Thirty

Lancaeriel sat back gingerly in the chair beside the bed, and gratefully accepted the pillow Prince Legolas handed her to put behind her back. Her body still ached everywhere, and her hip especially was sore.

"You should not be out of bed," he told her.

"And you should not be thrashing about in yours!" Lancaeriel scolded him back.

Her emotions swirled with confusion and concern, and she did not like not knowing what had happened to him. She had noted the dark circles under his eyes and his disheveled appearance when she had peered in the doorway after hobbling down the hallway to his room. His cries had unnerved her. Even now, he looked unsettled.

"What happened?" she demanded and was dismayed when his eyes dropped to the rumpled coverlet. She glanced to both Aragorn and Gimli, but neither male would look her in the eye. They would not tell her what was happening to him. It frightened her.

Silence filled the room for several moments before Aragorn moved, taking out some clean bandages. She looked back at Lass— Prince Legolas she reminded herself, and felt her fear intensify. Was he more badly hurt than she had suspected? Were they misleading her? Would she lose him too?

She averted her eyes as Aragorn removed the prince's shirt and tended the shoulder wound, which he seemed to have opened with his thrashing. She let her gaze roam over the chamber, her eyes settling first on a silver circlet sitting upon a bureau and then the symbol of the royal house Eryn Lasgalen on a tapestry hanging on the wall.

The silence from all three males, coupled with the reminders of Lass's true identity, caused her to realize the enormity of what she had just done. How dare she speak to her prince in such a demanding manner! Who was she to demand anything of her prince?

Horror at her ill manners set her heart to racing even as she suddenly felt cold all over. She felt ashamed, and confused, and terribly tired. Everything was a muddle and she did not know how to act or what to say. The comfort she had felt prior to finding out she had been rescued by the Prince of Eryn Lagalen had fled and in its place left her feeling inadequate and uncertain.

When the king had come into her chambers with his frantic words about the prince, she had not thought of Legolas in regard to his status, though she had referred to him as such. She had only felt tremendous concern for 'Lass', who had saved her and befriended her.

It did not matter that both Gimli and the King of Gondor had treated her kindly and insisted on her calling them by name. For some strange reason, she had found it easy to accept them being who they were. But Lass being Prince Legolas? She really did wish to smack him, while at the same time wanted to crawl under the bed and hide from him and herself.

She glanced at Legolas, who winced as Aragorn dabbed something on his wound. This was her prince! And she had treated him most disrespectfully, she realized. She could not be so informal with him. Not now that she knew who he was.

Lancaeriel felt her eyes tear up, and she was most annoyed with herself for the emotional display. She closed her eyes tight, but could not stop the tears from leaking out and slipping down her cheeks. It was all too much — everything that had happened, all the revelations, the wounds both internal and physical. She needed a good cry, she realized, but she wished she could have it in private, rather than here.

The touch of gentle fingers on her cheek startled her, and she gasped and opened her eyes to see those now familiar bright grey eyes watching her with concern. He had removed his touch, as if he feared he had hurt her injured cheek.

"Lancaeriel?"

"I am sorry, my lord," she breathed. "I should not have spoken to you that way."

He frowned and withdrew his fingers. Lancaeriel started to reach out to him, as if she could grasp onto him and return everything to what it had been when he was just Lass. But he was not, and the more she came to terms with the realization of who he really was felt as a shock. This was the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen and the Lord of Asgarnen! She jerked her fingers back, clasped her hands in her lap and bit her lip, not knowing what to do or say. Her cheeks burned.

He watched her a moment, then sighed and turned tired eyes to look at Aragorn, who had just finished bandaging his shoulder and was moving the blankets to look at his leg.

"Can this wait?" he asked.

The man hesitated a moment, then nodded.

His eyes next made contact with Gimli's, and Lancaeriel saw something unspoken pass between them. The dwarf frowned, but without being asked, moved towards the door. "I think I will catch up on some of that sleep I missed while looking for you, lad. If you need something, just yell. I am sure Aragorn would be happy to get it for you."

Prince Legolas raised a brow, but the dwarf turned his gaze to the man. "Do not leave him alone!" he ordered, and without another word, Gimli stomped out the door.

It seemed to Lancaeriel that the dwarf's words both amused and annoyed the prince. In other circumstances, she would have laughed out loud at such a comment, but these were not other circumstances and she was at a loss. She sat still, waiting, for what she was uncertain.

