Author's Note: This chapter involves a lot of flashbacks. They're in italics. And just as a side note, I completely forgot that Orophin was one of the elves that greeted the fellowship in Lothlorien. As such, I went back to edit the chapter that said he died. So, yeah, I'm just telling you this now to explain why he'll suddenly appear in one of the next few chapters. While I'm on this "remembering" streak, I don't know if I mentioned this before, but Glorfindel lost his first life from fighting a balrog, not something stupid like orcs as I had said. Because I'm so lazy, however, I'm not going to change that. (Also, I didn't know about the whole balrog thing until after I wrote that chapter.) Let's just say he encountered the orcs after successfully (and lively) defeated the balrog. Yeah, whatever, enjoy reading!

0000000000

(22) Goodbye, My Friend

0000000000

A few months later . . .

0000000000

Since the night of Garelión's return, every day that passed seemed to be quite the same as the last. I would wake up, eat breakfast, and spend the day out on the training field with Legolas, in the library with Garelión, or somewhere else with my friends. Then I would go back to my room and prepare for the evening feast, where I would eat and talk and dance and yada yada . . .

Yeah, I guess doing the same thing everyday could get extremely boring after a while, but I had never had more fun in my life! I really enjoyed learning the ways of Middle-Earth. Staying at the palace in Mirkwood was like the ultimate summer vacation. I could hardly remember the reasons why I had to go home.

All I knew was that I had to . . . but not yet.

And then . . . Ha (that was a bitter laugh, by the way) . . . and then something happened, something so drastic that it changed the monotony of my current life. It was like a cold slap in the face, thrusting me back the reality that nothing was forever, not even the new-found happiness I had discovered in this magical land . . .

0000000000

'Is it really bad?' (That was me.)

'He was mortally wounded while on way back to the palace after having returned home,' Legolas replied.

'To see his family?'

'Aye. As a servant, he is permitted a short while to visit his home every now and then. Then he must promptly return to the palace to fulfill his duties.'

0000000000

It so sad, so very sad. No child should ever have to endure what he had. He was always so kind, so good to me.

He didn't deserve to die.

0000000000

'What happened to him, anyway?'

'He was attacked by orcs.'

'But I thought his house was in a nearby village.'

'He told you that, I presume?'

'Yes.'

'Aye, well, tis something that many in the household staff say, even if their homes are leagues from the palace. It is a way for them to subconsciously convince themselves that safety and comfort is nearby.'

'I guess that makes sense when you live such a life.'

0000000000

"Live such a life".

I can't believe I said that. It made it sound like I was so much better than he was. I wasn't, though, I really wasn't. I could never rival his kindness, even if I tried for a thousand years.

0000000000

'Aren't the villages protected by the sentries?'

'Nay. Only the boundaries of the palace are.'

'How long since they found him.'

'Only a short while.'

0000000000

A short while . . .

I expected him to be okay then. I mean, he had to be. He'd be fine. But . . . but I couldn't help but feel a shred of doubt.

0000000000

'Why is he all the way back here then? I thought he was hurt near his village, so shouldn't he be treated there?'

'The village healers attempted to help. But they were too inexperienced, so they returned him here.'

'How?'

'On horseback. The journey made his wounds worse.' My companion sighed.

'He is a dear friend to me. Please, tell me the truth . . . Is he going to die?'

Legolas didn't reply; I could see the terrible truth in his eyes.

0000000000

So it was over then. I would lose yet another friend. I was cursed! I was doomed to lose everyone I held dear in my life. Why is it that everybody I even start to get close to has to die! Everyone always has to die!

0000000000

'Nobody knows for sure.'

0000000000

Those words eased me somewhat, but the uncertainty—in the end—was worse than knowing.

0000000000

'I don't want him to suffer, Legolas.'

'I know you do not, but there is nothing more we can do. I am sorry. The healers are doing all they can, and Alassë even retrieved her special herbs from her garden.'

0000000000

Apparently, the Healers had not done enough. He still died. He died, just like everybody else in my life. I am ashamed to admit that, this time, I felt no pain. I had grown numb to the aches of my heart.

At the funeral (which took place in his village) I lingered at the edge of the crowd with Angelo. My friend had completely healed from his injuries and no longer needed his wheelchair. He smiled sadly at me and gently took my hand, squeezing it slightly in reassurance. I smiled as well and squeezed it back. Just then, the minister began his sermon, and we released each other's hands.

Garelión protectively wrapped his arms around me, as if he half-expected me to tip over or something.

Still smiling, I leaned my head back against his shoulder and said, 'Thank you for being here with me.'

In reply, he mouthed, 'I love you.'

I gave him a quick peck on the cheek before turning to focus my attention on the preacher. The crowd we stood amongst seemed miniscule to the one that had come to Glorfindel's funeral. That was not too surprising, for the deceased had only been a servant, after all. Since he spent most of his time up in the palace, he had only a few friends. As for his family, well, they were few as well.

It was bad enough that he had to die at the hands of orcs, but this just added insult to injury. In a way, I was kind of glad he was dead. Now he was finally free. I could still recall a conversation we had about a week ago. Our talking had led to our hopes and dreams for the future, and this is what he replied:

0000000000

"I know this must sound odd, but what I have always wished to do is fly . . . high up in the sky, like a bird. But tis impossible. No man can fly.'

'On the contrary,' I said. 'Where I come from, there are airplanes, which can transport people from one side of the world to the other.'

'In the air? You are pulling my leg.'

'I tell you, I am not. It's true!'

0000000000

All the poor dear ever wanted to do was fly. He always spent too much time taking care of other people, and this was the only thing he wanted for himself. But I know that his wish came true. Even as I speak, I know that he is flying up in the sky somewhere, watching us as we celebrate his short—yet wondrous—life.

In my mind's eye, legions of depressing memories suddenly flashed by. I saw and recalled so much in such a short space of time . . . and none of the remembrances were ones to envy.

0000000000

There was a young, terrified girl, weeping her heart out for a slightly grizzled—though kindly—man lying on a white hospital bed . . . her father.

Next, the girl was desperately trying to stem her tears as she stared out into the vast expanse of an emerald-hued lake . . . her best friend's grave.

