^*^early update this morning!! Whoop whoop!^*^

I started. Now? Leave now? He can't be serious.

But of course, he is. Staying here puts not only myself at risk but the entire population of Lothlorien. I must stay ahead of Sauron. If not... well...

"We have enough supplies for you and Prince Legolas to reach Mirkwood." Galadriel stood, covertly wiping the grass from her dress.

"You knew that we'd have to leave." It wasn't a question. I looked over at Legolas, who had a nurse fretting over his ripped stitches. "You knew too."

"I suspected," he nodded. "But that's beside the point, Lum. We must reach Mirkwood. I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "It's not your fault." I hesitated, beheld all those watching. Deciding I didn't want two dozen elves listening in, I went closer, switching for only half a dozen elf ears. Although, most jumped into action.

"It's not your fault," I repeated, watching the nurse's steady hand needle through flesh. Needles and blood didn't bother me anymore. "It's mine. I've been too selfish and shortsighted to see beyond my own wants. I wanted to rest, be in a place that felt half-way like home."

I shook my head again, sitting down next to Legolas on a log once the healer scurried away. "But I guess I always knew that couldn't work out. So, let's go. To Mirkwood. To help our people, so you can rule them."

Legolas sighed and scratched the back of his neck. "You may stay here if you wish. I know what it's like to desire to stay in a place with no threats, to just be at peace."

I bit my cheek. That's what I really want, isn't it? A place to pretend I'm not needed. "I'll go with you."

He nodded resolutely, seeing—or sensing—that I had already made up my mind.

"Legolas... I'm... sorry if I'm being too much of a burden. Because of me you almost got killed. And then what would—" happen if Mirkwood lost its Prince, all because of an ignorant girl.

I shook the thought away. "I'm sorry. But I'm going with you to Mirkwood." Sighing dejectedly, I leaned against Legolas's shoulder. Fatigue washed over me.

"Lumornel..." He shifted away.

I tensed in apprehension.

"For my sake, Lum, please stop. I told you how I felt—feel—about you and you dismissed my proclamation. I can live with that, but not if you act as if it didn't happen—as you are doing now. Your subtle touches, your words of comfort—they're killing me, Lum. I would be delighted to stay friends, but not if you act as if you are wanting something more."

"I—" I stopped, flabbergasted. Was I really acting as if I wanted something more?

...Do I want something more...?

Yes. Valar, yes.

I clenched my teeth and balled my hands into the fabric of my trousers. I had made up my mind weeks ago. Legolas doesn't deserve to live in pain. Yes, I will die, but can't I ease his pain—make him happy, even—until my mortal death comes?

I leaned forward, determination taking over. Anticipation tingled my hands as excitement jumped in my chest. "Legolas, I've been a fool. All this time I've—"

"Excuse me, hiril vuin a hir Legolas," said a suddenly annoying ellon, completely unaware of what he just interrupted. "Your supplies are ready and Hir Celeborn insists you leave at once."

"Surely we can wait—"

Kaylessa sauntered up. "And surely Sauron's forces are only a few hours away. You and the princeling must be going soon."

I glared, silently fuming—

—princeling.

I shoved Kaylessa against a tree, my hand to her throat. "Are you working for him?!"

Elves froze around us, some even daring to come forward. Legolas cautiously came up behind me.

"What are you doing?"

"She called you 'princeling'! Nobody else but Sauron has called you that! Just minutes ago, in my head, he used that title on you!"

I squeezed her throat tighter. "Are you working for him?" How much had I told her? How long had she—

Kaylessa rasped, her fingers clawing blood on my hands. Begrudgingly, I loosened my grip.

"I'm not—working with him," she grated. "It's a coincidence!"

Maybe Legolas had been right not to trust her—

"Lumornel!" Galadriel yelled, her hand gently resting on my straining arm. "She's not lying. She is not assisting the enemy in any way. Let her go."

I growled, watching Kaylessa claw helplessly, struggling to draw breath.

