My horse's foot steps into another puddle, making the sit uncomfortable. I shift positions on my white steed again and let it step over another root on the forest floor. I follow behind Legolas and Gimli, Éomer right behind me.

I think about what happened after the battle of Helm's Deep and smile:

.

Bodies of Uruk-hai flood the lands in, and out, of the walls. I walk past them and over to Legolas who is speaking to Gimli.

"Final count... forty-two," he says to the dwarf rather proudly.

"Forty-two? Why that's not bad for a pointy-eared elvish prince-ling," he says as he smokes a pipe, sitting on the body of an orc that has his ax sticking from its head. "I myself am sitting pretty on forty-three."

Legolas loads quickly and fires an arrow between the dwarf's legs, it sticking into the orc beneath him. "Forty-three," he says.

"He was already dead."

"He was twitching."

"He was twitching because he's got my ax embedded in his nervous system!"

"You kids are cute. Let me know when you've hit sixty," I say merely walking past them. They don't say anything but I can sense their gaze behind me.

That's when I look ahead and see Éomer helping the others gather the bodies for burning. He sighs and takes off his helmet.

I smile and run forward. He doesn't see me until I collide with him, my arms hugging his large shoulders covered in leather armor. "My lady," he chuckles, staggering back.

"Thank you," I say.

"For what miss?" his hand touches the back of my head.

I back off him but look in his brown eyes. "If you hadn't of come we would have lost this battle. You saved us."

"Then thank Gandalf. I would not have come if he hadn't found me."

I smile.

He returns my expression but as we begin to walk again, he says, "Did you really kill over sixty Uruks?"

"Lord no. I just like to watch them argue," I reply with a snicker.

He wasn't expecting that answer but he chuckles and follows after me.

.

As the memories fade in my head I remember the last thing Gandalf had said to us that day: "Sauron's wrath will be terrible, his retribution swift... The battle for Helm's Deep is over. The battle for Middle Earth is about to begin."

Finally the sky breaks the trees and we see the clouds, glowing from the sun behind it. Before us my eyes gaze upon the tower of Orthanc in the center of Isengard, the flooded lands and home of Saruman the White. I had pictured it more sinister but alas it has been overrun by Ents and completely torn up. No orc in sight but only ruins of structure and remains of creatures all around the foot of the great black tower.

The Ents stormed Isengard? Did they kill Saruman?

A childish cackling gets my attention and I turn to where Gandalf, at the head of the line, looks towards. There on the rubble of what was once a stone wall, sitting with food all around them and smoking pipes, Merry and Pippin the little hobbits. I haven't seen them since we were all in Bree together. I remember Legolas saying they were staying with the Ents. Seems they hitched a ride to Orthanc.

"Welcome, my lords and lady," Merry says joyfully as he stands, unbalanced on the wall, "to Isengard!" he gestures behind him clumsily, his eyelids looking heavy.

"You young rascals!" Gimli scolds from the back of Legolas's horse. "A merry hunt you've led us on and now we find you feasting and... and smoking!"

"We are sitting on a field of victory enjoying a few well-earned comforts," Pippin justifies with meat in his mouth. "...The salted pork is particularly good."

"Salted pork...?" Gimli drools.

"We're under orders from Treebeard, who has taken over management of Isengard," Merry says.

Just then I look up to see a mighty Ent with a long beard of leaves, stomping slowly about the waters as we approach Orthanc.

"Young Master Gandalf," Treebeard bellows with a deep, husky, and stiff voice. The first time I have heard an Ent speak. "I'm glad you have come."

Our horses' feet splash in the dirty water as we come to him. I steer mine up beside Aragorn's and look upon the tall tree humanoid.

"Wood and water, stock and stone I can manage," Treebeard says. "But there is a wizard to manage here... locked in his tower."

Aragorn looks up at the skyscraper. "Who yourself," he murmurs in a whisper.

"Be careful," Gandalf says. "Even in defeat Saruman is dangerous."

I can't help but stiffen up. This wizard must be powerful if he was once stronger, if not still, as Gandalf the White. I can't imagine his appearance either. Perhaps he is the armored figure I saw in my dream. But that frightens me. Like a nightmare come to life.

