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L U M O R N E L

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I warily eyed the crowd of people milling about Market Hall. Many had noticed my presence and so avoided this small section of the long hall, giving us a wide berth as they passed. Even if no one noticed me, I was still sure I would have hated being in such a crowded place.

Next to me, Sunngifu glanced at the moving crowd and shook her head. "They're all idiots. Just ignore them." She went back to her task of knitting. Blankets were in high demand and so as the temperature outside dropped, Sunngifu's job increased in importance.

"I can't just ignore them," I muttered, sitting on a padded quilt that Sunngifu had made. These seemed popular in the area. Market Hall wasn't truly a market place, though some people did exchange items here on lightweight tables, it was more of a social gathering place. An area where people brought great big stuffed blankets to sit on and gossiped while they worked. Expectantly, everyone here was working on something small; knitting blankets, sewing, polishing swords, and anything else that could be done for an army inside this enormous room.

Though many were focused on their tasks and conversations, they still managed to cast me expressions of either worry, fear, or outright hate. It made me almost wish I had refused Legolas's proposition this morning.

After we awoke, Legolas had wanted to begin a recovery from his fear, so I had sent a letter to Sunngifu asking if we could meet. I would spend a few hours with Sunngifu, and her mother and daughter whenever they got here, while Legolas tried to relax without my presence.

'I'm terrified I'm going to repeat my mistake from the battle of Morannon,' he had said. 'I'll wander too far away from you and you'll become hurt. And I can't live with myself knowing that you could become hurt because I wasn't there.'

Oh, Legolas.

But honestly, it was a relief he was taking steps to abate his fear. I loved him, but I needed time away from him too.

"Get ready," Sunngifu warned. "They're here."

Sure enough, I saw an aged Sunnwyn weaving between the throngs of people. Her eyes lit up as they saw me and her face—more wrinkled than I remembered—broke into a grin. And on her heels was a young girl in trousers, hair a dark brown, her eyes blue and wide and oh so curious. She bounced as she saw me and a giddy grin broke out on her youthful face. Nine years old. And her mother still refused to tell me her name.

Gifu sighed, though there was a smile on her lips. "She's going to fawn all over you. Sorry about that, I may have spoken too highly of you."

I stood, unable to contain my giddy smile. As soon as the two were upon us, Sunnwyn engulfed me in a hug.

"Eru be praised," Sunnwyn cried. "It is wonderful to see you again! And alive!"

I giggled and held her tight. "It's good to see you too!"

She held me at arm's length, her face becoming motherly. "You have much to tell us."

I bit my lip but nodded.

And then she stepped aside, fondly looking at the child. "My granddaughter has been waiting to meet you."

The girl stared up at me with wide eyes, a huge grin on her face. "Hello."

"Hi."

Gifu sighed. "Go ahead and introduce yourself, daughter."

The kid nodded once, business-like, and outstretched her hand. Bemused, I took it.

"My name is Sorwyn." She let go after she shook my hand once. "I'd ask what yours is but I already know it. I am very pleased to meet you. And I'll have to tell Dever about this! He doesn't like you very much, I don't know why. He once told me his sister was friends with you and—" She stopped, realizing she was rambling, and stifled an embarrassed giggle. "I'm sorry."

Sorwyn. 'Sorrow's gift.' It was a good name, considering what had happened to her father Sormer. Though it was strange how Rohanians kept names similar within the family... confusing too.

"I've been dreaming of meeting you since the day I left Rohan, Sorwyn. It's also great to finally know your name." I threw an eyebrow-raised glance at Gifu, which she smugly smiled at.

—Wait. "Dever? How do you know him?"

"He teaches me how to throw knives! Well, when he's here. I'm pretty good at it now. I'm trying to have him teach me to fight but he tells me to wait. But now you're here! You can teach me!"

"Not if she doesn't want to," Gifu scolded.

