn nodded slightly though the intensity of his stare did not diminish, making me cringe with its intensity. Was it possible that my appearance here had compromised the safety of the quest? Had I brought the enemy closer to finding the ring with my presence among the Fellowship?

Aragorn must have sensed my self-accusation because her moved closer, closing the slight distance between our bodies. "You did not bring this upon us, little one," he whispered into my ear. "Those that seek us seek what one of our number carries."

I glanced over at the tiny, dark-haired hobbit who seemed completely entranced by the Lady. While I had read the books and seen the movies and knew what he lay beneath his muslin shirt, that simple knowledge did nothing to assuage the crushing sense of guilt that I felt. Being in the situation made things completely different. How could I know with any certainty that my presence here did not draw Sauron’s eye?

"Tell me, where is Gandalf, for I much desire to speak with him," Celeborn asked, his piercing gaze finally lifting from me. "I can no longer see him from afar."

The Lady smiled warmly as she gazed at the man who stood protectively behind me. Her eyes were no less intense but had not the accusing glare I had received from her mate. "Gandalf the Grey did not pass the borders of this land. He has fallen into Shadow."

"He was taken by both Shadow and flame," Legolas interjected sorrowfully, "A Balrog of Morgoth. For we went needlessly into the net of Moria."

I looked at the tall, proud elf who stood behind the group. Grief and pain were openly displayed in his vivid blue eyes while his youthful face remained impassive. I could only guess at Legolas’ age but obviously the elf had known the wizard a long time and felt the loss of Gandalf’s fall keenly. That grief woke a strong desire to give him comfort, yet I knew, warrior that he was, he would reject anything more than a sympathetic nod. Anything else would be construed as forward and invasive.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he returned my gaze, nodding slightly in acknowledgment.

"Needless were none of the deeds of Gandalf in life," Galadriel replied, smiling gently first at Legolas then at me, "for we do not yet know his full purpose."

"What now becomes of this Fellowship?" Celeborn asked, his mouth twitching as though he were fighting back a smile. "Without Gandalf, hope is lost."

"The quest stands upon the edge of a knife." Galadriel’s piercing gaze fell on each of the Fellowship in turn, lingering on Boromir who cringed slightly. "Stray but a little and it will fail to the ruin of all. Yet hope remains while the Company is true." She paused a moment, a gentle smile lighting her radiant face as she gazed at the hobbit I thought might be Sam. Do not let your hearts be troubled. Go now and rest for you are weary with sorrow and much toil. Tonight you will sleep in peace for the borders here are well protected."

She nodded at the marchwarden who motioned for us to follow him back down the stairs; to the camp that was being prepared for us.

"Welcome, Palandiriel," said the Lady, inclining her head toward me, halting Aragorn as he started to guide me from the chamber. "A moment alone with her, Estel, if you please."

Startled and uncertain, I looked up at Aragorn. I could imagine that they would scold me for impeding the quest, or worse, putting lives in danger. While I did not believe that they would be brutal, I still could not fathom what they would do.

"You will be in good hands, little one," Aragorn whispered as I pressed back against the security his presence accorded me. He reached up and tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear. "I promise that they do not bite," he chuckled as I glanced warily at Lord Celeborn. "Not hard anyway. I will wait for you here," he added with a wink and a laugh as he guided me into the care of the Lord and Lady.

Swallowing hard, I turned to them. What could they possibly want from me?

"Come, child, there is much we need to discuss," Lord Celeborn said, offering me his arm to guide me up into their private chambers.

I eyed him warily and shook my blonde head, preferring to follow and keep my distance. Did they know that I knew what was to happen? How could they know? Wasn’t all this just a made-up story? Regardless of whether it was or no, I still felt it would be wiser to guard what I knew of the stories, even from the Lord and Lady of Light. Revealing anything would put too many lives at greater risk. Sauron and his minions would not only seek the ring but I would become a target as well and if I fell into their hands the course of the story, as I knew it, could very well be changed for the worse. I shivered. The idea of being tortured did not appeal to me in any way, shape, or form.

Galadriel smiled. "You have a noble heart, penneth. It is good that you understand the dangers of that knowledge and what is at stake if you are taken by the enemy."

"Then you understand why I dare not reveal it to any, even you," I replied shakily. Were my thoughts that transparent? "The risks to everyone involved are far too great."

"What of the risk to Moragain?" Celeborn asked, gently taking my hand and tucking it securely in the crook of his arm, guiding me into their private chamber.

That simple gesture, that caring touch, threatened to undo the tight reign I held on my turbulent emotions. I looked up into his piercing blue eyes. Did he know what he was doing to me? I had learned early not to feel, yet I still did, and that contact fed a deep-set need. I craved this touch, this comfort, but I'd felt too much pain to trust the sense of safety he gave me. Why was he trying to tear down the walls that shielded me from more pain and betrayal?

"My daughter? How do you know about Moragain?" I stammered, shaken by the question and trying desperately to hold on to some semblance of dignity. "I don’t understand."

"You were separated from her, were you not?"

"Yes."

Galadriel’s hand brushed my cheek as she turned and poured a deep red liquid into silver chalices, handing one to her husband then one to me.

"You are concerned for her welfare, are you not?" she asked, turning her questioning gaze on me.

I stared at her. I was terrified for Moragain, hoping to the heavens that she was all right in this strange land, that someone had taken her in and was caring for her.

"Do you not think that she could be used against the others?" the silver-haired elf lord asked, setting me on a brocade covered bench then sitting down beside me. "Or against you for that matter."

I stared down at my cup, stunned. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have believed that Moragain would be safe? How could I have been so blind as to think that if found she would not be used against the Fellowship? Or used to make me give information? I knew what I had to do.

"I have to go find her," I said with quiet resolution, setting down the chalice of wine untasted and heading for the door.

A gentle tug on my hand stopped me in mid stride. Looking back Celeborn held my hand in his firm grip, giving me a stern but good-humoured stare.

"Peace, young one," he soothed.

Panic rose and I tried to pull my hand free but he held me fast. "You don’t understand! My daughter-"

"Listen to me, child," Celeborn said, forcing me to look him in the eye, "you can not go haring off into the unknown, not with the knowledge you possess."

"But-"

"No."

"She is my baby, my responsibility!"

"Can you not foresee what would happen should both of you fall into the enemy’s hands?" Galadriel said soberly.

I stopped struggling and stared at them. I knew that they were right. By going alone I was putting so much more at risk. While alone, she might be used to lure me into the enemy’s lair, if they had both of us I could be made to give information by the need to protect her.

"I can not just leave her to an uncertain fate," I sighed in defeat. I felt so helpless, trapped by the reality of the situation. "How can you expect me to sit idly by and wait for word?"

Celeborn laughed, "I doubt highly that you will find yourself idle, child."

I shot him an irritated glare. "I can not go myself for the reason you have pointed out, so who?"

"Why have you not asked your companions for help?" Galadriel asked pointedly.

"And delay them indefinitely? Nay, my lady, that I can not do. One child is not worth the future of Men." I said stubbornly.

"Why do you believe that she is not important to the success of the quest?"

"She is not! It’s just-" I cried in frustration.

Celeborn reached out to me. I resolutely stepped back, giving him a stony glare. I squared my shoulders and turned back to the door. I would not show any more weakness, not to them; not to anyone.

"All I will ask of you is your help to find my daughter, my lady, my lord," I said, forcing my hands to stay at my sides rather than wrapping them around myself in a gesture of insecurity and bowing to each of them in turn.

"Sooner or later, young one, you will have to trust someone with these burdens you carry," Celeborn said softly.

"What is trust, Lord Celeborn?" I asked bitterly, "For me it is one more thing to be splintered into many shards with which to cut me."

"Yet it is something you must learn to survive here, Ithilin," the silver-haired elf lord replied, giving me a sad smile. "Though I would warrant that once your trust is earned you are an unwavering friend."

"The only one I can put my trust in is myself, my lord. Thirty-one years of broken promises and betrayal has taught me that."

