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L U M O R N E L

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I was nothing, no one, simply a thing or wisp in a state of not there. But something kept building. It prodded at my mind, an annoying fly that wouldn't stop buzzing. It was incessant, it was terrible, it was the feeling of standing on the precipice of a great cliff, the long fall stretching before you with a slightly too reckless wind at your back—what was that awful feeling?

Suddenly, I was snapped back into my chair—there—gripping the already cracked arms. The splintered wood felt rough and smooth all at once and the damp air felt clammy and hot and at the same time cool and—

And I was near hyperventilating.

That feeling was anxiety. It was only anxiety.

I held my breath; took all my building fear and panic and held onto it with a tight fist and crammed it all into that held breath. My lungs burned. Then, I exhaled and, with each expire, a little more of that awful feeling dissipated until only a light tingling remained in my fingers, a flighty air in my stomach.

I leaned against the table, head in hands, fingers through hair, greeted with a fantastic view of the wooden slab. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Allowing my eyes to close, I relaxed. Or tried to. But I wasn't hyperventilating. Sure, I was sweating, but... not hyperventilating.

Another breath exited me with a stuttering shudder.

Where is Legolas?

As if I had summoned him, the door squeaked open.

I looked up and— I was surprised to see Kaylessa and the Queen in the same room as me, though I shouldn't have been. And then, I met eyes with Legolas. He hardly acknowledged me before turning towards the Queen, body already rigid, as if he knew—

And he froze, face paling into a hard mask of... shock, disbelief, confusion. The force of it sent him stumbling a moment later, gripping onto the back of Kaylessa's chair so hard, it seemed as if he were holding himself up.

Nervously, I stood and warily set a hand on his arm. Legolas didn't respond to the touch. What was going on in that head of his? I shot a glance at Aragorn, who had come to stand on Legolas's other side, a few feet away.

The Queen gracefully rose from her chair with all the care of someone who was trying not to frighten a young deer.

"Ionneg?" Ellelôtë whispered, wide eyes brimming with tears. She hadn't seen her son in over a thousand years... in fact, last time she had seen him, he'd still been an elfling who hadn't yet held his first sword. How different he must be to her.

The unfamiliarity was her own fault.

Legolas forced his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe deeply. And... he gazed towards her again. And his mother still stood there, anxiously watching with those beautiful blue eyes. That hard, rigid mask of his melted.

In an instant, Legolas had strode those few steps and he engulfed his mother in a hug. Though he stood several finger-widths taller than her, he somehow managed, with all that muscle and hardened warrior's build, to look like an elfling in his mother's arms. A boy, clinging to his mother.

Suddenly, I had to choke back a sob, feeling the need to rush from the room but... I plopped down in my chair, watching as the Queen held her son, stroking his hair, Legolas almost trembling as he held onto his mother. I angrily wiped away the hot tears and looked away, biting my cheek to keep more at bay.

This is selfish. Completely and utterly selfish, Lumornel. Snap out of it. Snap. Out. Of. It.

But Legolas was being healed, comforted, by someone else. Would he even need me now?

That's stupid and you know it.

But I still couldn't help but feel like I was losing him.

I should be glad. And... I was. Happiness was blooming in my chest for Legolas. Happiness that was overcast with grief, struck through with piercing anger at the Queen...

She left him.

The words were thunderous. Beats to deep drums.

She. Left. Him.

I held my head in my hands, fingers gripping at my hair.

I should have told him she'd be here, now he's going to know I kept this moment from him...

More hot tears leaked out.

Stop. It.

Fabric shifted.

I looked up just in time to see Legolas pulling away, brows furrowed. What had she said?

"Naneth?"

The Queen was silent for a moment, truly looking pained. "I was never sent back."

He opened his mouth questioningly, then froze, still as death. He barely breathed as his eyes went wide, wishing not to believe. Oh, Legolas.

Rage shot back up into my throat, but I forced it back, grinding my teeth to stubs. The Queen didn't even notice my glare.

"Allow me to explain, ionneg," she pleaded. "You know your naneth loves you more than the woods themselves."

Turmoil flashed in Legolas's eyes at that phrase. But he didn't stop her, choosing to remain standing as she lowered herself into her seat. Even though Kaylessa stood out of the way, her chair free for him to use, he refused.

