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L U M O R N E L

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The road to the Western Hope was unadventured, meaning it was full of sticks and tripping roots and squirrel droppings with no obvious path for eyes to see and had been this way for the past two weeks. I half wondered if Aragorn was leading us in circles. Or if we were going in the right direction at all.

I sighed and scooted into a more comfortable position while Eridan boiled stew over a fire. Learning directions and how to travel when in the middle of who-knows-where was one of the many things I had not been taught. Maybe Aragorn would have taught me... but I had just been... with Orthanc on the mind and Legolas not being himself, there just wasn't a good time. In many ways, I was still that human girl who thought she knew the world because she read books. Still, with all my shortcomings and ignorance, what a long way I've come.

I dipped my quill into the inkwell and hovered my hand over the paper. The off-white stared back at me. It seemed to taunt me with its emptiness.

I groaned, throwing my head back in the air. It all seemed so silly now. The world and all its problems seemed so big, too big. How could I possibly write it all down? How would I make sense of it if I were to write it down? Everything seemed so jumbled up in my head that I didn't know what was up from down.

I was home, back in Middle-earth. Except my home didn't seem very home-like. From what I heard and remembered, the inhabitants were fighting fiercely, many succumbing to the enemy. I could even feel the weighted foreboding upon the air like a heavy shroud.

And who was the enemy? What did they want? Why all this lets-destroy-Middle-earth? How was I even supposed to defeat them?

I glanced at Legolas who stared idly into the cook's noontime fire. He seemed to have fallen into a melancholy again. Though he was silent and often got lost in his thoughts, he would still regard me with familiarity. I knew his gloominess wasn't due to thinking I wasn't me. No, he had made himself quite clear that he had accepted that his Lumornel had been returned to him. I would just have to give him time. It didn't take a day to resurface from nine years of depression.

Still, my heart twisted. I so wanted to forget all this prophecy-written nonsense and just run away to some secluded part of the forest with him. And I could. Everyone hated me. They would probably even thank me if I just disappeared. But I couldn't, I had a duty to do... even if I still wasn't sure how to go about it, even if I wasn't sure I entirely wanted to do so. I had a home to fight for. I had to fight so that peace could once again be upon us. And I so wanted that peace... to just live with Legolas, not a care in the world, no evil to be rid of.

Smiling, I wrote that down.

'Peace. Fight so that all can return to what it once was.'

I tried to ignore the flutter of anxiety that bloomed up at those words. I closed my eyes as all my scars seemed to come to awareness in tandem. Fight. Fight so others will not have to suffer the same evils you did.

"Lumornel?"

I opened my eyes to see Aragorn settling down beside me. He regarded me with questioning eyes and held out a bowl of steaming stew.

"I'm fine," I said, taking the bowl and spoon. "Just thinking."

Almost as if instinct, I searched out Legolas. He was a dozen paces away, gathering his portion of soup and conversing with Tirithan. His countenance still seemed gloomy, like something was weighing it down, but he talked quickly, quietly. Tirithan seemed glad for the conversation and he seemed to hold himself taller.

"Not too hard, I hope."

I laughed. "Well, I can't help it if I do, mellon."

Aragorn smiled, but it soon faded as he gazed up at the dark trees. They spun skyward like a multitude of spindly skeletons, waving slightly in the breeze.

"Thank you," he said, rather suddenly though the words were said softly. "Words are not enough to describe how grateful I am for what you did that day before the Black Gate."

"Aragorn, I—" He held up a hand.

"Do not tell me it was what you had to do. You did not have to fight Duvaineth for me. If I am correct, she was looking to battle me, not you. You saved many lives that day, Lumornel. Not just mine and the soldiers on that battlefield, but Arwen's too, and Eldarion's and his unborn sibling. If it were not for your sacrifice, I would not have my own family and Arwen would have succumbed to grief. You died in my place and that is something I cannot even begin to repay, but I will try. And I am overjoyed that you are here with us again."