"Can you trust us to find your daughter?" Galadriel asked, challenging me.

The question hung between the three of us for what seemed eternity.

"I don’t really have any other choice, do I? Seeing as I can not go myself," I replied finally, putting an edge on my words.

Galadriel gave a knowing nod, a smile twitching at the corners of her mouth. "Do you trust Estel to still be waiting for you in the audience chamber as he said he would?"

"It matters little to me if he is or not." I said stiffly though the small part of me that still held some optimism hoped that Aragorn did indeed wait below. I knew it was foolish to hope but that part of me refused to give up. Outwardly I laughed at trust, saying I would never trust anyone again but I could not stop the ever hopeful inner optimist from reaching out for some sense of safety and security.

Without another word, I took my leave of them, suppressing the desperate urge to run back and seek the comfort and safety that they had willingly offered. As I descended, I choked back a sob. Why did I have to be so stubborn? Why did I have to refuse what they offered me? I knew why. I couldn’t let myself get hurt again.

To my surprise, Aragorn was still waiting in the audience chamber, granted he was speaking with one of the elves that had escorted us here but he was still there.

"Few, other than family, are granted an audience in their private chamber." he said as I approached, nodding at the elf, who took his leave.

I smiled up at him. "It has been a long day, Lord Aragorn," I said, evading his questioning gaze as best I could. "Is there some place where I can get fresh clothing and a hot bath?"

He nodded, offering me his arm. "Come," he said with a gentle smile, "you have been through much and you are in need of rest. Besides, a change of clothes would do us both some good."

He led me back down the winding stair and into a small storeroom at the base of ancient tree. My eyes went wide with wonder at the seemingly endless shelves of clothing in any shade and fabric I could possibly desire. Hesitantly, I reached out to touch a piece of silvery fabric in front of me. Silk! In my life I had never touched silk as soft or as luscious as what now rippled through my fingers like spring rain.

"My lady should not choose so pale a colour," came a soft voice beside me.

Startled, I scrambled away from the source of the voice, much to its owner’s amusement. I turned to see a tunic sail across the room and hit the elf square in the face.

"Legolas!" Aragorn chuckled, shaking his head and giving the elf an exasperated glare, "Stop trying to scare her witless!"

Legolas’ return stare seemed to warn rather than play. His stance shifted and he appeared to glow slightly. Aragorn’s attitude changed as well, becoming protective and watchful as he moved to stand beside me. The tension in the tiny room was charged with an aura I could not name and so thick one could have cut it with any one of the knives or swords at hand. For an excruciatingly long moment they stood there, eyeing each other warily, then finally Legolas backed up a pace, inclining his blond head in difference to the Man. But why?

As if to cover something, the elf turned and pulled a long tunic of teal silk down from a high shelf and held it out to me with a wary smile. Unsure of what was going on, I tentatively smiled back as I took it from him. As my hands brushed his I stifled a shocked gasp. Fire shot through me and burned brightly at the core of my being, dancing and spinning as if to some primal drumbeat that echoed through my soul. I looked up at the elf who stood before me and found the same wonder and shock clearly readable in his vivid blue eyes.

"It is beautiful," I croaked, fingering the delicate silver scroll and leaf embroidery that wound up the front and curled over the shoulders of the soft fabric.

"For a beautiful lady," he whispered, the tone of his voice thick and husky like a low purr.

I blushed furiously as I backed closer to the safety Aragorn’s solid presence provided. How could he say something like that?

"Do you still desire to learn the tongue of the elves?" he asked with a small chuckle.

"Yes," I stammered, "I am a willing student, Master Legolas."

His smile widened. "Do not ask Estel to teach you," he said with a conspiratorial wink.

Baffled, I looked up at the man who still stood protectively at my shoulder. From what I heard of his exchange with Haldir the other night and again with the elf in the audience chamber not moments ago, Aragorn’s command of the elven language was that of a native born. I knew from the books that he had been fostered to Lord Elrond in Rivendell from the age of two so why would Legolas caution me against asking him to teach me?

"Why?" I questioned.

"For all that he was fostered under Lord Elrond’s excellent tutelage, our ranger friend still manages to massacre the language." Legolas grinned mischievously at Aragorn.

"I find that difficult to believe," I smiled, shaking my head, finally realizing that he was goading his friend.

"I do it to annoy you, mellon-nîn" Aragorn said, pulling a scarlet coloured shirt and a pair of dark suede leggings from another shelf.

There it was. I had been right in thinking that the word Legolas had used was not ‘friend’ but something else entirely. Then and there I made up my mind to decipher what ‘orë-nîn’ meant, even if it took forever.

Legolas clapped Aragorn on the shoulder and shook his blond head in amusement. "He will be the death of me, I am sure of it."

The tension of the previous moment dispelled, I laughed at their friendly exchange. Looking at them a little more closely, I noticed that both Man and Elf were considerably more reserved than the males of my world, but I could see very plainly that their friendship ran deep.

"Do not let him get too protective, Lady Ithilin," Legolas warned, quirking a graceful dark eyebrow at my companion. "You must learn to live in this world."

With an askant glance at Aragorn, he stepped closer to me, so close that I could feel the heat of his body and breathe in his unique scent. My breath caught in my throat and my mouth went dry as a shiver of anticipation raced through me. I looked up. His bright blue eyes smiled down at me from his beautiful face. One graceful callused hand floated up and tucked a wayward strand of my blonde hair behind my ear. I shivered again.

"I thank you for the advice, Master Legolas," I whispered, not trusting my voice to work properly. Did he know what effect he had on me? That simple act awoke the desire I once thought to be dead. Instinctively, I leaned into the touch, resting my cheek in the warm cup of his hand. My eyes fluttered closed in shear bliss but then realization hit me. Ai! What was I doing? I could not allow him to get too close to my heart. I could not afford more pain. Quickly, I pulled away.

"I am sure I shall be able to adjust," I said a little more sharply than I had intended.

Hurt flashed across his eyes as his hand fell from my face but it was quickly replaced by an understanding smile. He nodded once then turned to leave.

I suppressed a whimper of disappointment at the loss of contact, telling myself it was for my own good, yet the emptiness remained. Without my permission my heart was reaching out for love and acceptance regardless of what my head told it to do. Folly! However it would not bode well If I burned this bridge of friendship.

"Master Legolas . . ." I called.

He turned, eyes expectant. "Lady Ithilin?"

"I did not mean to offend."

"No offense was taken, I assure you, my lady."

Smiling slightly, I breathed a sigh of relief. I could ill afford the loss of his friendship in this world/time. My life might just depend on it.

"I will leave you to procure the items you seek, my lady," he said, bowing slightly and with that I was again alone with Aragorn.

The ranger regarded me thoughtfully for a moment then handed me a pair of soft suede leggings and leather boots.

Longingly I stared after Legolas, not paying any attention to what Aragorn put in my hands, contentedly watching and committing to memory how his lean body moved like a sapling in a spring breeze. I chided myself for the desire to run after him and act like a moon-eyed chit. I sniffed in disdain at the thought. Talk about not gaining any respect for an action like that, no man would respect a woman for that kind of foolish display. While some men lived on praise and ego, something told me that he had seen enough of that in his long life. What did he think of me anyway? Why should I care? I closed my eyes. I couldn’t honourably hope for more. All he could ever be was a friend.

"Ithilin . . ." he said breaking the uneasy silence.

"What just happened?" I asked, turning to face him as I replayed the tension filled episode in my mind.

A blush rose on his cheeks. "What do you know of Elven customs?" he asked, staring past me at his friend as he retreated into the forest night.

"Very little, I am afraid."

Aragorn nodded but did not elaborate, much to my consternation. What was he hiding? What didn’t he want me to know? Though as I thought about it, as he led me back out into the cool night, perhaps it wasn’t that he was hiding something at all. Perhaps it was that he was embarrassed about those customs he mentioned. I stifled a chuckle as a bawdy thought skipped through my head. Were elves not as ‘pure’ as I was led to believe?

