Rivendell, Third Age, Narbaleth 3018

The Prince of Mirkwood looked around him and would have smiled if not for the seriousness of the situation. Sitting across the large oak table from him were two titans of his kin – the Lord Glorfindel and the Lord Elrond, who had both fought alongside his Ada in times gone by. There were others that he recognized, both by face and reputation. Erestor and other Elves of Rivendell were standing behind Lord Elrond. The March Warden, Haldir of Lórien, and his brothers Orophin and Rumil, were standing to the left of Glorfindel. The Prince was flanked by his own escort from Mirkwood, sent by his Ada to shepherd him to Rivendell and this important meeting. He usually rode alone without issue, but these were dark times, and King Thranduil wanted his son to travel with a company. If it were not for the circumstances, the Prince would be genuinely happy at being in such esteemed company.

"Prince Legolas," Lord Elrond began. "You do understand the situation?"

"Go along with the Fellowship if you must, but under no circumstances are you to take the One Ring, even to cast it into the fires of Orodruin," Glorfindel ordered.

"But my Lord," Legolas objected, the warrior's spirit in his heart rising. "Surely this cannot be a burden that we leave to the Dwarves and Men alone? These Halflings...they have already accomplished great feats in bringing the Ring to Rivendell. Is it not now time for us to play our part?"

"Our part, Legolas?" Glorfindel replied calmly. "Our part has been played for thousands of years on this Middle Earth. The time of the Elves is ending. Our people shall leave these shores, without further intervention into the trials of Men, Dwarves or any of these lesser races."

"But what of the alliances of the past?" Legolas asked.

"They are exactly that, of the past," Glorfindel waved his hand dismissively.

"We cannot defend the One Ring against both Mordor and Isengard," Elrond declared. "The fate of the Quest shall be decided by the other races of Middle Earth. It is time that we prepare to leave Arda, go to the Havens, and return to the lands of our ancestors."

"Go, Legolas," Glorfindel commanded. "Go and prepare for thy journey. March Warden, return to Lórien and report to Lord Celeborn and Lady Galadriel."

Legolas rose and bowed to his elders. He walked away frowning.

"What troubles thee, Legolas?"

"Nothing."

"You will watch Estel for me, won't you?"

"My Lady, Aragorn will never be far from thy gaze. His face will always turn back to Rivendell, his ears tuned for some sound on the wind of my Lady's voice."

"Just the same, I would have the gaze of thy bow guarding his flank," Arwen smiled.

Legolas smiled back. "It shall be done."

"Legolas?"

"Yes, my Lady?"

"First, don't call me that, as I have told you many times. We have been through too much together for such formalities. I do not call my brothers by any title, and nor shall I with you. Second, this journey you undertake will be neither short nor easy. I fear you will see much death and heartbreak in thy travels. Our time is ending, Legolas. Our people are leaving. Do try and take pleasure when you can. This Age will be over, for better or for worse, far too soon, and I do not wish for you to have any regrets."

"Take pleasure? I'm afraid I won't see very many Elleth throughout my journey."

"That never stopped you before," she looked at him pointedly.

Legolas smiled at her, a wistful expression on his face.

"My father told me that the King ordered you to bring news of the escaped prisoner and return home. There was no talk of a Fellowship when you left Mirkwood?"

"No," Legolas said. "I pledged my bow to Aragorn and so I will follow him. Ada will not approve, but he is not here."

"Would he begrudge his son this grand adventure?"

"The Battle of the Five Armies was long ago, Arwen. I think that Ada is preparing to go over sea. He probably would have passed a while ago if not…"

"If not for him wanting to stay here, with you."

"Something like that. Probably more to make sure I didn't burn down his forest short days after he left."

"He is older and wiser than both of us, Legolas. Surely he must see that War will come to Mirkwood. Dol Goldur still stands dark and menacing on the border."

"I think that Ada will defend his realm if moved to, but he will not openly wage War against the Dark Lord. His concern is only for his people, not for the realm of Men."

"You will be a King one day, Legolas. A very fine one."

Arwen Evenstar placed her hand on the Prince's cheek and kissed him lightly on his lips. Legolas closed his eyes as he felt her soft touch.

"Do not despair at our parting, Legolas. We will see each other again if the Valar wish it. And if we do not, we have lived a beautiful life together have we not?"

"We have," Legolas said quietly, allowing her to pull him into an embrace. "Though I now find it has been far too short."

"Almost 3,000 years seems short to you?" she smiled as he held her. "Legolas, there is no Elf on all of Arda as sweet as you. I am grateful for our time together. Do not be sad. I wish you to be fierce and strong. You will need to be to survive thy journey. Now go. Go and protect Estel for me. And be careful, please. I have no right to ask anything of you anymore, but I wish for thy safe return all the same."

Legolas kissed her on the cheek. He stepped away from her while he still had the strength to do so. He nodded reverently and took his leave, not knowing if these would be the last steps he would ever take in Rivendell, or the last time he would see Arwen.

Rohan, Third Age, Ninui, 3019

The shriek of the Orc resonated through the air. The large body shuddered, then fell to the ground motionless, the shaft of the arrow stuck to its neck.

Legolas grabbed the shaft from the corpse and fitted it to his bow string in one smooth motion. He had already spotted another opponent on the far side of the field as he ran. He drew his bow to his ear and loosed the arrow, not waiting to watch as it flew true to its target. The cry of another fallen Orc was all the confirmation he needed of another kill.

Aragorn slashed through the tunic and chest of another Orc and grabbed a handful of arrows from the quiver hung on the back of the now unmoving body. He turned and threw the arrows towards Legolas, who had elbowed an Orc to the ground on his way across the field to his companion's position.