I bit the inside of my lip as I felt tears threaten to spill over—

Nearly toppling my bowl in the process, I threw my arms around him. Big, fat, warm tears quietly escaped down my cheeks.

"I would do it again, if I could," I whispered. "You have nothing to repay."

Aragorn hugged me back, his embrace strong and steady. "Mellon, you are too good for this world."

I chuckled and pulled back, wiping away the watery evidence before anyone else could see. "I highly doubt that. You though," I shyly elbowed him, "are more than Gondor deserves. They should thank you more."

He quietly regarded me for a moment, assessing me with those deeply seeing eyes. He shook his head, allowing a small smile to come to his lips. "They will thank me when this land is free from evil."

"I'm sure they are already thanking you."

His expression became grave. "Minas Tirith has been taken by the enemy, I do not think they will thank me before Gondor's King city has been reclaimed."

I stared at him in shock, though as he said the words my knowledge of the fact came seeping back. "Minas Tirith is taken?" The words were hardly more than a squeak.

He nodded solemnly. "It was the first of many."

"Edoras?"

He nodded. "They were still in Helm's Deep when it happened."

A deep pit of coldness sank in my gut, settling heavily like a stone, as I thought of a woodland, home to much more than trees and elves. I couldn't bring myself to glance at Legolas. I could barely even breathe. "Mirkwood?"

"The King's Halls are still under Thranduil's gaze, though the surrounding woods are not."

My gaze firmly became fixed on the bowl of brown, steaming food in my hands. But I didn't see it. I only saw my home. The place I hoped to return to. My breath caught. My parents.

I stood abruptly, seeking out Legolas—

Aragorn caught my wrist. "Do not bother him about it." His saddened gray eyes settled on his elven friend, then me. "He blames himself, though he will not say it."

I bit my cheek, stealing a peek at my prince. The elf who once went behind his King's back to raid Dol Guldur simply because he loved his people.

"Please, Lumornel. I promised his father I would look after him. I fear even the slightest thing will unbalance him."

Again, I glanced at Legolas who chuckled softly at something Tirithan said. "Is he really that bad?"

"Since you've been here, he has improved. But yes, before you, he was unstable. Some days he was as quiet as the hour before a storm and he'd hole up in his room for days. Others he would train with a weapon and nothing could stop him." Aragorn's eyes slid to me. "His grief had been building up for a long time, has it not?"

I hesitated but nodded. His mother, his soldiers who were tortured, then murdered. The Ring. "I think my death was his tipping point."

He nodded his silent agreement.

"Have you thought much about the enemy we fought?"

I plopped down next to him. Picking up my bowl and taking my first not-as-hot bite. "No. Actually, I had been hoping not to think about it until we get to the Western Hope."

Like all things from the past couple years, the memory took a while to sluggishly resurface, so I had no problems avoiding it. And when the others spoke of it as we journeyed, I simply thought of other things or poked at Legolas. I'd rather take the time this journey gave me adjusting to life here, to reconnecting with my favorite ellon.

"I understand," Aragorn stated. "But there are things I must know."

I quietly spooned in another mouth full of stew, which was surprisingly good. Eridan had been holding back on us. Where was he two nights ago when we had that deer? I shuddered at the thought of it. Disgusting, grassy, burnt deer. I never, never wanted to taste it again.

"What did the elleth say to you?"

I gripped the bowl tight, but I supposed it was time to stop pushing things aside. For tonight, at least.

"She—"

I cut off in a gasp.

The memory filtered back. She had stood tall, with long, red hair. But that face, that face. 'I even gave you my name', she had said.

But... her fiery hair was much longer, her skin free from the dirt and beatings. And she didn't scamper about like an ignorant, fearful elleth. 'Duvaineth isn't the only one who excels at acting.'

"Talaedra," I found myself saying, still seeing the elleth who had been imprisoned by Sauron, still seeing her dirty fingers wrapping around the cell's bars as she pleaded with me to help her escape. Her food for her freedom...