"Lumornel. Let her go. She is not going to harm anyone here."

Clenching my teeth, I acknowledged that if anyone could tell if someone was or was not working with Sauron, it'd be Galadriel. I let Kaylessa go. She dropped to her knees, coughing.

"Very lady-like of you to strangle an elleth," Kaylessa wheezed, sounding as condescending as ever.

Without a thought, I sent her rolling with a blast of energy.

Kaylessa rolled to a stop, gazing up at the treetops. "And I guess that was for my amazing insight?"

"Oh yes," I snarled, "that and that snarky mouth of yours."

"I'll take that as a compliment, my ladyness."

Feeling only slightly guilty, I walked away, heartbeat picking up as I saw the many eyes on me. I didn't have to blast her. I shouldn't have done that.

I saw the stunned elf who had the responsibility of bringing our supplies to our horses. I briskly strode to her and took my horses reins. "Thank you."

The horse swung its head to me, seemingly pleading for an actual rest. "I'd like the same thing, but we have a duty we must attend too. I'm sorry."

With that, I jumped into the saddle and found Legolas speaking once again with Galadriel and Celeborn.

I should be doing that, I thought. But shame kept me back, head down—

Something cold touched my mind, making me gasp softly. I clenched onto the reins, feeling my nails cut into my skin. The slight coldness didn't go away.

Come on, Sauron, what are you waiting for? But no mind-invading happened. It was as if... he kept one hand on my mind, waiting for some valuable information.

Slowly, I tried to relax through the feeling, refocusing my gaze on Legolas and my birth-parents.

Once through, Legolas hopped onto his horse. And then we were off, leaving Kaylessa behind.

*********

I remembered the dead as we made our way through the dreary and looming forest of Mirkwood.

'Arwen en amin...' Erlathan had whispered through bloody lips, right before he fell lifelessly before me, with an enrage and hideous orc looming behind him. He had been the first death. The first one I had ever seen, not counting orcs. His death had planted a seed of guilt in me. But also, one of maturity.

Frodo. Covered in so much blood I couldn't tell whether his neck had been cut or somewhere else. His death began Legolas's doom. With Frodo's passing, the Ring had reaped destruction and madness. I hadn't been quick enough or wary enough to stop his death. His soft words telling me to do what he could not still haunted my dreams.

Boromir's death I had no control over. Maybe... Maybe if I had been stronger, more aware, he'd still be with us today. I never got to see him off into the river with Frodo, their dead eyes closed as the water carried them away.

I remembered falling in the Battle of Helm's Deep, the sightless eyes of a nameless women's corpse searing me through as feet pounded around. Blood had dripped from her mouth, her skin pale from hours of laying. She had been my catalyst, urging me to get up and fight. Who would miss her? Had anyone found her body lost amid the carnage?

And little Jeden, the young boy who had been grumpy, then curious. If I hadn't taught him how to wield a sword, would he be dead? Would he have still been put out in battle—even if he didn't know how to hold a blade? His blue-gray eyes had stared coldly skyward, blood from his nose sloping down his cheek and pooling in the dip beneath his eye. His small body, laden with armor, had laid half buried under corpses, both Rohanians and orcs tripping and trampling over his body. What about his friend, Resoden? Is he rotting away too?

"Don't stray from the path," Legolas warned.

"I wasn't straying—" I had, indeed, been straying from the bricked path. Hurriedly, I jerked the horse towards safety.

"Wouldn't it be faster if we took to the trees?" I remembered a time when I didn't have the weight of Arda on my shoulders, when I could watch as an elven patrol flitted through the trees, barely making a sound. Weapons of all sorts had glittered on their bodies, brown mottled armor and cloth becoming their camouflage. Where they entered the forest—near the palace and homes—the trees had been lively and green. The King had used his elven-king magic to hold the darkness at bay. Never had I witnessed the sickly and dark plant-life until my life-changing journey began.