Legolas caught three arrows in his hand and brought them to his bow string deftly. He aimed quickly and fired the trio together, the black darts flying through the air in formation. The charging Uruk-hai stumbled and fell to the ground, their own arrows wounding them. Drawing his twin blades, Legolas replaced his bow around his shoulder, jumped to the air and flipped his blades in his hands. He brought them down into the skulls of two Uruk-hai previously wounded by his bow. He carved his Elven blades across their heads before slashing through the skin and drawing them above his head once more. With a final throw, he killed the last Uruk-hai kneeling before him, his blades piercing the beast's neck and bringing him to the ground with a final thud.

Gimli hefted his axe, marching purposefully up the hill. His helm was notched but intact, and he surveyed the fallen bodies. Aragorn sheathed Anduril and helped Legolas retrieve what few arrows were still intact.

"These Uruk darts disgust me," Legolas spat. "If it were not for the dearth of true shafts, I would break these myself."

"As it is, they may break themselves long before you may fit them to thy bow," Aragorn commented, handing a bunch of arrows to Legolas.

"Night falls, and we have been delayed by this rabble of scouts. Let us move faster."

The three companions resumed their desperate pursuit, the last of the Uruk-hai rearguard leagues ahead of them and now only visible in the dying light to Legolas alone.

Gimli snored. He always snored when he slept. Legolas found it infuriating at first, but now he was almost more annoyed with the fact that he had gotten used to it. Gimli's growling was like the wind in the trees to him now, a natural sound that came out at night. Mithrandir slept nearby, his robes a glimmering white. Legolas could still barely believe he had found them again.

"Legolas, we will be breaking camp in a few hours. Do you need to rest?"

"No, thank you," he turned to Aragorn. "I should be fine at least until we reach Edoras."

"Legolas, I know you saw Arwen before we left Rivendell."

"Yes, she told me to take care of you for her."

Aragorn smiled and shook his head at the thought.

"You have fulfilled that promise many times over."

"You will see her again; when you return to the throne of Gondor."

"We will both see her again, mellon nin," Aragorn smiled at him. "I would not begrudge her the company of her friends, or kin. And you are both, and so much more, to both of us."

Legolas sighed before nodding to Aragorn.

Aragorn became somewhat forlorn. "Now is not the time to think of such things. Gondor needs a King, yes. Whether it needs me, I do not know."

"Boromir seemed to know. And he only knew you for a short time."

Aragorn could only nod.

"And what about you, Prince of Mirkwood? You have hardly caused any mischief or taken any pleasure throughout our entire journey. Gimli has had more maids than you, and he is but a Dwarf."

Legolas smiled. "Arwen said something similar. She told me to try and enjoy myself while we were out here, as if I may not have the chance later with all the Eldar leaving for the Sea."

"And what is thy excuse, for you have not had any pleasure since we left Rivendell?"

"I just haven't felt…well, motivated enough I suppose. I haven't met anyone that has stirred me to pursue anything like that."

"That's barely stopped you before," Aragorn said smugly and Legolas looked at him with a wry smile. "I was shocked when you did nothing to respond to the many Elleth watching you during our stay in Lórien. It was apparent that any of them would have attended to you had you asked."

"I'm much older than you, Aragorn. Mindless sex is no longer something that excites me."

"Be that as it may, Legolas, I have seen you after battles. The excitement and lust still courses through thy veins. When we were younger, you would find the prettiest Elleth around and conquer her in celebration."

"There are no Elleth here in Rohan."

"That was hardly a problem before either."

"We have seen no women of sufficient worth either."

"Fair enough. Just keep an open mind, Legolas. If we cannot enjoy even a brief moment of happiness in these dark times, then why are we going to all of this trouble?"

Meduseld, Edoras, Rohan, Third Age, Gwaeron, 3019

They could make out Edoras on the horizon now. To Aragorn and Gimli it was but a speck rising on the hill in the distance. But to Legolas' trained eye, it was a well built and fortified capital. It was different from Minas Tirith or any of the other great cities of the Men. The horse lords had a symbiotic relationship with nature, and the beasts that they raised, and it showed in their dwellings. The outdoors was never too far away.

Legolas noticed for the first time a figure, standing on the stone promontory of Meduseld, the seat of King Théoden. Her skin was fair, and her flowing dress revealed a woman of Court. Her long blonde tresses fell around her shoulders and down her back and Legolas could see, even at this distance, a stern gaze on her features. She held her head high, as if steeling herself against the wind. As they neared within human sight of Edoras, a flag fell from Meduseld, falling harmlessly to the ground near the entrance to the gate. They galloped forward and passed through, Aragorn glancing over at the fallen standard. When Legolas looked back up to the terrace, the woman had disappeared.

It was worse than they feared. From the moment that Legolas surrendered his bow and knives to the guard and Gandalf took his arm, Legolas could feel the tension, the fear that coursed through the royal hall. He was used to the stares and the apprehension of course. Elves were always looked at with a mix of fear, reverence and loathing among the other races, but this was more. This land had known darkness and shadow, and the people had grown suspicious and paranoid as a result. There were five large warriors stalking them as they entered the hall. They were armed and wore armour of the Royal Guard. Legolas' eyes darted here and there, appraising the details of their surroundings. Tables were positioned in a way that he could use them as cover or obstructions if necessary. Without his weapons, he would need to engage hand-to-hand if it came to that.

Legolas caught the woman's stare as they walked. She was curious, as the Lord Éomer had been when they had met his company earlier. He sensed a strong pride and protectiveness coming from her, and she shadowed their movements as they walked towards the throne, seemingly ready to pounce if anything were to go wrong.