"Well let's just have his head and be done with it," Gimli growls.

"No," Gandalf says.

"We need him alive," I say.

"And we need him to talk," Gandalf mutters.

"Yes and then he will pay for what he has done," I say to Gimli. I agree with him but also with Gandalf that there is information we need before we try to kill him.

"You have fought man wars and slain many men, Théoden King and made peace afterwards," A new voice says. But it's one I recognize, the one that had come from Théoden when he was possessed by Saruman, the deep, villainess voice.

I look up on the top of the tower to see a figure there wearing a white robe, layered like Gandalf's but he carries a black staff with a white orb on the crown of it. His hair and beard is like that of Gandalf's as well.

"Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" he continues.

Théoden looks down, grinding his teeth. "We shall have peace," he murmurs. He looks to where the wizard stands. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! ...When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows," he growls, "...we shall have peace."

"Gibbets and crows?" Saruman snarls. "Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess. The key of Orthanc. Or perhaps the keys of Barad-dûr itself along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of The Five Wizards!"

"Your treachery has already cost many lives," Gandalf calls up to him. "Thousands more now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman! You are deep in the enemy's counsel."

"So you have come here for information," he chuckles. "I have some for you." He takes out a black sphere from his robes with his empty hand and holds it for him to see. In the orb I can see thousands of miles deep... death, pain, sorrow, and everything anyone could fear in one gaze.

I look away, breathing.

Aragorn looks over at me in concern.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth," Saruman says, looking into the orb. "Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You're all going to die... But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor."

Aragorn looks up at him from under his brow.

"This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king," he continues.

"What do you know old fart?" I snort.

I feel Éomer's gaze on me.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him," Saruman says. "...those he professes to love... Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the halfling before you sent him to his doom? That path that you have sent him on will only lead to death."

"I've heard enough!" Gimli interrupts. He nudges the elf in front of him. "Shoot him," he whispers. "Stick an arrow in his gob."

I can tell he wants to and he even reaches for an arrow but Gandalf stops him by saying no.

"Come down, Saruman and your life will be spared—!" Gandalf says.

"Save your pity and your mercy! I have no use for it!" he points his staff and sends a mighty fireball down on the White Wizard.

All of us flinch and stare but the fire circles around Gandalf and disintegrates, leaving him unharmed.

"Saruman!" he calls. "Your staff is broken!"

Just then the wizard's weapon shatters and he staggers to stand on his own. He hesitates and seems surprised by Gandalf's power.

But I see another figure come up behind him, shorter, and hunched backed, with black clothes and dirty black hair.

"Grima," Théoden calls. "You need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan. Come down."

Grima bows in humility and walks from the edge.

"'A man of Rohan'," Saruman grumbles. "What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs?!"

I take offense in Éowyn's case for that but try to keep my mouth shut. 'And how would you know so much about a whore house?'

"The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horse-master," Saruman continues. "You are a lesser son of greater sires."

I pull out my bow and notch an arrow, pulling back and aiming up at him. "You have a big mouth for someone who stands at the mercy of us, feuyaer!" I say darkly.

Théoden ignores what Saruman had said and speaks before he can reply to me. "Grima... come down. Be free of him."

The man looks regretful and wants to do so.

"Free?" Saruman growls. "He will never be free."

"No," Grima interrupts.

"Get down, cur!" he commands the man and then slaps him across the face, knocking him to his back.

"Saruman!" Gandalf says. "You were deep in the enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!"

"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here!"

But arms are wrapped around him and suddenly the wizard's face shows shock. I look as he is stabbed to death by his prisoner. Before we can react, an arrow whizzes through the air and pierces Grima in the shoulder. The man falls back, letting go of Saruman.

The wizard's body plummets down the side of the tower and he is impaled on his own spiked water wheel. I look away from this and close my eyes.

Well that's that then... But I doubt he would have cooperated anyway... Even if he was evil it's still another soul gone, plus Grima now. And that is nothing to celebrate.