"How..." Legolas faltered. "You died."

The Queen's eyes fluttered closed. She exhaled slowly. "No. I never died."

Finally, Legolas sank into the chair. It seemed less voluntary and more like his weak legs had forced him heavily down.

"Your bond. Father—"

"I can explain why we don't share our connection, Legolas. Please, little leaf, let me explain."

I felt, rather than saw, Legolas's attention flicker to me. But I was too consumed by the fire within, still grappling with that loosening hold on Legolas, to glance back at him. Too angry to unhook my gaze on the queen, too afraid I'd see something I didn't want to in Legolas.

"You left Father and I," Legolas strained, voice strung through with pain, "and you did not think to come back? Did—" He clenched his teeth, eyes briefly brimming with a shine before he blinked it away. He turned his faraway gaze towards the wall but didn't seem to see it. But judging by the way his eyes glinted... all he saw was betrayal.

He set his elbows on the table and hung his head in his hands and—

—and that terrible, terrible haunted disposition came upon him again. As if everything that had once pierced him through was before him once more.

"You might have stopped me from taking those elves into Dol Guldur," he whispered. "I would have listened to you."

I jolted, going cold, frightened at how he seemed to sink further into himself, his skin paling. His eyes unfocusing, seeing another time...

"Legolas," I said quickly, hurriedly leaning over and placing a firm hand on his arm. I gripped it. "Legolas."

His eyes slowly roved over to me, distant.

"Look at me. Look at me, Legolas."

He was facing me, but...

"Where are you, Legolas. Tell me where you are."

He blinked hazily. "The Western Hope..."

"Yes and where in the Western Hope?"

"In a chamber."

Well... he wasn't wrong.

"Yes, and you're here with me and Aragorn. What else is in here? You don't have to speak out loud."

He didn't vocalize but he nodded. So I lead him through the other senses, grounding him here. This room. Not in that awful fortress. And finally, he seemed to truly see me though his hands were trembling—he gripped my own to keep it from showing.

Had he been like this right after the event...? Valar, it must have been terrible. To be forced to witness the torture of your own soldiers, the blame forced on him, to be covered in their blood...

Again, I marveled at his strength. But it was hard to dwell on that with his hands clutching mine, his head bowed in shame. I bit my lip, realizing the others were staring at us. The Queen's cheeks were wet. And... and Legolas let slip a little bit of what he had been hiding for years—in front of all those in the room. I clutched his hands tighter.

In response, he tightened his grip, met my eyes, and took a revitalizing breath. His princely facade—the role he often clung to—fell on him, giving him a visible strength. The paleness was still there, but it was barely noticeable through the strong planes of his face, his strong jaw. His trembling hands still quivered, but were masked by the strength, regality, and height his straight back and square shoulders lent him. He turned his suddenly guarded eyes onto his mother.

"How did you survive?" It wasn't cold, but it wasn't warm either. Simply a general asking questions that needed answered.

The queen, wide-eyed, stared at him. Surprise and solemnity swirling in those deep eyes. Then, she steeled herself and told her story.

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The Queen finished her tale, concerned eyes searching Legolas for his thoughts. The scent of her burned flesh wafted around the room for the second time that evening, but the anticipatory air outweighed the rancid smell.

I could feel the tension as we all waited for Legolas's response.

For the second time that night, the Queen relieved her time at Gundabad, her last moments with her husband. Though this time around, she had left out the more gruesome details. And now... she tucked her freshly healed finger away.

Legolas sat still, gaze trained on the spot where her hand had disappeared under the table and unfocused at the same time. His face was unreadable. It felt like an eternity, him sitting there, the room holding its breath, though it had probably only been a few short moments.

Finally, his eyes shifted to me and then flickered back to his mother. He chewed his cheek—

"How long have you remembered me?"

The Queen's expression was steeled and near stoney, though she did briefly glance at her daughter, who leaned against the wall behind me. "I have remembered that you are my son for nearly two hundred years."

I almost choked. Two hundred?!

Then again, that was almost nothing to an elf. But—

I glanced at Legolas. His expression darkened, tension in his jaw.

"Why did you not return home?"

"I did not return to Eryn Lasgalen," the Queen stated quietly, soberly, "because I fear the King."