It was over before it began. Unveiling his staff, Gandalf beat back Saruman's influence as Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas kept the guards at bay. As Gandalf raised his staff toward Théoden's captured body one last time, Legolas stepped forward and stopped the woman with his arm. She pushed his arm away abruptly and turned her hardened gaze toward him. He froze, her beauty and her resolve thrust upon him all at once in a cold stare.

"Wait. We are here to help," he whispered imploringly. Her eyes narrowed in challenge and he met her stare, determined to not look away. She blinked at his fierce and silent reply, but they were both drawn away as the King sighed.

All at once Théoden's features warmed, the colour returning to his cheeks and his hair returning to its former length and health. His wrinkled and scarred skin was healed and he looked upon Gandalf as if he were a revelation. Legolas smiled and dropped his arm, nodding for her to go, and she ran to Théoden's side. The King smiled at her in wonder and recognized her, and Legolas held his breath as colour and light returned to her face as well, her lips curling into a grateful smile and her eyes wet with tears. The King of Rohan beamed as he recalled her name, the sound of it travelling to Legolas' ears like the soft call of birds of long ago in Greenwood the Great.

"Éowyn."

Gandalf and Aragorn took counsel with King Théoden and Éomer, which allowed Gimli and Legolas to take time for themselves. Typically, Gimli went to take a nap. The trek across the Riddermark had taken more out of him than he wanted to let on. He made some excuse about the boring talk of strategy putting him to sleep and stomped back to his chamber. Legolas smiled as the Dwarf left the Golden Hall.

Éowyn wanted to hear more about what the White Wizard was saying to the King and her brother. War was coming, that was certain. Gandalf would not have appeared otherwise. She wanted to know more about this ranger he had brought with him, and his other companions. They were clearly warriors, and she had heard from Éomer that they had sprinted across the Eastfold in mere days. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, he had called himself. He looked far too…vibrant…to be merely a ranger, she thought.

Sighing, she realized she was being excluded from the important affairs of Men once more. She would need to talk to her brother afterward so she was kept apprised of their next moves. With the King taking counsel in the Great Hall, Éowyn would need to walk down to the training area to practise. She quickly left Meduseld and took the back stairs down to the training ground. As she reached the top stair though, she stopped, looking down at a lone figure standing below.

She recognized the Elf right away. He had removed his pauldrons and armour and wore a light tunic, leggings and boots. He lifted one of the training mannequins in his arms and was lifting it horizontally to his chest before lowering it down to his knees, raising and lowering over and over. She could see the muscles of his arms rippling from his effort. After what seemed several dozen repetitions, he placed the mannequin back upright and walked several paces away until he was at the other end of the training area. He drew his bow, brought an arrow to his ear and loosed it all in one fluid motion that Éowyn could barely follow. The arrow struck the mannequin squarely in the middle of its face, and before Éowyn could turn back, the Elf had somehow crossed the ground with unnatural speed. He drew two knives and threw one directly into the chest of the mannequin before bringing the other across the mannequin's throat. Taking back his knives and arrow, he walked across the ground to repeat the same exercise.

Éowyn's eyes narrowed and she turned to head back to her chamber. She did not like training in the presence of others, and she was not ready to speak to this strange Elf. They would dine together that night surely, and she would likely need to talk to this Elf – Legolas, he had called himself – at that time, if only briefly. Normally she would not make the effort, but as the Elf was a companion of Gandalf and a guest of the King, she was duty bound to host him as well as the others. She shook her head. What could she possibly have to say to an Elf?

Éowyn sat next to the King as they ate their meal. She nodded to one of the serving maids and drinks were brought out for their guests. Aragorn explained the significance of sharing drinks in the presence of the King to his companions. Éowyn and Éomer moved to rise to give the toast to the King. As Legolas rose to do the same, he realized he did not have a glass. Aragorn and Gimli each held full goblets in their hands, but Legolas had been missed. He sighed.

Éowyn placed her cup down. She was about to hand it to the King and announce the toast to the King's health when she realized that the Elf did not have a glass. At first she thought him rude to not be sharing in the toast to her Uncle, but as she scanned the table, she realized no goblet had been brought to him. Shaking her head, she rose from her seat and walked around to where Gandalf and his companions were seated. She grabbed a goblet from the tray of a serving maid, giving her a withering look.

"Lord Legolas does not have a cup! You would do well to remember thy station!" Éowyn hissed.

"But he is an Elf, my Lady!" the serving maid cried defensively. Éowyn stopped and turned on her.

"He is a guest of the King! A guest in the Golden Hall shall be afforded the same courtesy as any Man. Shut your mouth now and ensure there are no other failings tonight or I shall have you thrown out in the morning!"

Éowyn carried the cup across the hall with an easy stride. She stood before Legolas and handed him the goblet, which he took from her with a nod of his head.

"You cannot toast to the health of the King without a cup, Master Elf," Éowyn said firmly.

"My thanks, Lady Éowyn," he replied. His voice sounded nervous, but Éowyn could not imagine why. His hand shook slightly as he accepted the cup from her and she found that odd. She bowed her head to him and went back to her seat.

As she took up her glass once again, Éomer took the liberty of inviting all to raise their glasses to the health of King Théoden and the gift of his return to lead the Eorlingas. As she sipped her wine, Éowyn found herself looking over the rim of her glass at the table of Gandalf and his companions. They were all looking to her Uncle, except for Legolas. He was looking back at her, before he turned to the King upon seeing her catch his gaze.