"You will find the hot spring down this path, Ithilin. The hot water will do you some good."

"Aragorn," I ventured, curious about these ‘customs’ he which he had hinted, "is there something I should know?"

The ranger smiled affectionately at me. "Not as of yet, little one. Do not worry about something that could be nothing," he said as he pressed a soft towel and fragrant soap in to my hands and made to follow the path Legolas had taken, leaving me to find my way to the spring alone.


* * *


In the silver moonlight I padded down the well trodden path to the hot springs, more intent on finding a quiet place to think on all that had happened than washing the grime off me. The promise of hot water afforded me that luxury. I needed a clear head to put all that had happened into so sort of perspective to react rationally.

Steam rose off the star-lit pools, curling up into the dark canopy above, inviting me to sink into their welcoming warmth. Shedding my filthy and bloody clothing I eased into the heat, feeling my taught muscles relax as I immersed my tired body in the water. Ever present in my mind was Moragain. Worry for her safety gnawed at my heart as I settled in the pool and the painful lump in my throat brought tears to my eyes

:I am here. No one will see your tears,.: came the soothing voice in my head.

"Who are you?" I asked the cool night breeze, scrubbing away the tears that welled up in my eyes. The voice made me feel so safe, like I was snuggled in my father’s arms and hidden from the cruel world.

:Ada sí, iel-nîn. Ada sí.:

‘Daddy is here’? No, my father was one of the last people I wanted intruding here even if this weren’t a dream. Not to mention my dad didn’t speak elvish. He, at least, didn’t believe that I was completely crazy like my mother did but I didn’t want his all encompassing knowledge of the world keeping me from discovering things for myself or making me feel stupid because he would lord a choice piece of information over me. Yet this voice didn’t feel like the father I knew.

I sighed, sinking further down into the hot water. I closed my eyes against the pain in my heart. I knew it was foolish to hope that I would ever be wanted for myself, daughter or otherwise. Right now, though, I needed to concentrate on finding Moragain. I could only imagine her fear at being alone in a dark, strange world.

"Eru, Ilúvatar, God, Father!" I whispered to the night wind, lifting my eyes to the stars twinkling and winking through the leave of the ancient trees. "Help these elves find my Moragain. Help her to trust them to bring her to my waiting arms. Keep her safe and out of harm’s way. Please let her be found soon."

Alone in the dark, starlit grotto I let the tears of worry and bitterness come. For all the comfort that was offered from these people, I was still alone. I was utterly alone here.

Splashing and giggling broke the stillness of the pools. In the starlight I could make out several naked figures, two of which were obviously adults, in one of the lower pools. Anger swelled as I watched them play. The male laughed as his mate tackled him from behind and playfully bit his ear. He tossed her off into the water only to be accosted by his two young children wanting to be tossed in the water like their mother. Soon the children tired of the game and scampered off to dig in the sandy mud near the shallows leaving the parents to enjoy more adult play.

I watched captivated as they had moved into a shaft of bright moonlight. I could see them more clearly now and hot jealousy stabbed thought me as I saw who it was. His long blond hair fell unbound over his broad, muscular shoulders, shining silver in the moonlight, as he held her to him, melding their bodies into one. A tattoo that spiraled around his upper arm like a tribal torque I had once seen in a museum, caught my attention for a moment as I watched. I could feel their desire, the heat of their passion, their love, bringing back the bitter tears. Why couldn’t my life have been like this?
Propriety demanded that I should look away but my utter disbelief and anger held my gaze to the two lovers below. He had lied! Or had I read what had happened back in the storeroom completely the wrong way? How could I have misjudged the situation so badly? Or were all men, regardless of race, so callous? What should I care, though? Was not I, myself, wed? Why should I begrudge him his mate when I was not free?

I could not tear my eyes from their passionate love-making, not even when they cried out then lay contentedly spent in each others arms. All the bitterness, resentment, and anger that had built up over the last ten years of a desolate marriage threatening to spill over with explosive force. I wanted so badly to give it all up and drown myself in the pool. I could feel all the betrayal and abandonment press down on me, willing me to fall prey to cowardice. I shook myself mentally. How could I be so shallow? How could I abandon my child here to an unknown fate? No, it was too easy to die that way. Too easy to be a coward, something I had never allowed myself to be. No. Why should I care that one more person had lied to me? Legolas, I am sure, had his reasons. Like me, he probably wished to protect his family. He had made no professions of love to me, only friendship. In fact, he had been reserved at best and really had only lied about the translation of the word ‘friend’.

Heaving myself out of the pool I dressed as quickly and quietly as I could. I did not wish to disturb them as they enjoyed each other. I could only imagine how hard it must be for them to be separated from each other for so long. Yet despair tore at me as I scrubbed away the unshed tears that blinded me, to no avail, and stumbled back up the path I had followed earlier.

"My lady?!" came a startled baritone as I collided with something very solid.

Strong arms closed around me, preventing me from going any further. Frightened, I looked up only to find myself face to face with Boromir.

"Let go!" I snarled, not wanting anything more to do with lousy men, whatever race they were.

"Lady Ithilin?" he chuckled, "I thought you a she-elf."

"As you can see, my lord, I am not. Now release me!"

"Has someone hurt you?" he asked, tightening his hold around my waist.

"Please, my lord, just let me go," I said, pushing away from him only to have his arms around me tighten more, effectively trapping me against him.

His free hand brushed against my cheek, coaxing me to look up at him. "What is wrong, little one?"

Had I actually heard genuine concern in his voice? I blinked back the tears I refused to shed as I looked up at him. I was tempted to trust him. Could I? His handsome face was framed by loose copper-gold curls as he smiled down at me. His blue eyes sparkled with concern in the dim light, yet there seemed to be something more veiled behind those eyes, something more sinister; more feral. Then I remembered. Had not Boromir wanted to take the ring to Minas Tirith? While his intentions were inherently good and noble they would have eventually led to the destruction of Men. How could I trust that would keep his honour where I was concerned? No. All my instincts clamored against such a foolish action.

"Has someone hurt you, little one?" he asked again smoothly.

"Nay, Lord Boromir," I stammered uncertainly, still trying to push away from him, "I am not hurt."

"Then why these tears, my lady?"

"Just let me go!" I was beginning to panic at his refusal to release me.

"Little one," he whispered, his face just inches from mine. "You can trust me."

"Please, no," I whimpered softly. Fear had taken hold. I knew what was coming and knew, also, that I was powerless to stop it.

His lips brushed mine, softly at first but increased in pressure as my struggles became more desperate. While he offered me something I craved, there was a wrongness about it that made every fiber of my being cry out against his forcing it on me. I fought him weakly, knowing with a certainty that I would not be able to fend off a man of his strength. Frightened and angry, I beat my fists against his chest but still he persisted.

"She asked you to release her, Lord Boromir," said a soft voice behind me, a voice I knew. A voice that made my heart constrict in my breast and feel ashamed that I had allowed Boromir to kiss me.

I gasped for breath as Boromir broke the kiss to gaze at the intruder but did not let go. He still held me pressed against his hard body, the evidence of his obvious arousal digging into my stomach.

"She seemed upset, master elf. I only desired to offer her comfort."

"Comfort, my arse, you bastard," I hissed trying to wrench myself free of his arms.

As the elf stepped into the corner of my vision I stifled a whimper of angry hurt at the sight of Legolas. Anger and disapproval burned in his blue eyes.

"She asked you to let her go," he stated again, his angry stare threatening to bore a hole in the Man.
He appeared very dry compared to how I had last seen him - wet and in the throws of passionate love-making with his wife. So why was he here, now, defending my honour?

His eyes danced like angry blue flames as he stood there, unmoving and poised to strike. I could see the muscles of his arms beneath the shimmering silver silk quiver with the anticipation of battle.