"Send word to all our allies," Gandalf says in haste. "And to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

Just then the wheel that wizard is on starts moving, sending his body into the deep, the black orb falling from his cloak and splashing into the water.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away," Treebeard says. "Trees will come back to live here. Young trees, wild trees—"

"Pippin," Aragorn calls as he hops off the back of his horse and walks through the water over to where the sphere is hidden, glowing golden.

He picks it up and stares at it, marveling at it in his hands.

"Bless my bark," Treebeard says in awe of the thing.

"Peregrin Took," Gandalf says. "I'll take that, my lad."

He hesitates.

"Quickly now."

Pippin hands him the orb and the wizard takes it, hiding it beneath his cloak and giving the hobbit a disapproved look.

There's something more to this and I wonder about it...

But our places here in Orthanc is done and we must return to our people who have travelled back to Edoras.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

"Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country," King Théoden says in front of his throne, toasting for those lost in the war. It is evening now, and it has been a quiet day here. I have slept through most of it though. I think the majority of us have.

Théoden raises his goblet. "Hail the victorious dead!"

"Hail!" Everyone repeats and then takes a drink form their own.

I don't really drink any of it because after I had the elvish wine I don't have the need for this crap.

I move through people busy eating, mingling, drinking, and talking happily. I only see a few eyes of men turn my way and I just nod politely when I see them. Tonight I had put on a sleeveless leather dress that buttons up the front and laces up the sides. I wear a white under-dress beneath it that has flowing long sleeves. I look twice when I see someone I know. It's Éowyn and she hands the royal goblet for Aragorn to drink out of respect. He takes it from her gently, stars in her eyes. He gives it back after a sip and bows, taking his leave.

I follow him to where he goes to stand against a pillar and think.

"You know she's like head-over-heals for you right?" I say to him, looking the same direction he is.

He looks at me, puzzled.

I roll my eyes. "She had feelings for you. Are you blind? Or do you also have them for her?"

He looks down. "My heart belongs to another."

"I though you said that elf girl was gone for good."

"That is what fact tells me. But my heart says she is still in Middle Earth... And I cannot be close to anyone else..."

"Then you need to tell Éowyn as soon as possible because she thinks you like her."

He doesn't reply but looks down.

I leave him when I see someone familiar in the distance... oh lord. "What the...?" I start in a murmur and make my way through the crowd. I get to a table where the mead barrel is with Éomer standing beside it, handing a mug of the stuff to Legolas. Gimli sits with them and a few others are around.

I am not polite and shove the drunkards out of my way.

There is a pile of empty mugs at the table and Gimli is huffing, burping, and chugging the things.

Legolas pours it down his throat quickly and holds out his hand for another.

"Seriously, Éomer?" I scold him as he chuckles.

"What? Come on you have to admit this if humorous," he justifies.

I look over my shoulder as a man passes out on the floor behind me.

He hands another mug to Legolas who just drinks it like it's his job. Gimli, on the other hand, talks to himself.

I cross my arms. "Legolas... how many of these have you drunk?"

He looks at me after he finishes another with a pained look from the taste. He observes the pile of empty cups innocently. Then he looks up at me. "Twenty-five?"

I hear Éomer snicker and I punch him on the arm.

"She is aggressive," he grunts.

"With you men I have to be," I wrinkle my nose.

Legolas looks down at his half empty mug with hesitation.

"Arrgh it's the dwarves who go swimmin' with little hairy women!" Gimli burps then bursts into laughter.

Éomer hands him another when he asks and I watch the foam drip down the dwarf's beard.

"I feel something..." Legolas murmurs.

Éomer looks at him with his eyebrows raised.

"A slight tingling in my fingers... I think it's affecting me," the elf breathes, innocently, looking down at the table with regret.

Gimli throws down another mug. "What did I say?" he growls. "He can't hold his liquor..." the dwarf goes completely cross-eyed and falls back against his chair, the weight of his body bringing it down with him to the ground with a thump, finally passed out.

I look back up at Legolas who turns his head towards Éomer. "Game over," he says, almost in a pleasantly surprised way.

I walk around to Legolas on the other side of the table. "Okay I think you've had enough..." I slowly pry the mug from his hand as he looks at my with his eyebrow raised.