Then she was clutching at the torn shreds of her broken heart as a pale, beautiful body was burned into eternity . . . a grieving elf's destiny.

And now, the girl was screaming at her mother as an old friend was drained into the pipes of a white, porcelain bowl . . . her pet goldfish spinning down the toilet.

0000000000

And then I realized . . . that girl was me.

"Hey, wait a minute," I thought suddenly. "That last one never happened. I've never had a pet goldfish."

'Amen,' I heard the minister say, and I knew that the sermon was over. I had missed the entire thing!

Biting my lip, I slowly approached my friend's coffin, but I could not bear to look inside. Without warning, the real pain hit me. I felt like I was burning alive from the inside out. I fearfully buried my head in Garelión's shoulder and cried.

0000000000

The girl sobbed her heart out for the young boy who finally had his chance to fly . . . a servant in the House of Greenleaf.

0000000000

'Eoruil,' I whispered shakily. 'Eoruil . . . Eoruil . . .' I kept repeating his name over and over, as if by doing so, he would come back to life.

'Shh . . .' Garelión soothed, rubbing my back like he always did. 'Shh . . . He is in a better place now, love. Shh . . . Just let him go.'

My sobs increased in volume, but the sound was slightly muffled by the prince's shirt.

'Pardon me?' inquired a timid, unfamiliar voice. 'Are you all right, my lady?'

I forced myself to stop crying, if only for a moment. I wasn't really one to cry in front of strangers. It was just . . . embarrassing.

'Yeah, yeah, I'm all right,' I sniffled. 'I'll be okay.'

'That is good,' the young girl said. She gave me a small smile before returning to her father's side; the man was blankly staring at the ground and rocking slowly in his chair, as if he had no idea what was taking place around him.

'Um . . . Excuse me,' I called after her, hesitantly leaving the warmth of Garelión's embrace, 'but who are you?'

'My name is Eorian,' she replied. 'And this is my father. Eoruil . . .' She paused for a moment, breaking off. 'Eoruil was my brother.'

I hastily bit my lip to hold back my shock.

'You are his sister?'

'Aye.'

'Uh . . . I'm Riz,' I said, holding out my hand; she shook it hospitably. 'I was a friend of your brother's.'

'Aye, I know. On his last visit home, he told me much about you, how you were always so willing to give him food. You were very kind to him.'

I flushed red.

'He was very kind to me, too,' I responded. 'He was a wonderful boy . . . erm . . .' I shifted awkwardly. 'It was nice meeting you, Eorian.'

'I am glad to have met you as well, my lady,' she said, curtseying.

'Thanks . . . Well, bye!' I was about to rejoin my friends when I heard Eorian call out to me.

'By the way, Riz, do you know what tomorrow is?'

'No,' I replied, spinning around on my heel to face her.

Glistening tears welled up in Eorian's eyes and a lump formed in my throat to see her in such a state.

'Tomorrow is Eoruil's birthday,' she said tearfully. 'He would have been fifteen.'

0000000000

When finally got back to the palace, it was almost time for the evening feast. After hastily going through the usual "prepping" routine, I allowed Garelión to escort me down to the Great Hall. I was still rather put out by the funeral proceedings of that same afternoon. If any of the others noticed anything odd about my mood, they did not comment on it. It was just common courtesy, I guess. After all, I probably knew Eoruil better than any of them, even in the few short months that I had known him for.

I didn't stay at the feast for very long. It just sickened me to be celebrating on a day like that. After a hasty, "I believe I shall retire now" to the others, I left the Great Hall to return to my room. Despite my halfhearted protests of wanting to be alone, Garelión escorted me all the way, knowing that I did not really want to be alone. Rúmil, too, came along with us, claiming that he had to tell me something in private. I was rather curious what that might be, but I didn't dwell on that thought for too long, still feeling rather distressed.

'I'm sure that you'll be all right, Riz,' he said, gallantly waiting for me to enter my bedchambers before he did. 'I know you will. You have endured such circumstances before.'

'I know, but it's just . . . different this time,' I said. I stepped into my room and shut the drapes before continuing. 'He was just a child, Garelión!' I exclaimed, somewhat glad that the darkness hid my facial expression from the elves' keen eyes. 'Just a child . . . Angelo didn't deserve to die.'

'Uh . . . His name was "Eoruil",' Rúmil corrected softly.

I clapped a hand over my mouth in shock at what I had just said.

'So that is what this is really about?' the prince asked. 'Angelo. Eoruil's death brought upon you the horrid fear—the reality—that you may one day lose your other best friend?'

I sobbed and practically flew into the comfort of his arms.

'Yes,' I replied shakily, my voice slightly muffled by his shoulder. 'Yes.'

'You will never lose Angelo,' Rúmil reassured me. 'And you have not lost Eoruil either, or Raphael, or Glorfindel, or your father. They are all around you, Riz. In the earth, the air, the sunlight . . . And they will remain there so long as they are kept alive in your heart.'

I remained silent in Garelión's arms for a while, thinking about what the other elf had said. Then I quietly asked, 'What time is it?'

'Tis only around ten o'clock,' Garelión replied.

"Whoa. We left the feast really early!" I thought.

'Don't you have guard duty now?' I questioned.

'Aye, but Gildor will not mind if I am a few minutes late.'

'Mmm-hmm . . .' was all I could reply. I found it rather odd how the official crown prince still had to do such menial things like sentry duty. Then again, it was all a part of his training or something. Thranduil must have encouraged his eldest son to train in the arts of war, as well as learn about the basics of ruling a kingdom before the former had to sail to the West.

During wartime in Middle-Earth, the king always had to take part in the battle. Thus, the training comes into play. That's what Garelión told me anyway. (Geez, things aren't like that back home. The rulers usually send other people to do their fighting for them. Sigh.)

Garelión stayed for a few minutes more, but the time finally came when he had to leave me.

'If you would like, I could have someone call Angelo up here so that you will not be alone,' he offered. 'I expect Rúmil has to leave shortly as well.'

'Aye,' Rúmil confirmed.

'No thanks, Garelión,' I responded with a smile. 'I'll be okay. Besides, I wouldn't want to spoil his night just because I can't enjoy mine.'