Sorwyn pursed her lips, then decided to ignore her mother as she turned around and searched through the people of Market Hall. "Dever might be here now. He usually is—yep, he's over there by Jeirdan's stall. Dever! Dever!!"

Somehow, over the din of chatter, he heard her. Without glancing our way, a soft smile touched his lips and he amusedly shook his head. Then, as if he had been planning to head to this spot all along, he smoothly redirected his course without pause. There was something to the way he walked that indicated he had been trained in either tracking or spying. He walked light-footed, eyes always roving, and made himself completely inconspicuous with just his posture. He became one with the crowd. And, like with Sunnwyn and Sunngifu, he was older than I remembered. It'd been almost a decade since I last saw him—he had saved my life in the battle of Helm's Deep. He had to be in his thirties now... actually, Sunngifu was too... and me. Thirty-three years.

Huh. Weird.

But I was an elf now. By their standards, I was a baby. Luckily, Legolas didn't view me in that way.

Dever scanned me for a moment, those brown eyes calculating, then proceeded to act as if I was not there.

Gifu opened her mouth, but Sorwyn beat her to it. "Were you seeing Lanael today?"

Dever glanced at Gifu, then, curiously, blushed. He turned as if to survey the people, obscuring his face. "I don't see why that's any of your business."

Sorwyn raised her brows. "You were, weren't you? You told me you—"

"I shouldn't have said anything," he snapped. "You're a little gossip, as bad as Tellenil."

"And you're as bad as Orhallon."

He turned sharply towards her, eyes narrowing. "I recommend, little miss, that you pretend you didn't just say that."

She smiled and met his eyes. "But that would betray my honor—"

She broke off in a shrill shriek as Dever lunged for her, running away and promptly dissolving into laughter as he chased her through the Hall.

"Who's Lanael?" I asked Sunnwyn, still taken off guard by her elderly appearance, though she still wore her gray hair in one long braid. Though the child was smaller, he somehow managed to weave more efficiently, more quickly, around the people. Where Sorwyn teetered as she twisted, Dever had perfect balance. He caught the child no sooner than the words had left my mouth, throwing her over his shoulder like she weighed no more than a sack of grain. Which... she was only nine years old, she may not weigh much more than one.

"She's a florist," Sunnwyn said, casting a knowing smile in Gifu's direction. Gifu simply continued to knit, not so much as sparing her mother one glance. "This time a'year she collects pine twigs, Winterberries, and Béma's Beard for bouquets."

Florist... I glanced from Dever to Sunngifu. A smile spread across my face.

I slyly sat next to Gifu, but Dever and Sorwyn returned before I could speak. I elbowed her side, yet she still didn't look up from her project.

"Sorwyn," Gifu said, her knitting needles clinking. I didn't know if they had an actual name but those spikes! They'd be good for ramming into someone's muscle. I blinked. When had I started thinking like that? "Don't go running about when I cannot see you."

The laughter died in Sorwyn's eyes and she dipped her head. "Yes, Mama."

"And?"

"I'm sorry, Mama."

"Do you understand why?"

Sorwyn paused, her blue eyes briefly analyzing the people around us, the occasional hostile stares our group got. "Because there's dangerous people and I shouldn't worry you when they're about."

Gifu nodded her head, then promptly sat down her stabby-yarn spikes, the blanket still attached to them. She raised her eyes toward Dever, a touch of amusement almost curling her lips. "What do you have to say?"

Dever pulled out a shard of leathery jerky from his pocket, gnawed on the end, and sat down on the blanket with the rest of us. "If you're expecting me to call you 'mama,' then you're going to be mistaken."

Gifu snorted, then shifted towards me, but her words were directed at him. "Well, we aren't here to talk to you." She nodded at me in a manner that suggested I speak.

"I...  I just wanted to see you and your mother and meet your daughter."

"Just wanted to see us?" She raised her brows. "I do hope you do more than look at us and leave."