Legolas moved to speak, but his mother held up a quieting hand. "I may remember the bond we had shared and I may remember the love that I had for him, but I cannot remember his affection for me. I only know of his cold, stately nature and the rumors of his temper. And I fear that I would be at the brunt of his anger should I return after all these years. I can endure many trying things, but having the force of his temper turned on me I cannot."

Legolas ran his hands over his face, then stared blankly across the room. Then, he blinked and nodded. "What did you come to inform us of?"

The Queen hesitated yet again in surprise, then she fixed her jeweled and queenly eyes on me. "You know of the enemy you are fated to fight."

Though it was a statement, I nodded anyway. Glancing at Legolas, I tried to gauge his thoughts, but his guard was still up. Undoubtedly, it wouldn't fall until we were alone again but... I bit my cheek and turned back to the queen. The anger was still there, but I somehow managed to ignore it. Mostly.

"Yes. Talaedra."

The queen drummed her nails upon the table. "Has my son told you of my love of tales and histories?"

"Once or twice."

Her attention shifted to her son and back. "I gained my love for histories during my youthful years, from a friend of my mother who visited my home often. The elleth was from Doriath and had been employed as a handmaiden to Lady Melian herself. In her employ, Silivarn overhead tales of those in Aman and in the Halls of the Valar. She spoke to all the tradesmen who passed through and listened to their tales, she asked questions of the happenings of her kin from faraway lands. She gathered tales and accounts from all places in Arda. Once she told me one, I made her tell the rest. From there, I gathered tales of my own, especially tales from the time of the Trees. Aman has always fascinated me and so I hunted down everything I could from elvenhome. I know the names of some of the first elves, the arguments during the kinslayings, which Vala preferred the cover of trees and which preferred the open sky, and of many of the Maiar. I suspect most of what I knew is now forgotten, but I believe I recovered a great portion of it."

The Queen waved a dismissive hand. "Despite that loss, I recognized Talaedra's name when I heard it. She is..." She pressed her lips together, then continued more slowly. "Talaedra is of the Maiar."

Frozen.

Everything froze.

Ice flooded and stopped in my veins, my very heart and lungs seemed to halt.

Maia.

I felt myself brace against the table.

She's a Maia.

It... it can't be.

But as I looked at the Queen, she didn't take back her words. No, instead she solemnly sat there, a grimness mixing into her expression.

And Legolas. He sat so still, staring at me with unrestrained horror.

He was the first among us to find words. "No... you can't..."

He turned to his mother as if to protest against her statement, then thought better of it, and went back under the cover of that princely mask. A muscle bulged in his jaw, intense gaze unfocusing.

"How can you be sure?" Aragorn asked, nearly as dumbfounded as the rest of us, but far more recovered.

The Queen met his eyes. "Kaylessa investigated and I trust what she has found. In addition to that, how else could she come by such a sword as she has?"

Aragorn nodded, then glanced at me. Those eyes were so defiant. And so sorrowful at the same time.

A maia... Valar a maia.

"Sauron was also of the Maiar," Kaylessa said, "so surely it is not impossible to defeat her."

I stared down at the table. Sure but... it is my task to defeat her. Last time it wasn't only up to me. Last time the Valar weren't solely counting on me. And last time I had ended up working for Sauron. How was I supposed to defeat this one?

"What do you know about her?" I whispered.

"Not enough," the Queen replied. "What I have heard are whispers. I've heard she had served under Mandos as an agent of death against the enemy and became angry, then left. It's been said she participated in the first kinslaying, some say she was jealous of Mandos's power so she left to find her own. Yet others claim Morgoth seduced her to his fortress and a few whisper of betrayal or loss of a friend that sent her into her bitterness. The only fact that can be trusted is what all the stories agree with; she was spiteful and full of rage for the Valar."

"Not only Mandos?"

As if he hadn't heard me ask a question, Legolas spoke up. "What are her known tactics?"

The Queen responded to the both of us anyway. "All say her anger was for all fourteen Valar, though some say a great portion was directed at Mandos. As for her machinations, I know not much other than she often preferred to pull strings from behind, though she was never afraid to bloody her hands, if the stories of her participating in the kinslaying are true. And before her betrayal, she had been applauded for her scheming and plotting against the enemy. She is aggressive, bold, and is, perhaps most dangerously, cunning."

So she's a soldier. And a general. Oh that's wonderful. Absolutely fantastic.