She stared up at the stone ceiling. She had become used to this view over the past few years. The stone brick of the ceiling, with wooden support beams placed every few feet that spanned the length of the room. The stone blocks of the walls, with tapestries and fabrics hung here and there. She had spent hours looking at the cold stone, praying that when she closed her eyes, she would not see the shadows that seemed to close around her.

This was the first night since Gríma was banished. He had been sent away, likely back to Isengard and the Wizard Saruman. The ranger had stopped King Théoden from striking him down. She had hoped to see the King's blade split him in two, but he had been spared and she was glad he was gone. Still, as she lay in the silence of her room, an uneasy restlessness returned. Even with Gríma gone, she still could hear the hiss of whispers, as if dark voices were on the wind that flew through the Golden Hall and across to her chamber. She shut her eyes and she saw shadows, images, blurry yet menacing. She opened her eyes and sat up. Swallowing, she got out of bed and left her chamber, not bothering to put on her cloak.

She stepped out into the cool air and she breathed deeply. The sounds of the night were a comfort to her. She had spent many evenings standing outside the Golden Hall, looking at the stars, listening to soldiers, street cleaners and all manner of people going about their business across Edoras. There would be small grunts and neighing coming from the stables. These sounds were familiar to her and were safer than the cruel silence of her chamber.

She walked around towards the front promontory and she stopped when she saw him. She could have mistaken him for a guard, but he stood taller and his blonde hair was shimmering in the moonlight. This was the second time this day that he had appeared when she tried to seek solitude. She turned to leave, when she stopped herself. Why should she be the one to go? This was her city and she was a member of the Royal Family after all. She could ask, no, order him to find somewhere else to do whatever it was he was doing and leave the promontory to her. She almost huffed at her own foolishness. Since when had she become so petulant? Sighing to herself at her predicament, she decided to approach him rather than walk away. Any conversation at this point would be a welcome distraction and give her an excuse not to go back to her room right away. Surely the Elf could manage a few trite phrases to help her pass the time?

"Lord Legolas? Are you not comfortable in thy room?"

He turned and smiled as she came close to him. Her face remained neutral, but he smiled anyway.

"Thy hospitality is gracious and kind, my Lady. Nay, I much prefer the outdoors, particularly at night. Plus I usually take the first watch and it appears to be a habit of mine, even within the safe walls of Edoras."

She shivered at the cold air, cursing that she had left her cloak in her chamber. She glanced up at him as she felt warm fabric covering her suddenly. He had removed his cloak, placing it around her shoulders. She was surprised at the gesture, but was immediately warmed by the light material, which seemed warmer than even the heavy fur coats that the Eorlingas wore in winter.

"Thank you," she mumbled. What was his proper title? Master Elf? My Lord? No, an Elf could not be her Lord after all. She desperately searched for something to discuss, shocked at her own lack of speech.

"But what of sleep? You must be exhausted from thy travels. I was told you crossed the Eastfold in mere days."

"Elves do not need sleep. At least, not in the way that Humans and Dwarves do. Just being outside under the stars at night is refreshing enough for me."

"I see."

He smirked at her lack of emotion or conversation. Why were humans so stoic, he wondered. And why did this woman seem to walk with the entire weight of Arda on her shoulders? A maiden as fair as the White Lady need not be burdened by stress and worry, he thought, before he blinked at the realization that his eyes had deemed her fair. He swallowed slightly as he realized his heart deemed her far more than that.

"The stars are brightest at this hour, you see," Legolas stammered, trying to return his thoughts to their conversation and not his internal debate on how fair Éowyn was.

"They are bright, yes," Éowyn agreed, looking up. "We have names for some of them, but there are others which I do not know."

"We have names for the stars as well, my Lady, and they all have stories of their own. Would you like to know them?"

She looked at him and he had a warm smile on his face, so strange for a warrior that appeared so tall and battle hardened.

"It is not necessary, Lord Legolas. They are just stars, after all."

"Please, my Lady," Legolas said pleasantly. "The stars have existed long before either of us, and will still long after we are gone. They have much to tell for they have seen all the Ages of this world."

Before she could ponder whether she actually would enjoy hearing tales about the stars or not, Legolas began pointing at them and speaking to her. He told her about the stars, teaching her their names and explaining how they formed images in the sky that all Elves were taught and followed. He told her about Eärendil and his trek across the sky, and the other legendary figures that the Elves believed in. Legolas smiled in surprise when Éowyn told him that they knew of Eärendil in Rohan, and called him by a similar name in Rohirric. For a moment it seemed as though she would smile as well, but her face then became guarded and emotionless once more.

"Forgive me, my Lady, I have been rambling. This must all seem rather boring to you by now. You should go to bed before I end up putting you to sleep."

"Not at all, Lord Legolas. I used to come out here as a child and look upon the stars all the time. I find it interesting that we both have names and stories for them."

"You are too kind. All the same, I fear we have rather difficult days ahead, and you will need thy rest."

She grudgingly allowed him to escort her to the hallway leading to her chamber, if only so she could return his cloak to him. He bid her goodnight with a light kiss to her hand and she nodded to him in parting, again surprised by his gesture. He is a Prince of the Elves, she remembered. He must have some experience being at Court. By the time she reached her chamber, her mind wandered back to the events of the day. When Éowyn fell asleep, she was thankful that her King had returned. It was the best news she had in years, it seemed. She did not grasp fully that there was also now a faint vestige of hope that had arrived with Gandalf and his Fellowship.

The next day was difficult. They finally held a proper funeral for Théodred and Théoden was a mess. He bemoaned the passing of his son before him and muttered about the dark days of his House. Éowyn stepped forward and sang a haunting funeral song in their native tongue. Legolas could feel their grief even though he did not understand the words.

