I cursed over and over, the obscenities falling from my lips as I tripped over roots. The orcs jeered at me from behind, voices laced with victory. I had no weapons. No blades. What am to do--?

Oh, Lumornel, you idiot.

Refraining from slapping myself in the forehead, I halted and swung around to face the orcs. Not even giving them time to wonder why their quarry suddenly stopped before I blasted them.

The creatures flew backward in the sky as a small amount of light formed in the air, as if mist. But that soon disappeared as the orcs came to a landing. But I was already in motion by the time one orc slammed into a tree, causing the large plant to crack. He fell, slumped motionless. The other, however, landed amid the blackened brush, groaning as he strained to get up.

No.

I rushed forward and kicked the orc in the ribs, throwing him back to the ground. For sure, many of his ribs were broken. I didn't hesitate. I picked a rock amid the twigs the size of my fist. Kneeling over the orc, I preceded to bash its skull in. Over and over and over.

I didn't notice as its black blood sprayed my face.

Nor did I notice the shadows wreathing my wrists, singing a song of rage and murder.

*

The orc's skull no longer resembled a head. A black pulp only remained. If it wasn't for the bits of skull or the few chunks of non-liquidized brain, it would have looked as if the orc had been decapitated, it's head nowhere to be found.

I huddled near a tree, rough bark scraping my shoulder as my nails buried in the dirt, staring at the gruesome corpse.

I had done that. Me.

Its black blood still speckled my face—more than speckled it, actually, and the substance seemed to be permanently buried into my nails. No amount of scraping would get it out, now my own blood mingled with its'.

I need to forget about this for now. Push out the gruesome murder I committed—

But it wasn't murder, was it? I had been defending myself. But from what? The orc was already injured, it probably wouldn't have pursued me if I had left it to die.

This forest—it's starting to affect me.

I studied my wrists. The inky rivulets didn't stream around my fingers, my skin. Had it been those shadows, then? Did they make me bash in a living creatures skull?

Yes. I had felt it's soft tendril in my mind, hazing my vision with rage—

But I had enjoyed it.

I turned away from the corpse, disgusted with myself, and push myself off the ground. Carefully moving around my puddle of vomit, I desperately wished the sun penetrated the canopy of trees. If I could just find north, it would make this so much easier.

But I had no sun, no way to tell direction, no way home.

I contemplated yelling for help again, but if there had been two orcs nearby, how many more could be waiting? It's a miracle they hadn't heard me calling for Legolas earlier.

Legolas.

Where was he? Is he searching for me? Is he—

Legolas can take care of himself. He grew up in these woods and patrolled them for Valar knows how long.

*********

I wandered aimlessly about for... days? Or had it been weeks? With no way to tell time—besides exerting myself and wasting precious time climbing an enormous tree to see the sun's direction—sleep came... uneasily. I had been exhausted—but it felt too early in the day to sleep. I had been full of vigor—and yet it felt like the depths of night. Of course, I tried sleeping, but when I knew orcs could be nearby, just out of sight... So, I tried huddling down amid brush or in the hollow of a tree but my skin crawled when I imagined just how many bugs could crawl on me while sleeping.

I climbed a tree several times, bursting from the tent of leaves to find fresh air, free from the suffocating void, and an array of black and blue butterflies. Two of the times—when I thought it to be blazing with the midday sun—I found only the moon and stars. I used the advantage to head in the right direction, but the next times I went to the treetops for direction, I found that I had been completely turned around.

I hadn't come across any more orcs—thank Eru. Once I found the remains of a campfire, but had it been from an elven patrol or orcs? The embers had still been smoldering when I left it.

But then—I didn't know how long later—I found an arrow shaft wedged into the bark of a tree. An elven arrow. I quickly yanked out the arrow, gripping it tight. A weapon.

I climbed into the lower branches, carefully balanced myself for what was hopefully hours. I prayed the elf who had shot the arrow would come looking for it. Their ammunition would have to be getting low, right? They couldn't afford to lose something so valuable so far away from the palace.

But no one came, and I left. I sulked away like a wolf did when its prey had hidden too well.

The sun felt like it was sinking below the horizon to rest, yet I knew that the sun was playing tricks on me. Or my brain. Or this forest. Bah!