It couldn't be. But I again saw her when she had taken me from the uur rauko. Her voice had been commanding when she bid me stand. Her voice bitter when she explained she had been made to help me into Sauron's dark armor, a handmaiden of sorts. The way she had miraculously shifted from a bold, bitter elf to a scampering, submissive prisoner. All in under the span of a breath.

She had made herself seem so insignificant that even Sauron himself failed to see under her second skin. I was surprised that I even remembered her.

"She was imprisoned in the cell next to mine in Barad-dûr." Aragorn's brows rose. "She wasn't... like how we saw her."

"In what ways?"

I shrugged. "She was a prisoner. Her hair was cut for her humiliation, she was dirty and bruised. She seemed desperate for escape and had that young ignorance about her... but now I can see the gaps in her act. I don't think her imprisonment was unintentional—on her part."

"She didn't seem to act the part of a prisoner?"

I bit my lip, gazing down into the half-empty bowl. The cold wind blew stray strands into my face and I hastily tucked them behind my ear. "No, she did. She had the bruises and timid demeanor. But there were a few times where she seemed to not be that timid elleth, you know?"

I turned to him and could tell by the slight furrow in his brow that he didn't quite understand. Maybe he did a little, but not fully. "It's like..." I grasped at the air, trying to pull the right words to me. "It's like when you're in the presence of someone who deserves respect. Normally, with friends, you might slouch or joke about things, but in front of that one person you stand a little straighter and think more about what you say. Like you're truly the relaxed person, but when need be you can... ah... pull on a respectful personality. Something might happen though, like something annoying or a little too funny and that respect falters a little. You scowl or laugh when you aren't supposed to."

"So you believe she was hiding behind a pretense? A spy of some sort."

I started. When did Legolas sneak up on us? He fluttered a smile, but he remained in thought.

"Maybe? I don't really know... maybe she was there because she knew I was going to be there." The thought suddenly seemed a little self-centered but— "Alagosson was there, he would have let her out."

Aragorn shifted a little, as to include Legolas, and regarded me with silent, surprised eyes. Oh, I guess they wouldn't have known that he took me. "Possibly, but we cannot so quickly assume they were allies at that point."

Legolas absently nodded while I deflated a little. "Lum may have a point. A sane person would not imprison themselves without an escape plan. However, it's possible Talaedra had other securities in place. It would explain why she had put herself in such a situation, if your guesses are correct. If Alagosson and the elleth were in league, then why would Alagosson's watch over you during the journey to Mordor not be enough?"

I swirled my spoon around in the stew. "I guess you could be right but... I don't know. Maybe she would want to have a look at me herself? She did seem to be the leader..."

They both seemed doubtful. "Look, both of you are leaders. If there was a person who might be able to ruin whatever you were planning, wouldn't you want to see that person for yourself? You wouldn't send someone else to look at the possible problem, you would want to assess it yourself."

"Say Alagosson and Talaedra were working with each other," Aragorn began. "Then why did Alagosson not take you to her rather than Sauron?"

"I... I don't know. Maybe they needed me to go to Sauron?" I shrugged helplessly. I was useless when it came to this sort of talk.

Legolas settled himself on the cold ground before us and he shot me a look that seemed to say, you aren't useless.

I shrugged again, just a ghost of one so that Aragorn wouldn't notice our silent conversation. I glanced at him—

Oh he so saw our quiet communication. I quickly glanced away.

"Sauron might have placed her there himself," Aragorn said, though I could sense a bit of... amusement—maybe—at the spectacle he had witnessed.

I quickly shook my head. "Why though? He didn't need anyone to spy on me. He was soon to put the ring on my finger. The only reason why he didn't do that sooner was because he wanted t-to break me." I stumbled over the last words, suddenly feeling once again the dank cold of that cell, the torturous moments of beatings, the sweltering heat of the uur rauko. The cold bars of the cell. My ribs ached from wounds that were no longer there. I tugged on my sleeves, then took a quick spoonful of stew, some of it spilling on my shirt. The burst of flavor, the action of doing something itself, helped me move out of the memory. Helped me breathe, to move back into myself rather than floating in my own consciousness.