'Mae govannen, Riz. Cormamin niuve tenna' ta elea lle au'. Quel esta. (Well met, Riz. My heart shall weep until its sees thee again. Rest well.' With a final departing kiss, Garelión left.

'So, Rúmil, what was it you wanted to tell me?' I asked, swinging my arms absentmindedly.

'I know you must be weary, Riz,' he said, 'and you are likely still grieving for your friend, but would it be possible for you to meet me tonight in the forest?'

'I guess,' I shrugged. 'Why?'

'I have someone of great importance for you to meet,' the elf replied. 'I realize that today may not be the ideal time for your meeting, but I am afraid that she does not have much longer to live. You know that I would not ask this of you if it did not mean so much to me.'

'Who is she? Your lover?'

'Heavens no,' he scoffed; then he immediately checked himself, as if just recalled the former episode between the prince and myself. 'I will not fall into that trap as my brother did. No. The woman I speak of is a very old and dear friend of mine, ever since I had accidentally come across her cabin in the wood. I was still rather unfamiliar with the trees of Mirkwood at the time.'

'I see . . .' I said. 'Okay, I'll go . . . But why me?'

'I have just recently discovered that she is from your world. Tis her dying wish that she speak with you.'

'Why not Angelo then?'

'Because I told her quite a bit about you and now she wishes to meet with you. Er . . . Also, Angelo does not speak Elvish. She has forgotten how to speak the Common Tongue long ago and she refused my offers to translate for her. "Tis not the same," she said, though twas obviously in Sindarin that she stated thus.'

'I see . . .' I said again. 'Well, you can count me in. What time should I meet you?'

'Around midnight tonight,' he responded. 'Despite my protests that she would be tired by then, she specifically requested that you come at the very beginning of a new day.'

'Why?'

The elf shrugged.

'She can be quite strange about things like that, and she is too stubborn to change her mind.' Rúmil smiled and gave me a brief bow. 'I thank you for doing me this grand favour, Riz, but I am afraid I must leave you now. I shall see you later tonight.'

'Yups. Bye.' Then he left.

Deciding that I wasn't really that tired, I tried to tackle the tengwar homework that Garelión had given me the day before. I retrieved said notebook from its spot on the table and casually tossed it onto my bed. After sprawling comfortably on the bed alongside it, I began to translate the strange symbols. I often had to flip through the pile of loose papers (which I had tucked into the notebook's cover) to find my desired page; the constantly recurring action plagued my nerves after a while.

Needless to say, I did not work for very long. After only a half-hour, I lost my patience completely and crushed the parchment angrily in my fist.

'Forget it,' I muttered to myself. 'The only thing I'll achieve by doing this is a headache . . . Hmm . . . I wonder if Garelión and Legolas have been doing their homework?'

Having become rather tired from doing my boring homework, I used my work as a makeshift pillow and went to sleep.

0000000000

Early the next morning, I was rudely awake by someone prodding my side painfully.

'Get off,' I muttered irritably and waved away the offending hand.

'Wake up, Riz,' someone said coldly.

I blearily opened one eye to see who was there.

'Rúmil?'

'Aye.'

I unstuck my face from my tengwar homework and sat up to look at him.

'What's up? I mean, what are you doing here?'

'Looking for you,' he replied. 'So, Riz, do you happen to remember a certain promise you made, to a certain friend, about a certain old woman?'

I froze and my cheeks blanched.

'Mon Dieu (My God), Rúmil, I totally forgot about that.' I clutched at his sleeve. 'I am so, so sorry. I . . . I fell asleep!' Ha! As if that was reason enough for the elf to forgive me. 'Did she . . . I mean, is she gone?'

'Aye,' he replied icily.

A stab of guilt went through my heart. His friend died without her last wish being fulfilled. I know that I would be angry if our places had been reversed; I would probably never forgive him. I prayed that Rúmil was very different from me in that sense. I don't think I could have endured it if he hated me.

'I hope you are happy, Riz,' the elf said. 'Here.' He tossed something on the bed next to me. 'She left this for you.'

I glanced at the object he had given me. It was a note, written in tengwar by a shaky hand. It had but one word written on it, one that even I could translate: "Elrond".

'What's an "Elrond"?' I asked Rúmil. 'I don't recognize that Elvish word.'

'Lord Elrond is the ruler of Rivendell,' Rúmil stated shortly.

'I see . . . But why would she want me to go see him?'

'If you had met her last night, you would know,' Rúmil retorted.

I nervously swallowed.

'Your friend . . . what was her name?'

'Many, including myself, knew her only as "Hodoer,"' the sentry replied. '"Wise one". Her true identity was unknown . . . Ahem . . . I must leave now, Riz. Namarie (Farewell).' Then the sentinel simply turned on his heel and departed from the bedchambers.

'"Wise one"?' I repeated thoughtfully. 'Then there must be a reason why she wanted me to see Elrond, but what can it possibly be?' My gaze swept around the room, until it settled on my old backpack. My eyes widened in hope.

"Maybe he can show me the way home! But . . . I don't think I want to go home yet." I got up and tucked the note safely into a pocket on my bag. "But hey, it wouldn't hurt to keep it for when I do want to go back."

Shrugging nonchalantly to myself, I set about my usual morning routine.

0000000000

I met up with Garelión later that day and I informed him of what had occurred. His only advice was not to let it concern me too much, that Rúmil would forgive me with time. Yeah, a fat load of shit that was. How could I not let this situation concern me? Rúmil was my friend! But sometimes he acted like a real assh—

'I apologize for interrupting your musings, love,' Garelión said, 'but there is a matter of dire importance I must speak to you about.'

Even had he not said the words directly, I would have known that he was going to say something serious. The look in his eyes alone was enough to forewarn me about the not-so-anticipated conversation.

'Yes?' I asked, casually wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning my head back to look at him.

'We have been together for a few months now,' he said.

'And?'

'And we have done quite well with keeping our relationship a secret . . . save for the servants' interlude.'

'And?' I prompted again. There had to be more to our talk than this. Otherwise, he wouldn't look so . . . worried!

'And I think it is time that we told my father of this.'