I shook my head amusedly. "I'm glad you haven't changed, Gifu."

"I'd say the same to you, Nelly. But you had to go and change into an elf."

"Is there something wrong with elves?"

"They're just so proper."

"I think you'd be surprised by the silvan elves then," I mused. "They're as wild as the forest itself."

Growing up, I had never gotten the chance to journey deeper into Mirkwood's land to see the Silvan. A few lived near home, but they were not like the stories father had told. I had never seen a true silvan midnight feast nor a silvan courtship trial. If I lived through this, I'd have to drag along Legolas to be part of the wildness of those elves.

"Does it feel different to be an elf," Dever prodded, taking another apathetic bite of jerky but didn't look at me. Instead, his eyes casually scanned the people milling about around us, as if his question was merely a thought to be thrown out.

I licked my lips, feeling the sturdiness of this new me, as if every bone and muscle had been perfectly refined. My elven body felt more... crisp than my mortal one had. "Yes, I, uh, feel stronger than I had. It's a deeper strength; like it originates from my bones. It makes me feel like I'm built to live an Age. Well, more than that technically."

He said nothing, just continued to chew.

Sorwyn perked up. "Stronger like break rocks stronger? Or like run forever stronger?"

I immediately grinned. "The second one, but I promise I can by no means run forever."

She nodded. "Are you going to be all mysterious like the other elves? They're strange."

I almost choked. "Myst—"

"She's always been strange, Sorwyn," Sunngifu added. "I don't think she could possibly get stranger."

I raised my brows at her. "I'll take that as a challenge. I think I could get stranger. If I put my mind to it."

Gifu eyed my ears, elven point revealed through my pushed back hair.  "Hm, maybe."

Sorwyn eyed me as if I were about to spurt a second pair of eyes any minute. I couldn't believe that this nine-year-old had been the bump Gifu had carried around back in Rohan. It was so strange to see Gifu thinner too...

Sorwyn seemed so different from her mother, yet exactly the same. She had brown hair instead of blonde, beautiful blue eyes instead of her mother's hazel. Yet she seemed to have an innate curiosity inside her, a forwardness and hardiness that she had inherited from her mother. This little girl had a glint of intelligence behind her young eyes. And instead of the dresses the other girls wore, she confidently wore trousers and a blouse. The dark-colored outfit was still girlish, but... hardier.

"What do you do here?" I asked her. "Aragorn told me that everyone, even the children, has a job to do here."

"I'm a messenger," she said, smiling. "I deliver messages between the lords and ladies."

"Yes," Sunnwyn noted proudly. "Not many are picked for the task, but she showed more competence and trustworthiness than all the other candidates."

"Have you delivered letters between the members of Command?" I asked, genuinely curious. And, somehow, impressed.

She nodded.

"She snoops too, and not very well," Dever commented. "I caught her loitering in a lord's sitting room, listening through the wall."

Sorwyn cheeks flooded pink. "You were snooping too," she hissed. "That's how you found me."

"But I wouldn't have been seen if I hadn't had to cart you out of there before you could get flogged."

"I wouldn't have been flogged," she muttered.

Dever continued chewing. Honestly, where had he gotten that jerky? I thought food wasn't allowed outside of the dining times. There were too many people to just allow snacks for everyone.

"Are you hungry?" Gifu asked amusedly as she saw me staring at his food.

I shook my head. "I was wondering how he has the food because I was told no one is allowed snacks from the kitchen." Unless, of course, he snuck in like Legolas and I did.

"Who said anything about stealing food from the kitchen? It's not stealing if you go outside and gather it yourself."

Dever pointed his jerky stick in her direction as if saying 'she's got a point.' Then, he tossed the last of it in his mouth and spoke around it. "The leather was from the kitchen, but it was part of my provisions."

Gifu hesitated, biting her cheek. "How long will you be gone for?"

"I don't know," he said. "Months, probably."

"What are you doing this time?" Sorwyn asked. "Spying on orcs again?"

