Legolas' PoV

My father once told me that sometimes, things do not go back to the way they were. They cannot. Change was constant, and regretting the past was something we must try not to do. The past is behind us and if we linger too long, time will eventually leave us behind. As a young elfling, I was taught to control emotions and always put mind over matter. Always put your head first for it is logical and sometimes, the heart is deceiving. Perhaps, I have lived long a life, following that exact rule of thought.

Perhaps that is why, I have lived with no regrets whatsoever. Until the day I let my heart take control. It was not supposed to happen, even with Tauriel I had been cautious. Knowing fully well how dangerous the waters were. It did not hurt less, of course. But it was easy to forget. Easy to crush and never think of again.

Turwaithiel, was another story. It was rather... unexpected with her. It happened so naturally that I had not even realized it until it was too late. I could almost laugh at the thought. An elf, caught off guard.

It was night when we had finally gotten to the other side of the mountain. It was a rather short and quiet journey save for the neighing of my horse and the occasional conversation that me and Turwaithiel had to start. Sometimes, we would be as quiet as the boy.

I found it odd, however, to find someone who did not speak. I thought, first, that he was going through grief and refused to talk but it often seems that he was more joyous than any of us. Death was not something I was accustomed to. Even Tauriel's death came as a shock to me. However, deep in my heart I know i is not gone forever. Stories of elves dying rarely reached my ears as a child and these stories often end sadly, but still full of hope.

I did not know how it felt like for the world of men. For the mortals who seem to welcome death with no fear. They think elves are fearless, yet they are the ones who jump into a battle knowing there was a possibility they would never survive it.

Turwaithiel sat near the fire. The burning embers illuminating her skin, and her bright eyes. She may have changed the way she dressed, looked and even acted, yet you could still see remnants of her old life. A life she had chose to run away from.

Her soft dark tresses were now hardened with weather and dirt, although she did not mind and proceeded to tie all her strands into one big ball on top of her head. Twisting it and pinning it everywhere. Something that elves were not accustomed to seeing or doing. It was quite human. Perhaps that golden haired maiden had influenced her.

The thought of the golden haired girl brought back many memories. Memories of war and grief of loss. By the way Turwaithiel slumped her shoulders and staring into the distance made me wonder if she held herself responsible.

I wish she did not. I wish she would not keep doing that. Frowning and trying not to cry. It pained me for I could not do anything. There were many a times that I would have the urge to just hold her, but what would she do? Would she even let me? What use was I? If I could not even release her of what haunted her.

All that light, gone in one moment. I often recall the times we had. Where her laughter was familiar as the sound of the wind. Now, there was not even a whisper of it. I stood away from the fire, like I always have. Watching her discreetly. She would do the same thing over and over. Rub her fingers together as if there was a chill to them she could not quite erase, then she would play with the necklace and run a finger across the leather bracelet on her wrist. Bleon was with the horse, he seemed to love him as much as I do. He had a knack for animals which made me wonder where he was raised.

From what I gathered through observation alone was, the girl named Lara was not immortal like us. She was human and Bleon was her little brother. They met along the road, perhaps. Lara had a way with her hands and Bleon did not speak. What an odd pair they were and yet, because of them, I had gotten to see Turwaithiel again. I crossed my arms over my chest and from where we stood, I could make out the borders of Mirkwood. I hope my father is doing better than me with all these complications. I could just see the resemblance now. We were both fools, destined to fall in love with women who had their own mindsets. Very strong ones too. The moon hung just above the dark horizon, casting a silver glow among the looming trees and open fields.

"Legolas," her voice seemed to sing and for a moment, I thought I was back. I was back in the library where she would tell me something that fascinated her. I would be back to a place where everything was better than this. But I know in my heart that when I turn around, she would not be standing by a window where the sunlight seemed to make her glow. She would not have a smile on her face or a twinkle in her eye. At least say my name again, my heart seemed to beg as I turned around to face her.

A cloak was over her as Bleon rested on her lap, watching me with wonder filled eyes.

"Yes?"

She seemed to shift for a moment before averting her gaze once more. I hated it when she did that.

"Would you come sit by the fire with us?"

Hesitation filled me as I kept my gaze on her, not really understanding what had just taken place. Finally, after a few moments I began to walk towards them but kept the fire between us as I sat, crosslegged on the ground.

We stayed like that for an unbearably long time that even Bleon had began to glance from me to her, with a question in his eyes. Then he sat up and began to draw something with a stick, on the ground. It was a vague image but it seemed to be a girl with flowers in her hair. Bleon then turned to Turwaithiel as she looked at the drawing. Sadness seemed to fill her eyes as she gave the boy a soft nod.

"You miss, Lara?" She asked and the boy nodded and smiled as he drew another picture, this time it was a house with what appeared to be animals around it.

"You want to go home?" Turwaithiel asked and I felt the heaviness in her voice and how strained it sounded. The boy nodded again and drew yet another picture. It appeared to be Turwaithiel.

"I will go with you," she seemed to whisper into his forehead as she wrapped her arms around him. Bleon then turned to me with a smile before nudging Turwaithiel on the shoulder. She was trying so hard not to cry. The boy then motions towards me and Turwaithiel managed a small laugh. I never knew it was possible to feel painfully happy.

"You wish for Legolas to come too?"