As they walked from the tomb back up to the Golden Hall, Legolas found himself next to Éomer. He gave him his condolences on the loss of his cousin, and thanked him again for the use of Arod, who was a very fine horse.

"Lord Legolas, I hope you find our hospitality much more to thy liking than the unfortunate welcome I gave you in the Riddermark." They both smiled.

"Thy city is beautiful and welcoming, Lord Éomer, even in these dark times. I greatly admire thy manner with the horses. It is a skill even some of my people have not mastered."

"Thank you. It is something all of the Eorlingas are taught from birth it seems. Even the women know how to ride as well as any cavalryman of Gondor. My sister is in fact a very accomplished rider herself. She is somewhat out of practice unfortunately, having cared for the King during his illness."

Legolas felt uncomfortable talking to Éomer about Éowyn, but his curiosity got the better of him. There was something about her cold and guarded demeanour that intrigued him, particularly given that he had caught small glimpses of something else last evening when they had talked. There were times, when she looked up at the stars, that he saw wonder on her face, and even small moments of warmth before she put her shields back up and became cold and almost lifeless once more.

Éomer was accommodating, and found the Elf's interest in Éowyn rather amusing. He told him of how Éowyn had grown up far too quickly as a result of Théoden falling under Saruman's spell, having had to care for her sick uncle and having to endure Wormtongue's unwelcome advances for far too long. Éomer admitted with regret that it had been years since he saw his sister smile or laugh in genuine happiness. Legolas found himself growing angry at the thought of the disgusting creature coveting Éowyn and he shook his head at such a strange emotion, particularly regarding a human woman.

"My sister is a Shieldmaiden, Lord Legolas. I will let her explain what that is to you, if she is so inclined. However, do not be intimidated to talk to her. She could use the company I find. She keeps to herself far too much."

Legolas nodded.

Gimli called for him and Legolas bid Éomer good day, running up the stairs lithely to join the Dwarf and Aragorn.

"My Lord," Hama called. Éomer turned and nodded. "Is it wise to encourage fraternizing between Lord Legolas and Lady Éowyn? I do not mean to speak out of turn, but surely Lady Éowyn has other duties than entertaining an Elf?"

Éomer smiled at Hama forlornly. "She was meant to have a different life than that which she has been given now, Hama" Éomer said quietly, his gaze falling back to Théodred's tomb. "That was another time, another life it seems. These are dark days, Hama. There is no assurance that we will see them through. If Lord Legolas brings comfort to my sister, or even distraction and good humour, so be it. I would see her smile and laugh again, and sing something else besides funeral dirges, if our days are to be numbered. Far be it from me to be so prejudiced as to whether my sister receives comfort from Man or Elf in these dark times. She has had so little of comfort in the past years."

Éowyn came outside again that night. She did not know if she needed or wanted to look at the stars again, but she could not be alone in her chamber just yet. She did not feel as restless this evening as she had previously, but she still saw shadows and heard voices when she closed her eyes. She once again sought the cold air of the promontory. When she stepped outside and saw the cloaked figure standing overlooking the city, she smiled to herself. Rather than be annoyed that he was once again in her evening refuge, she found she was thankful for the company.

"Lady Éowyn."

She started at his voice, and he turned his head, smiling at her.

"I'm sorry, Lord Legolas. I did not mean to sneak up on you."

"You didn't, even if you were trying to," Legolas smiled mischievously. She came up beside him. "You've forgotten thy cloak again. You may be strong, White Lady, but no one can stand against the elements unprotected for too long."

He again put his cloak around her shoulders and she was secretly glad for it.

Legolas became serious. "That was a very powerful song today. I am sorry for thy loss."

Éowyn only nodded. "It is good to know that Théodred is finally at peace. He's been dead for some time now, but with the King not himself, well, it didn't feel complete until today."

Legolas nodded. She changed the subject and curiously asked him about Elven immortality. He supposed it was a natural curiosity given all the death she had seen recently. Their conversation led to small stories here and there from their childhoods, and he found several parallels in the way they had been raised, though Éowyn had lost her parents at a very young age.

"So you are older than my Uncle?"

"Aye," Legolas smiled. "We all are. Gimli and Aragorn as well."

"But Lord Aragorn seems so young. He cannot be more than 50."

Legolas smiled again. "He is over 80, my Lady. And I am much older than that."

Legolas told Éowyn about the Dúnedain, although she already had heard of them. She scarcely believed that Aragorn was one of them.

"So Lord Aragorn is half-Elven?"

"Nay. He has Elven ancestors, but he is a Man. I consider him like a brother. We have known each other his entire life. His betrothed is an Elleth – a female Elf, and she is like a sister to me."

"I see."

"It is getting late, my Lady. You must be tired from today. Let me escort you back inside."

"These days ahead seem so dark, Legolas. I don't really know if I am strong enough to see them through."

Legolas stopped and looked at her inquisitively. Éowyn eyes widened in realizing she had said her thoughts aloud. She tried to avert his gaze, but then steeled herself, straightened her posture and looked back at him, chin raised. She would not show weakness, despite her confession.

Legolas' curiosity deepened as his mind examined her through his eyes. Her stare was strong, but there was something else, something deeper, hidden behind her fierce expression. His eyes widened suddenly as he saw for the first time the dark swirls that lurked deep behind her fierce eyes. Without thinking, he reached out his hand and stroked her cheek lightly. His touch lingered on her face and she almost seemed to lean towards his hand slightly before Legolas realized what he was doing and pulled his hand back.

"Forgive me, my Lady. I forget myself."