"Could you give us a few minutes, Estel? I think what I need to say should be kept between the lady and myself."

Lancaeriel trembled at those words.

Aragorn nodded slowly, giving her a look she could not interpret. "Just call when you need me again." Then he was gone, and Lancaeriel was left alone with the prince.

Prince Legolas looked fondly after the man a moment, a smile on his lips. Then he turned to look at Lancaeriel, and his smile faded and was replaced with a stern look.

Lancaeriel felt herself squirm, quaking internally with trepidation. What would he say to her?

When he did speak, despite the weariness that shown plainly on his face, his voice was that of royalty who expected to be obeyed without question. "Now, you and I are going to have a chat, and I do not wish to ever visit the topic again. Do you understand?"

Lancaeriel swallowed and blinked the reforming tears from her eyes. Despite the tightness in her throat, she managed to squeak out a meek, "Yes, my lord."

— o —

Legolas felt awkward. Everything about this situation was awkward. For one, he was propped up in his bed — something he rarely used as he preferred to take his rest among the trees. He was tired and ached in his whole body and he hated such weakness. Then there was the sea longing, which he did not wish to speak of or explain. And finally, Lancaeriel seemed to be intimidated by his title, although he had thought at her initial reaction, she would accept him as he was. He pressed the fingers of one hand to his forehead and squeezed his eyes closed a moment.

He heard her suck in a breath, as if to ask something, but she never did. Silence greeted him. He dropped his hand and looked at her. She was twisting her fingers in her lap, as if afraid to look him in the eye. He did not like that. He had invested too much of himself over the past week, and he wanted her friendship. He had seen glimpses of who she really was beneath her pain, and he wanted to know that person more.

"Caeri," he said finally.

She looked up at the nickname she had given him when they first met, surprise in her eyes.

"Why do you insist on such formality between us, where before it did not exist?" Legolas asked, watching her eyes as he waited for her to respond.

Lancaeriel bit her bottom lip and dropped her eyes back to her hands. "Before I did not know who you were, my lord, or I would have shown proper respect."

Legolas raked a hand through his loose hair in irritation and reached over to still her fidgeting fingers. She glanced up at him, and he held her eyes.

"If I required such formality, would I not have revealed myself earlier? Treated you differently?" His question paused her, and he removed his hand, watching the confusion register in her eyes, though she did not answer. "Do you know why I did not tell you who I was?"

She shook her head, her teeth still toying with her lip. But the uncertainty in her gaze was slowly being replaced by curiosity. She cocked her head slightly to one side, a gesture she had used during their many talks late at night over the last week as she pondered what he had asked.

"Ah, there you are." Legolas smiled at her. "For a moment, I feared you had become someone else." She blinked in confusion, and he gave her a small smile of reassurance. "You have not been acting like yourself, my lady, with all this 'my lord' nonsense."

"But…"

He shook his head, and she closed her mouth.

"Caeri, I did not tell you who I was when we met, not only to protect my identity from the men, but because I also did not wish you to act in this manner. I wanted you to know me for who I am, not my title. I have learned over the years that my title hinders others from getting to know me, or prevents them from treating me like they would anyone else!" Legolas's voice grew louder as the irritation rose within him.

He remembered the many times he had been excluded because others were intimidated by him, the years it took to win over the members of his patrol as friends rather than subordinates, and the loneliness that often accompanied being a prince. He longed for understanding. For her to just accept him as he was.

Drawing in a deep breath, he forced a smile. "I must insist that you cease this 'my lord' nonsense, and keep in mind who I am." Legolas watched the confused frown cross Lancaeriel's face and his smile grew to a grin. "Lass, remember? I have not changed simply because you now know my real name and titles. There is a time and place for showing proper respect, it is not in a relaxed setting among friends. Then I am just Legolas. Or Lass, if you prefer."

She sat digesting all that he had said for several minutes without comment, Then she blinked as if coming to a realization. Her eyes began to shine as her lips began to twitch.

"You want me to fuss at you!" It was not quite a question.

"Yes!" Legolas laughed. "Well...not exactly. I want us to continue being as we were before you learned of my title. I wish to be your friend. After all, I will be the only one you know in Ithilien, at least until you let yourself befriend others."

Lancaeriel studied him for a minute, and the look in her tired eyes caused Legolas to feel uneasy. There was something in her gaze that stirred a hint of anxiety within him. As if she had come to a decision and were about to deliver an ultimatum.