I sniff the drink and wrinkle my nose, putting it back on the table.

Then I frown. I place both my hands on his shoulder and lean in to sniff him. I hesitate. "You don't smell like mead..."

He twitches his head.

I look at Éomer. "He smells like roses," I frown.

He lifts his eyebrows.

"Do elves even get drunk?" I ask Legolas, taking my hands of his shoulder. I realize that he just wears the long sleeved undershirt that is normally worn under his green tunic.

"I... think so..." he thinks hard with a frown.

I laugh.

I hear a merry song in the halls where we stand, in the area in front of the throne where it is clear of tables. I see women and men go out and dance happily, some of them drunk. I see the two halflings dancing on the table and singing this joyful music in unison:

"Oh you can search far and wide

You can drink the whole town dry

But you'll never find a beer so brown

But you'll never find a beer so brown

As the one we drink in our hometown

As the one we drink in our hometown

You can drink your fancy ales

You can drink 'em by the flagon

But the only brew for the brave and true comes from the Green Dragon!

The men clap along and I stand by Éomer.

"Ask a woman to dance. You look lonely," I laugh in the midst of all the fun.

He smiles sheepishly. "...I couldn't—"

"Come on!" I hit his chest. "Have some fun!"

I grab his wrist by his shirt and drag him to the dance floor to try to get him to ask someone while he resists.

"Why don't you want to dance?" I ask.

"I don't have a partner."

"Then get one!"

"I've got an idea," another voice says and shoves both of our shoulders onto where the others dance.

I act scared. I don't know how to dance. I look over my shoulder to see it was Aragorn who stands there smiling widely at us and clapping.

Éomer has my waist in one hand and my left hand in the other as we improvise a bit. But we just move to the merry music and I don't feel too bad. The both of us laugh the whole time as we try to dance like the others. He spins me around but I almost trip, balancing myself by a hand at his chest and laughing.

But once the song ends we part from each other, my eyes flashing over to the crowd where I catch a gaze from blue eyes and a long face that I don't look twice at. I breathe and walk over to smiling Aragorn. "What was that?" I ask angrily while hitting him repeatedly.

He just laughs. "Accident?"

"Psshhh!"

When I look left I see Éomer looking after me with a smile.

And then my eyes catch the other one who looks at me as well.

I look at the floor and bite my lip. But I casually make my way to the other side of the room. The elf pretends he does not see me and looks to the center of the room.

"So are you sure you're not drunk?" I ask.

"Yes, Vil—"

"How many fingers am I holding up?" I shove my hand in front of him and he staggers back.

"Uh—"

"Too slow!" I pull my hand back. "Yup you're screwed up."

"What—?"

"End of discussion! I am ignoring you form now on..." I stare to the others with a plain look.

"You certainly are not ignoring Éomer..." he mumbles.

My eyes widen. I turn my head to him. "What?"

He looks regretful and his eyes show fear.

I bite my lip and look down. "Well... No why would I ignore the one I am pledged to?"

His eyebrows lift slightly and his big innocent eyes show heartbreak. He seems utterly speechless.

"Yeah he proposed to me tonight."

He swallows and nods slowly, looking down at the ground. But then he looks back up with a smile on his lips but not in his eyes. "Congratulations."

"I'm kidding, Legolas," I say, cracking up.

He seems taken aback. "Oh," he breathes.

"Don't give me that attitude you were totally heartbroken!" I joke.

"I was not," he laughs nervously.

"Oh really?" I challenge and approach him, standing on my toes and crawling my fingers up his chest, gripping his collar. I lean in close and use my other hand to touch his soft cheek. "Are you sure you're not jealous perhaps?" I whisper as he hesitates, feeling his hand touch my back.

But he doesn't answer.

"You can tell me," I say making him awkward.

He opens his mouth to speak but can't find words, swallowing nervously.

I back off him. "You don't need to confirm it I already know, it's fine."

He laughs and looks down. "It is not polite to argue with a woman."

"And yeah I turned him down," I sigh in thought.

"You're joking with me aren't you?"

"No."