Slowly, as if with great reluctance, Boromir relaxed his hold on me allowing me to scramble free. I wanted to run, find safety somewhere, yet the tension between the Man and the Elf held me spellbound. Silently they stared at each other, neither giving any ground.

"Go back to camp, Ithilin," Legolas said evenly, not taking his eyes from Boromir’s. His soft tenor held no trace of the controlled fury I could openly see in his eyes.

"There is no need to get hostile, Master Legolas. Lady Ithilin appeared distressed."

"Aye, I am aware that she was but she did not desire the ‘comfort’ you offered. I am also well aware that you denied her pleas to release her."

Boromir laughed, a short derisive sound that seemed to mock the elf.

"Go back to camp, Ithilin,"

I hesitated, eyeing both men warily. What was going on? Why had Legolas dropped the formal address he used with me? What was happening here?

"Do as I ask, Ithilin."

My gaze flicked to the steely-gazed elf. I felt compelled to obey his gentle command, all the while still questioning his actions. If he was wed then why should he care, other than being noble, that Boromir’s intentions were less than honourable. Yet it seemed to be more than that, more than simple nobility and honour. Perhaps it was how he stood, taught as a drawn bowstring, that made me think it was more. Or perhaps it was how his nostrils flared in challenge, like a king stag defending his doe. Oh Valar! Say it was not so! That thought alone chased me down the path toward the camp. I could not look back. Looking back meant facing and accepting what I thought was happening. It only served to remind me how out of control my life really was. From an apathetic husband who didn’t seem to care how to please a woman to two stags posturing for mating rights scared the hell out of me.

I raced past Aragorn wanting to find a safe dark place to hide from the world gone insane, settling for a large branch high above the ground concealed by gigantic leaves. I huddled there in the glowing darkness shivering in reaction to these upheaving events, trying to understand it all. I was nothing, a nobody, a shadow. My own husband even ignored me most of the time unless I pushed him. How could Legolas and Boromir even think I was worth fighting over? I shivered as the tears came. Nothing I did held them back. Angry despair gripped me and held me so tight I felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs.

How could anyone, Man or Elf - Dwarf even - find me even remotely attractive? I had looked in the mirror often enough to know that I was certainly nothing to look at. If that wasn’t enough to make me believe it, there were always the pictures of pretty young things my husband looked at when he thought I wasn’t looking. I wasn’t stupid. I didn’t want to believe it, I couldn’t. To believe it was possible for a male to think I was pretty they would have to be blind. Even then I would be setting myself up for more hurt and betrayal.

"Ithilin?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice.

"Little one, what has happened? Why these tears?"

"Please, I just want to be alone." I felt so small and alone, yet I wanted to reach out to someone. I wanted to know that someone cared but I wasn’t sure I could trust any of them after this nightmare with Boromir and Legolas, but I wanted to feel safe. "I don’t understand! Why are they doing this?"

He edged closer, reaching out to take me in his arms, but I pulled away, shrinking in on myself to keep the distance between us.

:You can trust him, little one,: came the soothing, father’s voice in my head. :Estel will protect you with his life, daughter.:

"Ithilin, I will not hurt you. What troubles you, little sister?"

Blinking in confusion, I stared at him. Is that how he saw me? As a younger sibling? As that realization sank in the fresh memories of Legolas and his family in the pools then my encounter with Boromir crashed over me, overwhelming me with the shear intensity of emotions that were connected to each incident. The dam gave way and I sank sobbing into his embrace.

I twisted my wedding rings around my finger. I was not completely innocent of wrong-doing either. It was possible that I had driven my husband to look elsewhere with my drooling over male movie stars. Granted they were fully clothed but was it not just as bad as what he was doing?

"Little one?"

Frightened, I tried to shrug him off. I did not want to face this, not here; not now.

"Oh God! What the hell is going on?" I whimpered as he stroked my hair with all the gentleness of an older brother, whispering softly in what could only be elvish. "Please tell me that this is some horrible nightmare!"

"Why think you this?" he asked after a while.

"Why shouldn’t I?" I growled. "I’m not worth the spit that Eru made me with!"

"Ithilin, I have only known you a few days but I do not believe that to be true."

"Trust me, it is," I snorted, wiping my eyes on my sleeve as I sat back. "Valar! You must think me weak."

A tender smile tugged at his lips as he brushed my cheek with the back of his hand. "You have give us little chance to think that, orë thêl."

"What?"

Aragorn laughed. "Orë thêl?"

I nodded. "What does it mean?"

"So eager to learn the tongues of elves, little one. All right then, I will teach you as Ada taught me many years ago." He took my hand and pressed it to his heart. "Orë-nîn. ‘Orë’ means heart in Sindarin."

I must have looked like I had swallowed a live fish because he almost fell out of the tree he was laughing so hard. I was stunned. Why would Legolas have called me that? If he had a family why would he have said something like that? What if who I though was Legolas really was someone else? That possibility gave me some hope. I sighed. Hope for what? How could I even think that I was worthy of an elf even if I were free of my marriage bonds? I was human, mortal and flawed. Why would he even look at me? The man I had married certainly didn’t want to.

"Estel?" Legolas called from below. Apparently he and Boromir had resolved their dispute.

"Non sí, mellon-nîn," Aragorn answered.

"Ithilin. Is she with you?"

"Aye. Something upset her."

Legolas appeared on the branch beside us. I shivered in the heat of his stare as he looked at me with those piercing blue eyes as though he were reading my soul. Perhaps he was and it frightened me what he might find there. How could I guard my heart from these higher beings?

"I know," he said simply, his gaze intensifying. "Do not worry, Ithilin, all will be well."

"No, it won’t." I sobbed, the world crashing in on me again. Moragain was still out there, alone and afraid. "She’s out there all alone!"

I quickly shut my mouth, terrified. I had said too much.

"Who is?" Aragorn asked, concern lacing his words. "Ithilin, did we leave-"

"No, mellon-nîn, she was all I sensed at the Nimrodel." Legolas knelt beside me, smiling gently, "Your thoughts have not left her for a moment, have they, Ithilin? She is not alone if your heart is with her." He reached out and brushed a strand of damp hair from my face. "If she is out there, the border guards will bring her to us."

"Legolas?"

"She was separated from her daughter, Estel."

"How do you know of this?" I asked, shocked.

Legolas smiled again. "You do not have the ability to guard your thoughts as well as you might think, Ithilin."

Terror raced through me, If he could read my thoughts as one did a book, who else had? Celeborn was right. Moragain was in very real danger!

"You need not fear, Ithilin-nîn. Your thoughts are guarded here."

Aragorn must have given him a look because the blond elf cocked his head slightly as if in answer to some unspoken question.

"Then how can you know what I am thinking?" I asked, fear and mistrust tingeing my words.

His smile widened, cupping my cheek in his warm, callused hand and tracing the outline of my kiss-swollen lips with the pad of his thumb. "Your eyes tell me everything."

Shocked I pressed back against Aragorn’s solid chest, knowing with certainty that I was safe there. I felt him tense and eventhough I could not see his face I could tell that he was giving Legolas a silent warning.

Legolas nodded and backed off. "Keep her close, Estel. There are those who will not heed your unspoken warnings."

I watched as the blond elf turned and dropped effortlessly from the branch, gracefully making his way back down to the ground below.

"Can you tell me what happened, little one?" Aragorn asked softly, pulling me closer.

"I don’t understand why they were acting like that. I was on my way back to camp when I ran in to Boromir," I replied, trembling as I shifted in his embrace while I relayed what happened at the springs. As I spoke I felt the muscles in his arms tense. I could feel his anger and protectiveness rise. "What is going on?"

I heard him chuckle, low in his throat like distant thunder, then press a kiss to my forehead, carefully avoiding the gash there. "I guess I need to explain some things to you, little one," he sighed sounding slightly embarrassed. "Though it will be at another time as you are too much in need of a good night’s sleep to make much sense of anything right now. Sleep. I will not leave your side."