She opened her mouth as if to continue, then frowned. "Of course all of what I tell you cannot be taken as a known fact. I only collect stories and accounts and make from them what I will."

Aragorn shifted from where he leaned against the wall, inspecting the queen with a keen eye. "And what do you make of the tales?"

The Queen drummed her fingers once again upon the table. "She is angry, that much is obvious, and most accounts I have gathered agree she participated in the kinslaying, though she was not an elf. As for the tales depicting betrayal of a friend, I believe those to be true. I think it likely that a betrayal caused her to partake in the killing of elvenkind and may have led her down this destructive path. Anger can lead a person to unspeakable crimes."

"So we know nothing." I gritted my teeth, feeling hopeless. I found myself turning my attention to Legolas. He had barely moved; he simply sat staring at nothing, though his jaw was tight.

"Not nothing," the Queen noted. Then, she settled me with a pointed, unwavering gaze. Her jeweled eyes seemed to see something of great significance in front of her and—with that look, I knew what her next words would be and I pressed my lips together grimly. "The Valar gave us a way to defeat her."

I knew that—I had known it for nine years, had long ago accepted that, yet... I still felt dread. While a part of me accepted my role as the prophecy-written, another part needed to huddle in a corner and let Middle-earth continue on without me. I didn't know what to do. I had no clue how to even begin.

The Valar gave me my abilities for a reason. I was literally built for this task.

But that didn't mean I didn't feel fear, uncertainty.

I shakily breathed in and Legolas and I connected gazes. His eyes were guarded yet I could still see his worry. And mine... I'm not sure what they showed him. When I spoke, he knew I wasn't speaking to him. "Is that all you know?"

"Yes."

So all we know is that Talaedra is even more dangerous than we thought. And that I still have no idea what to do.

At the Queen's reply, Legolas ever so slightly inclined his head toward the door. I stood in response, glad to leave. Yet my shoulders were still tight. Would Legolas guess I had kept his mother from him?

No one objected as Legolas and I both left them without another word, my guards posted outside following. I felt so drained, so incapable in that moment to process everything that had happened. After today's event, Legolas and I were both more than ready to just not be there—

Legolas.

Concerned, I stopped us in the dimly lit halls, somehow already outside his room's door, and searched his tired, tired eyes. Today, I hadn't been the only one to relive torment. And he had learned of his mother, been reminded of my part in the war.

"I'd rather not speak of it," he announced, gazing over my shoulder and not meeting my eyes.

It pained me, my gut twisted and my soul wrenched for him.

"Legolas..." Had he already forgotten our words last night?

"I need time to think, Lumornel. I need—" He breathed in and turned toward his door. "I need time to process everything."

I nodded, though I wanted to stupidly protest. "Please talk to me when you're ready."

He nodded in turn, but it felt like an empty promise, and led me into his room and lit a single candle.

As soon as the door closed, his shoulders drooped and he gazed momentarily at his bed. Then sighed and turned toward me. He ran cool fingers absently along my cheek. "I'm sorry, Lum... I..." He closed his eyes. "I'm not sure what to do."

"Well," I reached out and adjusted his loose tunic, stepping closer into his warm presence. "You're not the only one feeling like that."

Talaedra... the war... 

His eyes opened, those irises gazing upon me in such a soft, incomprehensible way. His cheeks twitched, as if they wanted to smile but couldn't quite achieve it, and he shook his head slightly. "You're more than I deserve."

Stupid, I thought at him, then placed my hands on his chest as I looked up into his visage. "What I said was true, stop downplaying it."

Instead of answering, he wrapped his arms around me. Softly at first, then more tightly, as if he were holding on to me.

You're not going to lose me, I wanted to say, but the words wouldn't come out. I couldn't know for certain if the words were true.

So I slid my hands down his chest, wrapping around his waist—

He gasped, his knees buckling.

"Legolas! W-what's wrong!" He slipped out of my fingers as I tried to hold him up, sinking to the floor.

His breaths came shallowly, quickly. Sweat already dotted his forehead. And he was clutching his side. "I'm... fine..."

"Sure you are," I growled, then knelt before him. My hands hovered near his middle, not the thigh wound he claimed he had. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"You didn't need to know." His shoulders relaxed, some of the pain had quickly subsided it seemed.