Éowyn gasped at his touch, so warm and calming in its lightness. She composed herself quickly. "Do not trouble thyself, my Lord."

Legolas kept looking at her, realization confirming his earlier perceptions. He struggled with his thoughts before finding his words. "Have hope, Lady Éowyn. You are strong. Thy people believe in you. Hope is what we must trust in during these dark times. I do not believe it has abandoned these lands just yet. When you are alone, my Lady, when it appears that dark times have shrouded this City, take comfort in knowing that there are those who continue to fight, continue to believe, continue to hope that we will see our way through. Take comfort in that, knowing you are part of that same effort, that same resistance that drives all forward to conquer the darkness. You are not alone, White Lady of Rohan, and you need not face the darkness alone."

They stood still for a long moment, each gazing at the other. Legolas then offered her his arm. "Come, I would escort you inside if you will allow it."

She took his arm again and again returned his cloak to him before returning to her chamber. Her mind was swimming with all that she had discussed with Legolas. He was the first Elf she had ever encountered up close, and the first one she had ever engaged in conversation. She imagined all he would have seen and done in his nearly 3,000 years, or whatever age he really was. The battles he had fought. The glory he had won.

As Éowyn looked around her darkened chamber, she noticed the shadows that had seemed to follow her steps were no longer quite so visible. In the corner was not the menacing form of a silent stalker, but a simple chair, empty and harmless. The sense of despair and desperation that usually invaded her thoughts before she slept did not come.

Hope, Legolas had said. She believed in such a notion long ago, before she had nightmares, before she felt leering eyes upon her and strangled voices in her mind. She had spent years guarding herself, refusing to believe in hope for it proved so false to her so many times. But if she did not believe, then why did she carry on? Why did she resist? She lay back under the furs of her bed deep in thought. Hope. What was the use? Then again, what could be the harm? She drifted off to sleep. For the first time in years, she slept restfully.

In the coming days, Éowyn would rise each morning and not remember any nightmares from the previous eve. She would not notice that the voices had stopped either, nor would she realize that her belief in the future of Rohan was growing in tiny steps. She would only look towards the next day, determined as ever to carry out her duty as the White Lady, Princess of the House of Eorl. Her nights were restful, and the darkness that plagued her was banished.

On the third day following his arrival, Legolas decided to venture into the City. Gimli had no interest and Aragorn was busy with discussions with King Théoden, Éomer, and Gandalf, leaving him on his own. Legolas went outside and looked out over the City below, not sure as to where to start.

"My Lord? You seek something?"

Legolas turned and Éowyn bowed her head to him. He smiled and nodded in return.

"My Lady," he smiled. "I would see thy City, but I fear I am not sure where to begin." He swept his hand down across the roads of Edoras. "It is vast, thy capital, and each path seems to be identical to the next."

"I can have one of the guard escort you," Éowyn replied. "Though they may not be the most informed of tour guides."

"That is very kind," Legolas nodded. "And where would you recommend I look to, Lady Éowyn?"

"I was on my way to the markets actually," she replied, before a plan hatched in her mind. "Come, I shall take you on a tour my Lord."

"My Lady! I did not mean to request such a favour! You have much more important things to…"

"Lord Legolas, it is no bother. I am going into the City with or without you. If you wish to see the City, then you should take advantage of my offer. Or you may wander aimlessly if you wish. 'Tis no concern to me either way."

Éowyn raised her brow at him and he blinked at her expression. While her face revealed nothing, it almost seemed as though she were teasing him. But that could not be possible. This was the White Lady of Rohan and her firm stare and stern manner were as hard as steel. Legolas nodded properly towards her.

"Thank you, my Lady. It is very generous of you. I am grateful."

They walked down the steps together and she guided him along a path to the markets, pointing out some important buildings along the way. She found herself rather enjoying telling this Elf from another land all about her City. She described each of the shops and stalls they visited, and even remembered tales of various places she had been to in her childhood. She found that she had neglected some of these places during the dark times of Wormtongue's stewardship, and it was almost as if she was exploring her own City anew.

Legolas impressed her with his knowledge of flowers and herbs, even those native to the Mark. She had neglected this part of her life as well, and she was intrigued by the various salves and potions that Legolas told her could be derived from various common roots and herbs.

"On a battlefield, athelas is most effective for wounds and burns, but in the healing rooms in Mirkwood we prefer penicilia – Queen's breath – it is better for both numbing the pain and encouraging mending of the skin and closing of wounds."

"Queen's breath? I am not familiar with that herb, my Lord."

"It is not native to Rohan, but there is a variant, ah, here."

Legolas reached over and picked up a plant from the market stall, smelling the leaves before showing them to her.

"Sablelilly? But that is a cooking herb, my Lord," Éowyn said, smelling the fresh leaves.

"Aye, my Lady," Legolas smiled. "But if you mince the herb and combine it with oil into a paste, it can be applied to open wounds and even to strained muscles and broken bones, if rubbed deep enough."

"Interesting, I will have my healers try it. I should show you our athelas gardens, Legolas. It is a small project that I started some time ago. I have neglected it in the past few months unfortunately."

"I would enjoy that very much, White Lady. I…"

"Help! Help!"

Legolas turned his head in time to see a wagon collapse to the ground, its contents spilling as wood splintered and barrels smashed apart. Of greater concern were the two horses that had now been loosed from their hitch and were tearing down the street, pulling the broken hitch behind them.

"Excuse me, my Lady," Legolas said as he turned away.

"Legolas! Wait!" She called out to him but her voice was drowned out by the cries and commotion of the people around them scattering and running as the loose horses ran forward. Éowyn picked up her skirts and ran after him, being careful to stay to the side and out of the path of danger.