'WHAT!' I squealed, causing him to flinch in pain. Glancing at him sheepishly, I gently stroked the soft point of his ear. 'Sorry, G, I just wasn't expecting you to suggest anything so . . . stupid!'

'I beg your pardon?'

I sighed and subconsciously drew away from him.

'I—'

0000000000

—don't know what the hell happened. One minute, Garelión and I were talking about the exposure of our relationship to his father, the next I was practically being dragged along the corridors to actually tell him! Like, Thranduil is fucking king of Mirkwood! Honestly, he had enough worries on his mind (what with orcs and stuff) without having to worry about his son's well-being as well. I mean, come on! Garelión has been a fully-grown elf for centuries! Why would we have to tell Thranduil about our relationship?

Fuck, what if they wanted to make me a queen or something. I don't know how exactly things work here in Middle-Earth, but that didn't seem too far off the mark. Besides, Garelión was a prince. It was like his job to get married and make babies . . . er, that is to say his wife would make babies . . . with his help . . . whatever.

Anyway, I told him all of this, unable to keep the fear from lacing my tone. I only seemed to make the situation worse when I suggested writing a note and sending it with one of the servants, but Garelión (effortlessly) talked me out of it.

'That would be the coward's way out,' he had said. 'And I've never known you to be a coward.'

'Then you've never known me at all!' was my waspish reply.

'But all this secrecy . . . It does not feel right, Riz. We must tell my father.'

"Well, with a little luck, he'll be too busy to see us anyway," I thought darkly.

Wrong again.

This is what happened . . .

Upon our arrival to the throne room, one of Thranduil's attendants looked at with a curious expression on his face.

'Although I am certain that your father will be quite pleased to see you, I do not believe he is expecting you at the moment, Master Garelión.'

'Nay, he is not,' Garelión confirmed. 'But if you may, please tell him that I—as well as Riz—wish to seek an audience with him . . . Mayhap in an hour or so if he is otherwise occupied.'

'There is no need,' said a sudden voice, and the door swung open to reveal the king of discretion himself . . . oops, sorry, I meant "Mirkwood".

'Er . . . So you're so busy that you can't see us?' I asked expectantly.

Obviously, the hopeful tone of my voice was lost to him.

'Quite the contrary, Riz,' Thranduil said with a grin. 'I currently have some time to spare for you and my son.'

'Currently? As in now!'

'Aye, so you need not wait for an hour.' Then, as if in reply to the shocked look on my face, he said, 'I overheard you.'

'Ah, I see,' I responded slowly.

Still smiling, Thranduil stepped aside for us to enter the throne room.

'Come inside and we shall talk.'

I grew increasingly nervous as he lead the way into said chambers. I hadn't expected the meeting to occur so soon, and the prospect was causing a cold chill to creep up my spine. What the hell were we supposed to tell him? "Hey, King Thranduil, we're dating". Nah. How about, "Hey, homeboy, hope you dig the fact that we're real close . . . I mean like really close. And not just in the buddy-buddy type way if you know what I sayin'". Then again, there was also, "Yeah . . . well . . . hmm . . . what's my name again" in feigned stupidity.

In the end, I wisely decided to let Garelión do all the talking.

Honestly though! Thranduil had to be the only elf, nay, the only being in the entire kingdom who didn't know about our not-so-secret relationship.

Wha-? "Nay"? Oh no! I'm talking like they are now! AHH!

"Whoa, breathe, Riz," I silently told myself. "Breathe. Things will be aight. True, you could have busted your ass a little bit more to keep your relationship a fucking secret from others. But hey, you're telling King-boy now, so it would have all been useless anyway. For all you know, you could be panicking over nothing! Maybe he already knows about you and Garelión."

We haven't exactly been parading our relationship around, but like I mentioned, we could have been a bit more careful to hide it. Often, we slipped up, resulting in the entire Mirkwood population (aside from the king) knowing about us. Even the most subtlest of hints—like hands brushing or shy glances—roused people's attention.

"Like I said, maybe you're panicking over nothing," my conscience said smugly. "Maybe he has already seen you together . . . Or maybe he's too busy (and/or ignorant) to care at all!"

'Yes, maybe he just doesn't care,' I told myself aloud, unaware that I did so. I was also unaware of the fact that Garelión had just told his father the entire story while I had been caught up in my muse.

'Well, of course I care!' Thranduil boomed; I had trouble deciding if it was a good boom or a bad boom.

"A good boom," I thought, immediately finding myself in a one-armed hug (Garelión in the king's other arm).

'So you . . . approve?' I asked hesitantly.

'Aye. I have never seen my son so content, and to see a dear friend happy as well lightens my heart.'

Despite his affectionate embrace and kind words, I couldn't help but notice that his smile did not reach his eyes.

0000000000

Similar to what happened quite a few times before with Garelión, I did not see Rúmil again until late that evening. It was not too surprising. He had no doubt been avoiding me all day, probably still angry with me for forgetting my promise. I wanted very much to apologize to him again, although I knew of nothing I could say that would makes things right. I was so depressed over what happened that I didn't even do the whole "evening look" thing. I flatly refused and went to dinner in the same outfit I'd worn all day, which attracted many rather revolted looks my way. Oh well, too bad, so sad . . . not really.

Earlier that day, I had looked for him on the training field, but he wasn't there. I checked the archery range, but he wasn't there either. One of the servants later told me that Rúmil had gone riding and that he wouldn't return until the evening meal. And that brings us up to the present time.

As usual, I was escorted by my escorting escort—Garelión. Nonetheless, when I noticed Rúmil hiding away in the corner of the Hall, I broke away from my lover to talk to him.

'We have to talk,' I said with a hint of firmness in my voice.

'I have nothing more to say to you,' he snarled, crossing his arms over his chest. His usually warm blue eyes were now icy fires of rage.

'Look, 'Mil, I already said I was sorry. What more do you want from me?' I asked earnestly.

'Telling you would not matter. You would only forget.'

Ouch. That one hit me good.

'Do you think there is any way we can resolve this?'

'I doubt it,' he replied. 'I asked only that small request of you, Riz, but I suppose that was too much for the lover of the crown prince to handle.'

Ooh . . . Another hit.