"Of course I need to know, Legolas!" I snapped, tearing my focus away from his torso. "When you are wounded I have to know! When you are hurt you have to tell me. How am I supposed to help when I don't know there's a problem!"

"I don't want you worrying."

"So you want me thinking you are a liar instead?!" I nearly threw my hands into the air, or maybe shove him. Instead, I scoffed. "Now I'm sure that's healthy for a relationship! It's just what we need! Distrust surely will help in a relationship between two broken people who can't even trust their own minds. You are supposed to be the smart one."

"I'm sorry." His blue eyes met mine, dimly lit irises exhibiting shame. And though his apology made me pause, I reminded myself that Legolas could shoulder shame if he thought he was doing something right. And so, realizing my eyes were misting, I shoved away his hand that guarded his wound and yanked his shirt up.

And immediately gasped.

Black veined his unusually pale skin, like a living thing burrowing beneath his flesh the color of the darkest night, ringing an even blacker wound. The cut was no longer than half the length of my thumb, shallow as a papercut, yet it's ghastly color and macabre halo of dark crawling veins argued against the innocence of its small size. The tendrils reached only a few finger widths outward, but... it was a spiderweb of death. Unnatural. Sinsiter. Wrong.

Gingerly, Legolas pushed down his shirt.

"When?" I breathed. "How?"

He carefully stood, then silently crossed to his desk. He straightened papers and pencils. Silent. "Erynbâr. Talaedra's sword grazed me in battle." A pause. "The wound is increasing in its damage."

A graze did that?!

At my own horrified silence, Legolas turned. Softly took my hand that clutched at my throat.

"Aragorn and I don't know how her sword caused this. There is no poison and nothing will slow its spread."

No poison...

"Aragorn knows," I whispered.

His lips straightened, but he nodded. "And Gimli and the twins. Aragorn needed to consult Elladan for advice, for knowledge of any kind."

"Did he have any?"

A slight shake of the head.

"You were bandaged," I realized. "That's what I saw when you stretched this morning."

He hesitated. "... Yes, but Gimli had been helping me change them when Aragorn told me of my mother..."

"Talaedra's sword did it," I clarified.

"Yes." The word was a breath on his lips.

Breathless, I nodded. Or maybe I didn't. Everything felt like a blur except for the knowledge of Legolas's wound.

Legolas.

A slow, menacing fear hooked its growing roots deep within me. It was as cold as the depths of winter and I couldn't shake it, no matter how much warmth I threw at it.

Absently, I reached for him. Numbly, too caught in the horror to feel what I was doing, I pulled him into a careful embrace. A strong arm came around to drape across the small of my back, the other cradling my nape.

That ugly spider web of evil hung before my mind's eye, refusing to disappear.

Wound increasing in damage, Talaedra's sword...

Talaedra's sword.

She knew what was happening to Legolas. She knew how to stop it.

She knew.

Talaedra knew when Aragorn didn't, when Elladan didn't, and if his wound was only growing...

She was the only one who could stop it, but everyone wanted her dead. She was a maiar, we couldn't afford to keep her alive. She was destroying the lives of innocent people.

But, Valar. She knew.

I closed my eyes, turned my face into Legolas's shoulder and basked in his scent, his loving warmth. What would I do if I lost him? How would I live?

Agony. That would be life without him.

And so...

Talaedra had to live.

And I have to protect her from everyone else, at least until she tells me how to heal Legolas.

If she even would.

The prohpecy-written inside me cringed and I felt myself begin to tear in two.

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So, thoughts? What do think of the chapter? What about Talaedra? What do you think might happen?

Sorry for the delay, but that's college for ya I guess: the stealer of all my writing time. And headaches too (I think just about every time I actually set apart time to write, a nasty fall migraine decided it wanted to visit. And I can't just take the drug that gets rid of them, cause then I'll fall asleep. Such is life 🤷‍♀️ ).

This is going to sound silly, because I don't actually see you all, but I've missed you all nonetheless 🥺🥺 I'm so glad to finally be able to update and am looking forward to your comments.

I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can, but don't expect updates to come every week. But when I do update, I'll be sure to do it on a friday. And when I'm close to updating, I'll you know too (if I remember).

Stay warm and may our loving, righteous, and merciful God bless your day,

~ phoenix