I kicked a leaf, then shouted in pain as my toe stubbed a rock. Did everything in this forest have to obscure things? Leaves hide rock, brush hides orcs, forest hides path—

"Lumornel."

The soft voice fell from above, making me jump. And yet it hadn't called again. Was this it? Has the forest finally driven me mad? The tree's gaping alcove seemed to mock me, so did webs, their slight trembling making it seem they were laughing—

A figure dropped down in a flurry of colors. I yelped, stumbling back into a nearly translucent web. And then... the figure started chuckling.

"Legolas?!" I asked, incredulous. In the dim light my eyes had become accustomed too, I could just make out his familiar build, the green-gray cloak with the Lothlorien pendant gleaming softly, his elven hair placed neatly...

There was a leaf in his hair.

And then, with the overwhelming wave of relief overpowering me and possible madness, I started laughing. So much so I doubled over, searching in vain for breath. The web pulled at my hair, my sleeves, yet I barely noticed. Not with that frown on Legolas.

"What?"

"There's a..." I wheezed. "... a leaf in your hair!"

His frown dissipated into a soft smile. "And what is so humorous about that?"

Maybe it was because I ever rarely saw a strand out of place on his head. Or because a leaf—a leaf—was in his hair. He's never disheveled—and yet the leaf gave him that air.

"I think I'm going crazy," announced through dwindling giggles.

Legolas, instead of making a witty comment, frowned. He preceded to stride to me and cut me free of the spider webs.

"Let's go. We still have plenty of land to cover and there's undoubtedly a hungry spider coming to investigate."

I froze.

Legolas motioned to the webs now free of me. "Your stumble sent vibrations through the webbing. Unless their off capturing a big quarry, their heading here. Right now."

He unbuckled something from his waist. Then handed me Gorthaden. "Much better than an arrow."

"Much," I agreed. "Any hope of asking where our horses are?"

Sadness entered his eyes. He shook his head. "They ran off when the Nazgul came."

We set off at a light jog, I knew we wouldn't keep it up long. Jog a half hour, walk an hour, repeat. Insert rest in their not so often. Also, insert silence. And frustration. Would he treat me with indifference forever? I know he cares for me, but... could he still treat me like a good friend? I wanted to wilt to the gloomy forest floor. I've ruined our relationship. Completely ruined it.

Think of something else.

"How did you find me?" I asked out of the blue—well gray I guess, considering the circumstances.

"I managed to track you. I got turned around a few times, even thought I lost your trail for a while."

I nodded. Made sense.

"I saw the orcs."

I faltered—then began walking again. Shaking my head, I pulled at my sleeves. "I'm sorry," I whispered.

"For what? Defending yourself? You did what had to be done." Legolas slowed to walk beside me.

"I destroyed him, smashed his head in." I refused to look at him. I decided my walking boots—the ones from my home—were very interesting.

"But you're alive because of it."

I shook my head. "I couldn't stop myself. I didn't want to stop... I'm not even sure if it was the darkness making me do it or me."

Legolas grabbed my wrist. "What darkness?"

I hesitated and shook free my hand. Do I tell him that something evil is residing in me? "Saruman... he had been trying to wake something up inside me. The darkness. He... succeeded." I shivered and forced the rising memories back. Way, way back. "Sauron is interested in it. Don't know why, but it's not hard to imagine." I shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant. "Every so often dark entrails appear around my hands and wrists. Like living shadows."

I glanced down at my wrists with a start, heart jumping in my throat. That darkness now shifted and swirled around my skin, gliding with an unnatural grace. "It's even worse here in this forest," I whispered. "Just thinking about them makes them appear."

I squeezed my eyes shut while holding my hands in front of me, willing the shadows to go away. A hand wrapped around mine, pulling it away gently.

I opened my eyes to find Legolas with hard determination in his eyes. And a loving care. "We'll find a way to banish them."

I nodded resolutely, wiping away a traitorous tear. He carefully unwrapped his hand from mine. It was only then that I noticed the living shadows had disappeared.

*********

Legolas, apparently, knew how to keep real-time while being in this suffocating void of a forest. Decades of patrolling the sick forest had made him more resistant to its innate sense of confusion and trickery. Since he found me, it had been four weeks. To me, though, it felt like three days and three months all at the same time.