Wait, I thought. He's leaving?

Dever glanced quickly at me, eyes assessing, then decided I was worthy enough to hear what he had to say. "I've been assigned to track Talaedra and collect what information I can."

Gifu looked down, then glanced about Market Hall casually, her features set carefully. "Must you go?"

While her eyes were trained elsewhere, Dever's softened on her. Then, he blinked and that usual hardness of his was back. "I'm the best reconnaissance agent in Middle-earth, I do what I must."

Gifu rolled her eyes, finally turning back. "You mean you let your recklessness rule your decisions and spying on the enemy sounds like fun."

He shrugged and smiled. "Killing orcs sounds like fun too."

Actually, no it doesn't. Orcs were dark and unnatural. Hateful and eel-like. Being around them made me more than uneasy and killing even more so, even if I was skilled in the gruesome art. But—

Dever was going to spy on Talaedra. A maiar. If she caught him... If Sunngifu really did care for him...

"Dever," I said softly, "you can't go spy on her. She's—"

I glanced around at the many people around us. Though there was a low roar of voices to offer coverage, there were still people about. And more than a few of the neighboring sitting groups kept glancing our way.

"I know," he said. "Aragorn informed me last night."

"Then you know why you can't go. If she caught you—"

"No offense, prophecy-written, but I know more about spying than you do; I am the best at what I do. Let me do my job and I won't question yours."

"But—"

"Did you notice me the night you and the elf prince snuck into the kitchens?"

I froze. He saw?

"Did you notice me watching you and the prince 'reunite' after Erynbar?"

My cheeks erupted into flame.

He rolled his deep brown eyes. "Don't worry, I left before I could see anything too raunchy. I figured by the way you were sucking his face you wouldn't murder him."

I blushed even deeper.

"My point is, you haven't caught me spying on you. And you, I might add, are supposedly gifted by the Valar. I'm sure if I can snoop around you, I can snoop around a—" he broke off, glancing to our sides. "—I can snoop about the enemy without getting caught."

"Snoop around a what?" Gifu's face had paled to a sheet.

Dever visibly winced. "I'll tell you before I leave."

"Still," I breathed, my face flaming so hot it felt cold. "You can't go."

"Why do you care? You abandoned Middle-earth, I would've thought you couldn't care less about a human like me."

"I do care."

He raised his brows accusingly.

"I do." How do you explain feeling an inexplicable sorrow and love for the people of Middle-earth? How do you explain a feeling so deep within, so ingrained in you that it felt like part of your bones, to someone else? I had a hard time thinking through it myself. I would have thought the feeling irrational if I hadn't known it was the part of Nienna she had placed in me. This act of caring was my duty, it was just who I was. I cared, I was called upon to care. Caring was just as much a part of me as my blood was just another part of my body. It wasn't just something I could simply chop off.

"She went off to battle for us, Dever," Sunnwyn said. "Would someone venture into blood and chaos for something they did not care for?"

"She fought for Sauron's side," he retorted stubbornly. "She broke the trust of thousands of people. Hundreds are dead because of her."

"That was Sauron working through me. I would never purposely kill people." Though I knew the words to be true, guilt twisted my insides.

His guarded expression remained unchanged, contemplative and yet severe.

"And, may I add, she died fighting for our side. Speaking of which," Gifu added, turning to me. "Did your death help you realize you need to not be afraid of knives?" As she said the words, she eyed the thick scar on my throat. It was, somehow, the one scar I forgot about. I also didn't feel inclined to hide it like my others. Sure, when I was aware of the attention it garnered, I wanted to hide it, but only so eyes wouldn't be on me. Not because of bad memories or shame. If anything, I had a little pride in it.

"No," I blurted, a bundle of bees stupidly blooming in my gut. "And it wasn't a knife that killed me." But if I had had a knife, I would have been able to kill Duvaineth when I had ducked inside her sword's reach. What if not being able to wield a knife got me killed again? Suddenly, I hated that I was too scared to eat with everyone else in the dining hall for fear of knives even more.