Like the trees around me, seeming to suck all happiness away. A presence so evil that it turned green to black and brown pressed down on me from all sides, suffocating, like a void of depression. A living, breathing thing. Curled vines hung down like claws, dark leaves fluttered in the wind like bats, and roots lay like snakes. The heavy darkness not only blocked out hope, it blocked out the sun. No birds chirped, no squirrels chatted merrily. Only silence. And the heavy, wheezing breathing of illness. Even what once was the sweet smell of nature, now was the scent of rotting corpses and decaying wood. Whispers flitted through the trees, undeciphered and chilling—

"Yes, it would be faster, but not for you. Without the proper training, you'd slip and fall or lose your way." Legolas seemed truly saddened by the sights around him. Every now and then he'd lay a hand on a tree, then pull back in mourning.

"What about patrols? Why haven't they found us?"

He seemed troubled by this. "I do not know."

The depressing void seemed to suck all colors away. Legolas's hair was dull and muted, as was his cloak and other belongings. When I held my hand aloft, the skin looked grey—almost corpse-like. When we stopped for a quick reprieve—which wasn't often, we were both too tense to rest, only after what seemed like hours could I finally close my eye. Once, Legolas had heard something big and lumbering. A chill I couldn't quite shake made a home in my spine as we had crouched down near the path, horses carefully hidden too. The dirt Legolas had made me smear over myself still clung to me. He claimed it masked our scents. From spiders.

We hadn't come face to face with one of the giant arachnids, and I hoped it stayed that way. Apparently, we were not even at the heart of their territory. The path, Legolas claimed, took us through the outskirts of their 'land.' Yet, signs of their presence did show. Gauzy webs lined the branches overhead, the forgotten netting hanging like some ill moss. Even though the webs were old and not in use, Legolas warned me against touching them.

I didn't know how many days, weeks, or months had passed since entering Mirkwood, only that my eyes were dry and heavy and a weight pressed on me from all sides, making it hard to breathe. 'Center yourself,' Legolas had said. 'Find your center and cling to it, not tightly enough that you'll topple over and not light enough that you'll blow away. Find that then grasp onto that which calms you. It'll keep the darkness at bay.'

I didn't know what he meant, but I tried anyway. I didn't know whether I had accomplished what he said, just that the darkness had retreated a little, but it wasn't gone completely.

The eerie silence of Mirkwood created the perfect time to think. I hated it. Most time, when it was silent enough to think, I usually ended up pondering over why a squirrel had such a bushy tail instead of figuring out something more important.

But with this heavy evil weighing on me... It made me think of Sauron. And the cold feeling on my mind—from the Dark Lord—got heavier.

When Sauron entered into my mind, it had all been trick—an illusion. Was he really in Mordor—or worse, in Mirkwood? Did Sauron even look like that handsome figure, or something more sinister? Probably sinister. Something so evil couldn't possibly look so good.

But the dark ringlets that occasionally whispered to life around my hands... they're beautiful. Enchantingly so. That fact chilled me. Dark wisps... creatures unto themselves...

Something tickled my wrists.

Panicking, I looked down at my hands—

Dark things moved idly across my skin, cool to the touch. Trees groaned in chorus, leaves fluttering in an unnatural breeze as the heavy void deepened.

I almost screamed—the void pressing into me saving me from doing so. Instead, I dropped the reins and squeezed my eyes closed. Like a child.

Go away go away go away, I pleaded.

I tried focusing on the sudden wind blowing hair from my neck, the breathing of the horse, my own heartbeat—anything but the terrible gliding of shadows.

Tentatively, I peeked open an eye. The shadows were gone. The wind dissipated, leaving the air stagnant again, and the trees went back to being hauntingly still.

"We must hurry," Legolas stated, eyeing my hands. Then he softly kicked his mare's side into a faster pace. I hated how our horses' hooves clapped against the path, the deafening void swallowing up the echo in its silence.

Nodding, I tightened the reins around my fists, my knuckles turning white. I refused to think about the dark tendrils... the wisps—STOP!

"Legolas," I said through gritted teeth. "Say something."