He claimed we were close—really close—to being home. Where the gardens were green and elves greeted us kindly. Legolas... he tried to hide his worry but a side effect of being close to the elf enabled me to decipher his true feelings. I knew him too much for him to simply hide his feelings. He was worried. More than worried. We hadn't come across a patrol—something even I knew was completely bizarre. The spiders' webs here were thicker. We often had to duck and shimmy around many of the traps. Even resorted to climbing trees.

I knew Legolas would rather be up in the trees—the way patrols often traveled. But with me... he couldn't. I knew how to climb trees easily, but not jump from limb to limb. And, with me being clumsy, I might accidentally slip and trigger a web. And I'd rather not be dinner for an evil spawn of Morgoth.

And I knew there was another reason for Legolas's ever-increasing worry. Once he returns and steps through the palace halls... he's King. Maybe not officially—with a coronation and all—but to the people—who have gone far too long without a ruler—he is. Once an elf sees him, the weight of the crown will be upon his shoulders. The weight of a kingdom. The weight of a people.

Already I could see that weight settling in.

I sucked in a breath as we entered a clearing. A small 'village' of elven homes.

Or what had once been homes.

Houses and huts were empty and cold, doors hanging wide, windows open. Some houses had roofs caved in, thatching decorating the ground around the house like a nest. A few houses had burned from an unattended fire. The well was abandoned, the water bucket laying on its side.

Blood. Dried blood everywhere the elements couldn't get.

And no corpses, although it was evident many were made in the destruction. Perhaps... perhaps the spiders had taken them for a feast.

Legolas wandered forward—like he was in a nightmare. Something unreal. His hands were wilted at his sides, deep sorrow like a living thing in his eyes. And yet—to my wonder—he didn't fall to his knees under the weight of it all.

He wandered to the well and picked up the bucket, returning it to its place. Grabbed a discarded rag, dipped it in the water, and began scrubbing the well's ledge.

***

Legolas scoured the stone of the well with a heavy vigor. He didn't ignore the fact that the rag turned red in his hands. Blood. The blood of his people. No one could stop him as he freed the dried blood from the stone. He'd simply ignore them. He would do what was right. The blood of his people wouldn't be left to be some sort of crude decoration.

Numbness fell upon him as he walked away from the now clean well, rag and a bucket of water in hand.

That house, Legolas thought, has the blood of innocent sprayed upon its walls.

He made his way to it, walking on grass that had drunk blood. No crimson marked the greenery—this massacre had happened perhaps a week ago.

When I had been idle in the forest.

Legolas knelt upon that grass now, before the gore covering the huts side. The elements had not been able to wash the dead off. So Legolas took up that burden and raised the rag.

And raised the rag again on yet another hut.

And raised the rag on discarded spears and swords.

And raised the rag again and again until his fingers were stained red.

Legolas raised his head from were he rubbed at a garden cart. Dried marron had been etched into the wood's grain, imprinted on that door, handprinted onto that door handle.

So much blood...

And so he knew he couldn't finish the job. So he walked with a soldiers air to the caved-in hut. He walked in and saw the signs of a family. Children toys lay gathered on the rug, a bowl of half-eaten soup on the carved dining table, mud-crusted shoes by the front door. More signs such as a dolly, rotting vegetable on a cutting board, and elven engravings around the doorframe.

Legolas numbly gathered wood that now lay in disheveled heaps in the middle of the family room. Heaps of wood caused by a spider's leg. He absorbed these lives that had lived here as he carried stacks of roofing outside. He'd burn the wood, make a pyre for the dead. Valar, he'd make sure these lives were remembered!

But something caught his eye as he reentered the hut. A paper pinned to a reminder-board.

A paper with a charcoal drawing of the King, drawn in the messy way of a child. The King was smiling, a bottle of something in his sausage-hands. And, upon his hair, sat a regal woodland crown. Fruit and flower pulp made up the flowers that weaved through the crafted twigs. It was the only color.

Legolas numbly outstretched a hand, fingers trembling as he unpinned the drawing. Then, stared at the depiction of his father.

His dead father.

And then Legolas realized it wasn't numbness he was feeling, but a rage so deep and so hot, it consumed him. The rage settled deep within him and he made an oath to destroy the evil residing in his homeland. To destroy its very essence. Let it be known to all who ever dares lay a hand against the elfdom of Eryn Lasgalen.

