A knock on the door roused me from my restless sleep. I sighed as the darkness of my own mind began to fade away, but my exhausted body begged me to ignore the intrusion and pursue another hour of sleep. Groaning, I rolled onto my side and gave in to the temptation.

Creaking softly, the door opened, and light footfalls crossed the flet. "Eda?" His cool hand rested on my upturned shoulder.

A mild throb resonated from his touch, and I grunted, "Ow."

"Sorry." Legolas's voice was amused, and not in the least apologetic. The bed shifted as he sat down beside me, and he added, "Aragorn told me he's going down to the archery range to practice, and Boromir will be going with him to work with the Hobbits on their skills with a blade. Aragorn asked if I wanted to come, and I wondered if you might escort me."

I groaned again, mentally clawing at the fleeting tendrils of sleep. "Why?"

"To meet with the Fellowship," Legolas added, a smile in his tone. "And...after what happened in Moria...I should feel better with you at my side."

I couldn't help but grin. Rolling onto my back, I smirked up at him and mumbled sleepily, "What, afraid you might faint again?"

Legolas's jaw dropped in shock. "No indeed!" A spark entered his eyes, and he said in mock offense, "Perhaps you should like to break your leg and run on it for hours, and see how much better you fare!"

I chuckled, rubbing my eyes. With the whole creepy 'daughter of the earth' thing, there was a chance I would handle it better. But I opted not to bring that up just yet.

Legolas laughed with me, then reached down to brush some stray hairs out of my face. "Will you come?"

"Ugh," I said, feigning reluctance. "If you insist."

"Good," Legolas replied. He stood and picked up my shoes, which I'd apparently kicked off sometime during the night, and moved to put them on my feet.

My heart rattled its cage, begging—pleading—to be let out. I mentally put a gag on my traitorous heart, snatching my feet out of Legolas's reach. "Don't even think about it," I muttered, motioning for him to hand over my shoes. He did, an expression of confusion crossing his face. I ignored it. Legolas had no business touching my feet.

"Well," he said awkwardly, "at least you're already dressed."

"True," I said, grateful that he was willing to wave the moment aside. I didn't want to treat him coldly—I just didn't know how else to discipline my heart into submission. Truthfully, my pendulum-like behavior wasn't fair to Legolas. Which is why, after we'd left the flet and he offered his arm to me, I accepted.

We walked in companionable silence, save the occasional times that Legolas stopped a passerby to ask for directions. Still, I battled with my heart, desperate for the control I had lacked for so long.

At length, we reached the archery range. It was amazingly long, ideal for practicing long-range accuracy. Aragorn was already stationed alongside a few of the Lothlòrien Elves, struggling to draw back the string of a longbow almost as tall as he was. In the corner, Boromir was working with the rascals again, with Gimli watching.

Legolas led me over to Aragorn, just as the Man released an arrow. It flew across the room, striking the target on the lower rim and a little to the left. Chuckling, Legolas said, "Perhaps you'll have better luck with something a little smaller."

Aragorn flashed Legolas a look of irritation—the expression only old friends can give each other without causing offense. "I wager you'll do little better," he challenged. "This is twice the length of your own weapon."

Legolas shrugged, motioning for Aragorn to hand him the bow. Aragorn obliged, drawing an arrow from his quiver and handing that to Legolas, as well. I moved out of the way as Legolas began to laboriously draw back the string. The muscles in his arms and shoulders swelled to meet the challenge, until the bowstring was drawn all the way back. A pause, then Legolas released the arrow. It sailed straight and true, into the center of the target.

Aware of the glances passed around the room, Legolas flashed Aragorn a cocky grin.

Aragorn chuckled, shaking his head. "I stand corrected, my friend." Pulling off his quiver and handing it to Legolas, he said, "See if you cannot split the arrow you just fired."

Legolas rolled his eyes, but took the bait. As he prepared to shoot again, Aragorn walked over to me and wrapped me in a gentle hug. As he pulled back, he mouthed, "He's in a good mood."

I smiled and shrugged. Bows, arrows, weapons—all that stuff did remarkable things to improve the mood of any male.

"Eda!" Gimli bellowed right behind me, making me startle.

Laughing at my own reaction, I turned and met the Dwarf's embrace. "Gimli!" His arms cinched around my shoulders, and I gave a sharp gasp.

He immediately drew back. "I'm sorry, lassie, did I hurt ye?"

I rubbed my right arm, wincing. "No, no, I'm just a little sore. I saw you at breakfast yesterday, but never got to speak with you. How are you?"

"Well enough, lassie, well enough. Though Gandalf's passing was...unexpected." Gimli's voice grew gruffer at the last sentence.

I looked down, nodding silently.

"What were ye thinking, lass?" Gimli bellowed suddenly, drawing the attention of every person in the room. Even Boromir and the Hobbits turned to stare. "I oughta turn ye over my knee, standing in front of a cave troll like a twitterpated Elfling!"

I bit my lip, unsure if I should be ashamed or amused. Gimli's lecture was, by far, too little too late.

Legolas frowned at Gimli. "Hold your tongue, Dwarf. Know you not to whom you speak?"

"Legolas," I mumbled, "shut up, please." Aragorn chuckled, and I scowled at him.

"Erm..." Gimli scratched his hairy cheek. "I cannot say that I understand you question, laddie."

"Forgive me," Legolas said loftily. "I will simplify what I am saying so that you may understand. You are speaking to Eda, daughter of Kili, son of Dìs, daughter of Thrain. The only remaining heir to the throne of Erebor."

Gimli's eyes went wide, and he slowly turned to face me. "Is this true?" he whispered.