"I would be honored to be your friend…on one condition." Her words were firm, her gaze unwavering.

Legolas raised a brow, unable to shake his apprehensive feeling. "You put conditions on friendship?"

"Yes," she countered without pause. "For you ask for something you do not easily give in return. If we are to be friends, then you must expect me to treat you as you would treat me. And that includes insisting upon your sharing your burdens, instead of hiding them."

She directed a challenging look at him, and Legolas knew it was now up to him. Lancaeriel would be his friend, but only if it went both ways. And should friendship be anything else? He could not expect her to let him reach out to her, if he did not allow her to reach back.

His pride rejected her offer, but his heart leapt at the thought of having such a friend. Over the long years of his life, he had found that friends such as this were few. Aragorn and Gimli were two, but he often went months without seeing either, and as he had proven to himself and them, he did not always confide in them. Tathar was another, but Tathar did not always understand him, and the sea longing was one of those things. His sister had sailed West with his family, and Arwen meddled too much. Eowyn was another person with whom he could share confidences. The Shieldmaiden was a kindred spirit in many ways, but he had never confided in her or Faramir about the sea longing. It was too personal, too…elvish.

Legolas found himself nodding in agreement before he had even consciously decided to accept. He gazed into her eyes and froze.

The sea… Her eyes are like the sea.

He could see it within her gaze and braced himself for the haunting song and ache that would surely assault him.

But it did not come. Instead of the pain, in her eyes he found a hint of peace, a small piece of that for which he longed, yet it soothed rather than stung. He relaxed.

"What would you know?" he asked, finding it would not be difficult to share his burden with her.

"The darkness in your eyes…" she hesitated. "What happened, earlier?"

Her face was so open, so caring, that Legolas found himself explaining without thought.

"The sea… What you have seen in my eyes is the sea longing. I heard the gulls upon the shore at Pelargir many years ago, and the song of the sea filled my heart. It calls to me always, pulling at me, luring me West." He took a breath and gave her a determined look. "Yet I will remain, for it is not my time to sail. But sometimes, especially if I am weakened, as I am now…" Legolas shook his head slightly and lowered his eyes. "It is not something I speak of easily."

He found it difficult to speak of his need for help. He dropped his gaze to his lap. "Sometimes it takes me, and I need someone to pull me back. There are only a few who can manage it…when the longing takes hold." His voice ended in a whisper and he was horrified to find he was shaking. His strength was fading and he was beginning to lose control.

So he was surprised when a weight settled on the bed beside him. Hesitantly, she reached up to brush the hair back from his face. He looked up into her compassionate eyes. There was a form of understanding there. Perhaps she, who had lost so much, could understand.

"I am sorry you suffer so," Lancaeriel told him. "If you will let me, I would help you." Her fingers tucked stray strands of his hair behind his ears. "If I can," she added, dropping her hands to the coverlet.

Legolas nodded wordlessly. She meant it, as a friend. There was no artifice in her.

She studied him a few moments, and he gave her a small smile. Then to his surprise, she turned and settled beside him, her head lowering to rest on his uninjured shoulder.

It was a gesture some might see as romantic in nature, and yet Legolas knew it was not. It was simply her way of acknowledging she would accept him for who he was and allow a sense of intimacy befitting the friendship they had started. She trusted him. Nothing more, nothing less.

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, unaware that for the moment, the sea's call had faded to only the faintest whisper.

—

Aragorn found them a few minutes later, both sound asleep. He smiled and shook his head in disbelief at the sight. One would think these two had known each other for years, rather than a short week. He moved to the bedside, lifted Lancaeriel and carried her back to her own bed. She did not stir as he settled her under her blankets. He watched her thoughtfully for a few minutes, then left.

He walked back to Legolas's room and checked his friend's leg. Legolas did not move, and the bandage would be fine until the elf woke. Aragorn sat in the chair beside his slumbering friend, who he noted, now rested peacefully.

"I fear you are in for much teasing, my friend." Aragorn whispered. "Arwen will be set to marry you off for sure." He grinned to himself, knowing Legolas would not stand for any matchmaking.

Still… He wondered what the future would hold. Whatever happened, the pretty Lancaeriel would turn a few heads, and her apparent close friendship with the Lord of Asgarnen was sure to make some ladies green with envy.

Oh yes, he would enjoy watching how the future progressed!

To Be Continued…