'Please, Rúmil,' I was sincerely begging him now. 'I want to make this up to you. Let me make this up to you! I'll go out in the rain in my nuddy pants and sing if it will make you happy. Please, just tell me what I can do!'

The hardness in his eyes did not waver for a moment.

'You can do nothing, "my lady",' he said mockingly, 'although a "lady" is always known to keep her word.'

Argh!

What was that? Three already? Our argument was like playing Battleship in the dark, but the elf was like Superman and could use his x-ray vision to see where my little plastic ships were positioned. Two more hits and I was goner. (1)

'Are you done now?' he questioned darkly. 'Or do you need to hear more insults . . . oops, I mean facts?'

Aiya! This was way too much!

'I already said I was sorry. I made a mistake, and I'm sure that you make them, too.'

'The promise that you made was important to me, Riz, and it will take some time before I can forgive you. Your apology is not enough to change what has occurred.'

'Then tell me what is!' I almost screamed in my desperation. 'Tell me what you want from me! Do you want me to grovel at your feet? Sing in front of everybody? Break up with Garelión? Polish your bow for a week? What!'

'I just want you to leave me alone, Riz.'

( - Insert random grunt of pain here.)

The fifth strike. My battleship sank—I just lost. I knew then that that was the end of our friendship. There was now an unbreachable rift between us, a rift that I was deeply sorry to have caused in the first place. This was all my fault.

Angry tears coursed down my cheeks as I watched him walk away. My hands clenched into fists and I immediately stuffed them into my pockets to hide them, lest anyone was to notice. I started slightly when my fingers caressed the rumpled edges of a piece of paper. Remembering that it was the very same note that Rúmil had given me that very morning, I opened it and once again stared at the blotched script.

Elrond.

I glanced up at the empty spot that Rúmil had formerly been occupying, and I made up my mind. If this is how bad things suddenly were, then they could only get worse as more time went by . . . So I decided that I was going to go home.

But first things first—who the hell was Elrond?

As if reading my mind, Legolas suddenly came up behind me and laid a comforting hand on my shoulder.

'Are you all right?' he inquired.

'What do you care?'

'I care very much. Who else am I to dance with?' he jested.

I gave him a small smile.

'It's nothing,' I reassured him.

'I very much doubt that,' he replied. 'Are you ill?'

'No.'

'Hungry?'

'No. Food is the last thing on my mind right now, right after pink sheep.'

'Pardon me?'

'Forget it,' I said with a smile.

'Truly, though, Riz, what is bothering you. You seem . . . upset,' he observed.

'Oh, I am,' I muttered, crushing the note in my fist. 'Bloody hell, I am.'

'Is there anything I can do to help?'

'Um . . . Well . . . yeah, actually,' I responded, smoothing the creases from the paper I held in my palm. 'Can you tell me who Elrond is? I know that he's the ruler of Rivendell and everything, but what else is there to know?'

'Erm . . . He is a Peredhil,' Legolas said.

'A what?'

'A Half-elf.'

'Okayyy,' I said slowly. 'Is there any useful information you can give me?'

'To what do you refer to as "useful"? I am not quite certain what type of information you are seeking.''

'Something that can help me get home!' I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation.

'You wish to return home?'

'Duh!'

'I thought you were enjoying your life with us,' Legolas asked softly.

"Ah, he's so innocent that it's sometimes sickening."

'I did. I do!' I corrected hastily. 'But . . . I seem to have become a strong magnet for trouble. I've had months of paradise in the clouds, only to be cast back down to Earth with the weight of misfortune upon my back. Eoruil died cruelly and mercilessly. Rúmil can't forgive me. Your father's gaze constantly digs a hole into the back of my head . . .' I trailed off, thinking I'd made my point. 'Bad luck always has to come in threes,' I mumbled.

'Excuse me? What do you mean by my father's "gaze"?' Legolas inquired, ignoring my last statement. 'He cannot be watching you too closely.'

'Oh yeah?' I scoffed. 'Turn around.'

'Huh?' Legolas spun around just in time to see Thranduil avert his eyes; his gaze darted up to us every now and then to see if we were still watching. Chuckling softly, the prince turned around to face me once more.

'Convinced?'

'I suppose,' he admitted. 'But you cannot let small glitches such as these affect your life. Have you even noticed that in your tirade, you only used such words as "I" and "me"? True, you may be happy if you returned to your home, but have you even stopped to think of how others will feel once you leave? The servants? The elflings? Have you even thought about how Garelión will feel?'

"ARGH! Must he always pull these guilt trips on me!"

'But I will have to leave eventually, Legolas. You know I do—he knows I do. The longer I stay here, the more it will gut us both when I finally have to go!'

'Then stay for as long as you are able,' the elf said earnestly. 'Allow him to dwell in his paradise for as long as it will hold.'

'What we have isn't a paradise, Legolas,' I said forlornly. 'It's a dream.'

'Riz, I have never seen Garelión as happy as he is before you came along. It is apparent in his demeanor and, indeed, the brightness of his eyes. I expect you have seen his scars, aye?'

'Yes,' I replied shakily, the memory of his long-healed gashes entering my mind. 'But what has that got to do with anything?'

'It has to do with everything!' Legolas exclaimed. 'Elves are different from humans.'

'No shit,' I mumbled.

He wisely ignored my remark and continued.

'Elves are rapid healers, Riz. We can heal much faster than humans, especially if our souls are bright.'

Confused, I listened intently to try and comprehend something from what he was saying.

'Garelión spirit has never been too luminous. True, he is a kindly and sacrificial being, but he has always been unsure of himself and his abilities. That is why he continuously shifted from a healer to a scholar to a warrior, etc. He wanted to discover for himself what his place was in this world, for he never thought himself fit to rule a kingdom. He actually considered abstaining from the throne.'

'Get to the point,' I said, bored by his seemingly useless speech. 'What does all this have to do with his scars?' I suddenly inclined my head with realization. 'Scars . . . Legolas, when elves heal, do scars remain?' I asked quickly.

'Very rarely.'

'And if they do, why is that?'