"But—"

My fingers grazed the rigid line on my throat. "This isn't the wound that killed me. This was just Duvaineth having fun." I took a breath. "Duvaineth impaled me through the chest with her sword. So, again, it wasn't a knife that killed me." Though it was the absence of one that had.

"You still need to learn—"

"I know, I know," I said bitterly. "The Valar told me too."

Sunnwyn gasped. "You spoke with the Valar?"

I nodded.

"What did they say?"

I huffed a laugh. "A lot of things—I was there for seven years."

Her eyes grew wider. "Did they—"

"Why did they let you die?" Dever blurted as if he had been lost in thought, unable to hear that Sunnwyn had also been asking a question. I could practically hear the implication behind it. If the Valar truly supported you, then why didn't they let you survive?

So, I shrugged, and met his curious eyes, though there was a touch of accusation in them. "The Valar didn't let me die. I choose that myself."

Sorwyn shifted, brows furrowed. "Why would you choose to die?"

I smiled softly at her. "For a friend that Middle-earth needed more than me."

And at this, Dever sat back. His eyes, focused on me, shone with the clarity of revelation. And the judgment that had been directed at me moments before had vanished.

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The din of the sparring cavern grounds echoed below us. There were small balconies high above the training people, ones that I had failed to notice down below. The thin railings were carved into thick, blocky structures that still managed to exude a stern regality, though cobwebs adorned the balusters. Despite the spider remains, I sat comfortably on the stone bench—well, it was more a wide chair. But Legolas and I treated it as a snug seat, barely big enough to fit the two of us. That just meant I got to practically sit on top of the elf. On his uninjured side, that is.

My insides twisted, the image of that black spiderweb bursting forth like an unwanted sneeze. Don't think about it. Don't. Think. About it. Not yet. I gripped Legolas's arm tighter. Not yet.

I pushed away the thought, but my shoulders still remained tense.

"Who do you think made this place?" I asked Legolas.

"Dwarves. Gimli recognized the craftsmanship of the carved stone, though he knows of no clan that could have carved out these halls."

"Hmmm," I hummed, glancing around the comfy area, despite the large spacious air above the Market Hall extending before us. Though the place was expertly carved, there remained some adornments that were obviously unrefined. A depiction of three mountain peaks, a different detailed sunrise shining from behind them. There were the beginnings of perhaps little men, or maybe an army, or—well I couldn't tell. It appeared to have only been first started, then abandoned. All over these caves there were things like that; rooms that weren't carved out all the way, depictions half-finished, even halls unfinished with ancient tools lying in rubble.

"I wonder what made them leave."

Legolas shuddered. "It was not a balrog, for the mines here were barely started."

Hardly even dug, I thought, glancing down at the spacious cavern below. The training cavern had been a long ago mine... well, the beginnings of one. Enormous forges surged upward, but only small fires were lit in them to heat the area. Several railcarts that had been abandoned now carried padded practice armor, lined up to form a barricade in front of the true entrance to the 'mines.'

On the far end, archers fired bows, the twang of their weapons somehow reaching my elven ears through the groups moving through marches, the sparring matches, the clang of practice swords.

It was an enormous room. Big enough to contain hundreds of people, big enough to have a lot of massive pillars for support. And I found that I could sit there and sift through all the noises.

It was enough of a static noise that my brain began to wander, reminding me of my conversation of knives with Sunngifu, of a request that I really needed to make of Legolas, of questions about Saruman and Duvaineth that I wanted answers to, but couldn't bring myself to ask.

Then Legolas leaned forward as cheers rose up, watching the sword fight below, and I clung onto the distraction. A beastly man fought viciously against a lanky opponent, each of his blows falling like an ax felling a tree. But the smaller man was more agile and was easily able to dodge and weave.