He shifted slightly, settling me against his chest as my eyes drooped and closed, finally feeling some sense of safety in this insanity I found myself in.


* * *


Blue light sparked across a leaden sky. I was going to die yet I felt strangely calm about it. I could already feel the cold of Death’s icy fingers creeping slowly, sensuously, up my stiffening body, enticing me to join him in his intimate dance for eternity. How easy it would be to give into this lover.

No! My mind snapped back into focus. I had to get to Moragain! She was hurt. I could still see her trapped in the van suspended above me, her small slender body hanging in the seat belt. Fear and panic rose and became a tangible thing. I tried to scream as the sparks came closer but nothing more than a terrified whimper escaped my paralyzed throat.

Closer and closer, like a pendulum scythe, the sparks swung, coming ever closer to the inevitable.

"Oh, Valar, help us!" I tried to cry into the wailing wind as I forced my unresponsive body to work, but the sound was lost.

"Sidh, penneth," a voice close to my ear soothed as a gentle hand rubbed my back. "‘Tis but a dream. You are safe."

A dream? How could this be a dream? Yet that sense of safety remained, gently pulling me back from the brink of death. Strong arms held me tightly against a solid and warm chest. Murmured words fell softly, soothingly against the crown of my head. I could hear the strong thrumming of a heartbeat against my ear. Aragorn. Safe in the knowledge that he stood guard over my slumber, that he was there and real, eventually my fears faded and I settled into a dreamless sleep.

When I woke the next morning, safely wrapped in Aragorn’s embrace, my nightmare had not yet faded into memory and my questions about Legolas’ actions still burned to be answered. I needed to understand what had happened yesterday.

"Good morning, sleepy one." Aragorn’s mirth-filled baritone rumbled against my ear as I yawned and stretched. "Feel better? You had rather a rough night."

I nodded, content to sit there in his arms as he didn’t seem to mind that I hadn’t moved away. The dream had shaken me. It had felt so real almost as though I had really been through that cold hell. Had I? Is that how I ended up here? Yet one piece of information plagued me. The sight of my daughter hanging limply in the car restraint, eyes wide and sightless. A tear rolled unchecked down my cheek.

"I dreamed of my daughter," I said forlornly, stretching the stiffness out of my legs. "I fear that the elves searching for her will not find her."

"Why?"

"In my dream, she was dead."

He pulled me close and I buried my face in his chest. "It was just a dream, Ithilin, nothing more."

"No, Estel," I croaked on the verge of tears. I knew with out doubt that it was no dream, but a memory. "I believe it was a returning memory."

"I believe Ada would probably say the same," he said, nodding slightly, "however, you must hold out hope that their efforts will bear fruit. Do you feel ready to face the new day?"

"Do I have much of a choice?"

Aragorn chuckled softly as he let his arms slip from around my shoulders

Reluctantly, I stood, still confused about what had happened the previous evening. So many questions ran through my head that it ached with a dull, throbbing pain yet I hesitated to ask them. Aragorn seemed uncomfortable about even addressing those issues that pertained to whatever elven customs to which he had referred yesterday.

To my consternation and relief, Legolas seemed to have disappeared along with Gimli. Days passed and they did not return. I could not help but wonder where they had gone for them to be absent so long.

Boromir, too, seemed disinclined to make any further attempts at forcing his attentions on me, much to my relief. It was painfully obvious that I couldn’t put up much of a fight if he decided to try. Perhaps he realized that I wasn’t worth it..

Aragorn kept me busy, though, with Sindarin lessons. I fell into bed each night mentally exhausted from worry about Moragain - Would they find ever her? Would she be all right? Had she been hurt?- and the effort of trying to remember the days lesson. Legolas’ odd behavior, before he left, plagued me too. Was it somehow connected to the ‘customs’ to which Aragorn had reffered?

"Do you feel ready for some explanations?" Aragorn said one evening, lighting his pipe as I settled next to him.

"I guess," I replied,

"Valar, I wish Ada were here instead of me. He would explain this better, I am sure."

I shifted and looked up at him, cocking an eyebrow. He chuckled as he raked his free hand through his dark hair.

"I assume you know nothing of elven courting customs, Ithilin."

"Why?! Why in all of Arda would he want to court me?"

He shook his head in disbelief. "Do you honestly believe that you are not worthy of him?"

"First of all I am married," I groused, holding up my left hand revealing my wedding rings, "second, said husband won’t even look at me so how could I expect said elf to want to even if I were free for him to pay court to me."

"Your husband was a blind man, Ithilin, if he could not see your beauty."

I sniffed at that. I had enough evidence around me to know that I was no great beauty. "Would you want to find me in you bed?" I asked bitterly, gazing down at my hands.

He caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger, and lifted my gaze to meet his. "I do find you in my bed, little one," he chuckled, "when nightmares plague you."

"That is not what I meant, you oaf," I growled, playfully pushing him away.

The ranger laughed. "I would warrant that a certain elf would love to find you his bed mate."

"That’s never going to happen."

"Are you willing to bet on that?"

Aragorn sighed heavily. "Tithen-thêl, ellyn take lovers to gain experience. This way they do not go to their marriage bed blind and can please their future mate."

"You have done this?" I asked, moving away from him, disgusted.

"Ithilin, it is not a custom that demeans women, I assure you."

"No!? Then explain to me how this custom-" I snarled.

"Did your husband come to you untried, little one?"

"What?!"

"Yes, Ithilin, I was told about him because of Legolas," he replied evenly. "Little one, ellyn are expected - "

"The inadequacies of my spouse has nothing to do with this, Lord Aragorn." I stood and, turning on my heel, I left the camp. Too late did I realize the hypocrisy of this statement. How many nights had I wished that my husband had had experience before we were married?

"Do not do this, Ithilin," he called as he started after me. "Please, listen to me."

"No," I hissed, "Any custom that is ‘love ’em and leave ‘em’ is demeaning. And until you can make an irrefutable argument as to how it is not, we will discuss this no further."

As I walked among the ancient trees, musing over what Aragorn had explained about elven courting customs and my own reaction to what he had said. It was understandable that ellyn would want to gain experience. After all, sex could get a little stale after a time if there was little or no variation on a theme. Elves mated for life and since they were immortal adding a little spice to the routine would keep life with one person from getting dull, right? But was it only the ellyn that did this? Could the ellyth gain experience as well to please their husbands? It would make sense, of a sort. Yet as I thought about it a little more, taking Aragorn’s behavior with Legolas and me, I couldn’t see that as being true. The occasions that I was in both of their company, Aragorn always seemed protective, as though he was warning Legolas off.
I shook my head and sighed. Nothing made sense and until I could get a solid explanation from someone, I really couldn’t be upset. It was a different world with even more different customs. I needed to hear Aragorn out if I was going to get the answers I wanted. With that thought in mind, I turned my steps back toward camp.

The call of a flute drew me to the edge of a small fire-lit clearing. As I watched from the deep shadows a group of elves began what I could only describe as a reel. They laughed and sang as they danced, twirling and weaving like silver and gold leaves caught on a night breeze. The night air and the flickering firelight pulsed in time with the beat of a small drum that looked for all the world like a bodhrán. The low, almost primal, beat made my blood sing in my ears and my feet itch to join in the dancing.

I recognized three of the elves that danced as Haldir and his brothers. The she-elves, though, were a mystery to me, yet the one who danced with Haldir seemed vaguely familiar. Where had I seen her before?
I could see elves playing instruments that looked like Celtic Harps, penny whistles, a stringed instrument played with a bow that looked suspiciously like a fiddle or violin and the bodhrán but none of the
instruments could have origins that went this far back. I shook my head. What was I thinking?! This had to be a dream. All of this was just a story!

"Ho, Legolas!" cried one of the dancing elves, to an unseen bystander, as he locked arms with a comely elleth, "Is it true that they call you ‘The Pride of Mirkwood’ because of your skill with the bow?"

"Nay, Gwindor," teased Haldir, giving his lady a quick kiss, "it is for his skill with the ladies."