"You are."

"Am not."

"You are, Vil."

"Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"I am."

"I don't think you're going to remember any of this tomorrow."

"Vilora!" he chuckles.

I laugh out loud and put my head and hand against a pillar. He can't help but laugh also as his hand touches the top of my back, probably making sure I am not dying of laughter.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                .

The party ends after about another hour as the men head to bed. The other men that are passed out are dragged from the halls.

I had given the room I had stayed in last time to the wounded soldiers. So I sleep with the hobbits, Gandalf, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli in the barracks room on a thick blanket.

The night fades. I look over at the others who are all sleeping soundly. My eyes flash over Gimli who is snoring and then Legolas who sleeps by him, his pale, flawless skin, and his eyes at rest, looking so peaceful in his slumber.

I smile and close my eyes, falling into the dark.

            .

.

Shadow surrounds me. I cannot see anything. But my hands feel cold. I look down at them to see they are covered in blood. Is it my blood? I do not even feel wounded.

I feel my eyes sting with tears. I hear a voice in the distance. Whose voice is it? I do not know. But it echoes, piercing my ears with pain.

I feel myself fall to my knees, covering my ears as the voice gets louder. It's saying my name. Then my heart is stabbed when I realize who the voice belongs to. It is Ryohnin.

I shut my eyes tightly and hold back salt water from escaping my eyes.

Then when my hands drop they touch flesh. I look down in my lap to see him lying here, with that arrow through his neck, his blood staining my palms.

"Vilora please don't go," he begs with those adorable eyes.

"I won't," I choke. "I'm right here. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Vil..."

"Stay with me. Ryohnin stay with me."

"I can't."

I close my eyes tight and feel the lump in my throat get heavier.

His hand clutches my wrist and I look up. But when my eyes flash to the left I see someone else standing there. He wears a long silver robe but not his crown. His blue eyes watch his son as the life leaves him, showing utter despair and pain.

I try to speak, to call out to him, to beg for his forgiveness but my voice cannot be found.

A child runs to King Thranduil's feet, a small child, by the age of maybe six, with long blonde hair that reaches his shoulders and a white tunic, his innocent blue eyes seeming so familiar. He looks over at me and at Ry. He seems completely confused and he tugs on his father's robes. The tiny Legolas points to Ryohnin as I let tears flood from my eyes.

His father bends down to pull the young elf into his embrace, water escaping the king's eyes.

I look back down at my companion to see the life leave him, his eyes holding dead stars.

I shut my eyes form the pain but I cannot hold it at bay.

The screams come back... the screams of Ry and the dead ones... I hear the wailing of King Thranduil and his little son who weeps bitterly.

My hands turn to fists and I try to grip something, anything. Finally they touch blanket and the darkness around me turns to the dim wooden walls, my voice finally being heard in my ears.

"My lady?" I hear someone ask frantically.

My vision comes back and I see the floor that I was sleeping on as my hands grab at it. I lunge forward, grabbing the handle of the door and thrusting it open. I scramble onto the outer deck of the Golden Halls and fumble onto the concrete, trying to breathe. I hear the door shut behind me and a hand touches my back in comfort and concern.

"Shhh," a whispering voice says calmly. "It's alright... It was just a dream."

"It wasn't a dream!" I finally gasp. My hands touch the wooden wall of the building in front of me and my head rests against it, tears falling from my eyes, straight from my heart. "Legolas it was real!"

"What do you mean Vil?" he asks a voice that almost shakes itself, just because of how upset I am alone.

"It was my fault!" I cry out. "It was my fault..." I start taking short breaths, not able to speak correctly. "I'm so sorry Legolas."

He is kneeling beside me as I sob like a child.

He doesn't speak, knowing not of what I am talking about.

"Ryohnin died because of me... It was my fault."

"Oh, Vilora," he breathes with sympathy. I feel his hand touch my chin gently. Without thinking I let myself fall into his embrace. He holds me tightly with a hand at the back of my head. "I'm so sorry," I repeat but he shushes me quietly.

I tell him in detail what happened, expecting him to hate me for life. I don't blame him. He already isn't familiar with death. And this one killed him like it did his father...