"I don't think we're going to suddenly know why she was in Barad-dûr or if she was with Alagosson then," I stated, wiping my chin and shirt off, focusing on the feel of my skin against myself, on Aragorn and Legolas who sat next to me, concrete and there. "But that sword of hers. It was pretty..."

"Terrifying?" Legolas offered.

"I was going to say mesmerizing."

"I hardly noticed. I was trying not to be killed."

I shot him a dry look. "But it was still mesmerizing."

He almost snorted, then seeing the perplexity written across Aragorn's face, he said, "the elleth had a sword that seemed made out of shadows—"

"But not evil-feeling shadows—sorry."

Legolas lowered his annoyed brows, though there was the slightest of smiles on his lips and turned back to Aragorn. "After a parry, it cleaved through my sword without any obvious resistance. The same occurred upon the first parry with Lumornel's sword."

Absently I wondered why Aragorn did not know of the broken swords sooner—

Through a haze, I suddenly knew that in the chaos after the skirmish, the event of my unconsciousness, there hadn't been a good moment to bring it up. Besides, we each had more weapons on us. I had a long dagger—I had violently thrown off the knives that were on me, feeling like the contents of my stomach were going to spew everywhere. And, of course, Legolas had a bow, though he didn't seem to admire and care for the weapon like he once did.

"The sword also appeared out of mid-air," I added. "She had put her hand to the side and it just appeared."

Aragorn sat back, too stunned for words.

After a quiet moment of puzzled, bewildered contemplation. Perhaps, coming to terms with the impossible—

Braiglach.

I spun on Legolas, my heart in my throat. "Why was Braiglach there?"

He exchanged a glance with Aragorn and shook his head. "Your guess is as good as mine."

"I don't—I don't understand. She wouldn't have sided with Talaedra! She adored Galadriel, she would never go against Celeborn's wishes! I don't—" I dropped my head into my hands. None of this makes sense.

"She may have been taken," Aragorn added.

"Then why didn't she join in the fighting and return with us?" Legolas asked, his voice quiet.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Not Braiglach. Not that strong and lively elleth who loved her home dearly.

"The enemy has many ways to lure the good to their side. Leverage and threats are one of them."

I glanced at Aragorn, hoping my near-hysteria wasn't showing as much as I thought it was. "You think they have something of hers? Threatening to harm a loved one or something?"

He nodded once.

I wanted to throw up. "Well that's what it is then. She would never willingly join them."

The conversation dulled again, giving us each time to absorb this. Braiglach. Braiglach was in the clutches of the enemy. Why couldn't it have been some stranger instead?

"Why?" It was almost a whisper. "Why do they have her?"

No answer.

I pushed it from my mind for the moment and instead met Aragorn's wisened eyes. It was all but a go-ahead for him to change the direction of the topic.

"What did Talaedra want?"

"A mirror—" I felt my eyes go as wide as saucers as it all drifted back. "My mirror."

Oh Valar, what is going on?

And where is my mirror?

Legolas turned inquisitive eyes on me. I felt almost guilty for not telling him about it... but a mirror that I saw my human self as an elf in? That felt too impossible, maddeningly so. I would have been laughed right out of Middle-earth. Maybe.

"I—" I bit my lip, letting my hair fall forward. "You remember when I had somehow slept walked myself outside of Helm's Deep?" I took in a breath. "I woke up near a cliff face with a mirror in my hand. In it, I saw a doorway in the cliff, but with my own eyes without the mirror, I didn't see it. I... also once saw myself as an elf in it."

I quickly glanced at them. And they both looked at me as if I had sprouted another head.

"What?" I fidgeted, swirling the spoon around. "I came back from the dead as an elf and there's an elleth with a sword that just appears from thin air, but you don't believe me about the mirror?"

Aragorn turned his gawk away first. "I believe you, Lumornel, or rather I trust you. But the things you speak of I cannot wrap my mind around."

"That's why I didn't tell anyone."

"But if you had shown it to us..." Legolas trailed off.