"It is neither and both, mellyn-nîn," Legolas replied, coolly.

He sat on a tree stump next to the drummer, his long blond hair fell unbound over his slender shoulders and his shirt hung open to the waist revealing a lean but well muscled chest. Just above the waist of his leggings peeked what looked like some kind of tattoo yet it had a metallic or crystalline sheen to it that reflected the firelight. It intrigued me. What kind of image lay below the waist of his pants? Wrenching my eyes back up to his face, knowing I would never find out, I watched him watch the dancers with a wistful intensity as they wove in, out, and around the fire ring.

"Why do you not dance?"

"As you can see, Rúmil, I lack a partner."

"That situation can be easily remedied, ernil-nîn," Haldir said pushing his partner toward the prince who smiled. "Sinda would gladly claim a dance with you."

"I thank you for the offer, but I can not," he answered almost too softly for me to hear.

"Why?" came the curious refrain.

Legolas blushed a brilliant pink all the way to the tips of his ears that poked out of his curtain of hair. Shouts of laughter rang into the night as the male elves winked and nudged each other along with much eye-rolling from the ellyth.

"I knew it!" Haldir laughed, wiping the tears of mirth from his eyes. "He is going through Naur Echui!

"I can not believe it!" snickered the elf I recognized as Orophin.

"I kid you not, brother. Just look at him!"

Naur Echui? I thought to myself as I watched a blushing and strangely silent Legolas endure with the teasing from his peers. What did it mean? After the last two weeks of what I would have called ‘immersion study’, I knew what the components of the phrase meant as individual words but as a whole I was at a loss. Naur meant ‘fire’ and Echui meant ‘Spring’ but what did it mean put together?

"Who is the lucky elleth, Legolas?"

"Yes! Tell us!"

I felt my eyebrows spring up into my hairline. Oh, God! I thought, too shocked by the realization to stop the gasp that escaped my mouth. They must know he means to take a lover. Then the memory of him in the hot spring pool with the she-elf sprang, unbidden, to my mind. I felt my throat constrict with tears of disappointment. Why I felt that way, I didn’t understand. I wanted to run but I found myself rooted to the spot.

"‘Tis no she-elf," he answered distantly, his eyes searching the shadows where I stood. "Though she might have been . . .once long ago, though she remembers not."

Haldir cracked a sly smile, "Mayhap your comely traveling companion?" The comment earned him an elbow in the ribs from his lady.

Legolas stood, ignoring the question as his eyes locked with mine. "I will dance tonight after all, Haldir. Tauredhel, play ‘Sidhe’."

The elf, who held the bodhrán, nodded slowly and struck out a gentle beat upon the weathered drum. The soft pulse carried the elven prince, in clipped and measured steps, to where I stood hidden in the shadow of a great tree. A dozen pairs of curious eyes followed, gleaming brightly in the firelight.

Legolas stopped in front of me, holding out his hand in invitation. His dark eyes sought out mine, tenderly coaxing me to look at him as an expectant smile played upon his slender lips.

"Hiril-nîn?" he asked softly, his voice low and husky.

I stared at his hand, torn between terror and joy. I was married. He knew this and yet he still made the overture. Why? How could I accept this with out breaking the vows I had made? It was just a dance, wasn’t it? There was no commitment in a dance. Even still, how could I dare to hope that this could be anything more than a stolen season in a dream far to beautiful to be real?

I swallowed hard. Would I offend him if I refused? Yet the beat of the drum echoed in my heart, pleading with me to join the dance.

"I . . ." I stammered uncertainly, " I do not know the dance."

"Do not be shy, penneth," the elleth named Sinda called, wrenching my attention from Legolas’ outstretched hand. "there are no set steps to this dance."

"You’re scaring her, Legolas," another scolded.

My breath catching, I looked back up at the elven prince who waited patiently for me to answer him.

"Why do men always have to be so ignorant when it comes to asking a lady to dance?" Sinda said with annoyance as she breezed over, took me by the hand, and lead me to the circle.

The lilt of the flute flitted over the crackling fire.

"Trust me, hên," she said with a motherly smile as she skip-hopped over to Haldir, "Let the music direct your steps."

"But . . ."

"He will follow."

I stood there, uncertainty making me hesitant as the elves in the circle waited expectantly to see what I would do. What if I messed up? While I had been assured that there were no set steps, I was self-conscious about dancing in front of such an audience. Still the bodhrán’s sensuous beat called to me.

A sudden warmth at my back made me glance over my shoulder. Legolas had moved to stand behind me, close enough that I could feel the heat from his body, waiting. I was afraid. Why was he standing there? What was he waiting for? I didn’t understand and I wanted to run but my fear held me in the circle.

Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes, I slowly gave in to the music. Frappé, hop, changement, repeat. I danced, small steps, arms down at my sides as though I was chained. Perhaps in a sense I was, chained by my fear; by my pain. Could I hope that I would find love again? Could I trust him not to hurt me? Could I give into what the music and the elf at my back seemed to promise me?

I quickly found myself caught by the gentle melody. Hesitantly at first but gaining confidence as the steps flowed from me, I began to follow the movements of my feet with my arms. It was as if I were beginning to break the bonds that fettered me. The thrumming of the drum was like a blacksmith’s hammer pummeling away at my shackles. The flute became the protests of the metal giving way to the onslaught of the hammer. Finally I lost myself in the beauty of the music and let the world around me slip away.

Strong hands slid down my lower arms as if to brush away any remains of my bonds. Long, slender fingers hesitantly entwined with mine. Legolas. I pressed back against his lean, muscular chest, taking the strength he offered as I felt the last of the shackles fall away. I turned my head, laying it against his silk clad shoulder. I could feel his warm breath against the crown of my head as he nuzzled my hair reassuringly. I felt like a bird that had been thrown into the air to fly. However after that first rush, fear set in. I was going to fall!

"I am here, meleth," he whispered. "I will not let you fall."

"I know," I replied, yet my voice seemed so far away.

"Trust me. I will not hurt you."

I turned, fear rising, and stared at him. How could I trust him? How could I open myself up to hurt again? How could I betray my husband? My children?

"I can’t!"

Quickly I pulled away, almost as though his touch burned me. Maybe it had.

"I’m sorry!" stammered, backing away from him, fear slamming in on me with full force. "I just can’t!"

I turned and fled into the enveloping darkness, running from my fear, from my pain, most of all from Legolas. A stunned silence followed me into the forest night, questioning my actions. How could I make him understand that I couldn’t go through it again? How could I make him see that I wasn’t worth the effort? No I couldn’t leave myself open to any more pain.

Naur Echui. I now understood what it meant. Disgusted with myself I headed for the river, intent on washing my sin away in its icy waters. I would be no man’s whore!

Without even stopping to shed my clothing I waded out into the stream, my teeth chattering as the icy water seeped through the suede and silk to lap at my skin. I closed my eyes and hugged myself tightly, desperate to find some solace. Why would he want to dally with me when he could have an endless line of buxom ellyth fawning over him and boosting his ego? I peered at my reflection on the water. Couldn’t he see that I was no great beauty? Even the homeliest elleth would be prettier than me. Or was he a cad playing on my obvious attraction to him? Using my desires against me? God, what an unadulterated fool I was!

Sobbing and shivering uncontrollably I crawled out of the water and curled up between the roots of an ancient tree. I was beyond cold. All I wanted to do was forget. I wanted to stop feeling. Still every memory of Legolas was like a shard of glass cutting me to the heart. True attraction or not, I could not stop the pain his memory gave me and with that pain came more unstoppable tears. Finally, though, I collapsed in exhaustion, still shivering from the dampness of my clothes, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Sometime in the middle of the night, sounds of a scuffle woke me from jumbled dreams and nightmares.

"What do you mean by threatening me, elf?" hissed an angry voice somewhere beside me.

"Exactly as I told you, Boromir," I heard someone growl softly. "She wants nothing to do with you. Forget you our discussion of a fortnight ago?"