The elf twisted around in his seat, looked down at my bound hands, then up to my face. Understanding cleared his eyes.

"When I was young, and as you can imagine, I aspired to be a warrior. Even at my young age, I knew my homeland would need me to be a skilled fighter. I didn't go into the army wanting glory, like most adolescent ellyn, I wanted to keep my Greenwood safe. And yes," he smiled, "I also wanted to play among the trees."

He tilted his head skyward, imagining sun shining on his face. A slight smile touched his lips as he remembered. "Amaron..." a slight quiver shook his voice. "He was my mentor, almost like a second father. After my mother had passed, my father retreated deep into himself and became the cold King rumors state he is. I barely remember the days when he was jovial and full of light—he still is sometimes, right before he remembers Mother won't be waiting for him in their chambers or in the gardens. When father was at his worst, Amaron raised me as if his own. His sons and daughter became like siblings, some nights I shared their evening meal."

Legolas stuck his gaze on the path ahead. "As I grew older, Amaron took it upon himself to teach me what leadership meant. It was through him I learned that coldness wasn't the best way to approach soldiers. Often, encouragement was what gave the troops morale, not a stone face. Father... he taught me important things, things that have made me the ellon that I am, but he was rarely there for me."

"I used what Amaron had taught me with weapons and, despite his wishes for me not to push myself too far, I snuck out of the palace at night to practice twirling a blade. My valets began wondering why my fingers would be covered in scabs in the morning or why I had bruises. Sometimes I'd send them on a wild goose chase for a nameless elf who would dare lay a hand on the Prince." Legolas chuckled. "I had once snuck out of my chambers—even Mithrandir would've laughed at the faces on my guards' faces' when I returned two hours before dawn. They never even knew I had left in the first place!"

He shook his head mirthfully. "Word of my military skill worked its way up the ranks, soon, I had captains watching me practice. Captains from the great Hatharal—who only chose the best—to Lord Onas, who often got the soldiers left over from the selection. Each one silently scheming a way to get me into their squadron."

I had to interrupt. "But couldn't you just pick what squadron you wanted to join? Or, since you're the Prince, go straight to being a captain?"

"No," he shook his head. "No matter what rank an elf is socially, we all start out the same—as a greenie. No one, not even me, gets to skip ranks so easily. It would be foolish to let me be captain without first having been under the influence of another."

"Who chose you then?" I asked eagerly. "Surely it was Hatharal?"

"No. It was Captain Durlan."

"And he picked the best of the best?"

Legolas laughed. "Of course not! He got the no-names, soldiers who were average enough to get killed."

I sat back, stunned. "But why..."

"I didn't find out until much later that the captains had agreed behind closed doors to set me with a group who often got taunted. It would teach me to be humble and not boastful. And yet, it set me up in a place where I could be an idol to the other ellon in my squad."

"I did my best to bring myself down to their level, to make them see me as an elf who had been raised in the woods, rather than in a palace. It didn't work, but after I nearly got maimed, they began to see me as their own. Captain Durlan often had me on cook duty and horse duty and wash duty and all the duties all at once so I would become a laughing stock for the ellyn. I despised the captain, but it helped me be seen as an ellon and not a prince."

"It wasn't until I had earned my first braid that my father finally began to notice me again—"

"What was the braid for?"

He smiled. "Master Archery."

"Oh of course," I laughed. "I should've known."

Legolas nearly snorted. "Really, you should've."

I rolled my eyes. "Continue."

"As you wish, your majesty." I blushed rose at the words.

"Father had gifted me with an arrow, an arrow used by Oropher, my grandfather. I was thrilled, suddenly filled with boyish pride to have the attention of my father. It didn't last as I had wished it too, but the king began to converse with me during our meals. Only about how practice had been, or how my most recent patrol went. It was never ' how was your day' or 'I'm proud of you.' He treated me like he would a bureaucrat or one of his generals."

Legolas snorted. "I don't think he ever expected me to turn rebellious, despite my pranks on the palace staff or my mini-journeys through the tree-tops—"

"Mini-journeys?"