'Because they have difficulty releasing the past.' The prince sighed. 'Before Garelión decided to join the ranks of the sentinels, he had the mind to end his life. But he had just enough will to live to overcome those obstacles. He says tis because he caught a glimpse of Valinor, an eternal paradise, and somehow knew that it was not time for him to travel there yet. He returned to Middle-Earth with naught but the memories, and the hesitance to let go of that moment.'

'But what's wrong with that? It helped define who he is now. I don't really know what you mean by "bright soul", but I think he's pretty sure of himself now. From what I've seen, he is an able warrior, a broad-minded scholar, and a capable healer. He has accomplished much in his lifetime and the realization that he could have lost all that in the blink of an eye makes him appreciate it more.'

'Perhaps. Valar knows that he certainly has grown confident in his abilities, mayhap even confident enough to rule.'

'So what's the problem?' Geez, why was everyone being such a prick about this whole thing?

'The problem . . .' Legolas sighed again. 'The problem is that, as living beings, we are meant to live in the present—not the pas—'

'Pause and rewind!' I exclaimed suddenly, ignoring his confused expression. 'Let's bring this back to the whole "me going" conversation, shall we? I want to go home, Legolas. Middle-Earth is not my home and an elf with scars isn't going to make me stay.'

'Oh, but does he have scars?'

"Oh boy, here we go again."

'Well, duh!' I snapped. 'I saw them. You saw them. The entire world knows about them. You just made a whole speech on them. What more proof do you need?'

Grinning, Legolas inclined his head in his eldest brother's direction.

I turned to see Garelión dancing with his nieces and nephews, his sleeves casually rolled up his arms to reveal his scars—only, there were no scars!

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

'He showed me earlier,' Legolas explained. 'It appears that your presence is easing his mind. When he is with you, he is with you.'

'Come again?'

'His mind is not stolen away by a wayward memory, Riz,' the prince said. 'Does that not give you but another reason to stay?'

'All I see is another reason not to stay,' I responded (2). I fiercely hoped that this would be the end of our conversation. Luck must have been with me that night, for just then, Garelión appeared at our side.

'May I steal the lady away for a dance?' he asked his brother with a merry twinkle in his eye.

'Aye, you may,' Legolas replied, shooting me a glance before walking away.

We made our way to the dance floor, and I couldn't help but notice that the "four immortal munchkins" were nowhere in sight. They didn't fool me. I knew that they knew that we wished for some time alone, but I appreciated it all the same.

Smiling up at Garelión, my arms curved around his neck and I pulled him closer; accordingly, his hands fell to my slender waist. Then we began to dance. The soothing tones of the music pulsed through my veins and I slowly pulled my lover closer, resting my head in the crook of his neck. As we spun around in the music's embrace, my heart balked. I remembered another night when I had waltzed beneath the merry twinkle of the stars. However, I had danced to the wrong music, been in the arms of the wrong one . . . But . . . nothing in my life had ever felt so right.

I did not understand. We had danced together many times before, so why should the thought enter my mind now?

"Because I'm leaving. My decision is final."

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, unintentionally inhaling the lovely scent of my prince.

"Whoa," I thought. "He even smells like Legolas."

Unbidden tears formed in my eyes when I remember my previous conversation with Rúmil. I had asked him what I could do to make up to him. Then . . . I had even suggested breaking up with Garelión. What did that mean? Was I not happy with him? Was I lusting for his youngest brother? Legolas had never given me a reason to. Indeed, he was more insulting than complimentary, and the number of facts that I knew about him could probably be counted on one hand. Why, then, was I thinking about him at a time like this?

"You may not know a lot about him, but you do know how you feel when you're with him," my heart decided.

"But . . . what about Garelión?" my mind countered. "He has proven to be nothing to you if not a loving, trustworthy soul. Curse you for not being able to appreciate him, to love him as much as he obviously loves you. He deserves that kind of love after all that he's been through."

"But you can love him. You know that you can if given the time."

"Alas, time is something of essence that neither of you have, so don't waste it on indecision. You're meant to be with Garelión."

"Then why is it not his face I see?"

'What are you thinking about, love?' Garelión asked, snapping me out of my reverie.

I flinched at his use of the now-familiar nickname, and I desperately hoped that he had not noticed.

'Nothing, nothing,' I replied, desolately realizing that I had never taken it upon myself to return the nickname. I had never called him "love".

'Aye, something,' he said firmly, pulling away slightly to look me in the eye. 'You are not here in the moment as you should be. Do your thoughts dwell on the past?'

'No,' I said, staring at the floor. 'More like the future—of my future, and of our future.'

"If we even have one," I thought darkly.

'There is something that you are not telling me, Riz.'

'Yes, there is,' I admitted. 'I want to go home, G.'

Garelión immediately stiffened.

'I suppose I should not be so surprised,' he managed to say once he regained his former composure. 'After all, I did not really expect you to spend the rest of your life . . . here.'

We both heard what he refused to say aloud: "with me".

'Although I am not too content with your decision, I support you in it. I love you.'

I smiled and wrapped my arms around his neck affectionately . . . but I was unable to return the words, much less the feelings.

'Let us go to my bedchambers,' Garelión suddenly suggested. 'I want you to stay with me tonight.'

I blanched and shifted slightly in discomfort.

'Nay, you misunderstand,' he said quickly. 'I just want you to be near me.'

I relaxed in his embrace and nodded yes. Then I slipped my hand into his and we made our way upstairs.

0000000000

When we arrived at his room, we didn't go straight to the bed as I had anticipated we would. No, Garelión simply lit a fire in the grate and comfortably sat down on the rug in front of it, motioning for me to join him. I did so, resting my head on his lap and closing my eyes.

'Garelión?' I inquired in a small voice.

'Aye?' he replied.

'I . . .' I trailed off, not really knowing what I wanted to say.

I felt him shift slightly beneath me; I opened my eyes to see him looking at me intently.

'Is aught the matter, Riz?'

"What do I want to do?" I asked myself. "Give him words of comfort? Tell him that I was all right? Tell him . . . that I love him?" I thought hard on the last one. After all, once I said the words, I wouldn't be able to take them back. "You know what? Maybe I should just screw myself over and tell him that I have the hots for his brother. I seem to be fucking up my life a lot lately anyway."

'Riz?'