Legolas folded the child's drawing and placed it within his tunic for safekeeping. His shoulders set back into that of a generals', a kings'. He let his chin raise into defiance. Nothing could penetrate him. He was a stone wall, an unshakable wall. And he would not fall so easily.

"Legolas," Lumornel said incredulously. He turned to her, raising a brow.

"A child is crying."

***

"A child is crying," I announced.

Legolas's ears perked up, and he twisted in the direction the sound emanated from. The sound of a child weeping in terror. The cries came from another room inside the hut, perhaps just beyond the kitchen hall.

As I followed Legolas deeper into the small family hut, I inspected him. For maybe an hour he had been cleansing the village—an impossible job. And did so without a tear. Newly hydrated blood—from his rag—stained his finger, the dark color up under his nails. I hadn't even seen the Prince tremble until he picked up the parchment. I itched to ask what it was.

And then it was like a switch had been flipped, albeit a quiet one. But I've found that often the quiet changes are the most significant. He went from stoic to defiant. His shoulders had suddenly become like hard stone, up and back. Jaw set in arrant determination. He had changed into a Prince, a general. Something had changed.

Legolas quickly stalked into a bedroom, making his footfalls as quiet as snowfall. The bedchamber held a decent sized bed, a homemade quilt lay askew on top. Carved armoires decorated the room, most likely holding sets of clothing. A decaying garland of forest flowers hung off the bed's headboard.

And the muffled sniffles came from a blanket lump in the corner, behind the door.

Carefully, Legolas pushed the door aside and crouched down before the mound of quivering blankets.

"It's alright, child. I'm not here to hurt you." Legolas, just like with the child in caverns, didn't move forward. He waited until the elfling peeked out from amid the cloth.

Legolas held his hands out slowly. "I'm not here to hurt you."

The blanket uncovered more of the small child, revealing dark silvan hair. The medium length tresses were half up, half down, strands astray. It created an image of disarray. Grey glassy eyes, rimmed in red, gazed wide-eyed at Legolas.

"Where is my Ada?"

Legolas ignored the question. "What is your name?"

"Arasvorn." The child's terrified eyes darted to me.

"She's a friend, Arasvorn. Her name is Lumornel. Mine is Legolas. Are you hungry?"

The child nodded with wide, fascinated eyes, and before the action was finished Legolas looked over his shoulder at me. "Start a fire and see if there's any food."

*********

Black smoke drifted into the sky, as if signifying the deaths that took place here. The fire wasn't large, but it wasn't small either. With the wood and thatching from the collapsed roof, there was plenty of fuel to keep the fire going well into the night. Hopefully, we wouldn't linger here. Already, there was a creeping feel sneaking up on me. I didn't like lingering in a graveyard.

But I got to work, following Legolas's command. In a garden, I found an assortment of berries. And, with the help of a clay bowl taken from a hut, I now had a large supply of fruit. Several jars of dried meat sat around me, watching. This supply would last us for months.

The berries, they kept taunting. My remaining self-control snapped, and I plucked a colorful fruit in my mouth. I almost moaned from the deliciousness. I hadn't had fruit since... Lothlorien, when I had learned of my lineage.

I stopped midchew. Legolas emerged from the hut, little Arasvorn in arms, and was giving me a look. Not one of indignation, but one of knowing contentment and amusement.

I smiled through berry juice, then cursed silently as a dribble dripped down my chin.

Legolas huffed a laugh, along with a shake of the head. "There might be more survivors. I'm going to go search."

"What about the little one?" I asked once I swallowed the berries.

"Arasvorn, would you like to stay with Lumornel while I go look for your friends? She has food."

The boy shook his head, clinging to his saviour harder.

Legolas gave a tight-lipped smile, shaking his head slightly. Then he motioned for me to follow with the jerk of his head.

The nearest hut held nothing but a bottle of broken glass, the liquid long ago evaporated. The next held nothing as well.

Legolas halted suddenly, then rushed forward into the third home. And immediately backed out.

"Arasvorn, I need you to wait out here."

The child shook his head vigorously.

"Arasvorn," Legolas said sternly with a prince's air. "I'm asking kindly for you to let go."

The child slowly released his hold as Legolas knelt. He looked down sheepishly.

Legolas put a pale hand on Arasvorn's shoulder. "I'm charging you with an important duty; don't let a soul into this hut, even yourself. If you see someone, call out. Do you understand?"