My sleep fogged mind tried desperately to make some sense of the hissed conversation over the burbling of the stream. One of the voices was obviously Boromir but the other I could not place. He had called the other voice ‘elf’, but who?

I shifted slightly and came to the realization that something had been tucked around me while I slept. The material was soft and warm and smelled strongly of summer rain and musk. I cracked my eyes open a bit. The silvery fabric cocooning me belonged to Legolas’ silk shirt!

"You think to have her for yourself, then?"

Shocked, I opened my eyes, sleep deserting me in seconds as I turned toward the voices. The sight that met my eyes startled me even more. Legolas had Boromir pinned to the ground, pressing a white-hilted knife to the human’s throat.

Legolas, clad only in a pair of gray-green leggings - as his shirt was wrapped around me - crouched straddled over Boromir’s prone figure. His long blond hair shone silver in the filtered moonlight as it fell unbound over his slim but powerful shoulders. Though he was slender, I could see taut, well formed muscles rippling beneath his pale peach skin.

A torque-like tattoo encircled his left bicep with a knot-like pattern that gave the impression of entwined leaves and arrows shaded in greens and shimmery gold. It was then that I realized that this was not the elf I had seen at the hot spring. That one had been built like a sword fighter, not lean and lithe like an archer. The tattoo, as well, had been different. That one had been more ornate in its pattern than this one.

"I have far more patience than you, to win the fair lady’s heart, if I choose." The elf snarled. "I will not, however, suffer you to treat her with disrespect."

"Get off of me, you fey creature."

"You will not come near her again." His voice was deadly soft.

Why was he willing to risk his life for me? What I had done to garner such respect from him? I found this odd and a little more than disconcerting.

"I will do as I please, elf."

"I warn you, Boromir. If she so much as whimpers, you will feel the kiss of my blades."

He stood slowly and I was hit with the full extent of his deadly beauty. I found my thoughts turning very X-rated as that sight was forever burned in my memory. The waist of his leggings dipped slightly to reveal a little more of the tattoo I had seen earlier that night. A delicate curling tendril of shimmering green and silver spiraled across his flat stomach only to disappear again beneath the dark grey-green of his breeches. Swallowing hard, I desperately tried to yank my thoughts to something more becoming of a married woman, but I lost the battle miserably.

"She belongs with her own kind, elf."

"Go back to your bedroll, human." Disdain evident in his voice.

Boromir starred at him, his gaze full of loathing, as he rose and stalked off into the night.

"I am sorry that we woke you, Ithilin." Legolas’ voice was soft and held no hint of the controlled fury I had heard only a moment ago.

I swallowed hard as he approached me. In the moonlight, Legolas appeared more ethereal than real. He moved silently on booted feet, every movement graceful as a dancer yet held all the masculine power of a blooded warrior. I could not take my eyes off him, afraid to blink because this vision of beauty and power might vanish as swiftly as it had appeared.

"What. . . Why . . ." my voice trailed off in a mixture of fear and awe.

"You have nothing to fear from me," he said as he knelt beside me.

"Why was he here?" I stammered, the silken shirt falling to the ground as I scrambled to my feet.

"I believe you know the answer to that," he replied gently. "You are safe now."

My hands were shaking. I could not remember ever being this frightened or this aroused. The thought, though, of what Boromir might have done, how he could have had his way with me and I would have been powerless to stop him made me shrink in on myself. I felt completely helpless in this world. How could I protect myself?

"Why is he acting this way? Why me? I am a nothing, a nobody. Not even my husband wants me."

"He is a fool then."

"I am not blind, Master Legolas. I know very well that I am nothing to turn a man’s head."

"Then the glass you look into lies, my lady, for you have a beauty that is unrivaled to my eyes."

I gave a disbelieving snort. "Nice try, golden boy, but flattery will not get you into my breeches."

"That is the difference between Boromir and myself, Ithilin," he growled, pointing in the direction Boromir had disappeared. "He is not interested in anything more than what is beneath your skirts, should you choose to wear them. He is not interested in giving you a choice in the matter. In his world, women are chattel. They are kept ignorant so they can have no say about who they marry or with whom they are forced to lie. That is for their men to decide for them. He believes that a woman is incapable of thinking for herself. The few that can no man wants because they can not be ruled. The way of the elves is quite different. We desire and cherish intelligence. Ellyn want ellyth who can stand on their own and think for themselves. An elleth who can hold up her end of an argument and not back down is worth her weight in gold."

"How is what you want from me any different, Master Legolas?" I hissed remembering his actions at the fire ring. "Why do you care if he has his way with me?" I didn’t understand. What did he want from me?

"Do you fear that I would take advantage of you the manner in which Boromir has tried?"

"No. . . and yes." I gulped, trying not to stare at his half-naked body.

"I am not some ill bread human, Ithilin!" he snapped, turning his back to me. "You have unwittingly brought Naur Echui upon me. I can not help my reactions to you but I would never go against my honour or that of my people."

"Look, if you want the services of a whore, you had best look elsewhere. Because if you haven’t noticed, I’m - "

"I can not!"

"I will not stoop to that, Legolas."

"Do you not hear me, woman?" he snarled. " No courtesan can ease my desire now that I am mated."

Silence. Even the birds who chirped sleepily in the trees overhead were silent and still. I stood there staring at him like he had just slapped me. I guess, in a way, he had with what he had said. Why was I to blame for his inability to avail himself of the services of a comely elleth?

"What?!"

He seemed taken aback. "How can you not know?" he asked. "It is affecting you as well."

"Know what? No one seems to want to explain your odd behavior to me!" I cried in frustration, conveniently forgetting that Aragorn had tried to explain but I didn’t want to listen. "All the help I got from Estel was something about so-called courting customs! What, in the name of all that is holy, is going on?"

"Estel did not tell you?"

"Yes and no. He told me that you wanted to essentially take me to your bed."

"Would that I could," he remarked dryly as he gently he took my hands in his own. "Forgive me, Ithilin, I . . ." he paused, looking slightly lost as he raked a long fingered hand through his hair. "I have no idea how to explain this or my behavior."

"A little honesty would help," I remarked dryly.

He laughed nervously, "I do not know how to even begin."

"What is Naur Echui?"

He blushed and cast his gaze down at the dirt. "It means ‘Spring Fire’."

"I gathered that much but what does it mean in the context of your behavior?"

I was beginning to get annoyed at the evasion. Now I wanted answers and by God I would make him give them to me.

"Ithilin," he sighed, looking at me like he had just swallowed a rather large frog. "I honestly wish I knew how to explain what is making me behave so strangely. Why what I feel for you frightens me and arouses me at the same time."

I gave him a narrowed stare, measuring his words. He truly seemed at a loss but how could I be sure? Yet something inside me wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"But what does it mean?"

"How did my adar explain it? " he sighed in frustration then gave a small chuckle. "When an ellon finds a mate his body goes through a profound change and he acts like a moon-eyed fool."

I laughed. "So all this posturing you have done -"

"I am asserting my position as your mate."

"Legolas, I’m married! I have three kids. One, of which, half of the Galadhrim is searching for right now."

"I know that!" he cried, his body going rigid, "Why do you think I have been trying to fight this? It is not right."

He turned his back to me, letting a strained silence fall between us.

"How do you know if I am even remotely attracted to you?" I asked finally, my words so soft that I didn’t think he had heard me.

He chuckled softly, "I am not blind, orë-nîn. Nor am I deaf. I am keenly aware of you reactions to me. In fact I think I am more in danger of being ravaged by you than you are of me."

I could feel the fire of an ashamed blush sting my cheeks as I cast my gaze guiltily to the forest floor.
He laughed softly. "You are not the first to stare at me that way, orë-nîn, nor will you be the last, I fear."

"Forgive me, my lord, I meant no offense," I stammered.