But he doesn't hate me... instead he shows kindness.

"Ryohnin's death was pure fate there was nothing you could have done," he says trying not to cry as well. "It is not your fault and don't you ever think that it was. Understand me?"

I just continue to cry on his slick tunic, my arms curled up against his chest, sitting on his knee.

"Shhh," he says softly like I am a child. "I need you to forgive yourself, Vilora. This did not happen from your cause. You must understand that, my darling."

I cannot find myself to speak.

"We have to move on, my lady. We cannot carry his weight for the rest of our lives. He lives in the world beyond this one, happily..." he lifts my chin with his finger. "Alright?"

I look deeply into his blue eyes and finally nod.

He makes a sympathetic smile but I can see tears of his own trying to escape at the thought of his brother.

I shut my eyes once more and bury my face in his clothes.

He strokes the back of my head until I remember no more.

                                                                                    .

.

.

.

.

Voices muttering around me finally bring me to the light. Footsteps walk around on the wooden floor where my ear presses against. I am in the barracks? But how? I remember... I suppose he had carried me here after I fell asleep in his arms.

I bite my lip at this thought and my fingers come up to pull the hair from my face.

After all I have done and all he has already done for me he has forgiven me so easily. He knows that fate is something we cannot change. Our roads are already drawn for us and we must walk them with faith and our hearts pure.

I feel cleansed now... Perhaps he is right. What happened wasn't my fault. He was destined to go. And now he lives with his mother and grandfather and other ancestors. I envy him. He is in a happier place than I am.

There is a peeking of something else as well, something I have not seen for many years. There is someone who does not own a body looking out for me. And this whispers in my heart and brings joy to my soul. All of the things I have been through are challenges that morph me into who I am and I should be grateful for that. I realize that this whole time I have been feeling sorry for myself. I must live again. I must live for him. Am I going to spend my life feeling sorrowful? Or should I rejoice in all that I have survived and be thankful for it. Life is short; too short to spend solemnly.

Legolas has moved on which surprises me greatly. If he can do this can't I?

Yes I can. Thank you Ryohnin for all that you have done and for giving your life for me. I will live for you and make you proud along with the One whom you stay with.

I breathe in, feeling like a whole new person.

I slide my hand back under my head and prop myself up. I see some men in the main hall helping to clean up from the party last night.

What time is it? I think to myself.

I sit up, looking around the room. The only one still sleeping is young Peregrin. The room is vacant besides him.

I pull the thick blanket off my body and stand to my feet, stretching. I look to my right where the elf was sleeping, a wadded blanket where he was.

I huff and walk out into the halls, running my fingers through my hair. I notice only Éowyn in the room as she helps gather empty, sticky mugs.

She sees me and I smile awkwardly.

I make my way across the room and over to her. "Can I borrow a brush?" I ask her.

She chuckles. "Yes there's one in my chamber."

"Thanks," I say and walk to her room, passing Éomer on the way who eats breakfast. He smiles and nods. I do the same to be polite.

But I get to her room and find a wooden hairbrush on her desk. I take it and run it through my tangled hair, pulling on the knots until they have all come out. I walk back to the room where I slept and quietly take out my tunic and trousers from Mirkwood and grab my boots.

I slip into an empty room with the door closed and quickly change.

I walk back out into the halls and sit for breakfast with the men. Aragorn is here munching on a piece of pork. Gimli is here as well drinking ale and wiping his mouth with his beard.

When Aragorn sees me he just nods in acknowledgement and I return it along with a smile. I eat alone quietly, just leaving the empty air with my thoughts.

Then after I help the others scrub the floors from last night. That lasts until lunch time. When I reenter the halls Merry and Pippin are talking cheerfully, and Gandalf and Théoden are here as well. Aragorn smokes his pipe alone and Gimli sits by the fire.

I see a few other men I do not know the names of, except the one that I had spoken to before with the child. He is still alive thankfully. I am sure his wife and child is glad of that as well.

I also see Legolas standing against a pillar and watching the two halflings as Merry throws grapes into Pippin's mouth. Hobbits.