Legolas darted through the crowd, pushing people out of the way and clearing the main road as the horses hurtled towards him. He stood his ground as the beasts galloped forward and before being stampeded, he stepped deftly to the side and leapt forward, grasping one horse's neck and vaulting himself up into the saddle. As the hitch had broken, he had to step across to the second horse to grab the reins for both steeds. Standing in one stirrup from each horse, Legolas pulled back on the reins, calling out to the animals in Sindarin. They reared back, and Éowyn's eyes went wide as she thought he would be thrown clear. The horses clawed the air before calling out and landing their forelegs back on to the road, coming to a violent stop. Legolas hissed at them, continuing to pull on the reins as the horses whinnied and their nostrils flared. They stomped the ground with their front hooves and their eyes were wide with terror.

Legolas slipped down to the ground and took each horse by the bridle. He stared intently at them and whispered in the Elvish tongue. He smoothed his hand across their foreheads and Éowyn saw the fear in their eyes subside, their breathing become normal and their movements less erratic.

"Oh, thank you! Thank the gods!" A merchant came running up to them, his face flustered. "That was…oh, Lady Éowyn!" He bowed to her before turning to Legolas. "Master Elf, thank you. The horses were spooked by birds flying across our path and they got loose from the wagon."

Legolas nodded to him, handing the reins back. "They are unhurt, and it appears they did not cause great damage, beyond that to thy wagon. You should get them out away from this crowd. The close quarters is making them uncomfortable."

"Aye, my Lord, thank you once again!" The merchant ordered his workers to come attend to the horses and bring them back to the damaged wagon. Legolas turned back towards Éowyn and they resumed walking.

"That was very brave," Éowyn said quietly. "You could have been thrown off, or worse."

"It was not bravery that stirred me to move. I was concerned for the horses, and any of thy people that they could have harmed in their terror."

They continued their walk and Éowyn looked at him with new curiosity from time to time. She showed him other parts of the City. As they walked, she took the time to look at him more closely as he was preoccupied with staring at the buildings and passages of Edoras. He was muscular, she thought, but not brutish. His body was lean and athletic, but not skinny or thin. There seemed to be strength and power beneath his light armour and then there were his eyes, a shade of blue she had never seen before, and they seemed to be constantly shifting as his gaze moved about, taking in all around him. Éowyn realized she had never truly looked at an Elf before, and now the subject of her examination was a Prince. Even his hair, so much longer than that of any Man she had met before, seemed distinguished and handsome. There were often jokes and insults thrown about regarding the long hair of Elven men, and how they looked like women. But Éowyn could not agree as she looked more intently at him. There was nothing about him that seemed feminine to her at all.

"This area seems rather deserted, Lady Éowyn," Legolas commented, looking down a long road that was empty compared to the bustle of the other parts of the district.

Éowyn smiled. "None of the…erm…establishments here are open now, Legolas. But it will be quite busy later in the evening."

"A quarter only open at night? That is interesting. Perhaps I shall return then to see for myself?" he mused.

Though she maintained a cold and hard exterior, Éowyn barely contained a laugh as she bit her lip at the Elf's comment. Legolas turned to her with a curious expression.

"Forgive me, my Lady, did I say something wrong?"

"Nay, Lord Legolas," Éowyn said, calming herself. "It is just that, this district, it is…it is for men seeking companionship…from…erm…ladies of the night."

Legolas frowned, not comprehending her meaning before his eyes widened and he looked back down the empty street.

"This street is notorious for brothels, gambling dens and…umm…temporary accommodations, Legolas. It only becomes busy after the rest of the area has closed for the night."

"I see…" Legolas said, swallowing and looking away.

"Certainly you are free to visit should you choose, Lord Legolas," Éowyn recovered. "Many of the soldiers come here seeking distraction. I can only imagine what you have seen on thy journey. If you wish to…"

"Nay!" Legolas said, his eyes wide. He lowered his voice, realizing he had almost shouted at Éowyn. "I…I do not require such…distraction, my Lady."

They continued walking and Legolas changed the subject as quickly as he could, asking her about a fountain nearby and forgetting the whore district immediately.

By the time they parted back at Meduseld, there was an easy comfort between them. Legolas kissed her hand, thanking her for the tour before he excused himself. She nodded to him, revealing nothing further in her expression. She had spent more time with Legolas in three days than she had with any Elf in her entire lifetime. She could tell he had royal lineage in the way he spoke, the way he carried himself and his easy manner. He was not aloof, nor cold, as she had been told the Elves could be, nor was he haughty or conceited, in the manner of many nobles and royalty that she had met in her time. As she went to the kitchens to give instructions to the maids and cooks for the evening meal, she concluded that Prince Legolas of Mirkwood was far more interesting than she had given him credit for upon his arrival.

She came out at night once again and was pleased to see him standing in the same spot. He smiled at her and offered her his cloak. He wondered if she forgot her cloak on purpose now, but lost the thought as soon as it came. What reason could she have for doing such a thing?

"Forgive me, my Lord, but I have never spoken so freely with an Elf before. I realize I know nothing of thy realm and thy people."

"That is understandable, my Lady," Legolas replied warmly. "I would be pleased to answer any question you may have."

He told her about Greenwood the Great and how he would travel with his father the Elven King to Lothlórien and Rivendell and all through the forests of his people. He told her how the Necromancer had come to Dol Goldur and how Mirkwood had arisen as shadow and dark beasts had poisoned his realm.

"It is a sad thing to have shadow on the borders of one's home," Éowyn said quietly.