"You need not ask forgiveness, penneth. Your reaction is entirely natural, especially since you are feeling the Fire as well. Naur Echui affects ellyn and ellyth alike and when the moon waxes full again we will feel its heat in earnest. I highly doubt that we will be able to ignore its call given that we will be in close proximity."

"Somehow I do not think your own kind stare at you that way."

"I believe you would be surprised," he chuckled. "I know that look all too well, Ithilin. I have seen it far too often for my comfort since I came of age." He continued ruefully, "While I see much the same look in your eyes I also see that you want something that the others did not."

"And what would that be, my lord?"

His dark eyes locked with mine, his emotions unveiled in their sapphire depths.

"As I do, you want something more than mouthed words and broken promises. I want more than the ellyth at my father’s court can offer me."

"What could I possibly offer you that they can not? I am wed, after all."

He sighed softly, his agitation and frustration showing. "Do not think that has not plagued me since I realized what was happening to me. I have even sought council with Lord Celeborn as to why I should be attracted to a woman bound to another man."

"I would bet that he gave you a rather enigmatic answer too."

Legolas laughed. "That he did, but he also implied that your husband did not deserve to keep you. You are wed, yes, but you are not bound to him. That was why I disappeared for so long. That and helping the border scouts find your daughter."

"Why?" I asked simply. Why would he go and search for a child that was not his?

"I suppose part of me hoped that you would be impressed by the gesture," he admitted sheepishly as he turned away again, "No child, human or elf, should be left unattended in these perilous times."

Hesitantly I reached out and laid my hand over the tattoo that circled his arm, resisting the urge to trace the scrolling pattern with my fingers. Just touching it made me wonder about the one I couldn’t see. I wanted to see it, to trace the curling tendrils along whatever path they followed over the lower part of his body.

His skin was soft and warm beneath my hand. Legolas shuddered, trembling like a cornered animal as he turned his head toward me. I could see by the rapid rise and fall of his chest that just that simple touch had an effect on him. His eyes darkened even more as his breathing became more ragged and I found myself wanting him to take me in his arms and mold me to the contours of his lean body.

He turned toward me and cupped my chin in his strong slender hands, tilting my head upwards. His face was only scant inches from my own. My heart stopped as I felt his lips feather over mine. It was a far more tentative and unsure kiss than what Boromir had forced on me a fortnight ago. It seemed as though he was seeking my permission or waiting for me to give him some sign that I desired this touch.

When I didn’t move away he stepped closer, his lips still hovering teasingly over mine.

"Let me kiss you," he breathed huskily.

I nodded. I felt him increase the gentle pressure slightly but he kept the kiss light and unconfining as if he were trying to prove that he would not take advantage of the situation. Slowly, gently, the hand cupping my chin moved to trace the outline of my lips then follow the line of my jaw until his long fingers threaded into the thick braid that fell down my back. Even as he edged closer, gently coaxing me to arch against him, he kept the kiss soft and unthreatening.

"W . . . why did you stop?" I breathed raggedly when he suddenly broke the connection and stepped away. I wanted more. I was on fire and chilled at the same time. I craved the warmth of his body next to mine. My heart and body seemed to be skipping willingly down the path of blatant adultery while my mind screamed out against it.

"So you know my intentions, Ithilin." The eyes that starred back at me were sober and intense.

I felt muddle-headed. My thoughts skittered around in my head, incoherent and confusing. Ai! What was I thinking? I shook my head to clear it. I couldn’t keep thinking these lustful things however much I really wanted to. What if I could go home? I had a husband whom I loved, though he expressed no interest in me. I had children who depended on me. Could I sacrifice my needs again as I had done for the last ten years? Would I be able to live with the ‘what if’? I looked up at the elf standing before me. Could I walk down this path? Should I? Could I open myself up to the possibility of more pain than I could handle? Yet as I gazed into his eyes I found in them true desire and deep love.

"As much as I want this I can not abandon my children," I answered honestly. "The last thing I want to do is hurt you."

"You would go back to a man who can not see you for what you are? Can not desire you?"

"I am as honour bound as you are, Legolas. Surely you can understand."

He sighed softly, bowing his blond head in resignation. "I do understand, meleth. You must do what is best for your little ones even if it means forsaking your own dreams."

The hurt openly displayed on his face sent a dagger though my heart. How could I refuse what he was offering me? For the sake of my children, how could I not?

"Legolas . . ." I began, not sure even why I was risking everything, deciding in that moment that if it was to be, it would happen in its own time, "If I can not return to them, then, and only then, can I entertain something more than friendship with you."

"I understand" he said soberly.

I nodded. Was I setting myself up for more hurt by doing this? Yet I could not deny the effect he had on me. Hesitantly I reached up and tucked a silken strand of golden hair behind his ear. He trembled and leaned into touch, emitting a low sound the was very much like a cat’s purr. There was no doubt what effect I had on him.

"What happens now?" I asked again picking up his tunic from where it had fallen on the ground. "I still don’t understand everything that is happening."

"I am unsure of some things as well, meleth, but if you wish, we will start finding them out together."

He sat down and settled back against the moss covered tree base, gently pulling me with him.

"I . . . I mean no offense, Legolas, but I can’t. I really should get back to camp. Aragorn has probably sent out a search party by now."

"I see," he chuckled then sighed agreeing as he rose again. "Honour must be kept, is that it?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice, even as I hugged the soft silk of his shirt tighter to me and breathed in his unique scent.

"All is well, Ithilin, I understand." He laughed as he took the silver shirt from my hands. "We are still very much strangers, you and I. My being half naked is not helping your state of mind right now, is it?"

I shook my head as I watched him slide the fabric over his slender shoulders, hiding the green and gold tattoo from my gaze. I couldn’t find the will to breathe as I watched his long slender fingers maneuver the tiny silver clasps closed. Did he know what he was doing to me?

"Better?" he said with a chuckle at what must have been a very disappointed look on my face.

"Yes." I managed to croakas I glanced away, ashamed of my own behavior, "and no. We’d best get back"

He laughed softly as he pulled me close and I laid my head against his silk clad chest, while his free hand stroked my hair. I found myself lightly tracing my fingers over the hidden design on his arm.
"What are you doing?" he asked, stilling my fingers.

"What is the tattoo for?"

"Tattoo?"

"The symbol on your arm, why do you have it? When did you get it?"

"It designates my status as an archer as well as my skill with knives. My father incised the pattern after I was blooded in battle," he replied proudly, "But it also serves a more grisly purpose as well."

I gazed up at his sober face. "What other purpose does it serve?"

"When you get the chance, after you have learned to read, look closer. My name is worked into the knot work. If I should fall . . ." he paused, closing his eyes and sighing heavily.

"It’s for identification."

He nodded.

I fell silent as we walked through the dark, silent forest. Even though I knew he survived what was to come it still frightened me to think that elves thought in that context. A tattooed dog-tag. I shivered and pressed closer.

"This frightens you?"

I nodded. How many elves would be identified in this manner? I knew that at Dagorlad alone, many were lost. Still there were other battles in Middle Earth’s history and in its future. How dire was the situation that these kinds of marks were needed?

"You won’t fall, will you?"

"You should know that better than I, meleth." He smiled gently as he ran his fingers gently through my hair. "Sîdh, meleth-nîn, you need not worry about such things tonight. I am here and you are safe."
Listening to the sleepy sounds of Lórien, my thoughts began to drift back to my daughter.

"Did you find any sign of her?"

"Sadly, we did not, Ithilin, but do not give up hope. Haldir, the Galadhrim and I will go out again in two days."

Nodding, I tried not to give in to the despair I felt rising in my throat. Still, the tears came. My memories of before rushed back, taunting me with my daughter’s sightless eyes. I felt him wrap his strong arms around me as I buried my face against his chest.

"Estel told me of your unsettling dreams," he whispered after a while. "Though I am inclined to agree with him in that that is all they are, I fear you may be right. However that will not keep me from searching for her."

"I hope that you are right and I thank you for your efforts," I said tightly, breaking from his warmth and continuing down the path.