"You want to go watch?" I asked.

Legolas chewed his cheek, then, finally, nodded. After having left Sunngifu and the others, I had found Legolas here, engaged in a sweaty, bear-chested duel. Not only had it been a shock to see him bear-chested—a heavy bandage hiding his ghastly wound—but seeing him fight with a long sword? I had almost passed him by. I knew he had training with the sword—he was a warrior after all—but he had always been shooting his bow or swinging around his twin daggers.

We wandered through a tight and dark stairwell before emerging into the heart of the Western Hope.

A pair of soldiers nearly ran us over in their hasty, perfectly synced jog around the perimeter, running by so close I felt the air of their passing caress my cheek. Beyond them, calls to fellows rang in my ears, laughs and yells. Orange light flickered off swords, arrowheads, sweaty bodies. It smelled like musty dirt, damp stone, and sharp leather oil. It smelled of the sweat glistening on men and a few Rohan women. Comradery was upon the air, a sense of united duty. This was what the Western Hope was. Not some old regiment, standing in perfectly straight lines ready for battle. I smiled.

Then I noticed how some became quiet when I walked by, expressions falling away to something dark as they tracked my movements. A boy, no older than fifteen actually yelped as he turned around and saw me.

My smile fell. It had been a bad idea to come down here. But we went and watched the duel anyway, though it was hard to concentrate on it through all the sideways glances thrown my way. The nimbler man won the contest, though the brute had almost beat him down with his strength. The victor finished the fight behind the brute, his dulled blade placed against the other's spine horizontally, somehow having managed to twist behind before the other could parry or dodge. Whooping erupted in the air, the man's name rising above the small crowd.

I grinned for him. Many had probably bet against him, yet he still won.

"Do you often spar here," I asked Legolas as new competitors took to the ring.

"Occasionally I have."

I glanced up at him. That tone suggested more, but he simply raised an eyebrow at me, smiled, and nodded towards the other end of the enormous place. "Would you like to practice archery?"

I nearly snorted. "You don't need practice with that."

"On the contrary, that simply proves that I do."

"What?"

"You can't expect skills to remain finely tuned if you leave them alone."

I deflated, glanced warily in the direction of the bows. "I guess that's true."

"Do you not want to?"

"I do, but..." I glanced around at all the soldiers. The place was by no means packed, but with all the echoing voices and glances I was getting, it sure felt like it. "I'm not sure how well everyone will take it if I suddenly start wielding a weapon in here."

His eyes darkened and as he scanned the room around us, it felt as if he were sending it one big glare.  "That's more reason to do it. Come on."

He began walking and I hurried after before I could be left behind.

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I don't th—"

"If you are to convince Middle-earth you are not who they say you are, then the best place to start is with the soldiers."

"And firing arrows is going to help do that?"

"Being seen as one of them is going to help."

Being seen as one of them. That I might be able to do. Maybe. The white hair sort of did make me stick out like a sore thumb though.

Eventually, after a walk that seemed to take forever as I tried not to cling to Legolas's side, we reached a rack of bows. Perhaps six archers stood in their respective places, firing arrow after arrow at targets. Some were placed so far away that they looked like a crate in size, rather than being as tall as a person. Others were placed at a more reasonable distance. There were even a few up on the balcony above.

And of course, Legolas picked up the enormous bow and a quiver of thick arrows. I gawked at him.

He chuckled. "You've seen me use a war bow."

"Sure but this one is enormous!"

He handed it to me and nodded towards one of the closer targets. "Give it a try."

"Uh... sure." I laughed. "You can watch me fail."

Sure enough, as I tried to draw back the string, I could only pull back about a third of the way. The resistance was so strong that it felt like trying to pull on an oliphant. I released, breathing heavily. I may be strong, but not that strong.

I shook my head, handing it back to him. Who, of course, drew and fired an arrow easily, though his arm did quiver with tension. His arrow struck the target, slightly to the left of the center.