'Nothing,' I finally said, shaking my head slightly to emphasize my point (or rather the fact that I didn't have one). 'Just forget it.'

Garelión continued to stare at me with his deep eyes, his gaze anxiously probing into mine. He realized something was up, but somehow I knew that he wasn't going to acknowledge it. I found myself wondering why I couldn't love him. Why? WHY couldn't I give this wonderful elf my love as he deserved!

Swallowing the sudden lump that had formed in my throat, I slowly sat up. Drawing my knees to my chest, I wrapped my arms tightly around them and averted my gaze, unable to look at him.

'Riz?'

'Can . . . can we just go to bed?' I asked quietly.

'Aye, if that is your wish,' my prince responded; I noticed the look of concern in his eyes. 'Are you feeling ill?'

'A bit, but it's nothing to worry about.' It wasn't a complete lie. I WAS sick. But not in body, and not in my mind or my spirit . . . but in my heart.

After hastily washing up, we climbed into bed. Garelión pulled the silken sheets over the both of us before wrapping his arms around me. I wasn't facing him. I couldn't bear to see that look in his eyes again.

I sighed deeply and closed my eyes, trying to find sleep. My other senses sharpened; I grew much more aware of my surroundings. The wind blew fiercely outside, rustling the leaves of a nearby tree. Branches scraped at the window, repetitively tapping at the glass. Crickets called for their mates, playing their chirping (and annoying) song. Footsteps could be heard in the hallway, followed by rather loud giggling. All these factors (and more) rattled at my already tense mind.

But the worst of it was the steady beating I could feel just below my shoulder blade—the heart of the one that I should love, but couldn't.

A single tear escaped my closed lid and rolled down my cheek. Biting my bottom lip and hoping that Garelión didn't notice, I unknowingly pulled his arms tighter around me. My thumbs rubbed slow circles on his palms for a while, as if I was convincing myself that he was still there.

After a while, I guess when he was convinced that I was finally asleep, I heard Garelión whisper, "I am losing you, Riz . . . Why can I not be good enough for you? Why can I not be good enough for anyone?'

I forced myself not to react, lest he realized that I was still awake. Was that really what he thought? That he wasn't good enough?

"You're wrong," I told him mentally, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to heed my words. "I'm the one who isn't good enough for you." Things were getting worse. Would he fall back into his depressed state if I left Middle-Earth for good?

Sleep did not claim me easily that night and I miserably awaited the coming dawn, hoping against all odds that this wondrous, loving elf would still be by my side when I awoke.

0000000000

The following morning, just before the sun rose, I lazily rolled over to get into a more comfortable position.

"Something isn't right," I thought, my arm frantically searching the mattress beside me. With a jolt of realization, my eyes flew open and I sat up, blearily looking around. Garelión can't have left!

'What is wrong, Riz?' said prince asked, suddenly appearing from behind his changing screen.

Not offering any explanations (as I didn't really have any), I jumped out of bed and ran into his arms, wrapping my own tightly around his neck.

'I thought . . . I thought that you were gone!' I sobbed, though what I was really saying was, "I thought you left me!"

'Shh . . .' he soothed in his unique "Garelión way". 'I loathe to tell you this, Riz, but I do have to leave. I have duty this morn.'

'You can't stay at all?' I exclaimed in disbelief. 'Not even for an hour or so?'

'Nay, I am sorry.' He kissed me chastely on the lips.

'Okay,' I sighed, defeated. 'I'll see you tonight, though, right?'

'Most definitely, Riz.' He made his way to the door, turning one last time before marching through it. 'I love you.'

Oh boy. (That was sarcastic, by the way.)

'I . . . Uh . . . Thank you,' I stuttered uncomfortably.

Garelión's lips stiffened into a line, though it was immense calmness that he pulled the door shut behind him.

I anxiously ran to the door with the intention of stopping him . . . er . . . apologizing . . . uh . . . doing something! However, when I stood but a metre away from it, I heard odd sounds coming from the other side of it. It almost sounded like Garelión was . . . crying! I tiptoed the rest of the way and pressed my ear to the cool wood.

'Have you ever loved me, Riz?' I heard the elf whisper brokenly. 'Will you ever love me?'

'I want to, Garelión,' I replied, my voice lower than the softest of whispers. My hand trailed slowly down the wooden door, as if trying to reassure that part of him that felt so unsure. 'I truly want to, but I just . . . can't . . .'

0000000000

With Garelión gone for the day and with no former plans scheduled for the morning, I leisurely bathed and dressed (in my usual scrub clothes) before making my way downstairs to the Great Hall. Only a few people remained from breakfast—a small group of she-elves, to be a bit more precise. When I realized who was among then, I warily eyed them and sat down at the other end of the table. Unfortunately, one of them noticed me.

'Good morning, Riz,' Merenwen said. (I was not really bitter for her noticing me, just that her call drew the attention of the others.) 'Why do you not join us?'

'Aye,' Linwë agreed. 'Breakfast would be rather a sordid affair if you had to dine alone.'

Too polite to decline, I made my way towards them and sat down beside Linwë, more than a little aware of the glares sent my way by certain persons by the names of Lirimaer and Vanimaer. Not a moment later, a servant set down a breakfast plate in front of me, loaded with various fruits and some toast. I nodded my thanks and began to eat.

'As I was saying,' an unknown she-elf said, continuing a story she was telling prior to my arrival. (She said this in English. Though I was quite sure she had been speaking Elvish a moment ago, I am equally sure that she changed her dialect as a courtesy for me. Sweet girl.) 'When I saw the crown prince this morn, I could not help but pity him.'

'Well, being the future king is an enormous responsibility,' Merenwen said.

'Nay, I am sure that that was not what plagued his mind,' the other elf said, shaking her head. 'He seemed . . . distracted, rather distressed, you may say.'

'Why? What reason has he?' Lirimaer questioned.

I nervously stared at my food, well aware of the stony gaze she rested upon me. Suddenly, I wasn't so hungry anymore.

'I would not know,' her companion said.

'I cannot think of a reason,' another said.

'Nor I,' was Linwë's reply.

'What are your thoughts on this, Riz?' Vanimaer suddenly asked.