I walk up to where they are gathered, not getting eyes my direction from anyone yet. I take a metal plate and put a few things on it. But as I carry it around the hobbits and to the table I am the only one closest to Legolas who now sees me, the only one who does.

I set my plate down. I look over my shoulder and then walk up to him casually, with an awkward smile. But standing at his side I wrap my arms around his torso and then let go, a quick hug that he smiles at but doesn't look at me.

I stand against the table and eat, making small talk with Merry and Pippin, just getting to know them a bit more.

Pippin talks to me the most after Merry leaves. He tells me about life in the Shire when I show interest, to be polite. He tells me about the trouble he got him and his friends into countless times.

For the most part he had a pretty quiet life, like a vacation. I would dream of the day where I could take a vacation. But on my world no such place existed.

The Shire sounds wonderful, like a fairytale land. Like what I would read about in children's books.

I want to ask him about Frodo and Sam seriously. And ask if he thinks they're alright. I worry for them. But I don't speak about it because of how happy the hobbit is right now. I don't want to bring that sullen attitude to him.

"Where were you before you plundered Isengard?" I ask.

"Merry and I were with Treebeard. He took us through Fangorn. But what a talker that one. We must have fallen asleep a hundred times... He lost his Ent wives. You wouldn't have happened to see them where you're from did you?"

"Um, I don't think so what do they look like?"

"I asked him that... he doesn't remember."

"Oh that's kinda sad."

He nods with raised eyebrows and sticks hit pipe in his mouth.

Just then Merry runs in the room excitedly. I notice that Gandalf is no longer here as well.

"Pippin!" he whispers and runs up to us.

Peregrin looks at his friend.

"I found the training grounds! Come on!" the hobbit says.

I frown.

Pippin hops up and chases his halfling friend out the doors of the hall.

I smile and shake my head. Then from boredom I decide to grab my arrows and bow, and follow the hobbits. The sun shines down on my face and I squint. My feet run on the hard stone and down the steps.

I run along through the village and down to the back of a building where I hear happy voices. I find Merry and Pippin there playing with wooden swords.

I approach them as they begin to tackle each other into the dirt. The training ground is just a small dirt area with straw dummies on poles, wooden weapons, and hay targets.

I walk past the hobbits as they wrestle and pull out my bow. I notch a red feathered arrow into place and pull my arm back. From here I aim and fire, the arrow hitting almost the center.

I practice there for a while until the hobbits leave and I am left alone.

I am completely focused... staring down the tip of my arrow and then slowly releasing the string, letting hit the inner ring around the bull's-eye. I lower my bow and observe it without satisfaction. But I am startled when another arrow hits the center of the target with a thud.

I turn my head to Legolas putting down his bow.

"Show off," I stick out my tongue.

He twitches his head to the side and smiles.

I look back at my arrows.

"You should not hold your bow so far from your face," he says walking up to me.

"Well excuse me for not wanting my face cut up."

He chuckles and watches as I pull back, ready to fire. But just before I let go his hand touches my arm and nudges it closer to my cheek.

"You're hand should be resting against your cheekbone," he says quietly in my ear.

I focus on the target, staring down the arrow and then letting go, hitting a bull's-eye.

I put the bow down and smile. Then I look back at him. "Wanna spar?"

He seems surprised. "You really wish to?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Then I shall go easy on you."

"Nope. Not needed." I smirk.

I put down my bow and pull out two wooden daggers. He picks up two wooden long knives and stands back from me.

"Ready?" I ask.

He smiles and then nods. "If you should be hurt just—"

I fling me wooden dagger at him and hits his knife, but just barely blocked. He looks shocked.

I charge forward, picking up my knife from the ground and blocking a blow he thrust down on me, and another he swings with his other blade under that strike.

I do a roll on the ground and come up behind him, but he spins around to block before I can get his back. I thrust it to the side with a hit on his arm and duck as he swings over my head.

We go at each other's throats like that for while.

I smack my weapons against his repeatedly until one blow knocks mine from me and I am left without being armed. So I run up to him, leaping over his head, and pulling him down to the ground with a spin. I have both his weapons and I hold them at an ex to his throat.