"Hmm, maybe you do need practice."

As soon as the words were out of my mouth, he fired again and struck just below the central circle. The elf scowled at the target—or maybe just himself, set his jaw, and pulled his arm back. The bow was so taut that he could not load an arrow and hold it back to set and aim. No, all he had was a fraction of a second. But then he struck true, the arrow sticking through the bull's eye.

He smiled triumphantly. I rolled my eyes, but smiled and motioned for him to continue. No matter what he said, I sensed it was too soon to go about wielding a long-range weapon in a room full of soldiers.

After having unleashed half a quiver full of those durable arrows, a light sheen of sweat glistened on his forehead and he pushed up the sleeves of his light tunic. Which of course exposed his just worked muscles. I forced myself to stare ahead as I followed him to collect the arrows. I was not going to salivate over Legolas-muscles.

Ask him, Lumornel. I shoved the thought out of my mind. Just thinking of it brought on the prickling of sweat.

"Lum?"

I looked up. Legolas had put away the bow and filed away the arrows without my noticing.

"Later," I whispered, then energetically took his arm and scanned the large area. "What is there for us to do?"

He studied me quietly, then decided to let my omission go. Then, he smiled mischievously. "We could have a round of sparring."

I rolled my eyes. "With our history, no."

"Do you think I can't control myself?"

Laughing, I looked away from him. "I don't think I can control myself."

Especially with the way you're showing off those muscles.

He worked his mouth ponderously, as if thinking over the taste of something. "You are a little vicious."

Heat rushed my face. "That was one time."

"What was one time?" Elrohir asked out of nowhere. I jumped, nearly falling on my butt while the light within me pulsed dangerously.

Elladan grinned, stepping up beside his brother as I tried to compose myself, smoothing away the fright. "Are we speaking about topics that should rather be discussed behind closed doors?"

Legolas smiled smugly. "This morning—"

"Stop it!" I hissed. "Don't you dare!"

He only seemed to grow more smug at this, leveling his smile towards the twins as if proud of an accomplishment. Which, I realized, he was. Ellyn!

Elrohir held up a hand, blinking away astonishment. "Are you—Did you two—"

Elladan hit his twin, shaking his head. "No, brother. Look at their fëar, they aren't yet bonded in marriage. Sometimes I think you weren't born an elf."

"It's not my fault I can't sense fëa as easily as you."

"You would if you had listened to Father's lessons."

"Hey, I'm not the healer. All that voodoo boodoo stuff is your expertise. Stabbing things is mine."

Elladan rolled his eyes. "You're an elf. You should be able to sense fëar innately."

"And I can. It's how I know yours is—"

A burly man came up behind the brothers and clasped each one on the shoulder, a wide grin coating his face. "Elladan! Elrohir! About time you boys showed up! Geran and the others have been waiting!"

"Boys?" Elladan mused. "Elrohir and I have lived nearly three thousand years."

"Our fathers would say that that's young," Legolas interjected.

Elrohir laughed. "Shut up, elfling. You're younger than us."

Legolas grinned and shook his head. "Not by much."

The man waved the comments away. "Bah! Anyone with a face as smooth and clean as yours is a youngster. Now are you going to stay here and dither all day or are you going to fight?!"

Elrohir cracked his knuckles. "I don't think you can handle us, Beafor. You've never fought against two trained elves taught by Glorfindel himself."

"And I've got ten men ready to charge the two of you, come on! If you win you can buy the lot of us a keg of ale!"

That doesn't sound... oh whatever.

Elrohir gave a small smile in way of farewell before following after the burly man.

Elladan turned toward us, shaking off his amusement. He in turn donned a solemn, guardian-like role, gray eyes empathetic. "My father, if he were here, would have sat both of you down by now."

"Elladan—" Legolas started, voice tight.