"Elves are patient, Éowyn. We fight and struggle and rebel as any of the free peoples of Arda, but we are guided by faith and resolve and courage to face our enemy. Whether it takes months or a full Age, we do not falter in our belief."

She looked at him.

"There are moments when it can be very difficult, however," he acknowledged. "In those moments we cling to hope and wait for the Valar to bring us the strength to continue."

"You speak so easily of courage and hope, as though they are trusty weapons always at the ready. Such bravery is not as common as you may believe, my Lord."

"Your days have truly been dark then, my Lady? With the King being bewitched, that is," Legolas looked at her with sharp eyes. What did she imply by her words and what was she guarding so closely?

"We all have burdens to bear at times of War, my Lord," Éowyn shot back. "I am the White Lady of Rohan. I need neither pity nor counsel."

Legolas kept his gaze locked on her fierce eyes, showing her he was not to be intimidated by her defences, and at the same time trying to show her he was not a threat.

"My Lady," he said in a softer voice. "I would not presume to speak out of turn, nor request that I be taken into thy confidence. But many a great soldier has died alone. True strength is not in proving one can weather a storm, Lady Éowyn. It is rather trusting in others and knowing that one is stronger united than facing a burden without aid."

They looked at each other for several moments and Legolas could see Éowyn's gaze softening, though very slightly.

"And if I were to tell you the weight that I bear, my Lord, what then? Would you shame me with thy sympathy, or think me weak for allowing the burden to affect me?"

Legolas wanted to give her a reassuring smile, but instead he kept his eyes steady on hers and pursed his lips. It was a serious gaze. A gaze of one warrior to another.

"Neither, my Lady," he answered firmly. "I would merely hold the weight briefly for you, until you were ready to take it back. Even the strongest horses require a respite from time to time, as do the strongest of warriors. And unlike thy kin, I am an Elf. And I do not judge thee, White Lady, nor am I in a position to abuse thy confidence."

She regarded the Elf for several moments. The burden she spoke of was so closely guarded that she did not even admit it to Éomer or the King. She could not believe it but his eyes seemed to tell her she could trust him.

"My burden is not born of having too much responsibility, Legolas," she began, keeping her voice steady. "Nor is it the whining of a spoiled Princess who yearns for a life of idle leisure." She looked fiercely at him for any sign that he thought so lowly of her. She was almost afraid when she saw no sign of disdain or disbelief on his face, and merely a serene gaze, as though he were waiting for her to resume her tale when she was ready.

"The King kept to his own counsel when he was…when he was ill," she continued. "In particular, he held the opinion of one above all others – Gríma Wormtongue, who you met when you arrived at Edoras." She spat the name with contempt, her voice shaking slightly.

"Wormtongue was not loyal, either to the King, or to Rohan. He was selfish and ambitious, far more concerned with his own advancement and his own skewed view of Rohan. He used the King to gain power, hoping to take the throne for himself, and all that…all that he hoped would come with it." Éowyn could not keep her voice steady as her mind filled with the horrible ideas that Wormtongue had smeared her with when he revealed his true intentions.

"With Théodred dead, and the King not himself, it was left to my brother and I to hold the Kingdom together. Éomer was often riding with his legion, fighting Orcs who had crossed our borders and doing what he could to protect the outlying villages. Taking care of the King and in essence ruling in his stead fell to me and to…to the King's advisor."

"As the years went by, there seemed to be no improvement, either in the King's condition or the defence of our lands. Orcs roaming across the Mark became commonplace, as Éomer could not stop all of them as he could not be in multiple places at once. Many became despondent, fearing that our way of life, our future, was slowly slipping away from us. When you face such sheer despair for years on end, my Lord, one learns not to hope. One learns that hope has abandoned these lands."

Legolas watched as Éowyn turned away, looking out beyond the walls. Her voice was very quiet, and her eyes cold. Her lip quivered, but he did not dare interrupt her. She seemed made of stone to him in that moment, and yet so delicate still as to be ivory or even glass. Firm to the touch surely, but liable to shatter at any moment.

"With the King fading, and Wormtongue poised to take his power, my only thoughts were on the safety of my people. Wormtongue would be merciless and cruel, and he would never listen to Éomer, or accept any defiance from my brother, which would surely come. That was the burden I was forced to carry, my Lord. Knowing that my home was being destroyed, eroded from within by dark forces, and seeing no salvation, only a sacrifice that would have to be made to bring small comfort to my people in what could be their final days. I would have no choice. I am the White Lady after all, and I would do my duty for my people."

Éowyn swallowed as long buried feelings poured forth as she confessed to Legolas. It was a desperate and terrible bargain that she knew would have been presented to her once Gríma seized control of the throne. In the months leading to Legolas' unexpected arrival at Edoras, she had resisted all of Wormtongue's advances, and he had grown more fearsome and tormenting, hissing at her of all manner of wicked thoughts and threats. She had foreseen the sequence of events in her mind, forced to think on them as he recited them to her again and again. She had seen no way out.

Legolas could not help himself. He reached out for her as she ceased speaking. She did not need to say anything more as anger welled within him as the disgusting scenario became clear to him. He nervously touched her shoulder to reassure her and found her suddenly turning into his arms and crying into his chest. He slowly ran his hand up and down her back, whispering to her in Sindarin, and their touch was a shock to both of them.

"You are strong, Shieldmaiden," he whispered. "Wormtongue is gone. You need not keep him here any longer. You were brave to endure such torment for so long, Lady Éowyn. Still you stand. Still you fight. Still you persevere. You have not been defeated. He is gone and you have won, my Lady."

Legolas was grateful when she pulled away and gave him a timid nod. He remembered the feel of her, even after he escorted her back inside and wished her good night.