His eyes are wide open and he looks surprised. But I know that he went easy on me. I mean he's had three thousand years of training and I've had about eighteen.

"What's wrong? Did I hurt you?" I tease.

He makes a smirk. "Not at all."

"Good." I pull back and hold out my hand.

He takes it, being the gentleman that he is, and stands on his feet. I realize then that there is no shadow. The clouds have blocked the sun and sends a cool breeze on us.

I go back to archery for now, firing arrows at the target while talking to Legolas the whole time.

"So what was it like growing up in Mirkwood?" I ask. "And surrounded by adults? Did you get lonely?"

"Well perhaps sometimes I did. Up until my brother was born. But my ada was close to me though... he loved me very much."

"I'm sure he did. You have a wonderful father."

"Indeed..."

I look above me when I hear distant thunder. The clouds have gotten dark around us, and it is almost dusk.

"Have you always been into archery?" I ask.

He chuckles. "I have. Since I was a youngling. My ada taught me to shoot a bow since age five."

"Wow... I remember learning how to fire a gun at age seven does that count?" I say as I fire another arrow.

"I was younger. I win."

"No I always win. Sorry."

He breathes a quiet laugh.

Another loud thunder strike cracks in the sky.

"But wait I thought you said you fired your first arrow when you were eight."

"I did. But before then they were wooden tips."

Just then I look on my hand as a rain drop hits it. But I continue to pull back and fire at my target. "Ah. So is your ada good at archery then?"

"Somewhat. But between you and me I think I beat him. He is skillful with blades however."

"Ah, yeah, this I know."

He doesn't respond but I feel his gaze behind me.

"Vilora we should go," he says. "It has begun to rain."

"Hold on," I say and let go of my current arrow.

I pull out one more.

"Vil—"

"Wait!" I pull back, determined to get another bull's-eye before we leave.

He laughs at my determination. Rain drops have begun to fall down on us now, making dark spots on my clothes.

I run up to the target to gather my arrows.

Legolas helps me to put them back in my quiver.

"I love the rain," I say as we make our way from the training grounds. "I don't get it often on my world."

He looks over at me, his face wet from rain.

"Come on feel the rain on your skin. Don't you like it?" I smile.

He looks amused but I hold my tongue to catch drops.

"What are you doing?"

"Eating rain leave me alone!" I joke.

"I will not," he protests.

"Well fine." I run past him towards the main halls at the top of the hill.

He chases me.

I laugh from this but he catches up to me. "Vilora come," he laughs.

"Alright, alright." I squint from the heavy downpour.

He lifts his cloak over both our heads and we race back towards the Golden Halls.

I actually begin to burst into laughter for no reason. "Wait," I huff. And we get under the cover of a straw roofing of the back of a building.

"What is it?" he asks.

"Laughing and running wears me out I just need to catch my breath."

"Well alright. But hurry. It is not proper for a man to be out here with a woman in the rain," he chuckles.

"Do you always follow the rules?" I smirk up at him.

He twitches his head slightly but thinks. "No." He takes my face in his hands and his lips press against mine unexpectedly. I am taken aback but I wrap my arms around his neck as his hands grab my waist. My face moves from his wet lips and I press them against once more, him holding me close.

My heart sings completely. And when we part a little and I can sense a smile on the elf's face. I do the same. I can't help it. My fingers are tangled in his wet blonde hair and his hand comes up to my cheek. We breathe, our noses only touching. This seems so unexpected. But I cannot be happier.

My hands grip his collar and I come in for another, wrapping my lips around his top one, breathing in his scent, and closing my eyes.

His finger traces down my spine and stop at my back. My hands slide down to his chest and after a few minutes we finally part lips from each other.

My eyes are still closed, and I grin. I open then to see him there with a genuine, excited smile on his face that shows deep care and love. But I am overjoyed and I smiles widely, lunging at him and wrapping my arms around his neck and shoulders, him staggering back into the rain and spinning around once, the water hitting our heads and clothes.

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He puts me down and covers my head with his cloak once more. I giggle and we run back to the halls, laughing on the way.

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