The child nodded, shoulders back with a new sense of importance.

"Alright. I'm counting on you." Legolas regarded me, lips in a thin line. I followed him into the hut.

Then I understood why Legolas did not want Arasvorn in here. For this was no thing to show such a young boy. Two wide streaks of blood had dried on the floor, leading to... bodies. The two corpses had obviously been dead for some time now—long enough for death to permeate the air, the bodies to bloat, and for blisters to develop on skin.

And a child lay next to the corpses.

Her chest still rose, life was still in her. But her hands, which held the lifeless hands of her parents, were covered in blood.

Legolas took a step forward, forcibly making his footstep heard. The girl looked up, and I was surprised to see that she was in her pre-teens. No tears stained her cheeks. Maybe she didn't have any left to fall.

And unlike Arasvorn, she didn't tremble in terror. She appeared... relieved. She stood up and wiped her hands on her ripped dress, leaving the burden of the bodies behind. And then she walked up to us.

"Thank you," she whispered. And then she slid her hand into Legolas's.

*********

The stars shone brightly above, fire-embers sparking and dancing their way up to join them. The flames themselves seemed to dance and leap to the rhythm of the elves singing. A tune of mourning. A tale of spirits entering the Halls of Mandos. Even little Arasvorn lifted his voice with the others; five children in all. Only I didn't sing, for I was raised by Sindarin elves, not Sindar and had not learned the songs of the Wild Ones.

But I listened. The song itself was wild and pure, like that of the Sindar. Racing feet could be heard in between the notes of the tune, crashing leaves, a soothing brook. And the dying heartbeat, weaving in and out. My own heart constricted in my chest as their grief made their voices strong.

Little Arasvorn lost himself in the Silvan mourning song, tiny voice reaching high. Hencef—the girl who had been lying next to her parents' corpses, sat next to Anorlass. Anorlass had found two other children and had kept them safe in her family's hut. Anorlass, in elven years was perhaps fifty, but in human 'years' she was only a teen. Deemed too young to fight against the spiders—and orcs, we later learned—she gathered the two other children. Among those two were Cúthalion—half Anorlass's age—and Maiwia, about the young age of Arasvorn, maybe a little older.

Maiwia immediately took to me for reasons I know not of. The child held my hand as she sang in elvish, the vibrations making their way through her to me. Her blonde hair had been put up in a simple braid, but desperately needed a wash.

And Legolas. The melody had him in its grasp. The thick column of his throat was exposed as he leaned his head back, singing to the stars. Firelight danced across his skin, creating a fanciful illusion with oranges and shadows, turning it into an entrancing bronze. His strong voice enraptured me as it caught my ears, making my heart jump in my throat.

His hands that had killed many orcs, hands that had had the blood of enemies on them, gently held Arasvorn as the child sat in his lap. Legolas sang with such a strength that it would only take a fool to say he didn't care for his people.

This elf. This is the elf I had fallen for. The one who cared for those who barely knew him, who cared for all his people above himself. He had killed so many, he had the blame of a dozen elven deaths on his hands, and the cruel influence of a malicious ring, and yet his hands were soft with children. He was willing to do a servant's work, to clean up the blood of a massacre. And he was willing to sing mournfully, truly and deeply, for people he never truly knew. Despite all the tainted stains, he was pure, kind, and gentle. And yet when it comes down to saving innocent lives, he could be coarse, hard, and daunting. He'd sacrifice for the good of all.

Legolas had hands that could be incredibly gentle, despite his warrior background. A rich voice that always knew what to say. He could command an army, and yet he was still a child inside. A child that wanted to run through the trees and laugh with joy. Even though he blamed himself for terrible things, he could still smile and joke. He had known terrible sadness, and yet he laughed. His cheeks could turn rosy, his eyes full of mirth, and yet he could turn ruthless when need be. And when he loves, he loves fully.

This was the ellon I never wanted to let go.

*********
"We all long for Eden, and we are constantly glimpsing it: our whole nature at its best and least corrupted, its gentlest and most human, is still soaked with the sense of exile"
            —J.R.R. Tolkien

Any thoughts on what you think might happen? Or on what happened in the chapter? Is anyone else FrUsTrAtEd with the legornel relationship??

FiNaLlY sOmE nIcE wEaThEr

Novaer, mellyn
~awatin~