"No, Legolas. You've had long enough time to ignore my aid. But I'm not going to talk to you about your pain, you have someone else now who can do that." He flicked his eyes to me. "It does not take a skilled healer to see the heaviness upon both your fëar, though it may take an idiot like my brother to not see it. Perhaps the Lord of Imladris would have prescribed something different, but I'm asking for you both to enjoy a respite sometime soon."

"But what about—"

He leveled me a no-nonsense eyeful that only a healer could accomplish. "I don't care. Take a day to yourselves and don't get caught up in the future or in your pasts. Don't spend it in here or training with a weapon. You need a respite or you cannot bring respite to Middle-earth."

I opened my mouth again but he leveled yet another stern glare. "Do not argue me on this. You may be my mother's sister, but I know of days seething in hatred and grief and uncertainty. Healing is what you both need and being reminded of your pain will not aid your recovery. Not now."

When Legolas and I said nothing, he said farewell and jogged off to find his companions.

"Well!" I turned to Legolas, then eyed the practice swords. "What are we going to do now?"

"I think he's right," he said softly.

I tensed.

"We need a break." He looked down as he said it.

"B-but what about—I have so much to prepare for. So much to figure out. I—" I balled my fists as the urge to pull my hair out became nearly unbearable.

"We can do that after we rest."

"But there's so much to do!" Like saving the whole of Middle-earth! So impossible that I should have started nine years ago! But... isn't ignoring the gigantic problem what I want too?

"Elladan is right, Lum. We can't expect to give peace back to the land if we ourselves don't partake in our own."

But—oh valar. I groaned, shrinking under the weight of my duty, hiding my face from him. Didn't he understand? Didn't he realize that I alone was assigned this impossible task, that if I took any longer in completing it, that it meant more lives were lost because of me? But Talaedra, Legolas's wound—

I shoved the thoughts away. Later.

Legolas took my hands. "Lumornel. Just for tomorrow. Then we can begin to look into tactics and strategies."

His eyes were so intense as they pleaded. This is him begging, I realized. Despite him seeming strong right now in front of the other soldiers, I knew of the weight he bore behind closed doors.

I sighed, hating the dominating shame and anxious, suffocating weight that seemed to bore down harder. "Okay. Then we better get things done today while we can."

And then sucked in a breath as I remembered what I needed to ask of him. The light in me pulsed, but my years of training with the Valar helped me keep it hidden. But my palms still tingled with sweat and my lungs locked up. Don't ask don't ask don't ask—

"Will you help me with knives?"

I held my breath, looking everywhere but him. Say no say no say no say no—

If he can be away from me for a while, then I can touch a knife.

"Of course."

I almost cried.

Gently, he touched my arm. "How do you want to start?"

My throat constricted. "Eating in the dining hall would be a good start."

He nodded. "Do you want to duel with long swords until then?"

I chewed my cheek. I'd rather get lost in a book but I knew even then I wouldn't be able to concentrate with the coming meal. Fighting though... the exertion, the mental and physical concentration...

"Okay," I said and began towards the long row of dueling rings. "Let's do it."

:::::::

So this isn't an actual published book, so I can toss aside the rules. Do you all want me to write Legolas and Lum's day off? If not, then I'm going to go ahead as business as usual and write what I had planned next.

Also, my brain is a bit fried so I only read through this chapter once instead of my usual three times. So sorry for any mistakes.

Oh! I have a playlist full of songs that remind me of The Unexpected/New Dawn/TreeLeaf. Some of the songs have lyrics that really remind me of this story and others just have that feel that reminds me. There's soft love songs, instrumental, alternative rock, one emo/screamo song... Anyhow 😂 the playlist is called "#TreeLeaf"

https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLiASlqUIRzFJwd-YrNxlOptG_Utq8X4wp

^^ and of course I'll be adding to it over time. I'll put the link in my bio because I'm fairly certain the one above won't be click-able

I wish you all the best of luck with your school and jobs.

God bless,

phoenix