"Bitch."

'What do you mean?' I asked a little too quickly.

'Well, you have been spending an immense time with Prince Garelión. You have noticed nothing peculiar about his behaviour?

'Not of late,' I lied.

'Indeed?'

Uncomfortably aware of the inquiring glances of the others, I calmly stood up from the table and said, 'A good day to you all. I am sorry, but I must excuse myself now. There is somewhere that I've got to be.' That was polite enough, right? I signaled for a servant to take my plate away before hastily exiting the Great Hall, without actually appearing hasty. I didn't want those damned two she-elves to know that they had affected me.

Not really knowing where I should go, I randomly walked about for a while. I was more than a little surprised when my feet led me to the training fields.

'Riz?' Legolas asked, having immediately noticed my arrival. 'What are you doing here? Your lessons are not until this afternoon.'

I shrugged.

'I know, I just had nothing better to do. Would you mind if I watched for a bit?'

'Of course not, though I think that participating would be more enjoyable, nay?' He pointedly eyed a stray sword that was lying not a few metres away from me. 'Tis there if you change your mind.' He returned his attention to the clipboard in his hands, apparently observing the other warriors for signs of weaknesses in their defense and offense strategies. A smile twitched at the edges of his lips as he scrawled something onto his parchment.

I sat down a rock and I allowed my attention to wander the field, vaguely noticing a fallen elf not ten metres away from me. When his dueling companion helped him up, it was then that I realized it was Rúmil. I cautiously made my way over to him, not knowing how he would react.

'Rúmil,' I said softly, just barely loud enough to be heard over the ruckus of clashing swords and screams around us.

He looked up at the sound of my voice. I saw something spark behind his eyes before he blinked; the deep orbs suddenly became very neutral.

'Riz,' he said with a curt nod.

'I can see that you're still mad at me,' I responded, apprehensively scratching my arm.

'I am not mad, Riz. I was never mad.'

"You sure act like it," I thought, but knew better than to say so aloud.

'I have had time to think about this situation and I realized that I was just . . . disappointed,' he continued. 'A dear old friend of mine never had her last wish fulfilled.'

'And you have no idea how guilty I feel about that!' I exclaimed. 'I already apologized. What more do you want me to do? Can you ever forgive me for being human and forgetting things!'

'Maybe one day, but that day is not today.'

I nervously glanced at his partner, as if expecting the other elf to say something that would make this all better.

'Rúmil has always been stubborn,' he said, shrugging. 'It is in his nature.'

I smiled slightly, but didn't say anything in reply. Instead, I eyed the sword in his hand and an idea formed in my mind. Not a particularly good one, but it was a start.

'Can I borrow that?'

'Sure, it is yours,' the elf responded, handing his weapon to me.

I turned back to Rúmil.

'You will not be able to threaten me into forgiving you,' he said icily, turning away.

'I'll make a deal with you,' I said suddenly.

I must have piqued his curiosity, because he asked, 'What are the terms?' He didn't turn around.

'We'll . . . er . . . "duel", if that's what you want to call it. The first one to drop his sword loses. If I win, you have to forgive me.' It sounded so presumptuous and rather bitchy, but I could think of no other way to word it.

'And if I win?' This time, the elf did turn around, a look of utter defiance in his eyes.

'Then I'll leave you alone.' I couldn't bear to say that he didn't have to forgive me then.

Rúmil looked to his companion for clarification, as if this was too good to be true. If truth be told, he had a huge advantage over me. Three words—centuries of training. Damn. I must have been CRAZY to do this! Oh well. Too late now.

'What are the rules?'

'Uh . . . Anything goes.'

A dark look came into his eyes when he muttered, 'Agreed.'

I smiled grimly and approached him, carefully weighing the sword in my hands as I did so. (Like the one I used during my training, this wooden blade was remarkably lightweight. This would make much easier to maneuver about.) We slowly circled about, waiting for someone to make the first move. Then suddenly, he aimed a fierce kick at my side, which I easily avoided.

The battle had begun.

In retaliation to his attack, I plunged my sword at his hand; it hit only air. Cursing under my breath, I ran towards him and—after deflecting his blow—tackled him to the ground. Keeping a fierce grip on the hilt of my weapon, I attempted to relieve Rúmil of his sword by scratching at his fist. The elf simply rolled over, successfully pinning me beneath him by straddling my hips with his legs. Growling determinedly, I used my legs as leverage to try and throw him off. I triumphantly managed to push him to the side. Only when I realized that, sometime during our conflict, the weapon had slipped from my hand did I conceive that the triumph was actually his.

'That must have been one of the shortest duels I have ever witnessed,' Rúmil's partner said, chuckling softly under his breath.

'Aye,' Rúmil agreed, adding, 'there is no doubt that you need more practice, Riz.'

I bit my lip to contain a bitter response. What was wrong with me? I was able to hold my own before! Months of training and practice had paid off, and yet now I was unable to simply knock a sword from Rúmil's hand?

'You win, Rúmil,' I murmured. 'I guess I'll keep my end of the bargain.' Sighing deeply, I turned away. 'I suppose that it is better this way. It would not have been fair if you were forced to forgive me.' Then I returned to my lone spot on the rock.

'She is a wondrous fighter,' I heard Rúmil's dueling partner say. 'I have watched her these past months and today's performance did not even come close to her usual stamina. Perhaps, in the face of a friend and in apparently dire circumstances, she had lost the passion to fight.'

'Did she? Then why did she suggest it in the first place?' the other elf inquired.

'My suspicions were that she had lost the passion to fight—not the will to win.'

Rúmil did not reply and casually tossed his wooden sword from hand to hand.

It was only then that I realized he never used his sword during our conflict.

"Maybe there is still hope after all."

0000000000

(1) I'm not exactly sure if the battleship in "Battleship" is supposed to be hit five times before it sinks. Since I'm not sure, five is what it'll now be. Hehe.

(2) While writing this, I noticed that Riz's moods concerning her relationship with Garelión and the deaths of her father, Raphael, etc. seem very topsy-turvy. Although that was done unintentionally, I am not going to edit it because I find that it's only natural to be uncertain about your feelings when big changes (such as these) occur in your life.