He hesitated. Was that a blush? "I... would stay up in the trees for hours. And refused to come down."

I smiled. "Sounds like a little-Legolas." I wouldn't put it past the now-Legolas to go on a 'mini-journey' of his own through the trees, given the chance.

"I can't imagine you rebellious." I got almost scared at the image of it. "What... did you do?"

He smiled deviously. "Nothing my father expected." He said nothing else, his knowing smirk nearly killing me.

"Well, what did you do?!"

"Oh, you know."

"I do not—!"

A shrill shriek crippled our ears. Our horses reared in fright, their cries being swallowed up by the forest.

I grappled for the reins, nearly sliding off the horse in the process. And yet, it was all to dismay. The Nazgul swept overhead, shrieking once more. The horse bucked and threw its head—and I tumbled off its back—

—and off the path.

Dry leaves crunched and flew around me as I rolled. I clutched for purpose, but it was as if the forest was pulling me in, twigs and rocks slicing my skin. Every time my hand touched a root—I'd be snatched away. I slammed into the base of a tree, pain snapping up my back.

I laid dazed, gazing up at the tree. Its dark branches wouldn't stop spinning.

Nazgul. Sauron has found me.

Despite the vertigo, I forced my way to my feet, holding onto the tree for support. The creature shrieked again, its cry much farther away. Sauron, he knew I was heading for Mirkwood, he knew.

I almost sank to the ground, holding onto the tree for a whole other reason.

Was I that important to Sauron's scheming that he'd send one of his Nine? Fear paralyzed me. It felt as if a whole army was at my back, ropes and knives in hand. How fast could I outrun the dark lord? More importantly—how long could I last?

Where was Legolas? Where am I? Where's the path?

I caught myself hyperventilating and forcibly made myself take in deep breathes.

But where was Legolas?

I put one foot in front of the other, going up the hill I had fallen down. Or was it that hill? And was that the tree I had hit? Or one of the other surrounding three?

ValarValarValar—

"Legolas!!"

His name didn't echo, instead, the looming forest seemed to draw it in. I got the immediate feeling I was in a cell again, unable to escape. Completely helpless.

"Legolas!!!"

The surrounds drew in closer, the heavy ominous weight pressing harder. Suffocating. Trapping me in.

"No no no no no no."

I stomped in a direction—hoping—praying—it was the right one. But the trees still loomed, the weight still pressed. I broke out in a jog, stumbling over hidden roots. I kept up the pace until a film of sweat formed.

Leaning against a tree, I panted. Trying to push down my panic, I ignored the fact that my eyes were too weak to see in the forest's lights. I could be feet from the path and not know it.

I'm strong. I can do this.

Then I stopped. When had I gone from pretending to be book characters to having real confidence in myself—?

"Iz stupid, this. Deh spiders think they rule deh woods now," the orc complained.

The orc was right there, halfway obscured by brush. They lumbered lazily, weapons not even at the ready. And they didn't seem to notice me. "Not wit' these elvez they don't."

The first orc grinned. "We got them in deh palm of our 'ands—"

He spotted me.

It took the creature a moment to register that a girl was standing before him. I took that time to draw Gorthaden—

The sword wasn't there.

I searched wildly for my long dagger—I didn't have that weapon either. Nor any other weapons. The two orcs realized it at the same time I did. And they grinned.

I spun on my heels and ran.

*********

"Charge 'em and they scatter!"
              —J.R.R. Tolkien on driving among other vehicles

So... thoughts?????

I thinkkkk I have a presentation in English today. Gross. Buuuut... you'll never guess who it's over.
*sucks in breath*
TOLKIEN

And I may have gone overboard on the minimum of 3 quotes rule.... I have, like, 10 or more. Oops.

This story is almost done!!! Hopefully I'll finish it this summer. *shakes from anticipation*

What do you think is going to happen next? What about Legolas and Lumornel's relationship?

Novaer, mellyn
~awatin~