Ugh, Legolas! I nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. It's true."

Gimli's axe clattered to the stone floor. The Dwarf backed three steps. Then he fell facedown with a loud thud.

Had he just fainted?

"Gimli," I mumbled, my cheeks heating. I knelt at his head and shook his shoulder. "Wake up."

"I sleep not in the presence of my Queen," Gimli wailed, "but rather pay homage to a ruler long-lost, and mourn my own wretched ignorance."

Oh great Eru, what had Legolas done!? I glared up at the smirking ellon, but he just grinned wider.

"Get up, Gimli, you're making a scene!" I hissed, standing. "I'm not a queen, and you're not my subject!"

Gimli scrambled to his feet, then stared at me for several long, awkward seconds. Then he grabbed my hand and kissed it repeatedly. "Queen Eda," he said gruffly, "ye are most gracious."

I snatched my hand away. "Don't. Call. Me. That."

Gimli blushed. "Of course, Yer Majesty."

I whirled on Legolas. "How dare you."

He shrugged, still grinning. "Sorry."

"Was this your plan all along?" I demanded. "To drag me out here and reveal everything I wanted to remain secret?"

I didn't realize I'd stepped forward until Aragorn grabbed me from behind. "Eda," he said in a calm but warning tone, "you need to control yourself. Walk away, cool down, don't do anything you'll regret later."

I took a deep breath and let it out. He was right. I couldn't just fly off the handle like that. Another deep breath, in and out, then I murmured, "You're right. Thank you."

Aragorn slowly let me go, and with a grateful nod to him, I strode toward the door. Behind me, I heard Aragorn murmur, "Let her go, Legolas."

I shot Aragorn a mental thank-you and kept walking. I exited the archery range, then hit one of the many paths winding through Lothlòrien. "Calm down," I mumbled to myself. "Eru, it's not really that big a deal. Just...males being males."

That didn't comfort me much.

"Eda?" The soft, kind voice could have transported me back to another phase of my life—another life altogether. I stopped, but didn't turn around.

Haldir was going to murder me.

"Eda," he murmured, gently wrapping his arms around me from behind. His nose burrowed into my wild hair, and he whispered, in Quenya of course, "I can't believe it's really you."

"Rùmil," I sighed, pulling away and turning to face him. He hadn't changed a bit in the last thirty years—lean and not very tall, silvery hair that brushed his shoulders, and an angelic, boyish face—except now, his eyes held a deeper maturity than they did back then.

His gaze roamed over me in an innocent way. "You've changed in many ways. But I still recognize you." Rùmil smiled and gestured at my hair. "That hasn't changed in the least."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course not. It's my best feature."

Rùmil laughed at my sarcasm, and my heart ached. It was like we'd been apart for thirty days, rather than thirty years. But I knew, I'd changed far more than he realized. We could never be the same.

He snagged my hand, and gazing into my eyes sadly, he said, "Why did you leave?"

I closed my eyes, then gently tugged my hand out of his. "Rùmil, you need to know something. I—I lied to you. About everything."

"I know about your plan to harm Lady Galadriel; she told me," Rùmil interrupted urgently. Placing his hand on my unhurt arm, he said, "And Haldir told me of your fancy for him. I understand."

My fancy for him? I mentally facepalmed, but there were bigger problems at hand. "Listen to me," I said quietly. "Our friendship—it was never real. I used you, Rùmil. Used you to get closer to Haldir. And I used him to get closer to Galadriel." I met his sad gaze, wincing as I admitted the painful truth. "You were just a rung on a ladder."

I looked away. I couldn't watch the pain in Rùmil's eyes turn to anger. I couldn't watch another person learn that it was safer to hate me.

A soft touch to my cheek drew my gaze back. Rùmil's expression was still sad, but not angry, and not hateful. "Perhaps that is what you believed back then," he said. "But I see it in your face now. You care about me more than you admit. You care enough to regret your wrongdoing. Perhaps as only a friend—but I am willing to accept this. Eda," he whispered, his eyes shining with a smile. "I forgive you, my friend."

I put my good arm around his neck, biting back the tears threatening to overflow. Eru, I needed one of those newfangled Gondorian water faucets. Preferably before I founded New Laketown.

Rùmil gently returned my embrace, giving my neck an innocent kiss. If it had been anyone else, I would've been uncomfortable. But Rùmil was, in so many ways, still a mere elfling.

"Rùmil."

I went rigid at Haldir's deadly tone right behind me. Eru, how did that Elf move so bloody quiet!?

Rùmil did not relinquish our embrace, merely shifted to meet his brother's gaze over my head. "Yes?" he replied, not the slightest trace of worry in his voice.

"Have you forgotten all dignity?" Haldir hissed. "Remove your hands from the harlot at once."

I flinched.

"The hate in your words is strong," Rùmil said, rubbing my back comfortingly. "But a hate that deep can only grow from what was once love." A deadly silence ensued for three seconds. Then Rùmil gave a light chuckle. "I am not blind, Haldir, nor am I as naive as you would believe. Eda confessed her crimes to me, and I forgave her. As it would be well for you to do also, brother," he added, amusement in his tone.

I pulled back and turned to face Haldir. Under his eyes were nasty purple bags, and his nose was visibly crooked.

"Haldir, what happened?" I exclaimed.

"Perhaps you should ask your other male companion," Haldir snapped. "Or should I be more specific?"

That one smarted, but I didn't return his cut. Instead, I pulled out of Rùmil's embrace and said, "I should be getting back to them, actually. Rùmil, thank you for your forgiveness. Haldir—good day."

And I returned to the archery range.