The boy turned to me with a smile before nodding slowly. There is hope in men, yet.

"It would be an honor," I replied before the boy laid back down as Turwaithiel began to sing.

--

When the boy was asleep, Turwaithiel placed him near the fire but far enough to be safe. I rested upon a rock, that seemed to grow across the borders of the mountains. I heard a shuffle of feet before she was beside me, breathing in the cool night air.

"I was going to be sent to Lothlorién," she began and I remained quiet, wanting to only hear her voice. " I never actually expected to actually go." She seemed to find something amusing as the corners of her lips curve a little. Then there was that silence again.

Get a grip, Legolas.

"Do you not plan on ever returning home?" I asked. It was a dangerous question and yet I had to know. She was more difficult to read now. Her actions more unpredictable and a part of me just wanted to know.

"Of course I do," she replies. " I do not know, Legolas, but I think it was not really a good idea for me to leave Imladris."

She drew out a breath as if she was trying to let it all out in a single exhale of air, before leaning back on the rock as well.

"What have I done now?" She seemed to ask, " I have separated a boy from his sister. I cost her her life."

"Do not say that," I interjected, " do not say that it is your fault. You have no fault..." None at all. She shook her head as she turned to me with a sad smile that seemed to drive a blade right through me.

"Why am I so weak?" She whispered. She was almost pleading for me to give her an answer, but I had none so I stared at her, hoping she would understand how I felt just by looking into my eyes.

"So weak," she repeats bitterly as her eyes trained on the ground below us, " Running away. Hiding behind books." She counted them off, like a list of why she hated herself. Of all the things I seemed to love about her.

"What use is knowledge if all I am to do is stay at home and read and read?"

I could not give her an answer. I remained quiet, as she remained in her thoughts. I wish I could let her see her as I saw her. Her passion is enough to drive the darkness away. I would be willing to bet, even if she could not do something, she would still do it and give it her all because that is just how she was. She never gave up without trying.

"Do you remember the day we had an argument about dwarves and their culture?" I began and she turned to me with an arched brow. Yes, that memory was something I would never forget, not in a million years. The day an elf convinced me that not all dwarves were horrible. The day I actually vowed to try and befriend a dwarf if I could. Even if I had explained to her how impossible that might be, especially since my father made it quiet obvious that our kind and theirs did not mix well together.

"I remember it, why?" She asked, pulling me away from my thoughts.

"Well, I do not think that anyone who managed to convince me that dwarves were indeed tolerable creatures, would be considered weak," I explained, " I think you have a way with words and your kindness exceeds even that of the lady of lothlorién-"

"- do not speak of such things -" she begins but I quickly cut her off.

"I have not met anyone with a stronger heart," I turned to face her, " or a purer soul than you."

She watched me as if she was in some sort of painful argument with herself and I knew from that look that she was arguing if she should tell me about something or not. I wanted her to tell me, so that I could convince her everything she says were not true. If only she'd talk. She opens her mouth hesitantly before closing them back again.

"Legolas, I--" she began but hesitated once more. It was then I noticed how close we were. I could see the starlight specs decorated in her eyes. Blue, they were like the ocean with flickers of light as the sun swam on their surface.

"We do not have to talk about it now, if you do not wish to." I say, noticing how difficult it was for her. She seemed to be unaware of our proximity as she tried to understand what I had just said. My arm goes up slowly, and realization hits her but she does not step away and allows me to touch the skin of her face. I run a thumb across her cheek and for a moment, time seemed to stop.

"Turwaithiel," I say but my voice is barely heard as I trace the line of her jaw. Despite her skin being decorated with smudges of dirt, she still looked every bit of the girl that I found in the library. She places a hand over mine and I am surprised by how cold her skin was. She held my hand in a firm yet gentle manner as her eyes seemed to say something.

Fear, confusion and sadness swam in the deep pools. I leaned forward and she watched me do so, her eyes never leaving mine.

There was a snap of a twig, as the horse seemed to bolt right up and neigh. Our moment was broken as she jumped in surprise, taking a step away from me before turning away from me entirely.

Her head turned towards the direction of the sound and I force myself to do the same, still feeling her could touch on my fingers.

When I turned towards the horse, I saw a cloaked figure. For a moment, I thought it was the same dark figure me and Aragorn had seen but with that I had felt dread. It was different this time. The cloaked figure stood beside the sleeping boy, leaning ever slowly.

"Bleon!" Turwaithiel called, running towards the figure, recklessly if I may say so. I drew out an arrow, and readied my bow. The figure turned abruptly but its face was well hidden. There was a pause before the figure stood up, pulled the cloak across it like a shield before it ran towards another direction where the rocks seemed bigger and more jagged and the way dark. I lower my bow as my eyes stay where the figure had run off to. What in the world was that?

Turwaithiel leaned down on Bleon and examined him. The boy seemed to be a deep sleeper since he was not awoken by the horse's sudden shriek. I rested back on the rock as my heart seemed ready to pry itself loose of its cage. Why that was, I was not entirely sure.

Had I been afraid of the figure? Or was it something else? I think of this as my eyes fall on to the dark haired elleth by the fire. My hands could still feel her touch.

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Authors note: Okay, kinda boring chapter. Sorry. -.-" haha I have been in a rut lately. Hope you liked it tho.

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