I stared at the ground. The hard soil seemed almost frozen in place in the sun's nonexistent warmth. "It didn't always show things that weren't there. I didn't know if it would do anything if I brought it to you. I didn't want to look like I was an idiot—or crazy."

"I would have believed you."

I leveled him a dry stare. "If I had told you I saw things in a mirror that weren't really there, you wouldn't have wondered, even a little, if I had a screw loose?"

His lips thinned to a line. He said nothing.

Aragorn leaned forward ever so slightly, I wasn't sure if he even noticed he had done it. "You said you witnessed yourself as you are now when you looked into the mirror?"

The elven ears, the clear, luminescent skin... "Yes."

"It doesn't show illusions," Aragorn decided, wonderment gleaming in his gray-slate eyes. "It shows the true nature of things."

It showed me how I was supposed to be, what I truly was before I knew it myself. And the way the mirror had felt in my hands... like the manifestation of honesty, of truth, made physical.

"But what about the door in the cliff face I saw?"

"It could have been enchanted," Legolas said. "Similar to the way the doors to Moria were. The mirror saw through the illusion."

I nodded slowly, remembering what he had described back in Lothlorien. Such a long time ago that was.

Legolas continued. "But why would she have need of it? She has dominion, or at least influence, over most of Middle-earth."

"Talaedra is looking for something hidden," Aragorn realized.

"Okay, sure, but what?" I huffed an angry sigh. "And why? Like Legolas said, she has control over Middle-earth. She rules without a throne, but she doesn't need one. She's unleashed chaos, she shows her strength through maintaining fear. What could the mirror add to all of that?"

We settled into a disturbed silence.

"We may not know why she needs it," Legolas said, his voice too cold, too hard. Steel. "But we cannot let her have it."

He looked to me and his eyes reflected his voice. I nearly jolted. He looked nothing like the Legolas I knew, not with those hard planes, the firm set of his brows. Eyes so cold, determined. Like the elleth's. If he wanted to stare a hole through rock, he could.

Aragorn didn't speak and neither did I. The unspoken agreement seemed to be enough for Legolas. And we let the conversation be. Aragorn's eye darted between the two of us, and after a short moment, he spoke of speaking to the others and left.

I warily eyed Legolas. His intense gaze had turned toward a patch of almost frozen grass in front of him. He looked so lost in the internal turnings of his mind that he seemed almost separate from the world around him, too harsh and focused against the slumbering noontime forest. Carefully, I leaned forward and placed a hand on his brown-clad leg.

He recoiled from the soft touch, his tumultuous electric gaze snapping onto me with stinging intensity. I jumped back, withdrawing my hand to my chest as quickly as I could.

Immediately his features softened—then twisted into some angry, self-deprecating twist. He sighed and ran a pale hand over his turned-away face. "Goheno nin, I didn't mean to frighten you."

"It's okay," I said quickly, even though it wasn't. I glanced over my shoulder. The others were finishing their meal but paid us no heed. So, I wrapped my cloak tighter and scooter closer to Legolas, so close our crossed legs touched.

He said nothing else. An invisible cloud seemed to settle heavily around him. I could see his fëa, visibly dimmer than what I thought was normal. Why such a change from a few moments before? True, he was already in one of the melancholy moods that seemed to be recurring, but this was different. He was almost angrier, yet focused in as sharp as a needle's tip. It was a little terrifying.

Without stopping to contemplate, I took one of his rigid hands in my own, forcing it to rebuke the stiff, almost claw-like shape it had taken up on his thigh, forcing it to mold to the shape of my palm. I clasped my other hand protectively over it.

"Legolas... you can't keep at of this—this pain inside you. I want to help you, but you need to talk to me—"

He ripped his hand from mine, tucking it away. His beautiful face still turned from my view. "Don't ask me, Lum. I cannot do that."

I wanted to cry out, grasp at his shoulders, I wanted to suddenly understand why he was like this. Why he wouldn't let me in. He needed to.

"Legolas—"

"Leave me be, Lumornel... leave it alone."

No.

But I wouldn't push. At least not now. If someone decided to come knocking on my door and ask about what happened in Saruman's tower, or even Sauron's, I would close the door right in their face. Then go find a corner to tremble in.

Though whatever Legolas had gone through these last years wasn't the same as torture at the end of a knife, barricaded in a dark cell, made to scream and tremble and—stop.

Legolas hadn't gone through physical torture, but the mind is a torturer itself. One did not need to be in a wizard's tower to shut themselves off from the world.

Guilt as strong as Rohan's winds washed over me. This pain in Legolas was partially my fault. After his mother's death, the weight of his soldier's tortured ends, seeing himself as a murderer and forced to bear the incredible weight of the Ring... my death was just the final thing that sent him over the edge. He had been balancing, swaying, on the edge of that cliff for a long time.

How had he not fallen before?

My elven prince was incredibly strong. I didn't know how he managed to keep himself from leaving for Valinor.

I sighed, the answer was beyond me. It didn't matter, not really. I just had to help him.

I thought back to all the times I had fallen down the dark hole of gloom and how I felt, what I wanted. What would pull me out, if I even wanted pulled out.

Sometimes it was easier to be left alone, to wallow in the thoughts and think them through. Some thoughts had to be thought. But other times I wanted to turn away from the gloom, but didn't know how.

I observed Legolas, how he held his face from my view, his clenched fists tight against his body. Legolas appeared to be behind an invisible mask, cracked and brittle it may be, hiding the turmoil away from the light where I couldn't see. His stiffly set back faced the others, the others who were not watching...

I gently brushed his hair over his shoulder, sent it tumbling down his back. There were a few tangles in it, but that was to be expected. I was already sitting close, too close for societal rules. But we were in the middle of a forest with the eyes of the closest people turned away. I leaned forward and pressed my lips to the soft skin of his neck.

I sensed, rather than saw, his fists release all their tensions. His shoulder's lost their rigidity and instead took up a softer tension, his chest still with the holding of a breath.

Despite knowing that all the others had to do was turn in our direction and see us, despite the flaming mortification I knew I would feel if they did, I moved my lips to the soft, tender spot near his jaw. I hovered there a moment, my breath billowing on his skin as I decided what to do.

I pulled back just enough for him to turn my way. His blue eyes were clear and sadness tinged his surprised wonderment, his lips parted ever so slightly. Carefully, I pecked those lips, letting the soft kiss linger for as long as I dared.

I wanted to do more, I needed to be that distraction from his thoughts that he needed. But I couldn't, not with the others. And I wasn't sure if I was comfortable doing it either.

So instead I took his now limp hand and stood, drug him to his feet. Sitting there in silence without either the conversation of words or of passionate lips would only allow him to sink back into what he wanted to avoid.

Eridan was already packing away the cooking stuffs, the others dusting off their trousers and shouldering their packs. We were soon to be on our way again. The one thing I hated about travel was that, though you may be journeying with many, it left too much time to oneself. It was easy to get trapped by things I'd rather not think of. I knew the same had to be true for Legolas.

So with a quick word to Aragorn, and a firm and pointed order for Legolas to stay put while I did so, I led him into the cradling net of boughs, high up into the trees. To scout ahead, yes. To keep his mind alert and active, true. But mainly I led him to where he felt safe.

To where he belonged.

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Ah, the roles of who comforts who has been reversed. Refreshing change, though sad.

Also! I had to be really careful when writing metaphors in this chapter 😅 I tend to pick up writing styles from whatever book I'm reading and, well, I'm currently reading the Reckoner's series and the main character is terrible at metaphors. It's hilarious. 😂 So long story short I had to watch what similies and metaphors I made.

And as of now, I'm keeping updates on Friday. May change once college starts up. And, warning you all beforehand, I may not be updating the second week of August, so don't freak out when chapter whatever isn't posted.

I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, though there wasn't much fluff or happiness in it. And I super super appreciate and love all the votes and comments! They never fail to put a smile on my face! And sometimes they come in right when I need them, just in time to motivate me to write the next chapter.

And, as always, God bless.

~ phoenix